#i desire you ferociously

[aureentuluva70]

Something I find fascinating about Melkor's character as a villain and how he fits as the satan-figure of the Tolkienverse is that he's ridiculously powerful and strong, he's brought kingdoms to their knees and marred the earth and yet...he's totally pathetic.

This guy is second in power only to God Himself and yet he's a complete coward and a loser. It's almost laughable, the sheer levels of pure lameness Melkor is able to reach. This is the dude who once went to the ocean just to scream curses at it in one draft; who was practically peeing his pants at the thought of having to fight Fingolfin; who put the largest bounties on the heads of thieves despite Melkor being a thief himself, with the evidence of it burned into his very flesh. He wanted to rule the world but then the moment he realized it could never be his and only his in its entirety, instead of admitting defeat he decided that throwing an eternally long temper tantrum about it all the while destroying everything and everyone around him was a much better idea.

And its so, so different compared to other fictional depictions of demonic/satan-esque characters I often see in the media, where they make him into this cool, attractive noble suave guy. It's honestly kind of refreshing, finding a fictional depiction of a Satanic figure who is none of those things whatsoever.

Can I see Melkor as an attractive, charming guy at the beginning? Sure. But at the end of the war of wrath, when he has wasted so much of his power and fallen so incredibly low? When he's in constant pain all the time? When he's just so incredibly awful that even his most devoted servant comes to hate his guts? No way.

Especially when Evil in the Tolkienverse is often associated with physical and mental deterioration(think Gollum), Melkor was bound to be a complete and utter wreck, a sad pitiful shell of the once great ainu he used to be, by the end of it all. Because that's what evil does to a person. It destroys them from the inside out until there's practically nothing left.

[littleleorising]

im going to howl and scream and bite.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Dilf!Simon, your next door neighbor, reader’s around early 20s, Simon’s around late 30s~early 40s) pt.2

Just retired and move into a new flat, Simon doesn’t expect someone to knock on his door when he’s unpacking his belongings. With slight annoyance, he opens the door and try to dismiss whoever is out there.

His annoyance vanishes quickly when he lays eyes on you, young, gorgeous, gazing up at him with a baggy shirts barely cover the sweat-shorts. The simple apron on the outside looks incredible on you, the fabric of it rises and taut around your chest. Greeting him with a grin and hand him a plate of biscuits. A welcome gift for the new neighbor, you explain to him before leaving with a wave, hips swaying tantalizingly as you saunter back to your flat and close the door behind you.

He becomes closer to you each day, helping you without a word when one day he hears noises from the staircase outside, swings open the door of his flat and discovers you struggling with the heavy groceries bags. When you sheepishly knock on his door again, holding a screwdriver and fidgeting it, telling him you have some issues with assembling the new bookshelf you bought, he already starts his steps and walks into your flat, finish the work in minutes while you circling around cutely and trying to help like a desperate puppy.

To express your thankfulness to him, you invite him to have dinner with you, become a habit of yours when he shoots you a glance with a ‘Not bad.” but devours your home cooked meal like a man starved for days.

Sweet, beautiful girl, a year before graduating from college, expressing your insecurity about your future when he hinted that you can share your worries with him—a person who has much more experience than you— a while ago, he provides some insight and rational advice, swallowing back the words he’s been thought about for months now: Slide the silver ring on your ring finger with his name name engraved on it, makes you his missus and away from all shites the society is boiling everyday. A man alone for years and has low material desires, he has the money to take care of and spoil you without any hesitation.

He’s been fisting his cock whenever he hears your moans coming from the other aide of the wall. Hell, you don’t know how shitty and thin the walls are, the soundproof ability of them is imperceptible when it comes to louder sounds. Simon listens closely to the sounds, closing his eyes, head leans back on the armchair, trying to imagine how you must be right now. Hands in sync of the squelchy sounds of you pumping your fingers in and out of that soaked pussy. His cock’s so huge, even his own palms are just big enough wrapped around the girth, and an obscene growl left his lips as your whimpers and moans turn higher and sultrier, definitely look like a goddess when you’re weeping tears, stuffing your cunny full and craving for the release. But when you finally tumble over the edge, he snaps his eyes open and groans the second his name comes out of your mouth with such honeyed tone, crying his name in need and suppressed desire.

Simon jumps up from the armchair, heavy cock forming an obvious tent when he shoves open his door and knocks on yours impatiently. “Wait-Wait me a second…!” your voice hits his ears with trembles that can’t be left unnoticed.

“ 'S what you want, love? getting bent over by a man older than you and fucked stupid? Is that so, princess?” He squeezes himself through the crack of your door, kicking it close and pinning your upper body on the shoe cabinet beside the door, your legs dangling in the air as he drives the fat tip into your entrance ferociously, tight cunt still spasming from your orgasm and makes him grunts out a curse, “Fucking screaming my name when you touch yourself, hmm? you know you can come to me anytime you need something, like I told you before.”

He gets you cry out in pleasure without any concern of receiving complaints from other neighbors, wrapping your legs back and standing between your wide-spread thighs, leaning his weight on your back while his hips rocks unrelentingly. “No more, no more…Simon!” You clenching down on his shaft so nice and hot, milking him loads after loads, the angry tip of his cock abusing every spots inside you, and your legs are shaking uncontrollably when he finally comes one last time, satiated both your needs for now, and you the last thing you feel before succumbing to slumber is a gentle kiss pressing on your twitching, overstimulated clit as his seeds flood out of your swollen pussy.

The relationship between you and him deepens since that night,and he doesn’t stop you or protest when you wear the low-cut top and cute skirt, semi-transparent thigh high stockings keeps attracting his attention to stare at the bare skin of your thighs between them and the skirt, and wave goodbye at him with an apologetic expression before heading off to a party with your college friends. He knows the importance of these social activities between youngsters, so he didn’t get mad or upset, just kiss your temple, reminded you to stay safe and call him whenever you need, then he’d be there in no time.

You sure will turn heads wherever you go tonight, and though there might be some troublesome wankers trying their luck on you, but he knows you won’t even spare them anything beside a polite nod of rejection. You’re all his, you won’t feel the same bliss and love from those young blokes of your age. No one can make you feel as good as he does, they can’t make you squirt all over the floor when he eats you out at the countertop, no one knows how to lower and disperse all your concerns and thoughts like him, with his tongue lapping your perked buds and that long cock massaging your cervix, coaxing countless orgasms out of you before you fall asleep in his embrace contently.

So when you ring him just about 2 hours later, asking if he can come pick you up at the club, he immediately hops in to his truck, pulls up at the location you texted him. He doubts how your breasts haven’t spilled out your low cut tops, but he’s definitely enjoying the view, your cheeks burning from the alcohol, pawing at his shirt and whining about how you missed him, how boring the party was and you just wanted to go home and bounce on his dick through your tipsy state.

Good that Simon parked his truck at a secluded spot, so you don’t need to wait any longer, let him bend you over the hood and kneel down behind you, tongue shoving deep inside, occasionally pulls out and prodding at your pussy to calm you down from keep pleading him to just fuck you already and rubbing his bulge when he just wants to drive you home first. “Will give you the cock you’ve been thinking all night when we’re home, sweetheart.” He speaks against your slick pussy lips before diving back to lick every drop of your sugary juices again.

[tojisun]

i want simon to love you so strongly, he doesn't even know what exactly it is he's feeling.

it is so intense, he cannot even sleep nor eat nor sit in silence anymore. you plague his thoughts day in and day out, filling every second of his day with this vitriolic turmoil.

the first time he realized it was not a passing feeling, simon felt the desire to...lash out, somehow. to get angry. to come to you and snarl questions—what have you done to me?—because he knows that this wouldn't have happened if he never met you. if your paths just never crossed.

if simon was just never interested.

he should have known, then, that his fleeting interest would turn into something bigger than he is, twisting into something that he cannot manage because simon has always been quick to get addicted to many things—ferocious in his hunger, gums twitching with need.

simon still does not know how to take everything in moderation so he’s turned to snuffing out his desires; to containing them until they sit there, buried underneath his ribs and flesh.

but this one with you cannot be buried. it cannot be ignored. it grows every single day, swelling with fangs and tearing into his veins—he bleeds for you, every morning that he climbs from the depths of his raging restlessness—until he is left feeling lost. untethered.

so tell him: what have you done to him?

(the words do not even get to fully leave his mouth, not with his emotions bubbling into strings that pull at him.

next thing he knows is that he has pushed you against the wall, and claimed your lips in a feverish kiss.

simon devours the sounds you make—every hiccupped breath, every gasped out mewl, every stutter of his name. he devours it all because it is all he can gulp from you for now; the sweetness of your passion weaves with his own, and he is dizzy with his affections.

you don't tell him to stop, instead, you beg him for more; crystals of your tears cling to your lashes, and simon is in awe of how much softer you are compared to him. how tender you truly are, all putty in his arms, sniffling with your uncontainable pleasure. with your own raging feelings.

simon feels seen, like this with you. he feels understood.)

[monstersholygrail]

A familiar voice clears their throat and Demon Priest immediately knows it’s you who’s come to him so early on this Sunday morning. Not because the sound of your voice but because the call that yanks at his chest, urging him to go to the door. His body ready to obey your every command.

The nearing church service lingers in the back of his mind but as he meets your eye it soon becomes forgotten. “Good morning, little dove. What calls you to me this morning?”

“Maybe I missed you. I haven’t seen you in nearly a week,” you respond coyly, sauntering in. Looking Demon Priest up and down, thinking about how damn hot he looks in his robes.

Seeing you walk to him, Demon Priest immediately stands and matches your steps. The need to be closer to you, to touch you, claws at his chest. That familiar relief shoots through him as soon as he gathers you in his arms, your touch flooding through him and providing a break to the ache.

“Oh, my heart… I apologize. I’ve been far too focused on finishing my work. And I fear I’ve still yet to perfect it.”

You glance down at his desk, papers sprawled everywhere. A perfect amount to passionately brush the clutter aside and slam you down on the desk to take you right then and there. A shiver runs through your body as you look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Why don’t you practice it on me?”

It’s as if Demon Priest was set on this path to simply answer to your every desire as the moment you look at him he seems to read your mind. Knowing exactly what you need from him. And he’d risk anything to give it to you. He growls furiously and scoops you up into his arms only to plop you down on the desk.

“Or why don’t I practice something else on you first?”

Demon Priest’s hand is down your panties in a flash and a wicked glint sparks in his eye as he realizes you came to him ready for his cock, your folds gushing with slick. His fangs shine in the morning light as he smirks, revealing his cock and driving it to your core as if it’s his guiding light.

As soon as his cock sinks into your warm walls a rumble moves through Demon Priests’ chest, your warmth akin not to the flames of hell but of the blessed rays of heaven. He loses himself in the smooth glide of your pussy against his length.

Time and everything else fades more and more with every passionate thrust of his cock. He’s found his holy grail and he won’t let go of you for anything. Your nails clawing into his back as you gasp and moan shows him you don’t plan to let go either. The table squeaks along with floor with the increasing force of his hips.

A sudden knock on the door, a reminder of his duties, threatens to pull him from paradise and Demon Priest suddenly realizes where he is. A house of worship. He looks at your fucked out expression as he shows his devotion. How fitting.

“Ten— fifteen minutes!” Demon Priest calls back, not even able to stop as he pounds his cock deep inside your warm fat cunt. As your jaw extends to moan, he pulls you into his throat, the vibrations causing him to shake.

“You’ll be late,” The man outside annoyingly replies.

“They can wait!” Demon Priest snarls, his demonic features drawing out at the force of his anger. His claws extending to tickle your sides.

Deep growls huff out of him and he has to bury his face in your hair. It takes deep gulps of your scent and the ravaging of your gummy walls just to calm down. His large towering form cages you into his embrace and he falls back into your abyss.

He takes every second he can of those fifteen minutes to rut inside you as ferociously as he can. Pumping inside you till you fall apart in his arms, a fierce scream falling past your lips and right into his wiling flesh. With your pussy clenching around him so sweetly he explodes inside of you, relishing in every spurt that hits your eager womb.

Demon Priest whispers endless praises under his breath as you both calm down. Your panting breaths the loudest sound in the room. Both of you bask in the glow for as long as you can.

“You have to go,” you whisper breathlessly. Not wanting him to.

“They can wait,” he repeats softly to you. Not wanting to either.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro notes : Short N' Sweet - Uranian Love

Uranus in the 1st - They have a heart of compassion, they hold a tight grip on it for the most part. Have a very striking presence, and usually have others jaw dropping from time to time. Some very special creatures and they will show you a new perspective on things if you let them in.

Uranus in the 2nd - Magical opportunities await them. They have universal knowledge that carries that to newer astrological thinking. They could use this to their benefit or they can shapeshift the world in a super master manipulative way but its totally up to them.

Uranus in the 3rd - Beautiful speakers. Ferocious thinkers. capable of anything really. They have tons of talents that are pretty unique and it captivates people from time to time. Like how do you draw so fast? how does your voice sound like that? So many different worlds in that mind of theirs, are you gonna pick their brain to know whats up with em?

Uranus in the 4th - Awe inspiring wonders that live in the mind of these creatures. Very delicate and choose their words wisely with people, at home they're notorious for speaking the truth even if it hurt a lil. Nobody likes them at school, so at home they treat themselves to something special to throw that energy back into the air. Could have a war inside their mind or in the privacy of their own home but you wouldn't know. They carry their problems well.

Uranus in the 5th - Talented beings whose sole purpose is to be better than the next, and to stand out from the crowd with their wicked humor, their amazing appeal to the audience, and their generous energy being the token of something lighting the way for people to be shocked, amazed and full of emotions that will have you pulsing. Very needy individuals though, but you'll love em for it. It's not easy to get for everyone.

Uranus in the 6th - They love the outdoors and need alone time to process their emotions here. Have the ability to see thru the minds of others. Their analytically skills are through the roof here. Are capable of leadership roles and teaching others tricks when it comes to different hobbies. Like for example, they could teach you how to paint but in a different way than what is the usual.

Uranus in the 7th - Orthodox beliefs can bring in a pretty interesting love life. The desire to be noticed for their radical personalities can be brought to them by a very interesting partner who matches their vibe. They need something or someone that is going to awaken their minds not just their heart. Usually intimidating upon first meeting but their super chill right after.

Uranus in the 8th - Taboo realities. They can ignite a fire in you with just their touch. Mystical vision. Have tendencies to come off a bit off the rockers, but they normally are right about the things they know. Can hold on to your secrets, and i mean the things that you KNOW will shock someone. Power mind readers.

Uranus in the 9th - Have a deep bond with the universe. Can penetrate the thoughts of others in more ways than one. Have issues with silencing themselves because not everyone wants to know what they do not understand. Have issues with learning things on their own but are too stubborn to let people help them. Very intricate minds that see things in a peculiar light.

Uranus in the 10th - Amazing leaders. They are made to be known as something unique and different and ahead of their time. Could come out in the spotlight in a shocking way, but this normally leads to their benefit. The quicker it comes, the quicker you must be on your feet and keep the momentum to a level of your liking.

Uranus in the 11th - The community loves them. Social media could be a walk in the park for them, making it their playground. Def needs to open up a lil, the more they do the better they are with people and the more popular they can be too. Can hold their own in the group, deep bonds with their friends. Very practical. Can pick up on vibes easily with others.

Uranus in the 12th - Needs to escape the mind more than usual. This is pretty interesting because the mind really is suppose to be your escape, but in this reality the mind needs a place to relax. You can go bonkers just sitting in your room all day, or just doing the same thing over and over. Gotta get up and face that hurricane and use the magic within to make something out of it. Something beautiful comes out along the way. Could be known as the crazy one, but what they say tends to have truth to it. Def be knowin' what they're talking about, you just have to listen more clearly. ;)

[idyllicidols]

Desire.

