pipppinn - Tumblr blog

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

Where the Lamb does not Belong.

You're isekai'd into the world of Honkai Star Rail. Thankfully, you're taken into the Astral Express and continue your journey peacefully, until you reach Penacony. Something, or someone, seems to be causing your system to continually crash. Perhaps it's because you did not belong here at all.

Warnings: yandere, obviously. Uh, mentioned fracture(?)

A/n; reader is a tad forgetful and can brush off a few things, and get distracted slightly easily. But for the most part, i think it won't ruin the immersion. Its my first time writing something "self aware" related, and something like a character breaking the 4th wall. I really love these tropes but rarely write them. I hope i did it well. Its roughly 4.5k long. Enjoy.

----

“Ace!”

“It's not ace.”

“Uno!”

“March, you're supposed to say it after you put down your second card.”

“Oh, sure.”

…

“March, it's not your turn.”

“Huh?!”

You giggle, listening in on their banter. You're leaned up comfortably on Dan Heng's back, messing around with a level on Stelle's phone she hasn't been able to beat.

You hear a loud groan, a fwop as March drops on her back onto the bed,

“This is so confusing!”

“The rules are simple, you're just trying to rush things.”

Dan Heng takes the cards and settles them, tapping them vertically to level and gather them onto the little table. You stretch your neck to look back and catch a glimpse of March sulking. Stelle gently pries the phone out of your hands as you do so.

“Hey let's go through our photo album again!”

“It's the 6th time this month.”

You chuckle, getting up from Dan Heng's back as you feel him shift, moving over to situate yourself around the table aswell, the the bed dipping under your weight.

“I knew you were into photography but wow, this is something, March.”

You say, leaning over on the table, your elbow resting on it as your chin rests on your palm,

“Well, you better be grateful ‘cause I just finished up your entry!”

“My entry?”

You blink, confused,

“She's been dutifully taking pictures of your progress as a new member of the Astral express. I've.. learnt from experience It's better that you don't try to stop her.”

You laugh awkwardly, staring down as March excitedly flips through the photo book. It's a bit embarrassing now that you recall.

“Here! Look, look, look! I caught [name] in all their glory!”

“March..”

You awkwardly laugh, as Dan Heng looks over at the photo March points to in her photobook,

You cringe as you see your own expression, dull and groggy, a stark contrast to the bright letters and stickers decorating the edge of the photo that's glued tightly onto the page. You're drooling, to top it off.

“Hehe, [name] looks cute here don't they?!”

March points down to another photo right below, blurry in the midst of action. Your hazy figure is sitting up on a bed, Stelle draped over your lap while in charge of watching over you when you first appeared.

“I should have stayed to watch over, instead.”

Dan Heng comments under his breath, glancing back momentarily at Stelle, her chin hooked over his shoulder after having abandoned the game, seemingly more interested in the collection.

You chuckle softly,

Where did it begin exactly?

You boarded as an official member of the Astral Express about a few months ago, a gold brooch handed over to you, and many new faces who welcomed you onboard. You remember being home one day, going to sleep and hoping, just hoping that all of your worries and stress would just.. disappear. Your head hit the pillow and then-

You woke up. Here.

Suddenly you woke up in the very game you played to relieve your stress. Ironically, that moment you woke up was one of your most stressful memories, panicking at the situation you were in–

“Aw, dang it. I got defeated.”

All of you look over to Stelle, and to the red screen on her phone. You chuckle, as March sighs and shifts the topic.

You yawn and settle back onto the bed, leaning on a pile of pillows as March and Dan Heng continue their banter, taking this time to go through your stats, swiping and tinkering on your phone.

You've reached a higher level now. Having unlocked many items and even levelled up some basic features which allowed you to at the very least, defend yourself.

You read through the archived stories, gazing over all the past dialogue you've shared with this trio from the “main quest” ever since you boarded. Your friendship level with many had increased gradually over time, and shot up with the trio, as expected.

“[Name]..”

Stelle whines, pushing her phone back to you. You giggle, taking the device from her hands,

“Alright, I won't get distracted this time.”

This was your first expedition as a new member of the Astral Express. Which didn't help considering you were going into Penacony of all places.

You were nervous – how was your presence going to alter the timeline? Maybe a less “on screen” role like Himeko's? Or maybe you should have just stayed back with Dan Heng? But the experience, materials and all sorts of gizmos Penacony was going to offer.. It was too tempting.

And here you are, in the lobby. Himeko and Welt continue negotiating with the young woman at the reception. You were already on edge, but it seemed things just had to go wrong as well.

To distract yourself, you fidgeted and anxiously viewed the prologue to Penacony the system had just offered to you, repeatedly scrolling up and down on your phone, tapping your foot, pacing around the hotel a bit when–

A hand came up to your shoulder.

“It seems you're quite worried.”

You looked back.

It's Robin.

“Sorry, uh, we're.. having difficulty with the check-in and..”

You momentarily trail off, almost lost as you look at Robin. Her in game model was beautiful, but now that you're standing in front of her, it's almost.. mesmerising. Her eyes are beautiful – deep and ethereal. Pretty pink lips and softly dusted cheeks, her hair wispy and framing her face just the right way. You're awestruck for a moment, before panicking and snapping out of your daze.

You're at a hotel lobby for aeons’ sake!

“O-Oh, uh, my family is–”

You turn over to see Himeko and Welt continuing to go back and forth with the young woman at the reception, and turn again to see March and Stelle slightly off in the corner talking anxiously.

“They seem lovely.”

Robin smiles at you. And suddenly, your eyebrows and shoulders relax. Your jaw slightly slacks. Something about Robin seems to soothe you more than you ever thought.

Your eyes trail over to the bar in the corner;

Friendship level: 0

Right. She's still a stranger, in this timeline of events.

You're snapped out of your thoughts momentarily as another, unfamiliar voice speaks up from the crowd – a blonde man, addressing your fellow trailblazers.

This can't be good.

You walk up, regrouping with March and Stelle as they watch it all happen.

–

The golden hour was a familiar map to you, particularly because you'd loved exploring the place back when you used to play.

But actually being there is stunning.

The yellow lights brighten up the night-like atmosphere in a beautiful, classy way. It's almost as though you're in an old film, the way everything around you is hazy and glowing. There's laughter in the background and shimmering lights somewhere in the distance, drinks and the smell of food occasionally wafting in the air from corner cafés or so. You wander, awestruck at the sight of the landscape when–

You bump into someone, a small sound leaving you at the impact.

You look back to take a look at the stranger - more to try and ground yourself into this “dream” and your current reality. You were in Penacony. And all of this was physically interacting with you, regardless of how miniscule you must be. Whether you would have been reincarnated as a Cafe owner, or an NPC, or anyone else. As long as you were on Penacony, you were going to be a part of Sunday's grand plan.

You zone out, the hazy cacophony of ecstasy in the background blurring in the crowded space of your mind, thoughts overarching and bubbling up.

Beep!

You look at your phone, buzzing as quests pop up. You take a moment to look around the various shops, before your eyes land on a cozy cafe.

It won’t hurt to rest for a moment.

–

“Shit, shit, shit..”

You curse to yourself, frantically tapping on the screen and trying to fix this mess.

“Just– cooperate damn it..!”

Your teeth gnaw at your lip, biting and peeling off bits of the skin. It stings, but in your anxious state, you barely pay mind,

Why was the system not cooperating with you?!

None of your teleportation points worked, you weren't levelling up, barely any of the trinkets given by completion of quests were being used up! It was rudimentary junk in your inventory and now for some god awful reason, your entire system was going haywire!

System error: freespace is occupied!

System error: unavailable tab

System error: unable to access tab

System error: unable to complete..

“Yeah, yeah I got it you little-”

“Is something the matter?”

You gasped under your breath, a chill shooting up your spine as you turn around,

“No, no! Nothing, haha just.. uh..”

You awkwardly shuffle, pretending to look into your bag,

“You seem to be having trouble.”

Sunday's poised figure contrasts your sweaty, nervous, fidgeting one, as you only panic more at his words.

“Oh, just.. well.. it’s my first time visiting another world, so..”

“Ah, first time jitters? I’m faintly familiar.”

You chuckle awkwardly, but your humour doesn't seem to be exactly matched. Sunday’s smile doesn't widen or lessen, and neither does he chuckle. You realise how uncanny he looks in the dim lights of the Golden Hour barely illuminating his face in the alley.