Shin Yuna. The world sees her as a world famous idol, a paragon of beauty of grace. An individual to look up to, a person to aspire towards. Some might see her as untouchable, in a social sphere somewhere near the clouds. But she is more than just an idol with a hectic schedule and a busy life. Yuna is a real life human being, and every human has their flaws, their desires, their dark secrets that they need to keep hidden from the world.

And right now Yuna sure is living up to desires.

"You gonna do it? You gonna cum on my face?"

There she is, the picture perfect idol, sitting on her feet, naked as the day she was born. Surrounding her are three hand selected males, her hand vigorously pumping the cock directly in front of her. Yuna's eyes are firmly set on the glistening knob that her hands are wrapped around, her fingers nimbly moving from tip to hilt, her thumb digging into the meat and tugging and massaging with ferocious intent.

The other two aren't just standing idly by—they're groping and spanking whatever they feel like, an opportunity like this one is unheard of, but a gift Yuna loves to indulge. You see, underneath that cute and bubbly personality, and beyond all her flawless photoshoots and iconic concerts, the fact remains that Yuna is, above everything else, a cock obsessed slut.

The feeling of multiple hands and several hard, throbbing members grazing her petite body always fills Yuna with a pleasure that no amount of her fingers can ever truly match. The pinching of her nipples, the light and harsh spanks to her ass, the feeling of a cock throbbing in her hands. All of these things send her reeling into euphoria.

"Do it! Cum on my face. You gonna make me work for it? Do I have to suck you off? Make you cum by slurping your juices? My hand not enough?"

Her questions comes with a gentle lick to the underside of his shaft. It makes the cock twitch violently in Yuna's firm grip. He's already reaching his climax, that much is evident to Yuna. The only thing she needs now is for him to vocalize.

"I'm gonna... Yuna, I'm..."

"Come on, babe."

With a guttural moan, Yuna feels her cheek being covered by a blast of sticky warmth, followed by spurts of cum across her lips and chin and nose.

She looks down, mouth gaping, tongue hanging out, eye's narrow. The feeling of the sticky substance smeared over her skin, a marking that has her feel warm all over.

"Who's next?!" Yuna moves away from the well spent man, turning her attention to the other two behind her. One has his hands clasped to Yuna's ample ass, the other never stops roughly groping and grabbing her tits, pulling her nipples this and that way.

Yuna doesn't even know these lucky bastard's names—and that's precisely the point. All she knows is that they're some of her biggest fans, and because Yuna's not one to disappoint her supporters, the only reasonable thing for her to do is invite them back to her hotel room for an honest to God gangbang.

No real names, no exchanging numbers. Just a night of fun.

It's Yuna's idea of an ideal way to unwind before an important gig, and she's taking it upon herself to fully indulge.

"You know I offer more than just hand jobs right? My mouth, my pussy...my ass."

Yuna puts some emphasis when she says the word ass—she knows how taboo it is, to be an idol who loves to be fucked in her forbidden hole. Tempting over eager fan boys is such a power rush to Yuna, especially since she always gets what she wants in the end. And tonight will be no different.

Not only does the sudden spurt of her words catch the other two guys off guard, so do her slender fingers, that have already found their way around the nearest cock.

She looks up into his eyes, practically staring into his soul.

"So what do you say sweetheart? Which hole do you wanna fuck? Do you want my mouth? Is it my pussy you craving?"

Yuna smirks.

"Or maybe," her other hand slowly reaches to her asshole, "you're gonna shove your cock right here and treat me like a total anal slut."

She isn't quite touching her tight hole, but her fingertips hover tantalizing close. Close enough to make the guy think of exactly what she's describing, all the dirty details, from start to end. And the mere thought is starting to make him go crazy.

"Have you ever done anal before?"

Her soft and playful tone is hard to resist. This entire experience has left the guy totally speechless. He shakes his head, unable to verbalize any words of any kind.

"Well what do you say Hun? Wanna pop your anal virginity with a world famous superstar?"

Yuna doesn't even give him a chance to answer—she bends down on the bed, ass up face down, spread apart in a position that leaves her totally open to her new fuck buddies.

He watches in absolute shock and disbelief as Yuna playfully wiggles her plump behind, teasingly caressing her puckering asshole in a display that leaves him unable to hold off. He licks his fingers, saliva coating his palm as he reaches forward to insert his middle finger into Yuna's butt. She wasn't lying; Yuna is an anal loving slut, a star whore, and this position is making her squirm. The soft, coos leaving her lips are proof of the immense arousal coursing through her veins. The fact that her pussy is dripping means even more.

"I don't want your finger," Yuna turns back, staring into his eyes again, "I want your cock."

He pulls his finger out with a lewd squelching sound, only to replace it with his cock—hard and pulsating, a sheer result of the slutty actions from the girl splayed out in front of him, seemingly on a platter.

The tip presses against Yuna's eager asshole. She starts to whimper, just slightly, an involuntary reflex as a wave of pleasure fills her veins. It's about to begin, and that moment is like heaven to Yuna.

"Do it," she utters, more quietly now that the tip of his cock is pressing up against her most private place. "Don't tease. Fuck me in the ass. Do it. Please..."

Those few simple, begging words are the green light the guy has been waiting for. A cue to fully penetrate her rear, spreading it open with a searing, heavy thrust. It doesn't matter that it's his first time—Yuna loves to fuck. She loves it in any position, anywhere, in any circumstance. Yuna was made to be fucked and tonight is no exception, that is a fact.

So the feeling of his heavy prick ramming her open, and the sweet, familiar burn that comes after sends Yuna into a total blissed-out state. Even though this is what Yuna was begging for, the thrusts are slow and inexperienced—her new living dildo seemingly afraid to hurt his favorite idol.

"Don't be gentle! Fuck me hard, deeper...please, please! Wreck my asshole!"

Those words are enough. They spur the young man into action, and instead of taking it nice and slow, Yuna feels her whole ass shuddering at the rapid pace her lover is now setting. It hurt. Oh God did it fucking hurt.

The kind of pain that leaves her feeling filled with the greatest pleasure. The kind of pain that reminds her that she's alive—not some brainless idol robot with an image to protect. Yuna is a woman with sexual needs and she's not afraid to admit them.

"Faster, don't stop. More, oh God yes!!" Yuna is spouting out all the right things and it's certainly having an effect. "Fuck me!" Her hands grope her perky ass cheeks, trying their hardest to keep them spread open for the fuckfest raging on in the depths of her backdoor.

Her insides felt great to her new partner, especially as he gets more adventurous and drives her over the edge of euphoria with a thrust here, a squeeze there. His hands are gripping her hips, driving his rock hard length further into her cavern.

It must have been such a fucking miserable sight. The third guy in the room ignored and forgotten, sporting a massive erection whilst sitting on the edge of a King sized bed. Yuna didn't even notice it, nor did the guy currently drilling her ass. But she definitely notices it when he lifts her head and presses his tip against her slightly parted lips. The action catches her off guard, almost. It's just a quick glance and a lust filled smirk, but the quick understanding between them has her open her mouth to swallow the intruding piece of flesh.

"You want me to suck your cock while I'm getting fucked in the ass?! What a joke!"

The man looks dejected. That is until Yuna licks her lips and flashes a coy smile. She shakes her head, waves of dark hair falling around her cheeks and onto her back.

"I'm not gonna suck it. But you can fuck my face. Spit roast me. Make me choke me on your cock, choke me as his big, hard dick fills my little asshole."

Yuna opens her mouth, her tongue laid flat and waiting to be invaded. There's an overwhelming desire to be filled from both ends, a carnal hunger. If that's what it takes for her to receive this much pleasure, then so be it. She just wants her holes stuffed, fucked hard until they're so worn, so well used that her mind blanks into total ecstasy.

Yuna sucks and moans and mewls as he's driving his cock down her throat. Any cries of pleasure from being torn apart from behind gets muffled and lost under the garbled and sloppy sounds of the face-fucking.

She takes his cock hungrily into her mouth, bobbing back and forth, not even worrying about the gagging sensations or the burning in her throat, or the spit dripping from her mouth, nor even her eyes beginning to water.

The taste, the scent—the full sensory overload from receiving both a full frontal assault on her gag reflex and a rump fuck all at once is driving her crazy. Her clit is swollen and sensitive, and everytime she shakes her ass to guide his cock deep inside, her clit brushes against the silk-soft sheets and tenses something tight and coils deep within her core.

It builds, tighter, hotter—and the wetness trickling out of her needy, untouched cunt only aids the thrusts from his eager tool.

Her whole body shakes and trembles. A total body orgasm as she's used and abused by two strangers, faceless tools for her sexual pleasure. They take her, use her, violate and violate, spanking and penetrating wherever they pleased.

And through it all she takes it with grace, glee, and happiness. The pain mixed in with the pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Every time another palm cracks against her reddening cheeks, every time that she's choked and pounded harder, deeper, it leaves her begging for more. Every thrust from either end sends another surge of the hottest, fiercest tingling through her veins. Yuna's completely submerged into the moment, so lost within it. A cocktail of sheer masochism and perverted need to be nothing but an object for her boys' enjoyment.

Then it happens, with another hard thrust into her slutty backdoor, everything snaps—and Yuna screams into a prolonged, euphoric moan. She cums, and she cums hard. Her second one in such a short space of time. It's so intense—so overwhelming.

It takes a whole minute before the world starts to spin again, the rush and adrenaline is almost too much, the double penetration pushing the boundaries and making Yuna realize how she could die right here, right now, and still not care. She almost forgets she's an idol for a moment, the label seeming so alien and irrelevant as the rest of her facade disintegrates along with her mind and body, dissolving under a sea of pleasure. Slowly fading as her partner finally bursts with an eruption of hot, thick, cum, coating her insides, filling her ass until it can hold no more and starts leaking out onto her skin and the plushy fabric of the covers.

The constant moans of joy must have been too much for the man occupying her throat. Cuz shortly after her ass is stuffed full, so is her mouth, spurt after spurt, sending Yuna straight into an orgasmic daze.

It's incredible—such a heavenly, amazing, thrilling and powerful feeling of a double load pumped into both of her holes.

She swaps from feeling like an object, a fuck toy, something to be used and abused, to just Yuna. Yuna who craves pleasure, needs love, and wants a feeling of validation that she's doing her very best to fill up with constant sexual trysts and promiscuous nights. It doesn't work though, because she can never truly be satisfied. No man, no orgy, no gangbang has ever been enough, never even been close enough. But when it's all over, these times, these moments are what Yuna lives and breathes for.

There's four bodies on the bed, laid out and completely wrecked—Yuna, the man with the enormous cock that spread her anal walls, the man that got the handjob of a lifetime from none other than Yuna herself, and the forgotten dude who eventually got to fuck her throat. Yuna can barely see or talk after being ravaged, but even still she's smiling like the cat that got the cream—because in essence, she had three extra large creamy loads.

It's not enough, no amount of cock could ever satisfy Yuna, but this is good enough for tonight. Tomorrow brings another night. Another night to find a nice gentleman to stuff her pussy that was left unfulfilled, left on the verge, twitching and ready to burst. But tomorrow is a worry for the future—now is the time for rest and relaxation, for recovery.

[astroboots]

Rainy Night Patrol

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.

Content: Somnophilia, panty-tearing practises (in this fucking economy?!??! I know gurl) jerking off with panties kind of? overprotective Miguel is our favourite Miguel. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms and overstimulation (cause do I evern write anything else anymore?). Implied violence against random street criminals.

A/N: Pre-established relationship with pre-established consent for somnophilia.

Word Count: 4,800

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

Rainy nights in New York are the fucking worst.

It brings out the worst in people. Stressed-out bankers who will push old ladies out of their way to get to a seat on the subway. Drunken assholes who piss everywhere, making everything reek, and alleyway mugging seems to increase by a disproportionate amount whenever it's pouring.

It surprises Miguel that street robbery even happens outside of comic books anymore. Do these people not have a computer? Cybercrime is a thing. A successful phishing scam targeting a bank employee can net millions overnight.

Yet here Miguel is, headbutting this public nuisance for trying to rob and assault a sorority girl on her way home, fists eating into the man's face. Even though it is evident by now that there is no way the man has a fighting chance, he refuses to stop. He's hissing and spitting at Miguel, lunging at him with the ferociousness of a rabid racoon.

The easiest solution would be to bite and paralyze and call it a night. But from the reek of stale sweat and copious body Axe spray coming off of this asshole, Miguel has no desire to put any part of this man's body into his mouth.

So here Miguel is, putting this bargain-bin Sylvester Stallone wannabe in a headlock and slamming his head into a street lamp in an attempt to knock the man unconscious, instead of where he wants to be: home, in your questionably sized apartment and lumpy feeling bed.

Christ, he hates this city.

By the time it's all said and done, and everything is wrapped up, it's already past midnight. As he slinks in through the window sill into your bedroom, you're fast asleep.

You're lying on top of the quilts, the bedside lamp still on, which means you've been up waiting for him, even though you're supposed to have an early morning tomorrow. Something, something about how it's year-end and you have to present... something or the other.

It's... endearing that you still do that, try to wait up for him every night, even though you should know by now that more often than not, he'll be home much too late for you to still be awake.

Climbing inside the bedroom, the post-fight adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He's riled up, irritated. There's heat brandishing under his skin that is pushing at the edges begging for an outlet.

He glances in your direction. You look so soft in the dim bedroom light, half of your face buried into the pillow.

No, tonight is not the night. You need your sleep.

With a shake of his head, he walks over to his side of the bed, letting the Unstable Molecule fabric of his suit recede until he's left standing naked in the half-darkness of your bedroom.

Dragging away the sheet, he tucks it over you, you hum and shift in your sleep. Leg swinging Akimbo over to his side before he's even had the chance to lay down. The oversized sleep shirt does nothing to disguise the curves of your body, falling completely off one shoulder and riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your bare thigh.

Shit.

His mouth waters at the sight, cock half hard just from watching you. It's not helped by the adrenaline still buzzing in his head. It wouldn't take much to get him the rest of the way there.

Miguel groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension growing between his temples. How exactly is he supposed to be getting any sleep with you lying next to him, all soft heat and sweet little hums that make him want to grind up against you like a cat in heat?

The weight in the bed shifts as you roll back away from him. A quiet snore issues from where you’re digging your face deeper into the pillow, clearly exhausted. 

Fuck, guess he's just going to have to try. It'd be cruel to wake you now.

He slides into bed next to you, settling for the comforting warmth of you next to him, as he curls one arm around your waist and wraps himself around you. Burying his face into the warm nape of your neck and taking a deep inhale. The smell of your shampoo and soap that pleasantly lingers on his skin, washes away the memories of the stench of rain-soaked streets of this city, the disgusting smell of sulphur and piss.

New York throws a lot of stuff in his way. Muggers, arsonists, would-be murderers. It's nothing he can't handle. And he can handle what it throws at you too. Whether it is torrential rain or some freak force of nature threatening to put you in harm's way, it doesn't matter. He keeps you safe.  And despite all the close calls, you're still here. Still alive. Still his.

His hand slides over the curve of your thigh at the thought, needing to feel your warmth underneath his fingertips. Goosebump prickles your skin at his caress, and he watches the way your back arches, pressing into his touch, even in your sleep.

A slow steady warmth blooms in his chest at your reaction. It's a heady blend of protectiveness but also pride. The universe itself can throw any tantrum it wants. He'll protect you from it all.

Your eyes stay shut, still clearly asleep, but your mouth parts with a needy hum, and Miguel gives you what you want, easing your body back into his arms. Like clockwork, you snuggle back against him, and the slight wiggle of your ass brushing against his front ensures there's no half about how hard is dick is anymore.

Needy heat rolls off his back in waves, and he slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and up along the softness of your stomach. If you were awake, you would be leaping away and smacking him for tickling you. But now the touch just makes you stretch and let out a contented little hum, your nipples already drawn up tight and hard for him by the time he reaches them.

Why are you so reactive when you're sound asleep? Part of him thinks you must be doing this on purpose; there's no way you can't be when he feels you shift again, the soft lace of your panties brushing up against his aching cock.  He palms your hip, following the edge of the lace down over the curve of your ass, then hesitates.