“You seem to have been separated from your group. Would you like me to accompany you on your way back?”

“Sure–”

Warning: you are currently interacting with an influential figure. Proceed with caution.

“..you seem hesitant.”

You look at the glaring notification on your screen - akin to when an amber alert pops up, or when an earthquake warning resounds.

“..uh, I think.. I’ll be able to find them on my own. I should be fine.”

“I insist. As the representative and Spokesperson of The Family it is my duty to ensure the safety and relaxation of guests in the Dreamscape.”

Shit. This guy isn’t giving in.

You hesitate, a bead of sweat forming on your forehead and grazing the top of your eyebrow,

Beep!

Optional: would you like dialogue suggestions to be displayed?

[Yes]

[No]

[No – do not ask again]

You sigh internally. At least this system knows how to assist you when you need it.

“Shall we?”

Sunday beckons you to follow, as the pop-up blinks away, before you get the chance to select.

There’s no getting out of this. You’re just gonna have to suck it up and be careful.

“..sure.”

Sunday doesn’t remember when it exactly began.

Strange patterns, predictable dialogues, and the anomalies that occured..

Right after Sunday discovered your name.

He watched as the cup from the trash pile slipped and fell onto the pavement. Your name was written on it – messily and hurried. The cup rolls down a bit before hitting the side of his shoe. Sunday watched it with indifference, opting to simply move it aside before he spotted it. Your name. But it wasn’t supposed to be.

An alias? Maybe. It was different than the name administered in your profile.

He opted to push it back for later; but it was an interrupted thought as he walked ahead and watched you fiddle around with your phone, buzzing constantly as you cursed at it.

He breathes out, before deciding to approach you.

–

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

You respond, your eyes embarrassed and watching the various shuffling of feet in front of you, the crowd forming in front of the Rollercoaster you were too scared to go on.

Well, it's rather you haven't been able to go onto them.

Stelle and March offered you to join, and usually you'd be able to accept the invitation pop up, but as of recent, your system has been going haywire. The system probably narrowed down the scenarios you'd be allowed to participate in,in order to control the situation.

So you stood there, your mood dampened as you accepted that the system would not allow you to partake in the ride with your friends, shaking your head and telling them to go on instead, leaving you behind.

And Sunday saw all of it.

Or rather, just that you haven't gone onto the ride.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“No, nothing like that.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. Even if you were.. he's not exactly the person you'd tell it to, anyway. You ignore the buzzing of your phone as it displays the same warning, jaded and moody as you'd been denied a great opportunity to have fun.

“..there is a new bakery that's opened up in the corner. Would you like to visit?”

You blink, and look at him, confused. He seems to have understood your confusion, and follows up,

“Until your companions have had their fill. Just for a cup of coffee.”

You hesitate, humming in contemplation. You look at the options displayed;

Options:

□ “Sure. Let's go.”

□ “sorry, my husband's waiting for me on the express.

□ “No thank y–

System Error: no options available

You sigh. You really need to do something about these errors. You nod,

“Sure. Let's go.”

…

The bakery was warm, and lively. As soon as you entered, the faintly sweet smell of pastries and the waft of coffee enveloped you two. You gawked at the mesmerising scenery, while Sunday asked for an available booth that's more hidden from the public eye.

The seats were soft, and pliable as you took your seat, still taking in the view of the bakery. You hear Sunday clearing his throat and tapping the table, your gaze shifting to him. He points to the menu. You understand his cue and take to reading it, your eyes scanning the plethora of options as Sunday does the same.

“Have you.. been here before?”

“I have visited once in the past. With my sister.”

“Ah, how is Robin?”

Your eyes settle on a particular option, as the silence between you two fills with comfortable conversation,

“She has been well. Are you looking forward to her performance at the coming Festival?”

You blink as you realise. How could you forget? The entire reason you and the rest of the crew even came to Penacony! This was the guy who was gonna put everyone into a coma!

“O-Oh, uh, yes! March has been talking non-stop about it, so..”

You chuckle awkwardly, flustered as he caught you a bit off guard. He hums, his face indifferent and neutral as your words process in his mind.

“I suppose I shall expect you in the audience, then?”

“March will drag me to the front, so you'll probably get a clear view of me in my uncomfortable glory.”

That seems to elicit a small, soft chuckle from him, as his eyes land on a specific item on the menu, seeming to have decided his own liking.

“Very well. I'll look forward to it.”

Soon enough, a waitress comes up to the table, and begins taking your orders.

–

“It does seem a tad scary, but the view is always beautiful in the Astral express.”

“I'm sure of it. It sounds wonderful.”

Sunday listens to you dutifully, as you continue talking. Somewhere along the way, your discomfort at the awkward silence between you two led to you talking and filling in the silence, your coffee cup hanging idly in your hands. One thing led to another, as both of you started talking about your childhood memories, tea flavours, desserts, and so on. You find Sunday has been easy to converse with. You'd been ignoring the constant buzzing of your phone – most likely achievements or quests that popped up constantly wherever you went.

You take another sip from your coffee as Sunday takes his initiative to talk, listening to him well, and chuckling slightly at one or the other thing.

“I came to know tea is supposed to be made with hot water, but by then I'd gotten accustomed.”

You giggle, slightly in disbelief,

“Well, do you like iced tea now?”

Sunday shakes his head,

“I prefer coffee, more than that. Perhaps due to needing it more than a preference..”

His eyes trail to your cup, as you hold it in your hands. You follow his gaze,

Is something wrong? He'd been glancing at your cup a few times now, but you didn't comment on it before.

“Is.. something wro–”

Your words are cut off as your phone loudly rings, making you almost fumble and drop your coffee as you hurriedly take your phone.

It's March!

Crap, you forgot.

“Sorry, I uh..”

You scroll through the plethora of notifications, almost all of them missed calls and various texts.

“It seems your companions were searching for you.”

You look up, as Sunday looks into the distance, Stelle and March running towards you.

–

It was strange how things progressed since you came to Penacony.

Some of your equipment took ages to level up, the others taking barely anything before they hit their maximum level. Your friendship level progressed pretty highly on some days, and barely moved an inch on other days.

Your friendship level with Sunday, on the other hand, shot up to a 5. Not even anyone on the Astral Express had that level.

You only noticed it a fraction before you cleared all your notifications at once, swiped away before your finger had the chance to tap on it.

Regardless, that wasn’t your exact concern as of late. The story of Penacony had been well under way now, and things were starting to pick up.

As of recent, you haven't been able to remember the quest contents as much as you used to, only remembering enough in the last moment to avert an extremely bad decision – at least for yourself. Your own personal missions left you alive by a hair's breadth.

But if that didn't upset you – your crew did. The pressure of everything happening on Penacony seemed to have started to weigh down on your team, as they barely regard you anymore. You could technically blame it on the system – it's been trying desperately to revive and fix itself as the game progresses. You might be interfering with the inner workings, so you suppose it's only natural the game tries to limit your interactions with the world.

So for the most part, you've resigned yourself to be an NPC; walking around all of the tourist attractions, getting who knows how many cups of coffee, trying on various clothing items, and occasionally running into Sunday. The first few times, you awkwardly fiddled with your phone for optional dialogues, but as time went on, you felt more comfortable. Regardless, it's not like anything you say can technically avert him from his current plan. It's been in the schemes for who knows how long? As of now, it's less complicating to remain ignorant and act unknowing, and enjoying another walk with him as he surveys the Dreamscape. Considering how close you two might be getting, you'll probably end up telling him a few secrets from your past.

“The Grand theatre is Penacony’s main attraction.”

Sunday’s face is illuminated by it in the distance, as he stands, staring at it. His voice is barely audible, seemingly as if he speaks to himself. But that idea is swept under the rug the moment he turns slightly to you.

When was this cutscene? You curse your memory, the fog of your mind still not cleared from when you first came to this world,

“Have you decided to attend?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to. Considering the story, you actually knew the event wasn’t going to happen. But in the case it did..

Options:

□ “Ill be there first in line to enter.”

□ “Im thinking about it.”

□ “probably not..”

“..I have.”

You hesitantly answer.

“You haven’t made up your mind.”

Sunday states, more as a fact than a question. You can’t blame him, considering the hesitance apparent in your voice.

“..out of everyone, I’d hoped you would have attended.”

The options flicker and appear, but before you can press and respond, he continues,

“I understand. How has your family been?”

He turns to face you, you stay silent for a moment, before humming and clicking on an option,

□ “They’re alright.”

□ “I hope they’re all okay.”

□ “I wouldn’t really know..”

“Ah, uh.. we’re all kind of in our separate ways right now, so.. I wouldn’t really know.”

“I see.”

Both of you stand in silence, as you follow his gaze to the glowing theatre. After a moment, Sunday breaks his silence,

“When I was a child, I was particularly soft-spoken. Back then, Robin used to stand up for me frequently.”

Your ears perk up slightly. Is he talking about a childhood memory right now?

“One day, she wasn’t around, taking a few extra music lessons. The other kids were simply curious enough to take me in.”

You hum, listening to him intently. Your eyes gaze over his features – softly shaded by the cold light of the theatre, and illuminated by the yellow lights of the path.

“We were all kids. One of them pulled and broke my wing that day.”

You gasp, involuntarily. Ouch.

But sunday only chuckles at your reaction, his eyes downwards and distant. You don't think he finds it funny.

“But do you know? Right after that - they visited me. Day after day. Every step of recovery. Every recess when I had to sit back, they accompanied me. I thought about it recently. Humanity is worth saving.”

You stay silent, before smiling. The silence seems pleasant over you two, as you stare at the Grand Theatre in the distance.

“That, is when human spirit and strife first piqued my interest.”

You blink, and turn to look at him, the smile on your face faltering,

“What must the weak, the misfortunate, and the falsely accused do to gain balance within this world?”

You’re left speechless for a moment. It seems even the system cannot exactly provide you any dialogue options, as you glance over to your phone.

“..balance in the world isn’t achievable, which is why the human spirit strives to fix it.”

You stay silent, listening to him.

“Would a bird that cannot fly be allowed to, simply because it yearns to? Would it be righteous of you, or of the bird, to allow the freedom and death of the vast sky? Is it still righteous, if you withhold its freedom?”

He inhales, slowly, speaking in a low voice, wavering.

“Is death the only comprehensible freedom life offers, beside slumber, to the weak? Is that truly freedom?”

Sunday turns to look at you – his golden eyes almost searing into your soul.

You break out into a sweat, panicking as you check your phone, desperately trying to find an option when–

System Error: options not available

Shit, shit, shit. Holy crap. Can you even speak right now?

You're left silently staring at Sunday. He stares back before resigning to quietly look away.

You should leave.

—

Your memory seems to be strangely affected – either because you haven't been able to adjust to the new world, or you just haven't been able to adapt to Penacony.

You groan and slump into the couch of your room, in the real world. You keep forgetting to charge your phone – which isn't technically a hassle; you can access the same menu options, it's just more.. time-consuming. Not to mention you lose your only source of dialogue option pop ups.

How long has this been going on? You knew Penacony had a vast and complicated storyline, but living it feels entirely different. Feeling it is entirely bizarre. No wonder your head's spinning.

But thankfully, it should end soon. Your last quest is to face off Sunday in his boss form. You and your members have decided to meet up at the Grand Theatre, where the event will take place.

You place your phone into charging, and right on cue, March pops up into your room. She stumbles around your room a bit the moment you turn your back, even hear her drop and accidentally knock over some items on her way, simply laughing at the girl, as you continue packing up and preparing for the final “showdown”. You disregard her words, when she tells you she felt something push her.

You're not sure when the next cutscene plays.

You're in the grand theatre; just having defeated Sunday, and collectively waiting to return to the Astral Express. This is when you meet Boothill and Black Swan, where she wakes you up using Misha as a fallacy within Ena's dream.

But you aren't waking up.

You've just been stranded in the empty grand theatre after the darkness lifted.

You try to turn your phone on – but its busted. March must have disconnected the plug when she stumbled across a few things.

You sigh, irritated and antsy, choosing to walk ahead and look warily at the mechanical statues. The quest description is empty; devoid of any explanation. The title is vague and doesn't indicate much. Are you stuck in the loading screen? What the hell is going on?

And just as you are about to shout out for help – Sunday appears. There he is, on the stage. But this time, there's no spotlight. He stares down at you, emptily. You're creeped out for the lack of a better word, feeling your skin crawl with every second he stares. The silence is paper thin and thickly dense at the same time; electrified with tension and the unknown.

He makes the first step, slowly descending down and towards you.

“You are an outsider.”

System error: cannot process dialogue

“You do not belong here.”

System error: cannot proceed further

“I do not belong here.”

System warning: further interaction in this context may lead to irreversible da–

Sunday's hand rips through the warning, causing it to glitch violently, and disappear. You're scared, your throat constricting and your heart almost lurching out of your chest as he continues walking towards you, eyes searing into your soul,

“We do not belong here.”

Beep!

Options:

□ We do not belong here

□ I do not belong here

□ You do not belong here

□ We belong together

■ There is nothing else left for you here. You cannot turn back. There is no other option.

The screen glitches out, as Sunday stands before you, his hand reaching out,

“Tell me. What is your name?”

You can't access anything – the menu, the quests, your inventory, nothing. You stare almost endlessly in horror, as Sunday speaks of your real name.

You shouldn't have used it on that coffee cup.

2K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

Sunday manipulating you into loving him...

His manipulation is so good that you no longer doubt your feelings. It's hard to imagine your life without him, and it shows. You cling onto him like a baby bird and he is soaking in all of the attention like a man who hasn't had a sip of water in a millennium....

He needs you. He needs you like never before, he is love for you is ethereal and true. His devotion mirrors that of an acolyte worshiping their beloved god.

Please, love him in the same way he loves you, for nothing else shall satisfy him and his bleeding heart.

2K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

God, I finally caught up on the HSR story and I'm so down bad for this man, this traumatized guy, my poor little meow meow.

So here's some yan! Aventurine X gn! reader headcanons that have been rotting inside my brain for the past few days. Bark bark bark rate up soon please haha!!

In the early stages of your relationship, his behavior matches his superficial self, the shell he shows everyone. One of his first gifts to you would be a credit card attached to his personal bank account. 'Don't ask! Just spend.' He'd get a hit of endorphins every single time he sees a charge coming through from you. He knows it's you because he named the profile attached to that card with some corny pet name with a slew of emojis beside it, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on the screen of his phone.

It doesn't take long for him to be utterly obsessed with you. How could he not? You're just so... everything! His everything. It's at this stage, the mask slips off. Material gifts are no longer enough, and the gifts he gives you are pieces of himself. He'll overrule whatever pet name you gave him in favor of honey -- a reference to his heritage.

And speaking of heritage, he's prepared quite the gift for your one year anniversary. Once the sun had long set on a sinfully indulgent all-day date, and after some desperate and incredibly needy sex when the two of you are tangled up in a knot of your sweat and burning feelings, he'll give you his present. Kakavasha, he'd mutter into the sensitive skin on the side of your neck mirroring his commodity code. It's one of the few things he owns that truly matter to him, and he can only hope you'll accept his humble gift.

He's needy, so very very needy in general, about everything, always, in every single way. Pathetically so. He can't hold your hand like a normal person, your fingers must be laced. Kissing? There's rarely a moment when you're not being kissed, and he's generous with the sheer variety he provides you with. Sometimes it's little soft sweet kisses that are more like whispers against your flesh. Other times, he'll kiss you on the hand or face only to never pull away as if he's moving into the real estate on your bare skin wherever he can find it.

And after a particularly horrible day, he'll return home without greeting you in his usual cheerful way. You'll immediately know something is up, even more so when he puts you into a vice grip, kissing you in such a way where it's like he's trying to suck the air out of your lungs. It's as if he believes you can baptize him with your spit and turn him into something worthy of walking around other human beings, a luxury he can never afford himself. On days like this, he feels so utterly unworthy of the life he's taken from the people who have been unfortunate enough to cross paths with him, one stolen day at a time. Of course, he's shameless enough to steal from you of all people -- the sweet little giving thing that you are.

He dreams about working up the nerve, or maybe stooping so low as to ask for your hand in marriage. Whichever comes first. It's something he would have thought a lot about up until that point. He's got more money than he could ever spend in his lifetime, even if one of his hobbies was lighting huge stacks of credits on fire just for fun. With that in mind, any gem no matter how priceless would be a bauble in comparison to what you deserve for putting up with him. Of course he could carve off a piece of his cornerstone, a piece of him, and give you a fragment of God to decorate your finger. But if life on Sigonia IV taught him anything, it's how quickly your most precious belongings can be taken.