You only pull out the lacey panties when you really want to rile him up. Saving them for special occasions because (as you never fail to mention while scolding him whenever he's ripped another pair in the heat of the moment) 'fancy underwear isn't cheap!' One of these lacey thrilly little things easily would set you back at $80 a pop. Miguel isn't exactly hard pressed for cash, but he sees your point.

Still Miguel doesn't know what he is supposed to do when you keep pressing back against him the way you are at the moment. He grits his teeth, jaw muscles protesting as he grinds them together, knowing fully well he's fighting a losing battle. It’s really only a matter of time. Miguel isn't a fucking saint, and right now the need riding the length of his spine is burning hot enough to incinerate him.

Oh fuck it!

Hooking a finger around the hem of your panties, he eases them to the side, and his hips hitch forward, rubbing himself against you. Sharp pleasure skitters along his back, and he has to bite down the groan in his throat. He draws back, and does it again, letting his cock ride along the curve of your ass. Letting his aching, leaking cock settle between your cheeks, the delicate lace trapping him in place against you.

You’re definitely gonna bitch at him later for stretching out the elastic. But that's okay, you'll forgive him, the way you always do.

He holds there, gently rolling his hips, doesn't go too forceful or too eager with his thrusts, some half-formed intention to not wake you. Thighs shaking as he savors the contrast between your smooth skin and the textured lace. He tells himself that he should take it slow and not disrupt your sleep. But Miguel's never been a patient man.

His hands are already moving, reaching, before his brain has anything to say about it, fingers hitching your panties even further to the side, and fuck the elastic, he'll buy you a new pair. Shit, he'll buy you twenty new pairs. A whole fucking store of panties if that's what you want.

He pulls back, presses forwards again, cock sliding between those plush thighs, the head, slick with precome, gliding smoothly against you.

And fuuuuuck.

He drops his forehead against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut to ground himself. He can feel how wet you are, drenching his cock as he skims the hard length over and through your slick folds. You're warm and inviting and oh so fucking tempting. You may still be fast asleep, but your body is telling him it’s oh so very ready for him.

God you feel so fucking good.

Angling his hips, he slides the sensitive head of his dick against your slick folds, notching himself against your entrance, gritting his teeth against the way your pretty pussy clenches at the threat of invasion. He holds himself there, breath hissing between his teeth as he teases you both, with tiny, incremental movements forward, in, and back.

Pleasure swirls through him, hot and heady, his ears buzzing with electricity. He's lost in it, but not so far gone that he misses the noises you're making, your reaction. Those little sounds of dissatisfaction, the way your back arches, pressing your hips back against him.  All of it telling him the same thing.

He presses his mouth to the corner of your shoulder. Has to hide the feral grin threatening to break out, because for all his vague intentions of letting you rest, part of him has been waiting for this. Part of him has been aiming for this exact outcome.

You. Awake. Fully ready to take him.

He presses forward again, just far enough that the head of his cock slips inside you, and is rewarded by your body clenching warm and wet around him.

Fuck, you feel too good. You always fucking do. It punches the breath right out of his lungs, needy heat singing through his veins and along every nerve ending in his body until he goes dizzy with it. There are advantages and disadvantages to enhanced senses, and right now, he's fully feeling both. Needs to get on with it, because he intends to have you coming on his cock at least twice before he's done.

Hooking an arm around your waist, he cups your mound. He stays there, pressing with his fingers and the heel of his palm, until he's rewarded by your hips hitching forward into the pressure, then rocking back again, causing you to sink down further onto him. A gasp and a small soft moan falls from between your lips.

He does it again, encouraging you to rock forward and then back again, taking him deeper each time. Inch by brain wracking inch, you take him in. He can feel your tight little pussy stretch around him, adjusting to his cock, as he presses your hips back and back and back until you're taking him all down to the root. Until he’s buried as deep as he can go.

Somehow it's not enough. Not when he's waited this long.

He centers three fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, resting the heel of his hand just above your pubic bone, and then he presses down.

Your pussy clenches tight, and you jolt hard against him, gasping awake with a breathy 'oh' that does funny things to his brain. Makes rational thought skitter away from him, and when he hears his name on a long gorgeous drawn out moan everything inside him roars to attention.

"Miguel."

Satisfaction thrums under his skin. You’re awake, and he wants you awake for this. Wants you to know exactly who is about to fuck your brains out.

"That's right, nena," he croons, easing his hips back, and skimming his lips up from your shoulder to nip at your exposed neck, careful not to break the skin, relishing the sound of the perfect little gasp of yours. "I'm right here. You ready for my big cock, baby?"

"It– mmmmmm– It feels…" you mumble, voice still stumbling and sleepy.

He slams back into you just as you're trying to find your words, taking a bit too much pleasure in interrupting them when he hears you whine out a breathy, "Fuck, fuck!"

"What's that?" Miguel raises a hand to your chin, cradling it in his palm, tilting you back until he can press his lips to the edge of your jaw. "What does it feel like, tell me."

"Fee-feels like– ngh– like I'm already– taking your big cock." Your words are staggered, stuttered out each time he fucks his cock into you, and Miguel smiles.

"You are," he tell you, "You're taking me so well, nena."

It's a struggle for him to get the words out smoothly. He’s rolling his hips at a steady pace, fucking you in earnest now that you're awake to appreciate it. Every slick slide into your needy little pussy has pleasure burning sharp and insistent through his nervous system, overwhelming and inescapable.

He pauses, moving his hand away from your clit for a second, and grins when you whine and clutch at his arm.

"Patience," he scolds you "I've got you. I'm just gonna..."

He tucks his hand under your panties, and you stiffen against him, making a sound like an outraged cat. He knows exactly what you're going to say even before the words leave your lips, so he ignores you, sliding his fingers along the boundary where you're stretched so wide around the base of him, getting them nice and slick.

"You didn't take off my panties!? Miguel, these are my good wuh– oh fuck."

The words cut off when he locates your hard little clit, settling two fingers over it this time, one on each side, the way he knows always drives you crazy.

"What was that, nena?" he bites back a smile, "Something you wanted to say, huh?"

You suck in a breath, but he doesn't give you a chance to answer, fucking into you hard, and wastes no time resuming his former rhythm. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan.

"Sorry, baby," he teases, "I didn't quite catch that."

You don't answer. There's no way you're going to, not with the way your body is drawing up tight, gasping for breath as if he's driving every last ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and he has you caught now, like spider with a fly in its web. He keeps holding you tight against him, hips angled to drive up against just the right spot inside you, the one that has you sobbing and clawing at him with every thrust, each one forcing you forward against the fingers he has bracketing your sensitive little clit.

No more words from that smart mouth of yours now, only gasps and whimpers and cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name.

You're clawing at his forearm, breath stuttering in and out of your lungs in staggered gulps. Your heart beating loud and fast and alive in your chest, and he can tell that you're close now. He can feel it in the way your tight little pussy clenches and quivers around him, clutching at his cock like it wants to hold him close, closer, closest.

"Mi– Mi– Mig–" The sound stutters out of you in time with his thrusts, high pitched and desperate—cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name, more whine than words. Pride swells in Miguel's chest at seeing you, hearing you like this, strung out and stuttering on his cock, begging him for your pleasure.

Pleasure that only he can give you.

"That's right, nena." He fucks into you hard. Can feel you clench around him relentlessly.

"I'm right here."

You're squeezing him so goddamned tight.

"Fucking you."

It takes everything in him to hold to the same angle, the same pace. To give you just what you need, the way only he can give it to you.

"Making you come," he bites out.

You writhe against him, whining louder now, sweet noises growing higher pitched.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, and you shudder against him, your voice rising into a wail.

Your hot little cunt clamps down tight, fluttering around him, and bright spots of pain bloom into pleasure as your fingernails dig into his arm, drawing blood. Your pretty eyes flutter shut as the whole of your body tenses under him.

Fuck, you're coming.

"That's– fuck– That's it," he grits out, slowing his thrusts, rocking against you gently to help draw out your orgasm. To buy himself a freaking second so you don’t take him over the edge with you. He keeps the soft rolling rhythm until the wracked shivers seizing your body settles. Counting down the seconds until the grip of your nails into his biceps is easing, and then…

"Again," he demands, snapping his hips forward, fucking into you hard, "Come for me again, nena."

Miguel locks his arm in place, holding you at the angle that will let him hit that perfect spot inside you every time, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head, and he intends to have you seeing stars. He hears your breath leave you with a strangled noise, feels your pussy clench tight and perfect around his cock, and grins through gritted teeth.

If he times it juuuust right, he can send you over the edge a second time. He's done it before, forcing you into another orgasm before you've even come down from the first, and he’s not above using his enhanced reflexes to make you do it again.

And right now? The way you're writhing against him, hands and arms and pussy clutching at him, like you're trying to pull him closer—pull him in, despite the fact that he's already fucking you as deep as he can go. All of that tells him his timing was spot-fucking-on today.

It doesn't take long. It never does when he makes you come this way. And thank fuck for that, because the feel of you clenching around him is almost enough to take him over the edge with you. He has to grit his teeth as he slows to the gentle rocking rhythm you like best when you’re coming. His free hand fisting in the bed sheets, claws digging into them in a way he knows will earn him another scolding later. But R.I.P. your damn linens. Better them than him. You may have come twice, but Miguel's not ready to be done with you just yet.

This time, when you come down, he keeps things slow and gentle until you go loose and boneless. Forces himself to slows further until every muscle in your body melts under his grip. You sink down into the mattress with a little sigh, like you're ready to drift back off to sleep just like this, safe and snug in his arms, his hard cock still buried inside of you.

And if he wasn't so hard up, skin crawling with need and desperation, maybe he'd let you.

But that’s not happening tonight.

Unfortunately for you, Miguel's too hungry for you. Starving. Wants to lick and bite and swallow you down to the very marrow of your bones. 

He's been good. He's been patient. Has held himself back while he made you come. Twice. Satisfaction burns bright in his chest, almost as bright as his need for you. Two fucking times he's gritted his teeth, holding back his own orgasm by the skin of his fucking fangs as that pretty little pussy came around his cock, squeezing him so tight that for a second he was sure he'd black out and see god behind his eyelids.

Miguel is out of patience. 

Any intention to go easy on you because you need the rest is gone. Any consideration for your early morning tomorrow has flown the nest.

Hands on each side of your hips, he rolls the two of you, easily flipping you forward onto your stomach and drags you down along the bed. You stay limp and relaxed, as you let him move you like a ragdoll, positioning you the way he wants, head and chest resting against the matress, ass in the air.

Once he's got you where he wants you, he takes just a second to admire you, taking in the way those pretty lace panties highlight the curves of your ass but do nothing to conceal your slick center, pulled to the side as they are, leaving your pussy fully exposed, all pretty and puffy from how well he's fucked you and glistening in the low light.

You shiver under his heavy gaze, and he can see the way your pussy clenches, can see how wet you are, shining slick, halfway down your thighs.

Miguel must've taken too long with his one second. A soft inquisitive "hmmmmm?" emerges from where your head is buried in the pillow, and you rock your hips gently side to side.

His dick jerks at the obvious invitation. Precome oozes from the tip, and he takes himself in hand, lets himself stroke once to spread it along his length, as though he wasn't dripping with you already.

"What's that, nena?" he bites out. He's so fucking hard for you, cock aching from holding back, but even now, he can't help but tease and goad you. "You want more? You didn't get fucked good enough already? Does that pretty pussy want my cock?"

"Mmmmm.... yes," you say, one hand outstretched behind you, making a 'gimme' motion at him.

The gesture is ridiculous, but he can't help the way it makes his chest pull tight. You're always so ready to have him, no matter how much he tires you out. Suddenly, he can't wait another fucking second to be inside you again. 

He starts to line himself up, the wet heat of you just kissing the head of his dick when you tense up and make a sound of alarm. Fear stings his spine, and he freezes.

"You okay, nena?" he asks, pulling away from you, suddenly terrified that he's hurt you somehow.

Miguel has always been big—even before the "accident" that changed him—and he's bigger now, exponentially stronger.  He’d thought he was being careful, but fuck, it'd be all too easy for him to let his strength get away from him, to go harder than you can handle.

"Are you hurt? Was I- Was I too rough?"

Because he forgets sometimes. Forgets that others don't heal at an accelerated rate like he does. That your body isn't protected by enhanced endurance that lets him walk off falling from a building, barely feeling the six broken ribs and fractured arm that results.

It's why he needs to protect you. 

Always. 

Unlike him, you can be hurt. Can be broken, can be killed. And if he’s hurt you, then he–

You make a negative sound, shaking your head.

  "No, you big doofus," you mumble out into the pillow, and Miguel's heart slowly starts to ease its way out of his throat. "The panties. Take them off first. Don't want them to tear."

He stops, blinking in confusion as his eyes narrow down at you.

Your. Fucking. Panties!?

Really? His mouth curls down into a peeved frown. That's your fucking priority right now? After he's fucked you silly, made you come twice the way only he can?

"You want me to take your panties off, nena?" he demands, tone low and harsh, edging forward on the bed until he’s looming over you.

"Yes," you confirm. "They’re my last good pair." You’re nodding your head energetically in a way that tells him he hasn't done nearly as good of a job of tiring you as he thought. He’ll have to fix that.

With a snarl, he lances the crotch of your panties with a single claw, ripping them off your body.

"Miguel!" you squeak, clearly not expecting that, your voice pitched with disbelief, "Did you just–?"

"They were in the way," he manages to rasp out, lining himself up and pressing forward, unceremoniously shoving inside.

The tight, hot clench of your pretty pussy is blindingly good. It always fucking is. And just like always, Miguel is lost to it. He holds there, buried as deep in you as he can get, shuddering against you. He's damn lucky that extraordinary stamina comes bundled along with super-senses, or he'd probably come every damn time he slips inside you. It'd be all over at the first thrust.

Fuck, he has to move. He pulls out, and you gasp and claw at the sheets, shuddering under him as he starts to fuck you again. Obscene wet, squelching sounds fill the room, along with the echoing slap of flesh on flesh as he fills you over and over and over. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. He grits his teeth, trying to get a handle on the feeling, but it’s overwhelming. 

Your hot, perfect little pussy clenches and flexes around his dick, and a blissful burn sears against his spine, streaking white and hot with pleasure. A tell-tale sign, warning him of what's to come if he doesn't stop. He sucks in a breath, trying to stave it off, barely hanging on to his control by the tips of his claws because he wants to feel you come around him one more time.

Because twice isn’t enough. Three times won’t be either. Nor would four, five, ten. Miguel’s greedy for you. Selfish. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will always want more of you.

More of your soft body pressed up against every inch of his. More of your eyes looking back at him, glazed over as if you have no coherent thoughts left in that pretty head of yours. He wants all of that and more. Another orgasm. Another fuck. Another kiss. One more breath. Just more, more, more.

He curls his hand around your throat, feels the chaotic race of your pulse under his fingertips.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, "I need it. Need to feel you." 

He tilts your face up, your back arched like a bow towards him. So fragile. So trusting, that you let him do this to you. 

He dips down to claim your lips, snapping his hips into yours faster now. Ramping up the pace as he chases his inevitable climax, forcing you to yours. 

You whimper and keen with each thrust, eyes rolling wildly. Your mouth hangs open, panting out sweet, stuttered moans that he swallows in a bruising kiss. Your whole body tenses under him, going rigid, then your pretty pussy starts clenching down around him as you come again.

This time, Miguel can't hold himself back. Doesn't even try. Lets himself succumb to the sight, the sounds, the smell, the feel of you surrounding him, coming for him. His stomach draws in tight, toes curling into the sheets, as he can feel his balls drawing up, cock swelling further as he manages a last few ragged thrusts. Then he’s tumbling over the edge with you, burying himself as deep as he can as the unforgiving bliss rises and spreads, blotting out everything else.