So naturally, there's only one thing he could think of that would be more valuable than that, only one thing comes to mind that can't be taken. The idea came to him in passing, an idea that's quite literally staring him in the face.

He's tried getting rid of his commodity code in the past, but even with all of his money, there's nothing that can make it go away without leaving some sort of mark. It was just easier to accept it and it slowly faded into the background over time.

So what would be more valuable than a piece of him, a piece of God? Why, eternity of course, something truly priceless. It would only be proper to get your wedding band's tattooed. You'd even be considerate enough to encourage him to pick an Avgin pattern.

While the idea of a ring as a symbol of your bond is nice, a ring is an object. Objects can be stolen -- or worse, taken off. Countless times were the things he held dearest taken from him. Although those days are long gone, and even though he's a gambling man, he wasn't about to take any chances. Not now. Not with this.

Having your promise to love one another until death do you part sealed onto your skin would give him tremendous comfort. If anyone wanted to take this away from him, the symbol of his vow to you, they'd have to peel it off of his cold, dead body. But first, they'd have to manage to kill him, of course.

Aventurine is hard to get a read on, which is just how he likes it. He's been many thing: a scoundrel, a villain, a confidante, a friend, a rival, a whipping post, a beggar, a tool, a whore, a hound, a pawn, a con artist, and a killer; all things he wouldn't hesitate to become again if the situation demands it. It's in his nature to adapt to what he needs to do, and who he needs to become. But no matter how much of a shapeshifter he pretends to be, the core of his being is unchanging and inviolable, for better or worse.

He's still that scared, lucky, little shivering Avgin boy no matter how hard he tries to play dress up. He needs you to find Kakavasha underneath all of the masks and bullshit he hides behind.

Every day he bets on you to find him, the real him, and love him. The wager? Just the usual -- his life.

2K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

Playing Dress Up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Sunday, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Blade

Heads up: Female!Reader, Possessive Behaviors, Very Self Indulgent

-; ੈ♡˳ SUNDAY

Sunday seeks refinement in every aspect of his life, this does not fail to extend to how you'll dress yourself while tied to his prestige as well. Sifting and digging through uncountable articles on women's fashion, extensive research on sources to make his vision come to life — Sunday hadn't even put this much effort into drafting his own style. What beget this initiative is rooted in his innate desire to make your connection to him clear through means sans saying it outright, though he'd much rather present it as his attempt in searching for a style that is uniquely yours ; which he does wish for to a degree, not to fret.

Your clothing will be weaved from scratch with the finest threads, silk and satin will be cut, folded and stitched to perfection. Even the measurements of your clothing will be penned down by the man himself : skirts must be of moderate length, not too long or too short and necklines must be modest. Said attires will be painted in shades of white, blue and gold ; his colors in short. But anything under these graceful dresses will be sleek black, a secret that'll never meet the public eye. The motifs of his halo will be skillfully engraved on the canvas that is you ; woven on the dresses, tempered in jewelry to adorn your hair and ears and not even your shoes will be spared.

The principle Sunday follows throughout this charade is complexity through simplicity. While one might think you'd look much like an over-groomed poodle after this, the gentle elegance of the reality will surprise even you. That is because Sunday practices caution in areas that are easy to complicate, jewelry for example. He's partial to earrings, bracelets, brooches and hair ornaments — not necklaces as he prefers the unobstructed beauty of your decolletage. Even those few ornaments are not gaudy in design, selected exclusively to accompany than to steal the stage. But the stones, diamonds and pearls he orders to be embedded in them are far precious than they initially suggest. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of Sunday's struggle was concentrated in the makeup area, for which, he had before anything else, scheduled an appointment with a dermatologist. Only when he had a detailed report on what products would suit your skin and what would harm you did he place the orders. Sunday thinks this endeavor to be much like conducting an orchestra : not all will understand why the conductor standing on the podium spins and twirls the baton, but when the tunes from the instruments unite and bring the melodies to life, it all makes sense.

-; ੈ♡˳ AVENTURINE

Aventurine has no patience for subtlety and employs bold tactics to get his message across. Should someone be naive enough to interrogate the man himself in his extravagant displays, he'll be unflinching in his reasoning as well. No amount of zeroes attached to the price tags or repeated cursory glances from passerbys will deter him in his shopping spree and should you complain about the mounting amount of bags — well, he has two perfectly functioning arms and adjacent shoulders sparkling in their vacancy, doesn't he? Your job is to just point out what catches your eyes, sweetheart.

The Stoneheart has discovered a sweet spot for matching since you entered his life ; which will materialize in earrings, bracelets, rings, hats, sunglasses, coats, chokers and the list goes on. Even though he gives you fair chances in choosing your attire, he'll not so discreetly sneak in pieces that'll reek of him. In occasions where this charade gets spectated by more than two pairs of eyes, Aventurine is less teasing and more edified in his intentions. Blue, pink and emerald coating fabrics that expose more than they cover will mock wanton eyes and they'll say loud and clear — this will never be yours.

Aventurine's favorite part has to be picking the perfumes for you. If you already have preferences, he'll scout the finest brand of that fragrance and make sure no other being in the expanding universe will be able to acquire it from then onwards. It just so happens that he also sees the importance of securing something that is uniquely you. If you're indecisive about perfumes, then even better! You can be doused in the fragrances he indulges in, keep no doubt that they'll be tasteful.

All this glamour might give the impression that Aventurine never allows you or himself to ever be stripped of the fanciful, glimmering and glittering layers oozing with the repute of uncountable credits. However, you were pleasantly surprised to find his lax attitude concerning your nightwear. You did not see any flickers of that ravenous flame concealed beneath enigmatic smiles even if you wore something bruised and tattered by time or, if you stole something from his wardrobe upon a random urge. Perhaps in moments overlooked by the light of distant stars, he treasures above all the sight of you in your most natural state, and wishes he could indulge in the same vulnerability as well.

-; ੈ♡˳ DR RATIO

The prodigious Veritas Ratio loves watching you get dressed, although there's a scarce chance of him openly admitting to his shameless ogling. Ironically, his genius receives negative marks when he tries to search for a rational reason as to why he continues regardless of your teasing — which, just so happen to never have sufficient burn to deter him for good. There's an odd sense of peace in spectating you building your look, in the movements of various tools and scattered, dexterous hand gestures. To him, it's almost synonymous to sculpting ; shaping something unremarkable to a display of skill and artistry.

Ratio thinks studious scholars should never limit their perspectives, which is why he tries to broaden his agenda with new experiences constantly — or at least, that's the excuse he ultimately settles on. He's yet to tell you of this, but he's certain he's acquired quite the quantity of knowledge on makeup from his observations. He knows the difference between foundations and concealers, in which order the cosmetics are applied and has a decent understanding about shades and highlights. It's safe to say, you can rely on him on this matter should there ever arise such an occasion.

When it comes to clothing, Ratio appears to be quite indecisive, form fitting or loose, he has no issues. The area where he is particularly strict, is hygiene. Which means no missed baths, or any half-hearted showers. After he's found himself comfortable in your presence, he'll take personal initiative to make sure your baths are never boring. Fragrant body washes, essential oils, exquisite rose water, bath bombs, shampoos �� he has it all covered. Another astounding discovery for the scholar was that he adores taking care of your hair, in particular. He always takes extra caution when washing it, buys smoother combs so that it might not get damaged and occasionally tries different hairstyles — though he's not very skilled at it. But learning has never been an effortless process to begin with, he's sure he'll be able to decorate your hair the way he desires properly one day.

-; ੈ♡˳ BLADE

Blade seldom comments on your choice of attire, but it doesn't mean that he never thinks about it. He prefers to dismiss most of those bubbling thoughts, for what does a weapon understand of fashion senses and trends? What he does offer you instead are drawling stares tiptoeing before the line of glares. Insufficient time knowing the enigmatic Stellaron Hunter will prove your inefficiency in understanding his brooding gazes. Should you directly ask his opinion on a certain outfit, it'll not earn you more than a grunt or a hum. But coming from Blade, that would be considered a lot.

In truth, Blade finds himself bewildered before the feelings you stir within him through the most mundane actions. He was certain that wanton emotions, urges and his humanity were devoured by the curse. For centuries, he wandered without a definitive purpose, stewing in the rage and hatred bubbling from his fate. Above all, he did not think himself human. So when you, in all your bright and humane light dug through the battered cage of his ribs and made yourself its soul resident, tugging him closer closer closer towards that tunnel's end through seemingly meaningless antics — Blade was lost.

It made him afraid sometimes, for the unreachable end that he always clawed towards seemed to lose its appeal before you. When he realized one day that he liked lighter colors on you, that he enjoyed watching you practice a hairstyle for hours, that he loved how your lips shimmer after a swipe of lip gloss, that he'd not trade the matching tassels you gifted him on a whim for the universe — the appalling realization that living is just a tiny bit more bearable with you around crashed on his beliefs and destroyed him beyond repair. Which is why, for the longest time, he didn't know how to respond to any of your gestures ; far too occupied with processing whether its the talons of mara digging into his sanity or just plain pleasant emotions.

Blade is often irresolute when you ask for his opinion on your clothing, not because he has not the faintest idea of what is considered appealing but because, you just look good in everything in his eyes. There's a particular garment though, form fitting Qipao with cheeky side slits that had him run the first time you wore it. Only after Kafka's reassurance that no, it isn't his mara was he able to gather the courage to approach you again. In conclusion, be prepared for every possible outcome when you're dolling yourself up for Blade.

1K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

You remember the first time Phainon said your name with a vexing clarity.

Well, ‘announced with all the vigor of a gorilla in its prime’ would be a more accurate description of that moment, not that you can word this out loud in front of ordinary folk — not anymore. What beget that incident and how he came to know of your identity are details even you question currently.

Exhilarating is the simplest (and most positive) word to describe the experience with the Chrysos Heir, being in his presence is no less riveting than witnessing a blood-warming battle straight from Castrum Kremnos. As such, against your judgement and awareness, it seemed that most things became a blur whenever he was nearby.

Not that it stirs an affirmative thrill in your arteries now. It did back then ; when he'd so brazenly dedicated his victory to your name in front of hundreds, nay, thousands of citizens, uncaring of the uncertain state of your acquaintanceship. You recall being more confused than overjoyed at the seemingly once-in-a-lifetime event of a Hero's attention falling upon you. But that, too, was swept by the tide of envious curiosity of the people of Okhema soon.

You don't blame them, you'd question if a nobody became the subject of reverence of a hero so suddenly as well. But that didn't mean you were no less annoyed by it, especially as it seemed that Phainon had no intention of quitting this practice. Every spar, every small victory towards the Flame-Chase and even the most random of achievements — he'd dedicate to you, the declarations becoming bolder each time.

You don't even need to ask what exactly you did to have him so invested, he has scarce control of his mouth when it concerns you. Do you believe the things he says though? That criteria, will not be met regardless of how sincere the Hero appears to be. You're not someone who's had to mingle with people of this volume, the invisible pushes to step into Phainon's world, direct or indirect, do not soothe your nerves in the slightest.

Ballads speak of the distant days when the sun used to kiss the soil of Amphoreus, but you weren't fortunate enough to witness those times. You've been reprimanded in a recent style lately though, your surroundings are quick to point at the dawn-incarnate, dashing specimen of a hero who's illuminated your once dull life and wonder so starry-eyed how grateful you must feel.

You used to roll your eyes at these whispers for a short frame of time. But as whispers ascended to theater and people eagerly awaited to spectate the turns of your ‘love story’, you really started to feel grateful. Not because you were pleased with your situation, but because of the support Phainon had provided throughout. He'd commented lightly once, you aren't built for such a harsh life. You deserve to recline, let others — him do the heavy-lifting and indulge yourself.

You tried your utmost to prove this redundant hypothesis incorrect. But dogs, once sufficiently attached, will always return to the master no matter how far one throws the toy. In moments of vulnerability, if even darkness helps, people will cling to it. And if it is the sun, they'll embrace blindness against the wishes of their conscience.

In Amphoreus, there goes the tale of the valiant hero and the beloved he's claimed as his life. Only in moments of clarity do you recall, it is nothing but the recounting of your immurement.

492 notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

Phainon the Pussy Eating King

🍓I gotta get it off my chest.

Tw: Overstim; Squirting (yes); Voyerism (mentioned); NSFW

Info: Phainon x Reader; Reader has a pussy but otherwise isn’t gendered; Blurbs; Incoherent Ramblings of a Man Gone Mad

MDNI

If there is anyone in Amphorus that is good at eating pussy, it’s Phainon. While he isn’t very experienced in the realm of sexual encounters, he’s just as eager to learn as he is in any other capacity. He lives to please, he says, and aims for nothing but the best when it comes to your pleasure. It’s just the kinda guy he is.

He discovers very quickly that he likes eating you out, maybe a bit too much to be normal. Something about it just seems to hit all the right spots in his brain that makes his body hum with delight. The noises you make, the heat of your skin beneath his hands, the way you squeeze him so tight and tug at his hair like a life line, your sweet smell that has him feeling dizzy, and not to mention the sticky syrupy juices that he finds himself getting drunk off of each and every time. He’s surrounded by nothing but signs of your pleasure, and it’s quite literally all he could ever want from sex — he doesn’t care what happens to himself anyway.

He eager like a puppy each time, hoping, praying to the gods you’ll let him go down on you. Allow him taste that glimpse of heaven between your legs and hear the sighs of angels from your mouth. Which you do, every time, because how could you say no when he’s just so excited to make you feel good?

He starts slow, working his way down from your lips, kissing across your jaw. He pays special attention to your neck, sucking a few pretty marks for himself to admire later. Peeling your clothes off all the while, needing the contact of skin on skin like he needs air to breathe. He always takes time to suck on your nipples, enjoying their texture beneath his tongue. They’re so small, and so very sensitive as he bites them. The way you squirm at the warmth of his mouth has him losing his mind with pride.

By then, though, he’s already grown impatient. It doesn’t take much more teasing before he’s settling himself between your legs. His sting calloused hands grasp at your thighs, spreading them open to reveal the shining pearl between them. Perhaps it might embarrass you, but he can’t help but stare for a moment. Admiring the view below him with a proud smile. You were already drooling from his earlier teasing, and the shimmering juices just made you look so much prettier. Ah, yes, this was his pussy. The prettiest pussy in all the lands, his to love and care for like the good man he was.

He’ll drag a finger up from your slit, collecting juices on its tip, and press it up and up until it’s right at that little bud of pleasure. He smiles when you jerk your legs, unable to move from his strong grasp. He takes that very same finger and sucks on it, moaning at the taste — as if it were the finest delicacy in all of Amphorus. To him, it very much was.

After the first taste it doesn’t take much longer for him to swallow you whole. Licking his tongue up in the same path his finger took, giggling when you keen. He presses it flat against your clit, watching you intently with those ungodly focused blues eyes. Then, without warning, he begins his unending assault on your pussy.

He alternated between lapping at your folds like a dog and sucking your clit as if it could pull your very soul into his being. He’s messy, you can feel the mix of cum and spit dribbling down to the sheets but he doesn’t seem to care that he’s absolutely covered in your juices. He’ll moan his enjoyment against you shamelessly, muttering sweet words you can’t quite make out between the sounds of slurping.

It’s nice like that for the first three orgasms, his eagerness is a force to be reckoned with and one that you benefit from. However, he doesn’t stop at just three. No he needs just one more. “You can do it, c’mon starlight~” How one more turned into another three more, you’re not sure, but you’re absolute jelly beneath him and he’s still lapping you up like you’re his last meal. Still just as energetic and enthusiastic as when you started.

When you try to push him away, he’ll pull you closer. You’re no match for his sheer strength, so struggling is futile. “No running,” He’ll hum, strong hands keeping your thighs firmly in place around his head, and even if you do manage to get away he’ll follow you with his mouth like a brainwashed slave, only made to service you and nothing else. Your whining and whimpering only motivate him further, needing to hear more of those noises fall from those blessed lips. Say his name like a mantra, praise him for how good he makes you feel, he thrives off it.

Ah, but he doesn’t just use his mouth. His fingers are also very skilled at what they do. He’s memorized your body with the calloused tips alone, and he knows all the right ways to make you cum. His fingers are thick and long, reaching places you can’t deep inside. So as he sucks on your swollen clit, his fingers curl against your g-spot relentlessly. They won’t stop after you’ve cum, still urging you on, fucking you through your orgasm until he gets what he wants from you.