It's endless. Pulses after devastating pulse that won't stop. He comes and comes and comes, emptying himself inside of you until he's lightheaded, barely able to hold himself.

No amount of supernatural stamina can help him in this moment. Not when he can feel his spend filling you to capacity and more, so full that it starts leaking out of you, down the line of your thighs and onto his. His strength gives out, and he collapses into the bed, bringing you down with him.

The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breath. You’re trapped under his weight, your small back heaving under his larger chest, sweat slicking your skin to his. He has no desire to move. Shifts slightly to the side, a concession to your need to breathe, but refuses to go farther than that. He wants to keep you right here, covered and cocooned by his body. 

You tilt your head until you can peek over your shoulder at him. There's a look in your eyes, one that he has only ever seen on you. One just for him, filled with exasperated fondness, heat and loving familiarity. One he wouldn’t give up for anything.

"You're getting me new panties."

A warm huff of laughter escapes him. The bright warm glow in his chest spreads outwards, filling him with contentment.

"Sure, nena."

"And coffee in the morning," you add.

He hums in agreement because that's fair. You're going to be in zombie mode otherwise.

"And cupcakes for breakfast," you finish triumphantly.

Miguel turns his head to observe you, the way you're trying to hide that satisfied grin into the pillow to not betray how fucking over the moon you are right now after he's fucked you silly.

Smartass. Always pushing your damn luck. But it's not like he's going to ever say no to you is it?

He puts on a show of sighing loudly with mock exasperation. "From Gladis, yeah?”.

You nod into your pillow.

"Mmhmm."

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, circling his arm around your waist, easily pulling you to his side.

The rain is still pouring down outside, but here in bed with your warm body pressed up against his side, the sound of it pitter-pattering against the window is almost soothing. He can feel his eyes slipping closed as it lulls him off to sleep. 

The rain isn’t so bad when you’re warm and safe in his arms. Nothing is, as long as you’re here with him. 

He’ll keep you safe. 

Always.

Credits and Dedications: I have to give so so so so much credit to my clown-in-crime @thirstworldproblemss poor woman doesn't even go here, and spent the whole of her evening writing porn to me in my DMs. 90% of the porny parts have been written by her. So for all those who enjoyed this, please go to her inbox and send her much deserved love!!!

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[recareels]

take it slow just as fast as i can

character: boothill notes: i just rly, genuinely think boothill would be obsessed with feeling every fucking inch of you, that’s all c: | title credit: body like a back road by sam hunt warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, thinly veiled body worship, mentions of scars + implied stretch marks and cellulite, marking (biting and bruising), implied multiple orgasms, tiny bit of angst right at the end words: 830

boothill knows your body better than he knows anything else in the cosmos. 

boothill knows your body better than he knows his own—better than he knows his scorched, excavated homeland, better than he knows the smooth metal ripples and ridges, cold curves and contours of his own so called ‘body’, better than he knows his cherished 9mm revolver—the ivory grip, pretty pearlescent nacre shimmering up at him delicately from between the gaps of mechanized fingers, stamped with that gilded eagle sigil; the artfully notched cylinder, embossed with decorative arrows—six, one for each chamber—and the angular hammer, piped with shimmering aureate; the golden barrel, intricate inclinations carved to sharp, exquisite perfection. 

boothill knows every curve, every dip, every edge of your form—all of your lines and dimples and scars, and could map them out with his eyes closed and recite each corresponding story: a single metallic fingertip tracing along the jagged strikes of silver etched into your skin; his hard thumbprint pressing into the dents peppering your thighs, a cool knuckle skimming over that scar on your knee. 

and boothill loves appreciating them, appreciating you, appreciating how it all comes together to create one of the most magnificent masterpieces he’s ever had the pleasure of touching, the privilege of loving. 

it’s become somewhat of a ritual now to take his sweet time admiring your figure before he fucks it, feeling every part of you plush and pliant beneath his grooved palms, revelling in the soft gasps that stutter your chest and dainty shivers that ripple your flesh as he kneads it. 

he fills his touch with it, grabs healthy handfuls and squeezes—so soft, so supple—alternating between harsh groping, iron fingers sinking into your thighs, your hips, your tits, and gentle caressing, bullseye gaze watching with sheer wonderment as his palms glide over your silhouette, slick lips parted and damp with panted breath.

sometimes he’ll just let his hand rest on your ribs, observing the way it rises and falls with each of your quiet breaths, feeling oxygen expand your lungs as it flows in, then feeling your chest depress with every exhale pushed up your throat. 

he loves to experience the thrum of your pulse beneath his fingertips—nothing more than a faint fluttering pressure against his receptors, but present nonetheless—an undeniable confirmation that you are indeed here, alive, his. 

so beautiful, he murmurs from between your thighs, one large hand pressed flush against your heart, his chin resting on your stomach. a work of fudgin’ art, baby, I swear to the stars. 

it all gets him going so goddamn easily, instils a hunger in him so ferocious that it chews on his wires, zipping through the cables in sparks of desire until it devours his brain, gorges every thought and notion until all he can conceive, all he needs, is you. 

he can’t help but lick and kiss and bite and suck, desperate to leave his own impermanent marks on this gorgeous canvas. bruises blossom in the shapes of his fingerprints, sprouted in clusters of five across your form. engravings of razored teeth litter your thighs and hips, his gnawing just a hint shy of too strong, leaving behind wide crescents of thirty-two little crimson pinpricks. petals of thick saliva dry hard and stiff on your stomach and neck and collarbone, planted into your skin by puckered lips and chaste kisses.

it’s customary that he murmur sweet nothings into every claim he creates, knowing that his words will seep into your tissues in the form of gentle vibrations, knowing that they will stay, even after his marks fade.

your body is art, too, you tell him softly, after he’s made you cum several times on his cock, iron shimmering with a thick coat of your arousal, slick he refuses to clean off. a tender finger traces along the tears laden across his torso, rough and saw-toothed—scars he refuses to let heal. 

no, he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into your shoulder as he speaks, eyes closing briefly with a slow, deep inhale. not the way yours is. 

your body is a storybook of your life, inscribed with tales and memories—the way your body developed as you entered womanhood, too quick for your delicate skin to keep up with, procuring shimmering streaks across your breasts and bum; the time you flipped your childhood bicycle, kneecaps scraping concrete, bloody and raw; that dark dash seared along your inner arm, a constant reminder of an earnest mistake, when you accidentally nudged the rim of a pot filled with boiling water. 

his body was carved in a lab, too precise to be real, too perfect to be human, constantly torn apart and put back together; rearranged, scrambled, chock full of modifications he never asked for, never agreed to. a true horror story—a weapon of death and destruction, a film of inevitable demise clinging to the metal.

he fears that’s all it ever will be. 

[gladiatorcunt]

pwetty please more dom art, switch patrick, sub reader. that blurb was so so good i think “Go ahead and make daddy cum while I give him kisses, ‘kay?” may be the hottest thing anyone has ever said ever actually

# 🫀HONEST HEARTS 🪤 !!

cw: WEIRD VIBES, dom art switch patrick sub reader coded, heavy on the art x patrick, breeding kink/pregnancy/ambiguous baby trapping (???), art’s lowkey mean, daddy kink (referring to patrick), patrick calls you a slut, oral (afab reader receiving), patrick’s sandwiched in between you & art, anal sex (m receiving), summer heat will have you displaying behaviors and acting in ways, ambiguous era, feminization (one use of “mama” not in a mommy kink way), stream of consciousness style writing, they’re gross but so are you, reader having a hamlet holding up the skull moment

Art fucks Patrick like a bat out of hell, you lie beneath them wet and wanting as you watch patrick’s sweaty body flail around like a ragdoll. Art squishes your bodies together, pressing his weight against Patrick's back. There’s so much pressure on your lungs, you’re scared you’ll pop. The humid July air is so thick around you that the plush bedding feels swathed in a soft old film yellow tint, you and Patrick swap glassy eyes when his tip finally sinks into your tight ass. No lube in sight, you want pain that only skinny dipping in a private river after dark will fix. Reminders of youth, the sting from the current as it travels through the indents of teeth.

You would think Art had become a ferocious shark, inky pupils dripping onto Patrick's shoulder blades and toothy grins, feral and lead only by his cock at the first scent of blood he could catch. yours, Patrick’s, his. Patrick fucks your ass to the point of no return, his pace never ceasing until all you is the word “Daddy” howled out over and over. Every thrust earns art deeper inside of him, Patrick greedily rolls his hips back. In appreciation Art leans down and watches his spit highlight how cock drunk the two of you are, a see through trail trickling down both of your faces onto the pillow.

It’s like Art doesn’t have any worth until he’s fucking you and Patrick out of your minds at the same time. He hooks his chin in Patrick’s shoulder, winking down at you as he ramps up the speed of his thrusts. Patrick’s eyes tighten in pleasure-pain but any sounds he has to offer are muffled in the seams of your slick lips, you open your mouth to catch them and hoard them all. Breathy pants and whines and growls becuase Patrick may be the one getting fucked the most, but you should never forget who’s next in line to benefit from this little symbiotic expression of your relationship. You’re the atlar, solid foundation and the center of life’s devotion. Art and Patrick are the attendants, bringing you animal sacrifices in the form of their flesh and soul and hearts. In their bones and in the nerves connecting to their brain, where you all exist in an undefiled state even as fluids are spilt in between the cracks in the marble. A poor man’s kintsugi.

Patrick begs Art to cum, but you defer to Patrick when it’s your time to be a babbling brook around his thick length. Art always says yes when the other man’s balls deep in you, plus he has dibs on your pussy this week. It’s in their nature, to desire each other carnally and still keep each other entangled in steep competition even when those desires are fulfilled in excess. Art really wants a baby, you’ve been too gung ho to bounce all over the world as if it were your very own tennis court. Explaining it by using their busy careers as an opportunity, you must not know that you’re best when you’re right where they can see you. Even if they’re not there, jerking each other off to grainy security cam footage is their own bonding time. Sometimes you put on shows for them, modeling expensive lingerie that you think is going to be a surprise for their welcome home. Art always has an eye and a hold on Patrick, they both want that with you too.

“Go on,” He whispers for only Patrick’s uniquely shaped ears to hear, sorry angel. “The sooner you give our baby that nice big tangy load I know you’ve got for us, the sooner I can get their tummy swollen.”

Daddy gets his favorite kind of kisses when he floods your ass with cum, and he licks the remaining drops off your stretched rim with Art’s hand heavy on his head. You get your kisses too, from each of them until you’re sinking so far into that dreamy kind of headspace that affection from you means you lazily smack your lips together and call it a job well done. Fuzzy voices coo at you that it was indeed a job well done, squelching noises accompany Patrick reluctantly pulling out. You both whine the exact same way, Art beams and shushes you, using Patrick’s bruised ass to get rock hard and wet again for your puffy pussy.

“Just like that, fuck! Should have taken a picture, don’t you think? Make it last longer, keep you useful.”

All talk, as long as he’s alive he’ll have use. Existence breeds obsession, split three ways, the way some god intended. Like calls to like, moths to flame, water to silent desert rock, bleeding knuckles to piping hot iron, copper to silver, bones to soil, ball to grass-clay-concrete court.

Patrick hates it when you and art fight, turning him into a scared puppy. He doesn’t say to your face that he agrees with Art, that you shouldn’t leave the house amidst all the stress that a possible pregnancy can bring. Stress that’s easily worked off under their touch, stuffed full of so much cum that it might as well replace your gray matter. You can’t run laps around the house despite it being what your anxiety is telling you to do. You have to wait there on the toilet, holding each of their hands as you wait for the test results. Once the necessary time has passed, you can’t overcome your nervousness and instead wait for Art to look at one of the sticks.

You barely catch a glimpse of the test result when you’re tackled. Patrick’s on you first, sucking your tongue into his mouth while cradling your head in his hands so you don’t feel it when you bump into the wall. Art chastises him of course, pulling him back by his ear to give you some space. They’re both smiling, wide and blinding white grins so dazzling that you’re worried you’ll go blind. Their reactions alone tell you more than you could ever need to know, the monarch butterflies scurry from stomach to stomach. Those teeming with life and those forever starving. Art gives you a slow kiss and hums into you, the vibrations travel down to your flexing toes. Bubbly laughter drowns out the cracks of lightning outside, baby blanket blue on fire white.

You want to be loved in a way that’s wrong and out of sorts, your arousal is heightened by what your paranoia tells you will be someone’s undoing. Yours or theirs. Both. No one really needs pure intentions to love or be loved at the end of the day, and maybe that’s something to be grateful for. There are people who can love the sin as well as the sinner. Your hormones are doing a number on you, that much is clear, if you’re philosophizing about the morals of being in love when there more than likely are none. There’s just that so much time to think, that initial fear of being left when you yourself would be too overencumbered to. Art picks up on these kinds of thoughts more often than Patrick, who’s just happy to belong somewhere and to someone. The former busies himself with the heft of your tits. Sucks the life out of your hard nipples and then some, he adores when you come begging with a dripping cunt after a late afternoon nap because you had a very good dream.

“Lie back angel, working so hard right now… you need a break, mama.” Art giggles, engaging in a riveting one on one conversation with your throbbing clit, rapidly flicking it with his tongue as he locks clear eyes with your sleepy blinks. “Pussy’s gushing like a fountain now, ‘s so chubby too, I hope you never fucking work off the baby weight.”

Later they’ll wipe you down from the shower with their tongues, slurping up the water droplets like they’re bugs hovering around an in bloom blush pink flower because they’re freaks like that. Patrick’s out on the now usual run to the nearest convenience store for your latest cravings, he’ll try it with you too no matter what it is. Art does his best, but you’re too sensitive to others being nauseous to handle seeing his skin almost cartoonishly flood with a light mossy green undertone. Fall brings a whole new array of food combinations and flavors of snack cakes just waiting for you to inhale them worryingly quickly. Art brings your focus back to him with a teasing nip to your bud, closing his lips around it and giving it a firm suck as the front door unlatches. The crinkling of plastic grocery bags reach your ears before Patrick’s corny “Honey, I’m home!” does. More single minded than a dog with his bone, the bags clatter to the floor and his shoes pound the floor on the way to where you’re cumming on Art’s face in a flash of white.

Patrick frowns, “You know I don't like you being a slut when I'm not there, now you owe me two rounds.”

Art reminds the other man that you might not have the energy for the two rounds he’s imagining, full of slapping skin and ghoulish howls, Patrick simply says that you can drift off while he ruts away. Into you or on you, so long as his puffy tip is touching some sort of skin, makes him wish he could burrow and dig a tunnel inside you. Live in one of the chambers in your heart, Art in the other, your kids in the next, a no vacancy sign boarding the last of them shut. You tilt your head to the side so he runs his nose along the faint line of your pulse. He should record the echoing rhythmic thumps for when they’re traveling and can’t sleep without their missing piece. His chest burns when the words well up and won’t come out how he needs them too, how can you express that you need to live in someone’s very dna without letting your huge dick do the talking for you? He’ll quite possibly never know, maybe a rare showing of Art riding Patrick into the center of the earth as he gasps for life saving breath will be enough for you.

[hoshifighting]

Oi lindeza, como você está? Espero que esteja bem :)

I'm gonna ask this in English because it just make ms sense to me, but could you write about seventeen being in love with a woman who has kinda a masculine energy ? I know, it's weird, but I keep thinking about how they would react if in a certain situations the girl takes the lead like they're supposed to do. Like arguing with a inconvenient waiter or while someone is trying to cross the line with them.