It’s all too much, the sensations he builds deep within your core. The overstimulation would drive a normal person absolutely mad, but the smile on his face as you squirt all over him is more than enough to make up for the torture he puts you through. His charming grin is made all the more irresistible with his face covered by your juices, praises falling from his lips. “You did so good,” “I’m so proud of you,” “You’re so perfect.”

He likes to play a little game with himself, to see just how many times he can get you to squirt for him in one session. It’s for his own ego, mostly, but the way your face contorts in pleasure is enough for him to justify it in his brain.

And, of course, these sessions are rarely short. He could go on and on for hours just between your legs lapping you up. It’s an obsession of his and his greatest means of relieving stress. Unfortunately, he can get a little… carried away and very frequently forgets about his responsibilities when buried between your folds.

Too many times has he missed important meetings with friends, or forgotten about a task he was meant to complete, all because he was too focused on you. It leads to many situations where his friends come looking for him, and have to turn tail when they hear your unending wailing.

The bolder of them (Mydei) have disregarded it and waltzed right in, expecting him to be shameful (which he usually is after the fact). But Phainon, sweetheart that he is, is anything but shameful. He takes pride in being the reason you fall apart like this, in being your other half, and he’s almost leaping at the opportunity to prove just how good he is to you.

He locks eyes with the intruder, almost begging them to stay and watch. There is something so very titillating about someone else seeing how good he makes you feel — especially someone he has a form of rivalry with. It’s like he’s taunting Mydei, saying “Look at what I have, look at what I can do, can you do this?”

Wether or not that goes anywhere I’ll leave to another day, but Phainon is good at his job. He’s earned himself the title of best pussy eater in Amphorus, and if I were him I would be just as cocky and egotistical about it too.

1K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

Guess what happened to my dog yesterday.

6K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Note

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

5K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 6 months ago

Text

obsession w/ sunday

inspired by @yandere-romanticaa's fic! Tehee your works are so eye opening 0.0 <333 I licherally haven't created a yandere content for such a looong time lolol let's see if I can still pull this off lmao

WARNING/S: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior

☆⋆｡taglist☆⋆｡

------@moristhesecond @hunnieknight @haithxm-main

@mikoochaan

@greyrain23 @reideneris @bro-im-just-playing @teabutmakeitazure @meimeimeirin

@psychopomp-enthusiast @jade1605 @mochinon-yah @eussstasss @lillieofth3valley

@ichikanu @harmonysanreads @yellowelectroslime @miraclecherryblossomsblog @rossithepixie

@schoenpepper @cadesthings @creationsabyss @hirotasama @jth12

@alhaithams-malewife @oliaxter @angeveins @sakisud @xhongshan

@materlux @lost-in-the-night-skiess @shinha @m1kuz0ne @vashyuu

@n0rmalsimp @biytdtdatmirsmlys @mad-girlfan @wriomii @fyodorssimp1

@pastelmitzuki @latimeria-fell-from-heaven @feral-childs-word @sunyandmony

@seelie-buddy @xiaosantenna @elvira44578i @lolitalarva @liliabrary @f1nd1ng-yuki

@vikaflora2 @ume1sii @whodissbitj @mageofthelibrary @lilisgardensblog

@hypermanica @noisy-seelie @rarealienbutt @taisami @yuutryingtowrite

@chanontherun @almostfuzzyharmony @boothillsbootyeater @lobbitack

@hydroarchon-furinaa @pleniluneg4ze @keirennyx

20K notes · View notes

pipppinn · 1 year ago

Text

WANNA BRAG ABOUT IT ─ BAROU SHOUEI + NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: some say hot springs might hold the cure for illnesses and stress. you, on the other hand, think they're great for fertility and bonding purposes.

contents: afab!fem!reader, threesome (m/f/m), poly relationship, double penetration, anal, they do it in a hot spring, they also do it standing up, nipple play, cunninlingus, finger fucking, slight body worshipping, lots of foreplay, heavy make out sessions, aphrodisiacs word count: 5.9k a/n: (hello, hello, i am semi alive sorry hehe) the final part to this unexpected trilogy series lmao (there will maybe be more idk!!) - im so down bad for barou but im even worst when nagi comes into the mix. beta'd by my one and only @pipppinn <3 thanks queen - part one / part two

You’re an early riser.

You’ve always been, ever since dating Barou, and when you reached the two month mark, far enough to acclimate to your boyfriend’s strict ridgid morning schedule, that only hardwired the habit further. So, it comes to no one’s surprise for you to wake up as the sun’s rising in the sky.

What does come as a surprise though, when your sleep-filled mind finally shakes itself away from its slumber, is that you’re unable to get up. There’s a comfortable weight thrown around your waist, more heavier than what you’re formally used to, and a pair of hot breaths pressed into the curves of your neck, both emitting gentle sounds of soft breathing.

You’re trying to remember what happened here, as you crack your eyes open and carefully shift a little to ease your limbs awake. And, of course, the memory hits you like a truck.

Nagi’s birthday party. His gift. The aftermath of said gift. The whining mess. Barou awkwardly denying anything romantic towards Nagi. All three of you passing out in bed.

Your stomach does a flip and suddenly you’re wide awake. Too tense to make any sudden movements.

The only reason why you end up getting out of bed at all is because Barou eventually tosses Nagi’s limbs off of you. Barou’s always been known for his sheer size and strength, but in recent months he’s always been gentle with both you and Nagi. Today, however, your boyfriend’s patience seems to be running on thin ice; blankets are yanked off the bed and thrown into the hamper, he’s grumbling at Nagi to wake up and only glaring in disapproval when the other male rolls over, throwing an arm over his face and making his best attempt at an ‘I’m definitely still asleep’ type of sound. It sure isn’t good enough to trick Barou, but you can tell by his clenched jaw and forehead veins, that there isn’t enough time in the world for him to wait for Nagi to get up.

Maybe a trip out of town will cure whatever tension that’s left in the air.

Retail therapy is more of your thing, but Barou has always preferred winding down in a more nature-like setting. It came up in a conversation one time and, oddly enough, Nagi just happens to be the same—if you want to include booking a cabin fully equipped with electrical ports, washing machines, a sizable TV for entertainment, and a giant soft mattress.

Well, it’s kinda similar.

Barou blinks at your suggestion, more confusion than anything, and sets down a fresh batch of pancakes in front of you. “Hot springs?”

“Hot springs,” you confirm with a grin, pulling up on your laptop the first resort link that appeared from the search bar. “Secluded in the countryside, hiking trails all year round, all natural spring water, and—”

Nagi creeps up from behind, still in his sweats and hair slightly damp from the morning shower. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he peers over the last details. “A private onsen, huh…”

You watch from the corner of your eyes, Barou tensing and immediately turning around, trying to focus at whatever task he’s fidgeting with in the kitchen. You bite back a sigh, masking your disappointment as grogginess, and start swinging your legs aimlessly at the bar stool counter while leaning against Nagi’s tall stature.

“And good morning to you, sleepyhead.”

Nagi manages a hum in response while Barou proceeds to turn on the kitchen fan to presumably block out any additional noise from the taller male.

Your boyfriend is usually good with talking out his feelings. In the beginning, it was almost absolute hell to pry open that stubborn heart of his. Lots of unwarranted bursts of energy, followed by shutting down, and a full day of solitary confinement. It’s gotten better now; it’s a standard rule for him that nobody falls asleep angry—at least with you. The downside to inviting Nagi into your relationship, you realize, is that Barou reverts back to his raged teenage self, and is somehow even more annoyed than normal.

You occasionally gather up the courage and confidence to get the two to talk it out—somewhat. And you can tell that they really, really try. Except that Nagi backs off whenever Barou looks like he’s ready to throw up. So instead, you act as their buffer.

“Private’s more expensive, no?” Nagi tilts his head.

“Yeah, I mean I think it’ll be better than a public one,” you muse, scrolling through the various photos. “We can go in anytime we want, and stay as long as we want.”

Nagi adjusts his position, humming in content. The warmth of his cheek now pressed against yours, and you can smell the faint floral scent from his hair. It’s undeniably Barou’s. “Sounds nice. What’s the occasion?”

“We haven’t been on a trip together before…and I just received a big work bonus last week. Nature’s probably what we need right now.”

“Is there a lot of packing involved?” Nagi pouts.

“I don’t think we’re gonna stay there for that long. Maybe three days max?”

Barou slides you a side of extra syrup, and you can tell this is his way of saying he feels guilty of dreading going on the trip. They’re both avoiding eye contact, ignoring each other’s presence, and it’s incredibly tiring that all their hang ups have turned into a thing.

You can’t bear to bring up any of the weirdness that’s been going on. You sigh and dig into your food before booking two nights at the resort.

The next day at the airport, bleary-eyed and exhausted, you’re having regrets of putting Barou in charge of the itinerary. It should’ve come to no one’s surprise that he’s the type to arrive at the terminal gate seven hours before the plane actually boards. Something about ‘an accident could’ve stalled us’ and ‘just catch up on sleep when we get there’ was his reasoning.

“But even a king should get his ten hours of sleep…” Nagi tried his best not to complain, resting the entirety of his body weight against his wheeled luggage.

You’re too tired to argue back that the standard amount should be eight. Ten hours sounds about right—for you, for Nagi, maybe even Barou if he wasn’t so damned honed in on his notes app.

“Talk any more and I’ll kick you to economy.”

The flight is long, but flying first class is nice. You’re about a movie and a half into the flight before the flight attendants started to offer their complementary champagne. Free stuff is always fun to take advantage of, but you have an inkling feeling that after one glass you’ll be inclined to consume three more. Ideally, you opt for sparkling water and a bowl of fruit —you’re certainly above drinking away your stress. After a while, you put on a podcast and slip an eye mask on, sleeping away until the plane lands in Beppu.

You stir awake with your mind slightly adrift, entire body feeling as if it’s floating. There’s a faint mumbling in the background, thinking it belongs to Barou, but his words seem odd and they don’t string properly in your head. Instead of focusing on that too keenly, you rub your eyes and try to pull yourself awake from the long, jarring ride over. Given that your body is laying flat and the cushioning is far too plush to be the rental car, you realized that you’ve been knocked out for the entirety of the check-in process.

Suddenly, you feel a familiar warmth behind you, and you know almost instantly that Nagi is holding you from behind by the way his arms drape possessively around your waist. You relish at the physical contact and let your eyes adjust to the warm light and the orange glow of the fireplace in the room.

“Hungry?” Nagi asks, distracting you from your thoughts as he runs a hand over your stomach, slipping it under your shirt. He nuzzles closer against your cheek, and you can’t help the way your pulse quickens and your breath escapes in a sigh. But your eyes are locked with Barou, who’s staring up at you as he slowly begins to take off your pants at the edge of the bed.

“Gonna give him an answer?” The serious cadence of his voice burrows itself inside the pit of your stomach, and his fingertips tracing over your thighs as he removes the garment doesn’t help.

Before you could manage a response, Nagi nibbles on your earlobe. “Thought you were a good girl,” he sulks.

You wish you could find the words to respond, but the more either of them talk or touch you, the more your brain melts and the more you squirm. Barou tosses your pants to the corner of the room and gets up, staring down at you with his deep, crimson eyes.

“She is,” Barou corrects before commanding Nagi further, “Take her shirt off.”

Nagi agrees silently, immediately jumping in without missing a beat. His hands find their way on the hem of your shirt, pulling it up a bit so that he can gently remove it over your head. As soon as it disappears, tossed feverishly across the room, Nagi pulls you back into his arms and lets his calloused palms travel to the front of your body, cupping and squeezing your breasts. You feel your back arch instinctively when his dexterous fingers roll against your nipples.

“Sensitive already?” Nagi comments absently as he leaves small love bites all across the crook of your neck. “Can’t answer now, can you?”

“You two are making it really hard to focus,” you hear yourself respond in a harried breath. Your body begins to squirm uncontrollably as your blood boils over.

Your eyes fix on Barou as he takes off his shirt, revealing every toned muscle of his upper body outlined and shadowed by the ambient lighting. He walks off to the corner of the room and returns with a tray of arrangements of sweets you hardly recognize.

The wrapping is in a foreign language, bright and colorful, and you’re able to make out several phallic-like designs on the package. There’s no questioning of what it might be. Barou sets it on the small side table next to the bed, and repositions himself in between your thighs.

“Eat,” he instructs, commanding in a way that only he’s managed to perfect over the years. “We’re going to take care of you.”

You blink, trying to figure out exactly what Barou means by that, but Nagi nudges you gently, forcing you to look back over at him. In his fingers, he’s already unwrapped one of the candies, revealing a round chocolate-like succulent fudge, up in front of your face.

“It’ll be good, ‘m promise,” Nagi offers you a lazy smirk when you lock eyes with him. It’s so goddamn charming that you can’t help but to offer one back, and you bite into the candy, the chocolate immediately coating your tongue.

And, just as you’re swallowing back the first bite, you suddenly feel a slow drip of warm liquid running over your legs, drawing a line from your thighs down to your ankles.

Your attention snaps back to Barou, who’s now gripping one of your calves in his hands, palms coated in some sort of lavender oil, and begins to massage in an up and down motion. He basks your entire leg in affection, squeezing and kneading, even paying close consideration to the soles of your feet before he traces his hand up to your limbs.

“You need to relax. You’ve been overworking yourself,” he chastises with a shake of his head, and you sigh audibly at the way Barou palms your inner thigh, drawing closer towards the ache that’s building in your core.

Your face heats up, noting the soaking sensation that’s overtaken your panties as Nagi presses another round of sweets to your lips. “Maybe because she can’t stand being with you,” he huffs.

Barou pauses, palms tensing as he glares. “Not the time to act like a smartass—”

But before he could object anything, Nagi stretches and takes off his own shirt, and pulls you back further into him. The feel of his warm skin against your back makes you gasp, and that’s more than enough to set something off in your boyfriend. Wordlessly, Barou rubs the remainder of the oil into your flesh, over your shoulders and stomach, and soon to the exposed peaks of your breasts. Nagi takes this opportunity and wraps his hand gently around your throat, stealing your face away and locking your lips into a feverish kiss.

“He’s such a big baby,” Nagi pouts between breaths.

It’s ironic, hearing that coming out of him of all people. But Barou doesn’t budge. Instead, he swallows his pride and continues touching you, mouth latching and lapping at one of your breasts while thumbing over the other. It sends your back arching, mind going hazy as you try to recollect the thoughts you have left.

Your brain starts clicking together small details the more physical they’re getting—they’re fighting for your attention. Barou, whom you’ve known for a few years now, has always been self aware, attentive, but authoritative when he needed to be. His scent, habits, and presence melts completely into your world. You know what makes him tick, which side of the bed he prefers to rest on, how he likes his eggs, and you have no difficulty keeping him in check on the few rare occasions where he gets angsty.

Nagi, on the other hand, is blunt and possibly even more possessive than he possibly realizes. Playing off as cool headed half the time, he secretly loves being taken care of and keeps a straight face when he showers you in endless amounts of pleasure. He’s what Barou calls unpolished and bratty. And maybe it’s his fluffy bangs or how incredibly soft he can be, but you think he can be best described as charming.

Nagi doesn’t stop kissing you, not until you’re squealing into his mouth, tongues wrestling against another as Barou’s thumbs roll over your nipples with tease. Soon a warm, fleshy sensation flicks against your hot entrance, shaking you to the core. You don’t know how it’s possible, but both of their kisses are swallowing you whole. Nagi breaks away from the heated kiss, now attacking your throat with fluttering nips while Barou’s tongue laps at your clit repeatedly. A pitched shudder escapes and you shuffle your hips against both men, demanding more.

“I-I know we came here to relax but,” you bite back a building moan as you try to gain some ground. “I’m surprised that you didn’t kill each other while I was out…”

“Why would you assume that?” Nagi whispers into your shoulder, his tongue swiping at the skin, leaving a tether of saliva as he withdraws. “We get along just fine…”

“Why?” you repeat, voice almost a whine. You know Nagi has a tendency to ignore drama almost as if it's like wildfire. But he can’t really be that dense, can he?

Barou grunts from below, his lips part from your slick folds and his eyes glow as he hardens his gaze on you. The intensity in them calms into a warm vermillion, softness taking reign as he rises and rests his hands on your thighs. He squeezes at them lightly before shifting his weight on the bed, the mattress squeaking beneath your squirms, and leans forward to capture your lips.

“Ignore him,” your boyfriend murmurs in between breaths. “He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. Just focus on me, if you can.”

Trembling, wave of electricity rips through you as Barou’s fingers work delicately against your inner thighs. His thick, calloused digits tracing small circles below while his lips move hungrily down to lavish attention on your neck, then your collarbones. Your breath hitches, fingers tangling in his hair while nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh. When his lips reach the back of your neck, Barou pauses, his hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Such a perfect girl for me,” he groans. “You’re shaking so much, do you know that?”