Obrigada ❤️

Seventeen in love with a woman who leads and takes charge

a/n: oii meu amor! estou bem e você? adorei o request, mto criativo!! um monte de beijooos, espero que goste!! ❤️❤️

seungcheol is used to taking care of others, having done so from a young age. when you first stepped in and took control of an unexpected situation, it completely blew his mind. he found it both surprising and incredibly attractive. despite his natural instinct to care for you as his woman, he found himself captivated when you defended him. for once, he could relax and be taken care of.

jeonghan absolutely loves when you take charge. the first time you did, he had stars in his eyes. he adores the dynamic and often sulks playfully, asking you to handle things for him, "Y/N-nie, can you please talk to them? they messed up my order again." "Y/N-nie, the guys are making fun of meee!"

joshua, the quintessential gentleman – okay, everyone knows it!! –, always aims to take care of you. however, his kindness sometimes leads to others taking advantage of him. you stepping in to assertively balance the energy, "no, Joshua. they need to respect you baby!" especially when he's too kind, makes him appreciate you even more.

jun feels shy when you take charge, but he also admires you immensely. when you argued with a rude waiter on his behalf, he was awestruck, feeling like he was watching a lioness protect her ground, feeling incredibly lucky to have you by his side.

hoshi is another one that loves when you take charge. he enjoys watching you handle situations, often making playful 'I told you so' faces to the person causing the problem. "oh really? I can't do that? let me call my Y/N-nie then."

wonwoo is gentle and often too shy to defend himself. he appreciates your protective nature, even if he doesn't always show it. you scolding him for not standing up for himself makes him realize how much you care. "I know I should have said something, but seeing you stand up for me..." he doesn't finish his sentence, but the blush on his cheeks says everything.

woozi prefers to ignore problems, but when you defend him ferociously, he's caught off guard. he might initially tell you there's no need, but inside, he finds it incredibly hot and smirks afterwards. "come on, there's no need to get into it... but thank you."

minghao despite being capable of standing up for himself, loves your protectiveness. your diplomatic skills and ability to resolve the situation calmly leave him in awe. he appreciates the way you ensure his safety, even if he tells you to let things go sometimes. "It's fine, really. but I love how you always look out for me."

mingyu the big boy, feels like he's watching his superhero when you take charge. whether it's handling his documents at a clinic or standing up for him when he's uncomfortable, he loves it. he might not let you pay for dinner, but seeing you ready to do so with your card between your fingers, makes his heart swell.

seokmin sees you as his princess and doesn’t want you to lift a finger. however, he appreciates when you take charge in certain situations. he loves balancing your capable nature with his desire to take care of you. "I know you handle everything so well, but let me do this for you, okay?"

seungkwan loves when you protect him, whether it’s putting your arm around him when someone gets too close or asking someone to lower their voice for him. he finds your assertiveness incredibly charming. "the way you handle things, it's so hot. I feel so lucky."

vernon doesn't mind if you lead or not, but he enjoys telling others about your assertiveness. he loves making comments about how you handle situations, showing his admiration. "my girlfriend’s giving me a ride." or "let me think what Y/N would do in this situation."

chan learns a lot from you about positioning himself. he finds it incredibly hot when you lead and put people in their place. he admires you silently and strives to be like you. "you’re amazing. I hope I can be as strong as you are someday." you're his model, muse, love, inspiration... oh, this boy just loves you soo much! "I always admire you in silence."

[neuvistar]

❝ WATCH ME MOVE MY HIPS TO IT! ❞ signed. jjk men . wc 1296 .

— featuring ┊satoru gojo, suguru geto, choso kamo, kento nanami x fem!reader ( all separate )

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual!, not proofread bc lazy bum activities, reverse cowgirl ( suguru geto, kento nanami ), titplay ( are we surprised ), hair pulling ( kento nanami, suguru geto ) titsucking ( choso kamo ), reader referred 2 as “girl” a few times, nicknames used. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. | 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒? @sugutiva @veraiism

— a/n ┊it’s been so long since i wrote something 4 jjk 🙉🙈 here it is!!! ngl this was basically a free write it has no specific theme except… u.. riding them… 🤗 ++ tbh i got the fic idea while listening 2 the song “put a little umph in it” by jagged edge ft. ashanti!!! 🙈

⊹ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎: ❝ 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓! ❞

satoru’s heart thudded recklessly within his chest, as you rode his aching cock, your hips rolling against his own with a soft smirk curling on his lips. “fuck," he hissed, grasping your hips to control your wriggles, eyes widening as your pussy spawned around him. there was a surge of possessiveness in your movements as you practically claimed his cock, drool slipping from your pretty lips. "you’re reeaally needy today, aren’t you?” he nibbled at your neck, suckling at your skin—a small grin forming as he whispered against your ear. "pretty. so pretty.” your movements were rhythmic, the way you slammed yourself down against his cock was completely calculated and deliberate. the desire within you, the desire to squeeze his cock filled your mind, it was almost overwhelming. satoru on the other hand was addicted to the sensation of your heat—the way your inner walls clenched around him, the way your juices coated his cock was enough to drive him in a frenzy. “your c-cock..” that embarrassing word was all you could muster, your fingers trembling against his shoulders

“yeah? what about it, baby?” satoru’s tongue traced the shape of your earlobe, nipping at it playfully, his voice a husky, sensual whisper against your ear. “g—give me your cock. feels so fucking good, satoru..” you managed to whimper as you rode his dick at a ferocious pace, your tits bouncing against his chest— you felt his hand release your neck as he fondled with your breasts. you could almost feel him bucking his hips upwards, desperate to match your pace on his cock— his eyes flickering downwards, taking in the swell of your breasts as they bounced, whistling as he reached out, gently cupping them in his hands. satoru’s thumb teased over your nipple, his slender fingers dug into the supple softness of your breast, kneading them as his thrusts grew more erratic. “i’ll give you my cock, baby. it’s all yours… all yours tonight.”

⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎: ❝ 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓! ❞

suguru watched you fuck yourself on his dick—your back in full view as you rode him. the bed squeaked beneath you both with every movement, every slam of your body against his crotch, each jiggle of your ass sending shivers down his spine. "look at you, sweetheart." suguru praised, his hands gripping your waist "perfect little thing you are.” you were so fucking hot right now, and he couldn't get enough of you. your moans drove him wild, his own need growing with each passing second. “faster, come on now.. i know you can go faster than this, let’s make this good." suguru hissed, his hands gripped your hips even tighter than before, nails digging deep within the flesh of your body—practically forcing you to bounce on his cock at a quicker pace, the sensation of your tight walls gripping his cock driving him to the edge. suguru felt the bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, his body slick with a sheen of perspiration. “suguru.. f—feels too good,” your breathing became heavier, the room filled with the sound of the bed creaking with each thrust he made from behind. he could feel his release nearing, the room was filled with tension, the air thick with the scent of sex and the sounds of passion.

“i know it feels good, baby.” suguru’s hand reached out, fingers lacing around your hair, tugging gently.. forcing you to lean backwards, your breasts bouncing as you did so, presented to him in a way that made his eyes widen, his breath hitching in his chest. “you like how my cock feels, huh?” he buried his face against your neck, inhaling the sweet smell of arousal. he was giving you control for once, allowing you to feel his submission while you slammed yourself on his dick repeatedly, hoping it would break down the walls he had built around himself these past few days. he flicked his finger against your perked nipple, his actions urgent and desperate, his need for you palpable. “you’re losing control, sweet baby… it’s such a beautiful sight.”

⊹ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎: ❝ ‘𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇! ❞

choso held your hips tightly, pulling you back onto him with every thrust, his gaze glued to the sight of you bouncing on his cock. “baby please,” he could feel the heat of your body, the wetness that coated him, heat surrounding both of you. his own body glistened with essence of exhaustion, the exertion of the act adding to the fire that raged within him. choso’s cock throbbed deep within you, the pleasure almost unbearable, yet he wanted more. he wanted to possess you fully, to claim you tonight. “baby.. baby give me more, fuck..” the bed squeaked loudly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room as he couldn’t take it anymore, thrusting upwards into your soaked cunt, his body aching for release. “i need to feel you.” choso’s voice is low, demanding almost. choso’s hands expertly teased your tits he loved so much, lowering his head to take one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it with ease. your moan of surprise spurred him on, and he moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. choso was lost in the swell of hedonistic pleasure, his mind clouded by the sensation of his pretty girl’s body, hot and slick, wrapped around him.

his hands gripped onto your breasts, knuckles white as he watched your body rock against him, the bed’s motion and creaking testament to the heated coupling. a low moan rumbled in his throat as he twirled his tongue against your nipple, the act as much an expression of pleasure as dominance. choso’s mind raced, tangled up in the web of emotions and lust that consumed his body. your bodies moved in harmony, skin slapping against skin in a rhythm that bordered on primal. "baby.. your hips.. so g—good,” he groaned, his words were a mix of praise and a plea for more. “more.. you’re going to give me more, right?”

⊹ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈: ❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐀 ‘𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓! ❞

nanami could hardly believe that he'd managed to stay awake through the night after such an exhausting day, fucking your cunt without pause. his body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, his cock still buried deep inside your tight pussy as you rode him in his office… knowing people could walk in any second. the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, painting the room in a gentle golden light. nanami’s hand was wrapped tightly in your hair, tugging gently as you slammed yourself down onto his cock. his office chair squealed with each impact, your ass coming in contact with his pelvis with each movement. nanami’s grip on your hair tightened as your eyes rolled back, his own eyes locked onto your body as he watched you ride him. “ken..” you were so fucking beautiful, so sexy, that he didn't want it to end. nanami wanted to watch you push yourself onto his cock for the rest of the day, but he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. his eyes devour the sight infront of him, it was considered a blessing that he had the opportunity to see you in your most vulnerable state… his eyes trailing down your back, giving him quite the view he admired.

nanami groaned lowly, his voice raw with lust as he watched his dick enter you in and out with an unbridled ferocity. the office room, your secret sanctuary, filled with the symphony of pleasure and the warmth of your bodies pressed against one another. his hands tugged at your hair, the sweet sting of pleasure and pain. “you feel heavenly,” he hissed, his grip tightening as he pushed into you with a slow, deliberate rhythm. the intensity of the moment, his pent of desires threatened to consume him completely. “my beautiful girl..“

[crystallinestars]

How They React to Your Death Part 2

I am back with more Genshin angst. Somehow, I feel like this part isn't as sad as the previous one, but it might just be author's bias.

Part 1 can be found here.

Characters: Gorou, Baizhu, Zhongli, Diluc, and Tighnari

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details

🐕 Gorou

Gorou had always harbored reservations about your participation on the battlefield. He had taught you how to fight upon your request and having fought many battles side-by-side, Gorou knew you were a capable fighter. But despite this, a part of him always worried about your safety. He couldn’t help it; he loved you too much to risk losing you.

He tried to keep you safe by suggesting you stay behind in Watatsumi and help Kokomi with strategizing, but this resulted in arguments between you. His ears flattened and his tail sagged like a scolded dog’s when you said you wanted to protect Watatsumi and its people since they were your home. Plus, you didn’t want to stay behind and anxiously wait for news from him just to know if he was still alive. Gorou had no comebacks to your points and could only sigh in resignation and apologize.

When the Watatsumi troops joined another battle against the Shogunate’s forces, Gorou trusted you to handle yourself. He had to believe you could because he couldn’t always protect you amid the chaotic battlefield. However, he forgot that there was more than just your life he needed to worry about. His own was at equal risk.

While fending off several opponents, Gorou didn’t notice an enemy sneaking up behind him until it was too late. Turning around, Gorou found himself with no time to react as the Shogunate soldier thrust his spear forward, prepared to impale the Watatsumi General through the chest. Gorou heard you shout his name, and then suddenly you appeared in front of him, intercepting the lethal blow. The strained little gasp of pain you let out as the weapon tore into your flesh ingrained itself into Gorou’s memory. He remained frozen in place, eyes wide with horror and disbelief as he watched you collapse to the ground.

Unfortunately, the enemy soldier gave him no time to come to your aid. Having retracted his spear, he aimed it once more at Gorou. Seized by panic, Gorou made quick work of the Shogunate scum before falling to his knees beside your figure.

The wound in your chest looked deep, as evident by the copious amounts of blood that seeped out from under your armor. He knew the situation was bad and that you might not even make it, but he tried to reassure you that he’d get you to a medic and you’d be fine. Despite his attempt to stay calm, internally he was panicking. Your eyes already looked unfocused, as if you couldn’t perceive the world around you. Gorou tore off the fabric of his pants and tried to bandage your wound to stave off the bleeding, but paused when you reached a hand up to touch his cheek. Your fingers were icy cold.

“Go…rou,” you croaked, your voice almost inaudible over the sounds of screaming and clashing metal of the ongoing war. Then, your hand fell away from his face, and you went still, your gaze hollow. Gorou called your name in a wavering voice. He repeated it several times and grasped onto your shoulders, begging you to respond to him, to please give him a sign that you were still with him.

You remained unresponsive.

Despair squeezed his heart like a suffocating vice, but he could not spare time to grieve for your passing. The battle was not over, and the Shogunate soldiers closed in on him once more. Reluctantly, he left your body where it was, and buried his anguish beneath a layer of anger and a desire for revenge.

That day, Gorou felled more enemies than he’d ever defeated in previous battles. He was ferocious, almost beastly in the way he slayed his opponents with a bow, teeth, and claws. It was a rookie mistake to let his anger blind him in his quest for vengeance, but Gorou couldn’t control the urge. He could either be a slave to his anger or let his sadness consume him to the point where he had no fight left in him. So, he fought.

Despite the losses Watatsumi suffered during the fight, Gorou’s army managed to win and push back the Shogunate forces. Once the fighting was over and the injured were rushed back to camp, Gorou made his way back to where your body lay in the blood-soaked ground amid the victorious cheers of his remaining men.

He knelt beside you and hugged your cold and stiff corpse in his arms tightly. He didn’t say a word, only closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his shoulders shook in an attempt not to cry. There was a familiar stinging in his nose, and his vision blurred, but he refrained from crying. He couldn’t return to his men while looking like a weeping mess, because seeing their ever-confident and reliable General crying would shatter the soaring morale of their victory. But if anyone happened to look in Gorou’s direction, they’d see his hunched-over figure cradling you to his chest, while his ears drooped and his shoulders shook.

The days that followed were a blur. Gorou’s army returned to Watatsumi to recuperate and brief Kokomi on the results of the battle. Gorou was heralded as a hero for the fierce way he fought and brought victory for their cause, but the Watatsumi General couldn’t bring himself to feel happy. He tried to put on a smile and congratulate his men for helping to win the battle, made speeches to keep morale up, and oversaw the training of future soldiers. Life kept him busy, but there was a distinct hollowness to it now that you were gone. Before, he would take breaks from training to eat lunch or dinner with you, take walks by the beautiful beaches of Watatsumi, or hide away in your shared home and let you brush his tail much to his delight. Now… there was only an empty void.

When night fell and Gorou found himself lying alone in bed, he would surround himself with articles of your clothing that still carried your scent, and cry. When there was no one to see him fall apart, he would break down and cry hard while whimpering your name until sleep claimed him.

These crying fits only stopped when Kokomi approached him one day. She still looked composed and refined as always, but Gorou could see the sadness in her eyes that had become more prominent ever since she learned about your death. You were her dear friend, after all, and it pained her to lose you. She handed him a letter and explained that it was something you wanted her to give to Gorou in the event you perished in battle.

When Gorou fished out the letter and read the first few sentences, tears welled up in his eyes. The way you wrote to him was as if you were right there, speaking directly to him. He could almost hear your voice as you apologized for leaving him so early, but you were always prepared to give your life to him, Kokomi, and all of Watatsumi because you loved them so much. You told him to not let his grief consume him because you wanted him to enjoy the life you fought so hard to protect. Above all, you would be happiest if Watatsumi remained safe under his and Kokomi’s guidance.

It took Gorou several tries to read the letter since the tears blurred his vision, but once he calmed down, he found that the anguish in his heart lessened, if only a little. It would be a long road to come to terms with your death and not being able to enjoy life with you anymore, but for your sake, he will try. And maybe one day, once his own time comes, Gorou will tell you all about how Watatsumi overcame the war with the Shogunate and flourished in the following years, just as you hoped.

🐍 Baizhu

Baizhu is Liyue’s best doctor. He boasted a hefty record of healing patients with even the most obscure and difficult-to-treat illnesses, giving hope to the sick that they still had a chance to lead normal and healthy lives. But for all his amazing healing abilities, there were illnesses that even Baizhu could not cure. The day you died served as a stark reminder of his limitations.

You’ve been ill with a rare and mysterious illness ever since you were little. You had difficulties breathing, often coming down with severe coughs, and your body was weaker than normal, so you couldn’t participate in physical activities with other children. When the illness got particularly bad, you were left bedridden due to how weakened it made you. Worst of all, no cure for it existed. No matter how many doctors looked at you, nobody could figure out what caused your illness.

When you grew up, your condition worsened, but you had a shred of hope. Your parents heard about the amazing healing abilities of a doctor in Liyue, and your family traveled all the way to the Harbor in the hopes that Baizhu could cure you. To his chagrin and your disappointment, he could not. Even Changsheng’s powers couldn’t transfer your illness to him. Whatever disease you possessed was a result of your genetic composition, which made it all the more difficult to treat. The best he could do was concoct a medicine that staved off your symptoms, but it was by no means a cure.

Since then, you frequently came to Bubu Pharmacy to get medicine. Against all odds, you had become close to the doctor during your many visits and eventually became his lover.

Baizhu did all he could to search for a cure, not only because you were his patient, but also because he genuinely loved you and didn’t want to watch you suffer. However, despite the many late nights he spent researching and mixing various medicines, nothing helped you long-term. The best he could do was curb your symptoms for a time before you became resistant to the medicine and felt worse again.

The more time passed, the worse your body deteriorated. At first, you struggled to do any strenuous activities, so you resigned yourself to walking and not lifting anything heavy. Then walking became difficult, so Baizhu took the time to come visit you at home and give you new medicines to try in the hopes of getting you back on your feet. You would always smile and thank him, saying that he was better off focusing on his other patients, but Baizhu hated it when you said that. It sounded like you had given up on getting better. Even if you doubted you would live for very long, he promised he would find a way to cure you.

The doctor genuinely believed he could help you. It is a doctor’s job to heal the sick and save lives. No matter how impossible the task seemed, he believed there was a cure for your illness somewhere out there, it just needed to be discovered. But before he knew it, your condition got worse to the point that you coughed up blood and became bedridden, barely able to lift a spoon to feed yourself.

Baizhu experienced a rare panic, and spent all of his free time at your bedside, tending to you and giving you various medicines in the hopes of finding something that stuck. As the days passed and you continued to worsen, Baizhu still refused to give up. You had to get better eventually. You had to. Even as your breathing became weak and you could barely hold your eyes open or speak due to your feeble state, Baizhu refused to face the reality of your impending death.

Utilizing all the medicinal supplies and his knowledge, Baizhu continued to try and treat you. When that didn’t work, he tried to split the burden of your suffering by transferring some of the illness to himself using Changsheng. He would not—could not—give up. Even when your hand went limp in his, even when your breathing stilled and your pulse flatlined, even when Changsheng pleaded with him to stop, Baizhu didn’t pause in his desperate attempts to get you to open your eyes and smile at him again. Not until all his medical supplies were depleted and your body had grown cold.

He still refused to accept your death and his failure. If traditional medicine and Changsheng can’t help, what if a higher power intervened? What if you became a living corpse like Qiqi? Perhaps with the blessing of an adeptus, you could be brought back to life and continue to live together with him like before.

Hearing his deluded mumbling, Changsheng had to snap Baizhu out of his spiraling thoughts by reminding him that Qiqi’s case was special because she was still alive when she was granted an adeptus’s blessing. Her words cut him like a knife, for as much as Baizhu didn’t want to lose even this little shred of hope, he knew Changsheng was right. There truly is nothing that could bring you back.

At that point, Baizhu had to face reality. You were gone. Your illness ended up claiming your life despite his efforts.

That night was a rare time when Changsheng saw Baizhu weep. The doctor silently cried as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, and apologized over and over for being unable to save you. He failed you both as a doctor and as your beloved, and the guilt ate him up inside.

Despite how firmly Baizhu believed that he could save everyone in need of his aid, deep down he knew it was improbable. Some injuries and illnesses were beyond saving. But out of all the people he couldn’t save, why did one of them have to be you?

Ever since the night of your passing, Baizhu slept poorly, plagued by guilt and self-loathing for not being the perfect doctor. The one person he wanted to save most, to spend the rest of his life with, was gone all because he wasn’t skilled enough.

Back when you were alive, he promised to create the elixir of immortality and get you to be the first to try it. He dreamed about a happy future where you, Changsheng, himself, and everyone else could all lead happy, healthy lives. But he was too late, and that promise was left broken, just like his promise to marry you one day.

Despite the tragedy, Baizhu tried to move on. His patients needed him. There were still so many lives he needed to save, so he couldn’t give up now. He tried to smile through the pain and work as usual, but even Qiqi could see how sad his smiles were. He is filled with longing whenever he thinks of you, as well as the ever-present guilt that never faded no matter how many years passed. Despite how painful it was for Baizhu to remember you, he held those memories dear to his heart. As short as your relationship had been, it was a truly special connection he knew he would never have with anyone else.

In the distant future, Baizhu will dedicate years of his life to researching your illness and developing a cure. Though the medicine won’t bring you back to him, he finds a bit of solace in knowing that no one else will have to lose their loved one to the disease the way he did.

🔶 Zhongli

Zhongli always knew you would die before him. You were a human, after all. Your lifespan was but a blink of an eye for his 6000-year-old existence.

When you expressed a desire to be in a long-term romantic relationship with him, Zhongli made it very clear that he was an ancient supernatural being who had lived thousands of years, and would live thousands more even after you die because his lifespan was unlike yours. He wondered if this would discourage you from pursuing him, but it did not. After carefully weighing the facts, you remained steadfast in your resolve to build a future with him, and he couldn’t help but admire your determination.

The decades you spent together were some of the happiest Zhongli ever had. You gifted him new memories and experiences of the simple, relaxed life he always wanted ever since he stepped down from his position as Liyue’s Archon. Drinking tea at the teahouse while chatting about his extensive knowledge on various topics, participating in festivals, hosting small gatherings to meet his adepti friends, and getting married were just some of the things you did together. Life was peaceful yet eventful, and Zhongli felt a sense of fulfillment from it. Being able to enjoy the fruits of his thousands of years’ worth of labor felt rewarding, and doubly so since he got to enjoy it with someone he loved.

As the years passed by, Zhongli noticed how your skin gradually developed wrinkles, and your hair gained new white strands. He knew you were getting older, while he still retained that ever-youthful appearance of a handsome young man. To avoid suspicion from the public, but most of all, to appease any insecurity you might have about growing old, Zhongli manipulated his appearance to age together with you. Each year, he added more wrinkles to his skin and grayness to his hair to match the speed of your own aging.

You were surprised when you first noticed these changes, but Zhongli could tell you appreciated his efforts. You had appeared downtrodden about growing older, while he still looked the same as the day you first met him. Now, you seemed more at ease, though he could still catch glimpses of sadness in your eyes. After all, the fact he had to manually age his appearance was a constant reminder that he was not human and that you would have to leave him one day.

As you grew older still and your body developed aches and pains that usually came with old age, Zhongli helped you through the difficulties. He did the more strenuous work around the house, supported you during walks, helped you read text you could no longer see clearly, and fetched your medicine from Bubu Pharmacy to keep your ailments at bay.

Despite the differences that came with you growing old, Zhongli never loved you any less. Everything about him was as constant as the bedrock of Liyue itself, and his love for you never wavered. Even when your beautiful, youthful looks faded, and he had to take care of your frail body, he still loved you just as much as when you first became a couple, if not more. He loved the person you were on the inside more than what you looked like on the outside, and in his eyes, your beauty never faded.

However, it still pained Zhongli to see your lovely hair grow white, and your body weak. It meant that death would come for you soon, and you would have to part ways. He knew it was inevitable, but a part of him silently pleaded ‘Not yet. Don’t go just yet, please stay a little longer.’

As you reached your late 80s, your health grew worse to the point you spent most of your time at home. Both you and Zhongli could tell that your time would come any day now, but you said that you were prepared. You got to live a long, happy life and had no major regrets, so death didn’t scare you. Rather, you have grown to accept it.

Zhongli would stay up late at night in bed with you to watch your sleeping face, trying to ingrain the memory of your features and of being together into his mind, because he knew each night might be the last.

One night, Zhongli woke up to the sensation of your life force growing faint, until it completely disappeared. He didn’t need to check your pulse to know you had passed away since he felt it. Your spirit was gone. His heart sank at the realization that this was it. He would no longer get to hear your voice, see your reactions to his stories and affections, or make new memories with you.

Zhongli had lost countless friends and companions throughout the Archon War. He was used to death and saying goodbye, but each time was no easier than the last. The weight of loss settled heavily on him because, despite the years he spent mentally and emotionally preparing for your death, it was still difficult to sit there beside your lifeless body and accept the fact you were gone. There were still so many things he wanted to experience with you. It was truly unfortunate that your human lifespan was so painfully short.

Zhongli took your limp hand in his and held it for a while as his mind went through your shared memories together. In his memories, you were vibrant and lively, the opposite of how lifeless you appeared now. With the part of you he loved most gone, all that remained was a body of flesh that appeared almost like a stranger. It made him miss you, but also helped in coming to terms with your passing.

He mourned for you throughout the night, up until the sun rose above the horizon.

Zhongli took part in arranging your funeral. He carefully supervised every step of the process to ensure your funeral was perfect, and that you were given the proper respect in your journey to the afterlife. Once you were laid to rest, he found himself wandering around aimlessly most days. He walked along the same paths the two of you used to take strolls on, visited your favorite locations in Liyue Harbor, and frequently brought your favorite food as an offering to your grave.

At the teahouse, Zhongli sat at the same table where you always had your dates and stared at the empty seat where you used to sit. He could picture with perfect clarity how you used to sit in that same chair and give him your undivided attention when he recounted tales of times past, and he always loved it when you did. Now, he could only stare off into the distance while reminiscing about the good times he shared with you. Though Zhongli was saddened he couldn’t make more memories with you, the ones he did have made him grateful that you had been a part of his life.

🦉 Diluc

Diluc met you shortly after you arrived in Mondstadt with nothing but a satchel of mora and the clothes on your back. You said you came to the nation of freedom in the hopes of starting a new life but never disclosed any details about your past. Though he was curious about the life you led prior, Diluc learned to let it go. After all, Mondstadt was home to many people with mysterious backgrounds and origins, so what’s one more?

During the months you spent together, you had both fallen in love with each other and began a courtship. Diluc knew with certainty that he wanted to marry you, so one fateful night, he got down on one knee before you and presented a golden ring topped with a piece of garnet. You said yes, and Diluc felt the happiest that night than he had in a long time, not since his father’s passing several years ago. Now, he was looking forward to having a family again.

After Diluc lost his father, Adelinde and Elzer were saddened by the drastic change in their Young Master. Diluc used to be so optimistic and passionate, brimming with the desire to become a knight and help people. After Crepus’s death, he had become closed off and aloof, becoming bitter at the corruption running rampant within the Knights of Favonius. However, with your arrival at the estate, Diluc seemed to slowly warm up and smile more, and the senior servants couldn’t be happier by the positive change. They hoped that your union would heal their Master’s wounded heart.

Initially, Diluc didn’t plan to host an engagement party, but his butler Elzer convinced him to go through with the Ragnvindr family tradition. With your agreement, Diluc hosted a ball and invited prominent figures in the business world to attend, most of whom he worked with. During the party, he introduced you to his business partners, making idle chatter and receiving congratulations on your engagement. Everything seemed to be going well, albeit a tad boring, until the two of you were approached by an unfamiliar man in a lavish suit.

The man said he was an acquaintance of yours, and sure enough, you seemed to recognize him. However, the way your posture stiffened, and the color drained from your face set Diluc on edge. He wanted to reject the man’s request to speak with you in private, but you interjected and agreed. Diluc didn’t want to leave you alone with someone who made you uncomfortable, but the pointed look you gave him made Diluc hold back his protests. With great reluctance, he let you go.

He was anxious the entire time you were gone, unable to fully focus on the business conversations and propositions he was discussing with some of the guests. To his great relief, you returned safe and sound, albeit with a troubled expression on your face. Diluc made a mental note to ask you about what happened once the ball ended.

The man you spoke with didn’t reappear that night, and the party came to a successful close after plenty of eating, drinking, and dancing.

Later that night, you fell sick. You were vomiting and sweating quite a bit, and at first, Diluc thought you had food poisoning. However, when he noticed you were vomiting blood, panic surged through him. You were poisoned.

He called his servants and asked them to fetch a medic, but your condition continued to deteriorate quickly. In mere minutes, you were unable to stay standing and were gasping for breath, so Diluc laid you down on the bed. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you apologized to him, as if you knew you were going to die and why. As if someone intentionally poisoned you.

Diluc tried asking for more information, but by that point, you could barely breathe, much less get a word out. All you did was futilely gasp for air while gazing at him with eyes full of remorse and fear.

Diluc didn’t want to think about the possibility of you dying because the mere thought opened old wounds that never fully healed. But as he watched you slowly suffocate; it triggered a surge of fear in him. This scenario felt so familiar. It reminded him of how Crepus died. Due to the Fatui’s schemes, his father had disintegrated into nothing in his arms, leaving him and Kaeya alone to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t do anything to save his father then, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t do anything for you now, except sit there in fear and despair. Diluc gently took your hand in his, both for your comfort and his, and you clung to his hands like a vice. Despite Diluc’s empty reassurances that you’ll be alright, that the medic is on his way, you had passed away in front of his eyes with a pained expression on your face. The sight of your last moments made his stomach churn.

As he sat beside your body in the dark room shrouded by night, his thoughts shifted to the reason behind your death. You were poisoned, but why? Did someone do it to try and get to him? He did have many enemies, after all. Then, he remembered the suspicious man that had terrified you so much and couldn’t help but think the secret lay with him. Whatever the case, Diluc swore to get down to the truth of the matter.

He gently removed the engagement ring from your finger and hung it on a chain around his neck to always keep with him as a memento. A reminder of the future he was robbed of with you, and of your life which was taken far too early and cruelly.

News of your poisoning spread to the Knights of Favonius. Jean organized an investigation team to catch the culprit and bring them to justice, but Diluc knew it would take them too long. Even after the Knights had improved their ethics with Varka, Jean, and Kaeya at the helm, Diluc was still reluctant to leave everything to them. He insisted on investigating the matter himself. After many weeks of searching for clues, and even partnering up with Kaeya, Diluc managed to find the truth behind your murder. It infuriated him. You were once a Fatuus but had defected from the organization and ran away to Mondstadt to start a new life. You wanted a life where you were free to live the way you wanted, instead of being forced to commit atrocities in the name of the Tsaritsa. But nobody leaves the Fatui alive. Your superiors had found you and sent a Fatuus to infiltrate the ball. After you resisted their attempts to coerce you to return, sometime during the party they spiked your drinking glass with poison, which was how you perished. You were killed for wanting to live your life for yourself.

The injustice behind your death pushed Diluc on a quest for revenge. He swore upon the ring hanging from his neck that your murderers would atone for what they did. After delegating the running of the Winery to Elzer, Diluc packed necessities and embarked on a Fatui hunt. Over the next few months, he diligently searched and hunted down every member of the Fatui squad that killed you. He refused to take breaks, searching day and night for the exact location of the perpetrators and planning his revenge. He had tunnel vision that wouldn’t go away until his mission was completed. Diluc successfully slayed every Fatuus involved in your death. None were spared. Once his mission ended, Diluc returned to Mondstadt, but he became colder than before, much to Adelinde and Elzer’s dismay. He was more stoic and aloof than before, rarely smiling or expressing any emotion. He completely closed himself off, not allowing anyone to get close. Diluc had lost too many people he loved and didn’t want to grow attached and experience another potential loss. Sometimes, Adelinde would catch him sitting idly by a window and staring outside with a pensive, almost sad expression while twirling the ring around his neck. Elzer would spot Diluc standing by your and Crepus’s graves in the light of dawn, presumably after returning from another patrol around the city. Diluc would stand there for a while with his head lowered, looking so lonely and defeated, before heading inside the manor.

Diluc would never find someone new to love, of that he was certain. He will continue to wear the engagement ring around his neck up until the day he dies, and when he does, he hopes he will be buried alongside you and his father. If he cannot be with those he loves in life, then maybe he can be with them in death. Until then, he will push on and continue to live, blazing a path of justice to protect the citizens of Mondstadt so that no more victims end up like you and his father.

🍄 Tighnari

When a mother reported her child had gone missing within a withering zone in the Avidya Forest, Tighnari immediately dispatched a search and rescue team.

As a fellow forest ranger, you wanted to come along to help look for the child. Tighnari knew you were fairly capable of handling yourself despite not having a vision, but just to be safe, he paired you up with Collei. After all, it was already dark, and who knew what dangers lurked within the afflicted forest.

Right before you and Collei set out to search your assigned part of the forest, Tighnari told you both to stay safe and vigilant. Never did he think the reassuring smile you gave would be the last time he would see you alive.

He managed to find the missing boy before the withering got to him, and escorted the child back to camp for a checkup. As time passed, the other rangers returned, but you and Collei were nowhere in sight. Just as Tighnari was starting to get worried, Collei rushed over to him, out of breath.

In a panic, she explained that your pair had run into a hilichurl camp within the withering zone, and were chased by hilichurls through the forest. She got separated from you in the dark, and wasn’t able to find you again despite searching for a while.

Tighnari fought to stay calm as he rushed towards the location of the withering zone, and stopped when he saw your figure collapsed on the ground just outside the boundary. His heart dropped at the sight, and he quickly knelt beside you to check your vitals.

You had no pulse.

Tighnari felt like he was dreaming, as if he was watching someone else kneeling beside your body. That this wasn’t real. But as he looked at your glazed eyes which stared off into the distance, never once looking at him, reality set in.

You were dead.

Once he accepted that fact, Tighnari’s heart felt heavy, as if weighed down by an anchor.

You had tried to find your way back to camp, but having spent too much time in the withering zone, and not being a vision holder, you had inevitably succumbed to its effects just as you had gotten out of the zone. A pang of guilt welled within his chest. If he had paired up with you instead, or assigned you a different area to search through, would you have made it out alive? These thoughts looped in his mind and wouldn’t leave Tighnari alone.

When he returned to camp a while later, the rest of the Forest Rangers saw him carrying your body with a grim expression on his face. The fact Tighnari wasn’t asking for immediate medical assistance, and the way his ears drooped low, were all the rest of the Rangers needed to know you had died.

The guilt persisted like a phantom all throughout your funeral, and the days that followed after as he tried to keep it together. Breaking the news to your parents was difficult, but Tighnari forced himself to be the one to tell them. He was prepared for their devastation, and subsequent angry accusations for not protecting you like he promised. For once, he didn’t sass back, but rather quietly accepted their hatred. He believed that they had every right to blame him. After all, Tighnari was the one who was supposed to keep you safe, both as the leader of the Forest Rangers, and as your lover.

Tighnari never thought he would miss you as strongly as he currently did now that you were gone. It was nothing new for you to go days without seeing each other because he sometimes had to go to Sumeru City to give lectures or conduct botany experiments in Pardis Dhyai.

But this time was different. This time, he knew he would never see you again.

Never again will he come home to be greeted with your smile, and he missed the warm feeling that filled his heart back then. He missed your voice, the way you pet his ears and tail, the meals you brought him when he was busy with work, the letters you wrote to him when he was out on a trip… he missed you.

Some nights, he would wake up with tears in his eyes, filled with longing for the happy dreams he had about you. But they will forever remain only dreams, taunting him with a life he can no longer have because you’re not here anymore.

You will never return, and Tighnari was left with a heavy feeling in his chest that refused to completely go away no matter how many years passed. He will always regret sending you out with Collei that day.

He threw himself into his work to distract from the ache in his heart. The thought of someone else dying to the withering like you did scared him, so Tighnari made it his mission to eliminate all the withering zones in the forest. He never wanted something similar to happen to anyone else, and it was the only way he thought he could atone.

[bbydoll18xx]

Spike Me, Baby, One More Time

Paige Bueckers x fem!volleyball player

Based on this request: Can I request like fem! Volleyball player reader x paige? Like Paige and the team getting so excited for the volleyball game and watching her star vball girlfriend play? And even like a post game party or just something cute and domestic!! Smut or not smut, idc!!! Thank you I love your writing!!!

Themes: some suggestiveness, fluff, proud!Paige

Word Count: 1.2k

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“Guys, hurry the fuck up. The game is starting soon,” Paige grits out impatiently. She is gesturing wildly toward the doors of the arena, where you were soon playing. Paige Bueckers generally did not care much about being early to things, but she did not want to miss a single second of watching you destroy your opponents. Your mild disposition was shattered on the volleyball court, making you absolutely ruthless. 

And Paige fucking loved it. 

She and several of UCONN’s women’s basketball team were coming to your game, and you were looking forward to seeing their obnoxious signs and hearing their loud hoots of support. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought. You had a family in Paige and her teammates, and just as you loved to support them, the feeling was mutual. 

As you step out onto the court, taking a deep breath to quell the nervous energy bubbling up inside your chest, you hear several people over the roar of the crowd. Craning your head toward the bellows, you see Paige, standing beside KK and Ice. They were jumping, waving their arms in a way that had bystanders rolling their eyes in annoyance. A grin emerges on your face, and all the pre-game anxiety vanishes. 

The game begins, and you’re locked in. Similarly to how you are with Paige, the world fades away into nothingness. Nothing else exists except you, the ball, and the overwhelming desire to win. 

A few times throughout the game, you lock eyes with Paige, feeling her encouragement, and the gratification hits you like a drug, fueling you through the end. The game ends with you spiking the ball ferociously, and the stadium erupts in deafening cheers as the ball slams against the floor. 

You yell out ecstatically, jumping into the arms of your teammates and spinning in the confetti that was falling. Life felt pretty fuckin’ good. 

Once you are changed out of your sweaty uniform, you leap out of the locker room, nearly running straight into Paige. 

“Stalker, much?” You tease, a giant smirk plastered on your face.

“Duh, I’m your biggest fan, baby,” Paige quips, and she was wearing an equally smug look.

“For real, though. Thank you guys for coming. Means a lot,” You beam, looking up between your blonde girlfriend and the two younger girls standing at her side. 

“Be for real. Like we would miss it!” KK declares solemnly, Ice nodding her head in agreement. 

“I think my roommates are throwing a celebratory party in our apartment. You guys down?” You ask, already knowing their answers. No one was going to turn down free alcohol and a chance to be a little crazy. 

~

Paige was fucking plastered. And you were loving it. So was every other person crammed into your apartment for the party. 

“Babyyy, give me a kiss. I love you so much,” Paige whines, smushing her lips up in a dramatic pout. You giggle, your cheeks pink between the alcohol and your girlfriend’s declarations of love. You peck her on the lips to appease her, but she pulls you in by the waist, anchoring your mouth to hers.

The alcohol in your veins, paired with the delicious taste of victory, created an irresistible desire to just let go. Climbing further onto Paige’s lap, you can feel the muscles of her thighs tense under you, and you let out a quiet moan into the slick heat of her mouth. No one hears it except for Paige, and it goes straight between her legs. 

“Whoa, y’all might wanna cool it on the PDA,” you hear over the blasting of the music. You pull away from Paige to see Ice standing over the two of you with a slightly repulsed expression covering her face. You’d think she would be used to the two of you by now, but you know she was only being protective. 

“Just proud of my girl,” Paige retorts, looking at you on her lap with a fond smile. A new wave of butterflies erupts in your belly, and you attempt to scooch closer into her. Ignoring everyone around you once more, including your own friends, you lean back into her and connect your lips again in a passionate embrace. 

You tug at her blonde locks, for once free from the confines of her usual updos and braids, and Paige lets out a groan at the sensation. Your head feels fuzzy from the lustful sounds, suddenly wanting all the people to leave so you could enjoy your girlfriend fully. 

“Wanna go back to yours?” You mumble in her ear, quickly starting to feel desperate. 

Paige pulls back, sighing with a regretful look on her face. “Course I do. But we should stay. I miss my old teammates, and you will, too.”

The honesty was surprising, but it made you realize that you had all the time in the world to kiss Paige.

“Fine,” you whine, somewhat childishly. “But as soon as all these people leave, I’m having my way with you.”

“Good,” Paige mutters. Her desire for you hadn’t waned, and she didn’t think it would. She could survive a few more hours of loud music and polite conversation before following you to your bedroom and fucking you into oblivion. 

And she did. Barely.

The rest of the evening, Paige watched you with such intensity. She was obsessed with every little thing about you. The way your nose scrunched when you laughed. The pink in your cheeks. And the way you licked your lips seductively in her direction after taking a drink from the cup in your hand. 

KK and Ice had left, and as the party began winding down, Paige grew more and more needy. While you were high off of the victory, she was high off of you. And it had been too long since her last hit. Showing an incredible amount of restraint, Paige hides behind her cup, watching you dance around in the center of the room. You make eye contact, from where she is sitting on the couch, and you don’t miss the ways her eyes darken. Her pupils are blown wide with lust, and her widespread legs are beckoning you to come take your rightful place in between them. 

You march over to her, plopping down on her lap once more, loudly stating that the party has ended. The last few stragglers, get the hint, and begin to move towards the door. With some help from your roommates/teammates, the apartment quickly clears out, leaving you with Paige and the soft pumping of whatever Drake song was seductively playing through the speakers. 

You gaze at her, lids heavy with desire, to see those blue eyes staring right back at you with equal intensity.

“Can you fuck me now, baby?” You whisper, your voice husky with want. 

Paige lets out a dark chuckle, and pulls you into her. “Only if you leave that jersey on for me.”

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Deal,” you affirm, pulling her towards your bedroom.

[takes1]

asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this was indulgent for me. asahi is def a favorite of mine. idk where the kuroo's little sister idea really stems from, but it just came to me and worked with my prompt (mostly adding conflict/humor). thirsty lead-up to some pay-off smut

warnings. asahi thirst. eventual smut. minors DNI info. lite!nsfw to future smut / gentle giant!asahi / asahi appreciation / size kink / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / 860 words / multi-part smut so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more here. part two here. part three here. final part here. more links. masterlist. my ao3. requests/submissions: open

Great, hulking muscles slammed a ferocious serve through the other side of the court. An easy point for his team.

Screams of adoration from Karasuno supporters and his own teammates echoed in your ears: Asahi.

Yeah, that was a name you could get used to screaming.

Your jaw was on the floor. Your trembly hands seized the railing to keep your wobbly body barely upright. The sigh you gave felt like it lasted minutes, so when you went to gasp for more air, it sounded like a demented groan.

"I need him biblically," You heard yourself declare.

It may have been the show of force, but there was something about a kind face attached to that weapon of a body that set your senses on fire. You were already crafting plans to seduce him after the game, making fictional arrangements to ensure you could be under him in the shortest wait time possible.

"What?" Your friend laughed at you, a hand on your shoulder to jerk you back to reality.

You were on the opposite side of the court, after all. What you could see of him was through the net.

That was not your team by any means- you were connected to the one in front of you by blood.

"Number 3," You sighed, leaning against the railing. Maybe you'd fall into the court and he could catch you in his big arms. Then, you'd start making out and--

"Yaku??" She laughed.

"No!" You made a disgusted sound, "God, not-- Karasuno number three!"

Her laughter only made you feel like talking to him was as realistic as Nekoma winning right now. With a 7-point difference, it was pretty self-explanatory.

"Yaku's not that bad," She grinned at your eyes rolling all the way back into your skull, "Hey! You've gotta calm down."

Your head was on your arms, crumpled against the railing. There was no chance in Hell you'd let this opportunity slip from your fingers.

The energy pumping through you was straight-up biological.

It was the only explanation for a need that went this deep, so strong that it carried your legs down the stands and into the hallway behind the gymnasium after the game was over.

This deranged arousal only felt out of place when your brother stopped you from moving further down, to where Karasuno was packing their gear up.

"Woahwoahwoah," Kuroo narrowed his eyes at you and spun you around by your shoulder, "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He knew something was up. There was a sick scheme playing out in your eyes.

He glanced from you, to the rowdy group of giants the next space over, then back to you with a harder look.

"None of your business," You spat, thinking him funny to try to get in your way like this in front of people. He usually acted like you were the dirt on the bottom of his shoe in public.

You only went to his games to spot cute boys, anyway. This time you were actually successful and felt so inclined as to approach said-cute-boy.

"Let go," You wrenched your arm out of his gross, sweaty hand and scoffed, walking off towards Karasuno's beautiful, meaty Ace.

There was a muttered, 'Whatever,' and you knew he didn't care enough to foil your plans again. They did just lose.

The thought crossed your mind to remove your Nekoma school hoodie only after it was too late. Karasuno spotted some enemy colors and quieted upon your approach.

Any confidence you had gathered shrank tenfold-- but you locked in on the subject of your desire and remembered your divine mission.

Get railed. This week.

That wouldn't happen if you backed down now or fucked up the plan.

He was in the center of his team, so you had to give some small 'Excuse me's to get to who you were here for.

Shocked, silent looks were exchanged all around when you stopped in front of him at last.

You were gathered in a sea of players, trapped to carry out the reason that brought you here.

"Um," You found it impossible to look at his face, so you looked forward at his chest while you gathered the courage, "That was a good game."

You tried to swallow the growing need to scream when you looked up. He had facial hair, you realized- his eyes were deep brown, his skin dark tan, and he was one of the two tallest on the team.

It occurred to you that you picked the biggest, baddest guy in this hall.

You grabbed his hand and deposited a piece of paper inside, "Call me."

Unable to look at his face again, you decided that was enough to get your point across and sifted through the gathered crowd of Karasuno's team members.

With your back turned, head swimming with regret at your forwardness, you couldn't see nor understand the strangled sounds of teenage boys celebrating their cowardly ace getting a cute girl's number like that.

Pushing, pulling, laughing, shoving, and other celebratory verbalizations were far behind you when you joined Nekoma once again- your home team beyond curious as to what you did to make their rivals even louder.

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[pin-k-ink]

peonies // narumi gen ft. hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ jealous/possessive behavior, dry humping, making out, biting, highly suggestive overall

wc ⇢ 3.3k

a/n: ofc you already know that the reader is the vice captain

You sighed in exasperation as Narumi's grumbling about yet another lecture from Director Shinomiya filled the corridor. "If I have to endure one more lecture from that old fart, I might just let the next kaiju swallow me whole and put me out of my misery."

The captain's melodramatic slouch and petulant scowl were in stark contrast to your crisp, military bearing as the two of you made your way towards the officers' quarters. You stole a sidelong glance at your roguishly disheveled partner, aiming for a disapproving frown but unable to stop the wry smile from tugging at your lips.

"Perhaps if you paid attention during briefings instead of doodling those...highly scientific diagrams of yours, the meetings wouldn't drag on quite so long," you chided, arching a teasing brow.

Narumi's head whipped around, eyes flashing with playful defiance as he zeroed in on your taunting grin. "Hey, those doodles happen to be highly strategic logistical assessments for battlefield maneuvers! They require an impressive amount of...creativity on my part."

You barely stifled a snort at his transparently self-serving reasoning. "Mhmm, I'm sure. So the little heart you kept drawing beside my name was simply...battle strategies then?"

The words had the desired effect as Narumi's cheeks flooded with a fierce crimson, sputtering incoherently for a comeback. You allowed a soft peal of laughter to slip free, relishing the small victory of being able to fluster the normally unflappable captain so thoroughly.

Before Narumi could formulate a rebuttal, your shared laugh abruptly stuttered to a halt as you rounded the corner - coming face to face with a splash of vibrant colors in stark contrast to the bland, industrial hallway. An ostentatious bouquet of exotic blooms rested against your quarters' door, their heady floral perfume wafting through the stale air.

"What in the ever-loving...?" Narumi's voice trailed off as the playful atmosphere from moments ago evaporated, replaced by a suddenly tense silence.

You approached the ornate arrangement with slow, measured steps - all too aware of the tightly coiled energy radiating off your partner in pulsing waves. Up close, you could make out the gorgeous artistry that had been dedicated to the bouquet's construction: lush petals and emerald fronds interwoven together in an intricate spiral flourish, clearly the work of a master florist. And there, nestled amongst the lavish blooms, a small cream-colored envelope peeked out in invitation.

With slightly trembling fingers, you plucked the card free as Narumi shifted in closer until his firm chest was nearly brushing your back. You could feel the scorching heat of his gaze boring into you as his ragged breaths ghosted hot over the sensitive skin of your neck. Unable to resist the strange compulsion of the moment, you carefully cracked the envelope's wax seal and slowly read the neat handwriting etched across the card's plain surface:

"'To the most beautiful officer in the Defense Force. Happy belated birthday. Let's celebrate properly soon. Dinner?'" The final query left your lips in a barely audible rush of air, feeling lightheaded from the combined rush of Narumi's musk surrounding you and the shocking meaning behind the words. "'Soshiro.'"

A heavy, charged silence descended over the corridor once more, the unspoken tension between you and your partner becoming almost palpable in its ferocious intensity. Finally, you managed to tear your gaze from the offending card and turn to find Narumi's expression utterly unrecognizable. Gone were any traces of his usual easy grins and playful teasing - his strong features had contorted into the harsh lines of a man beset by scarcely restrained jealousy and territorial possession.

"Hoshina..." he ground out, the gravelly timbre of Narumi's normally smooth voice reverberating through you like a physical caress. "The smug, pretty-boy bastard with the stupid haircut sent you flowers? For your birthday?"

You could only offer a mute nod, rapidly becoming hyper-aware of just how intrusively close Narumi was looming over your personal space. His towering frame practically radiated waves of scorching dominance that had your instincts screaming in a heady mixture of fear and arousal you didn't dare examine too closely.

"It was...thoughtful of him to remember it was my birthday recently," you offered, the words catching in your dry throat as Narumi somehow leaned in even closer. The jealous fire blazing in the depths of his eyes made your breath hitch, suddenly glad for the support of the wall at your back.

"Thoughtful..." he echoed with a sardonic curl of his lips, teeth grazing his lower lip as his eyes drank in your every microexpression hungrily. When his gaze finally locked onto yours once more, you felt your pulse trip over itself at the undisguised lust and covetous need smoldering within those crimson depths.

"Didn't know you and Hoshina were so...close," Narumi growled, each word seeming to drip from his tongue like heated sin as he closed what little space remained between your bodies.

"We're...colleagues," you replied carefully, very aware of how Narumi's towering frame seemed to lean ever closer with each rasping inhalation. Your heart thundered traitorously against your ribcage as the heated weight of his stare bored into you. "We've worked joint operations together before. Is that...a problem, Captain?"

Narumi's nostrils flared infinitesimally as he drank in your admittance with a ferocious sort of focus. You could have sworn his irises darkened imperceptibly, a swirling vortex of jealousy and something far more primal that made your breath hitch.

"Problem?" He echoed the word almost dismissively before allowing a sardonic half-smirk to curl one corner of his lips. "No, no problem at all, Vice-Captain. Just didn't expect to see you getting so...cozy with the enemy, that's all."

Your brow furrowed slightly at his oblique accusation. "Hoshina isn't the enemy, sir. He's a respected member of the Defense Force, same as us."

The words slipped out in a hushed tone, almost involuntarily lowered in deference to the sudden, electrically-charged tension rapidly condensing the already scant space between your bodies. Narumi's smirk took on a sharper, more predatory edge as he leaned in infinitesimally closer - so near you could have counted the dusting of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe not," he rumbled, lips barely brushing the shell of your ear with each meticulously enunciated syllable. The velveteen vibration of his voice raised exquisite gooseflesh along the line of your neck and shoulders. "But he'd better remember whose team you're on, Vice-Captain..."

A full-body shudder rippled through you at the unmistakable undercurrent of possession in Narumi's tone. You found yourself trapped, hypnotized by the heated promise blazing in his lidded gaze as he pulled back just enough to meet your stare fully. Without thought, you turned into him, bodies nearly flush as you willed yourself not to surrender to the dizzying temptation of his proximity.

"And whose team is that...exactly?" The whispered challenge emerged on a trembling exhalation, equal parts daring and entreaty.

For one suspended, incandescent moment, you could have sworn Narumi meant to close that last, infinitesimal span separating your lips. His gaze dropped meaningfully to your mouth, pupils dilating rapturously as you mirrored the unconscious motion - sharing the same rarified breath between parted lips that suddenly felt too warm, too desiccated by the raging tension.

But then, like a switch being flipped, Narumi's spine straightened as he forcibly increased the space between you. You watched the shutters descend over his expression, that familiar cocksure smirk slipping back into place - though this time, it lacked the usual sparkle of genuine levity.

"Mine, of course," he stated, tone carefully modulated into something lighter despite the undercurrent of banked intensity still thrumming through each word. "Can't exactly have my second-in-command getting...distracted by some bowl-cut pretty boy now, can I?"

Narumi's attempt at nonchalance rang hollow between you. You could only manage an eye roll and a fortifying inhalation before trusting your voice to respond.

"Don't worry, Captain. I'm not so easily distracted."

As you fumbled the key into the lock, arms laden with Hoshina's cumbersome bouquet, you couldn't help the pang of...disappointment? Brushing against your ribs like the bittersweet sting of yearning before you viciously stamped it down.

"Goodnight, Captain," you tossed over your shoulder, forcing a tone of airy indifference as you hovered in the open doorway. "Try not to stay up all night brooding, all right?"

The captain's laugh sounded equally hollow, devoid of true mirth as it gusted against the back of your neck. "No promises there, Vice-Captain. Don't let...Hoshina bite."

As the door hissed closed between you, you caught one final glimpse of Narumi - any traces of his usual insouciant cheer utterly extinguished. In its place was a look of simmering frustration and naked longing that made your heart lurch treacherously against its bony confines.

Slumping back against the solid bulkhead, you allowed the heady perfume of Hoshina's exotic blooms to envelop you in their cloying sweetness. But still, your mind reeled at the unexpectedly charged nature of your encounter with Narumi.

What had that been about? And why did the memory of his burning stare and possessive words fill you with such exhilarated turmoil?

The new day dawned thick with unresolved tension still crackling through the air between you and Narumi. As you made your way down the corridor towards his quarters, you could already feel arousal licking along your senses like sparks trailing naked skin.

The muffled sounds of videogame explosions spilled from behind his door, so familiar and yet this time they seemed to reverberate straight through to your core - beating in time with memories of Narumi's heated growls and bold insinuations.

You took a steadying breath before keying in the override, already knowing the sort of indecent tableau that awaited you on the other side. Sure enough, there was Narumi in all his disheveled, powerful glory - a lean stretch of corded muscle equally at home splayed across the rumpled sheets as stalking into battle.

Even in those ridiculous cartoon pajamas, he exuded the sort of roguish, chiseled appeal that left your mouth dry as you shamelessly drank in the tease of toned abdomen peeking out from beneath the rucked-up fabric.

"Rise and shine, Captain Lazy," you managed, giving yourself a mental shake to dispel the wanton path your thoughts had started down. Narumi responded with a low whine, never shifting that heated cobalt stare from the game in his hands.

"Five more minutes...gotta beat this level."

You rolled your eyes at the petulant excuse, fighting a smile at how perfectly Narumi it was - all self-indulgent impatience bent on pursuing his juvenile fixations, no matter how pressing the actual circumstances. As you approached the bunk, you couldn't resist allowing your gaze to roam openly over the delicious sprawl of his frame, taking guilty pleasure in the way you caught a glimpse of the faint trail of dark curls disappearing down the waistband of his pants.

"That's what you said yesterday," you chided, unable to disguise the slightly husky edge entering your tone as provocative images continued flooding your mind's eye. "And the day before that...and the day before that. I believe we actually have duties that need attending to occasionally."

"Tch, the Defense Force would crumble without me," Narumi scoffed, somehow making even the act of holding that gaming controller look utterly indecent. "They can hardly afford to take me off...active duty for too long if they know what's good for them."

The blatant innuendo was punctuated by Narumi allowing his eyes to slowly roam up and down the length of your body in a scorching inspection that raised prickles across your skin. By the time his darkening stare met yours again, his tongue darted out to trace his lips in an unconscious gesture that somehow felt far more lascivious than it had any right to.

You swallowed hard, struggling not to squirm under the undisguised heat of his regard. "Well in that case, Captain, I may need to take disciplinary measures into my own hands to...motivate you back into fighting shape."

The sudden grip of your fingers around Narumi's forearm was meant as a wordless command for him to relinquish the game entirely. But your captive made no move to surrender his distraction, regarding you with a look of smoldering challenge as he sat up - the motion causing the flimsy pajama fabric to strain dangerously against the evidence of his arousal tenting his pants.

"Make me...Vice-Captain," he rasped, the tip of his tongue tracing maddeningly along his lower lip again. When you failed to respond, rooted to the spot by the sheer indecency smoldering in Narumi's gaze and tone, he pulled you closer and allowed his hips to give the slightest upwards roll - pressing his trapped erection boldly against your hip in unspoken ultimatum.

"Well?" The gravelly purr seemed to bypass your ears entirely, reverberating straight to your core with delicious sin. "You gonna put that mouth to good use for once, recruit? Or am I gonna have to take this...disciplinary session into my own hands?"

With a fortifying breath, you managed to wrestle back some semblance of control - leaning down to rap your knuckles sharply against Narumi's forehead in a rare show of forcefulness.

"That's enough out of you, Captain," you stated in a tone that brokered no further argument, ignoring the way Narumi's eyes danced with dark amusement at your rebuke. "We have another briefing in twenty minutes, and I for one actually intend to be present and professional for it."

Narumi held your stern look for a few heartbeats longer before allowing a low, rumbling chuckle to spill forth. "Whatever you say, Vice-Captain. Don't mean I can't still enjoy the...view while we're there."

He punctuated the words with one final, searing look that allowed his eyes to roam insolently over every curve and plane of your frame. Fighting back a reflexive shiver, you merely rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, determined not to reward Narumi's provocations with any further reaction.

At least, not until the briefing had concluded...

several hours later

You had just waved off the last of the departing officers when the sudden grip of Narumi's hand around your arm had you instinctively stiffening in surprise. Before you could voice any sort of protest, he was pulling you along in his wake - headed back down the corridor at a pace that allowed no discussion or deviation.

"Captain?" The inquiry emerged laced with exasperation, though you admittedly made no move to extract yourself from his heated grasp. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

Rather than responding with his usual teasing quips or salacious innuendos, Narumi merely shot you a look of smoldering intensity over his shoulder. A look that made something deep inside you go liquid with molten awareness of the sudden shift in mood.

By the time he hauled you both through the door of his quarters, any pretense at playing coy had been burned away beneath the raging wildfire in Narumi's gaze. You didn't even have a chance to catch your breath before his powerful frame was caging you against the wall, thick forearms braced on either side of your head as he loomed into your personal space.

The scorching heat of Narumi's arousal pressed shamelessly against your abdomen, leaving no confusion as to his singular intent. When his hooded eyes finally met yours again, you felt your breath stall at the familiar look of rapacious hunger and heady promise blazing there.

"No more teasing, no more games," he growled in a voice already roughened by restraint. "I've played nice and followed your rules for too damned long already, haven’t I? Now it's my turn to be calling the shots for a change..."

Any feeble protests you might have voiced withered on your tongue as Narumi closed the last few inches between your bodies. You could feel the thundering cadence of his heartbeat against your own ribcage, taste the whiskey and clove of his ravenous exhalations ghosting over your parted lips in anticipation.

This was really happening...

Just as Narumi's mouth descended towards yours with determined weight, your phone chose that inopportune moment to shrill out a jaunty ringtone - shattering the thick tension gripping the room. You felt the captain stiffen against you, a low rumbling growl vibrating between your fused bodies as he debated whether to finally claim your lips or allow the intrusion.

"Don't you dare," he bit out in dire warning when you made a reflexive move to check the caller ID. Instead, Narumi snatched the offending device and glared at the illuminated screen - only for his expression to rapidly contort into one of infuriated incredulity.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He ground out through gritted teeth. "Hoshina? THAT'S who's been keeping you...distracted this whole time?"

Before you could open your mouth to defend or explain, Narumi was shoving the phone against your chest with just short of violent force. "Answer it," he demanded, the ferocity in those two words raising prickles of apprehension along your nape. "I want you to answer that son of a bitch's call."

You automatically shook your head in refusal, only to freeze at the blazing intensity of Narumi's stare as he moved in until your lips damn near brushed with every snarled word:

"Do it...or so help me I will make sure every miserable second of our 'private meeting' gets broadcasted loud enough for the entire base to hear when I'm done making you cum on my cock."

With trembling fingers, you brought the phone to your ear, shooting Narumi a pleading look that he utterly ignored - the blazing intensity in his gaze promised severe consequences if you didn't play along.

"H-Hello?" You fought to keep your voice steady despite your thunderous pulse.

"There ya are!" Hoshina's rich tones filled the line. "I was worried this might be a bad time. Everythin' okay over there?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words withered as Narumi deliberately invaded your space, allowing the undeniable ridge of his cock to grind against your abdomen. A tremor lanced through you when his mouth found the vulnerable column of your throat in a blazing path.

"Y-Yes, everything's...f-fine," you managed breathlessly as Narumi's tongue swirled insolently against your thundering pulse point. "Just...paperwork."

A low, rumbling chuckle reverberated through you as Narumi's hands roamed brazenly over your body. You fought not to squirm under his open claiming, fearful of revealing the truth to Hoshina.

"Well, I'll try to be brief then," he responded, blessedly oblivious. "I wanted to follow up on those revised protocols we discussed..."

Narumi growled against your skin, nipping at your earlobe harsh enough to wring a startled gasp as he rutted shamelessly. Concern threaded Hoshina's voice. "Everythin' all right there? Ya didn' hurt yerself, did you?"

"N-No! I'm okay," you lied raggedly, fighting back needy pants as Narumi thoroughly ravaged the sensitive hollow below your ear - his closeness overwhelming. "M-Maybe we could discuss another time? Things are...hectic."

There was a heavy pause before Hoshina spoke again, an unmistakable edge entering his tone. "Ya know, if I didn' know any better, I coulda sworn I jus' heard a very familiar voice in the background there..."

Your blood turned to ice in your veins as Narumi froze against you, eyes blazing a silent warning for you to deny, deny, deny. But Hoshina didn't allow you a chance to respond.

"In fact, I'm fairly certain that was the distinct sound of the esteemed captain Narumi being...overworked by his loyal vice once again," he stated matter-of-factly, seemingly undisturbed. "Do give him my regards when you have a moment to come up for air, won't ya?"

You damn near choked on your own tongue, face searing hotly as Hoshina's laughter filtered tinny through the speaker - rich and far too knowing.

"I'll let you two crazy kids get back to your...exercises then. Stay safe out there!"

The line went dead, leaving you adrift in a shocked silence quickly shattered by Narumi's scalding lips crashing over yours in a harsh, punishing kiss. When he at last allowed you to draw a shuddering breath, his growl of possession vibrated straight to your core:

"Well, it seems the bastard isn't quite as oblivious as we assumed..." Another searing kiss stole your ability to respond. "All the more reason to make sure I leave no doubt about precisely who you belong to when we're through here..."