For whatever reason—maybe it’s your boyfriend’s sudden desperation, or the aphrodisiac streaming through your veins—you find yourself losing control under his touch. Your tongues intertwine as your veins begin surging with liquid fire. Barou shifts, dropping a hand between your legs and grazes over your folds once more, sending a shivering ache through your body that has you leaping forward into his embrace.

“Shouei,” you whisper, voice trembling with need but unsure of what else to say. He has a tendency to drag this side out of you, overwhelmed with the feeling of immense yearning and want. When he slips a digit inside, your whole body shudders. The pressure builds inside of you like a rising tsunami, cresting higher and higher until—

Something shifts behind you, almost abruptly. It causes you to slip backwards into another firm wall.

“I want to check out the hot springs,” Nagi suddenly complains, tugging at your waist like a child.

Barou frowns against your lips, suppressing a low growl, but his hand doesn’t stop. “Then fucking check them out.”

“I want to check them out together,” Nagi emphasizes, voice coated with a rare form of selfishness that you haven’t heard before. He squeezes your sides, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Stop hogging…”

“You’ve been all over her since the night’s started—”

“It’s not fair—”

“Life’s not fucking fair, dumbass—”

“Hey,” you breathe out, heart beating loudly in your ears as the building pressure in your core ebbs away. You place a soft kiss on the corner of Barou’s pouting lips. “It’s okay, I’m still here for you—both of you.”

Your boyfriend’s face is wrinkling in annoyance, but nods nevertheless. The two men eventually pull back, hopping off the bed and discarding their remaining garments. They stand with both of their palms extended out for you to take. You lower your feet to the tatami floors, thighs rubbing together as you feel your slick running down your legs when you take their hands.

Although you could spend all night making out with your lovers in bed, the curiosity of this resort’s hot springs is eating away at you. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t a little excited, having to spend a decent chunk of your yearly bonus on this impromptu trip in Japan’s well known town famous for its natural springs. You’re semi-hoping that this trip would somehow hold the cure to whatever that’s happening, but judging from how they’re acting, you realize it might resolve on its own sooner or later.

Nagi surprisingly takes the first stride, leading you and Barou to the patio doors where he slides it open effortlessly and the warm air wafts in your face, welcoming you in its grace. The humidity is a harsh contrast to the cooled, air conditioned room. You experimentally dip your foot into the man made spring, the hot temperature immediately spearing straight through your nerves. You give out a little yelp and jump back.

Barou steadies your figure when you pull back your foot. He sucks his teeth in, a habit he does often when he wants to correct something. “Careful, the signs literally say that it’s hot.”

You glower a little, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “I don’t think I need to read to know that hot springs are hot.”

“Then don’t be surprised when they are,” he counters.

“So smart now, aren’t we?” You sigh.

“Breathe,” Nagi interjects and displays no trouble sinking his limbs into the pool, not even a slight facial reaction. A few feet out and the water reaches the middle of his thighs. “Take it slowly and it won’t hurt as much,” he simply explains, though you sense that there’s another hidden layer to his advice.

Following his words, you inhale slowly and walk carefully towards the body of water again. The initial dip torches the surface of your skin but you hold still, breathing deeply before taking another step. One second your body is engulfed in flames, the next it feels as if a smooth, warm blanket is being draped over your legs.

A satisfied groan bubbles back in your throat as the two of you shuffle over to Nagi, who's currently resting his back against one of the many boulders around the rim. “We’ve made the right choice.”

“Yeah,” Nagi says gently next to you, trying to edge you closer to him.

Luckily, they didn’t make you wait long. Only seconds had passed before they resumed basking you in endless amounts of tugs and wet kisses all over your naked body. You’re praying that the loud sloshing from the spring is enough to mask your onslaught of moans.

“If it’s too much, promise to let us know,” Barou murmurs.

It feels like your skin is boiling as you’re faced with the realization of what’s going to occur. You swap glances between the men, noting their feverish desire for you is spread all across their features. When you manage to grab both of their aching cocks in your hands, they both realize there’s nothing holding them back anymore.

Nagi’s arms reach down below, hooking underneath your thighs, lifting you up. He holds them wide open as he begins angling his erection underneath you, poking softly against the entrance of your ass. You barely have time to register his actions as Barou takes control in the front, moving closer and drenching his fingers in your wetness. Satisfaction coats his face, listening to you gasp and mewl as he rolls his fingers in slow but purposeful circles. His throbbing cock drips pre-cum all over your front as you begin to grind your hips, desperate to feel full.

“Please, please, please,” you choke out, head filled to the brim with the feeling of needles and cotton. Your fingers clumsily claw at Barou’s shoulders for grip, whole body tensing when you finally feel his length brushing over your swollen clit and swirling in the slick. You whine, eagerly letting your legs fall open more and more.

Nagi presses his lips onto your shoulder, teeth dragging along your nape, biting and marking you until you’re shaking from it. The warmth quickly becomes unbearable to focus. Your body nearly jumps from the fluttering tease. In front, Barou’s padded fingers roll over your sensitive nerve once more, and that’s enough to send you over the fucking edge. The three of you rut against each other like pathetic animals in heat and it doesn’t take long for you to reach your high, a thundering wave of ecstasy crashing against your veins.

You hear Nagi hiss behind you, his leverage on your shaky thighs tightens. “Gonna put it in now… Wanna make you feel even better,” he coos, hot breath making your skin tingle.

You hardly have time to calm down from your high as Nagi’s leaky tip probes at the opening of your ass. A sharp pain ruffles through your lower half and you bite back a ragged breath as he eases his way through. Your impossibly tight walls pulse around the length, and you close your eyes, rolling your head back against him, turning your lips into his neck to cry.

“Want you,” his breathing quickly turns shallow, almost as if in pain. “I want you so bad.” The longing in his voice seeps through your chest.

“W-Want you too, but—aah”, you whimper at the depth, writhing in between the men. Your mouth goes slack. “Go slow, go slow, Sei…”

You feel Barou cupping your face, caressing your cheeks so softly—like feathers—muttering soothing words of encouragement, but it sounds incoherent and muffled out from the streaming waters and Nagi’s own whines.

“So fucking tight for me…”

Another inch, he bottoms you out, and your stomach physically rolls. Fat tears threaten to fall from your eyes as you blow out a long, slow breath while the world spins. You don’t remember the last time you’ve taken it up in the ass, since the men usually take turns with each other, so the agonizing stretch feels like your first time. You fumble for the back of Nagi’s head and turn into him, breathing heavily against his lips.

“Are you holding up fine?” Barou’s voice is one octave away from breaking.

You manage to find the strength to nod and rock your hips, signaling for more. “Mhm, I’m ready for you, Shouei…”

Swallowing hard, Barou lines his leaking cock up against the folds and presses into you, crowning, and you let out another long breath, moving into it as he pushes inside. Drunk off of arousal, you suck in air through your teeth as he advances slowly, ears growing warm at the wet sounds coming out of you.

The building pressure, their grunts, whines, and possession of you—everything becomes easily overstimulating. Time seems to stand still as your body adjusts and accepts them both, dazed and breathless. Then, a crushing press, and the men start to move.

“Shit,” Barou breathes, shakily. His slow thrusts tease you as he kisses and bites your collarbones, making your insides whirl like a cyclone. Your walls flutter around both men in reaction. “Do you want us to keep going?” he asks you softly.

You blink, eyes glossed over, lightheaded. You nod slowly in response, and Barou offers you a rare smile before continuing.

“Don’t worry about anything,” he whispers. “Just focus on getting used to us being inside of you.”

Nagi follows up, his groans and vocals vibrating against your back. “Let us do all the work tonight.”

Barou kneads one breast and cups the side of your cheek with the other hand, pulling back and sinking in slowly as if he’s afraid to break you. Behind, Nagi snaps back his hips, setting an unforgiving pace. You make a strangled noise, brain short-circuiting, unable to hold back the cries from your drowned out throat as they take you in unison. The thought of being surrounded by other residents almost fades from your mind until you feel Barou pinching your cheek.

Hungrily, Barou lurches forward, pressing his forehead against yours and nestles his cock deep. “Keep your voice down, do you want people to catch us like this?” he rasps out.

You shake your head, delirious with pleasure. “Mhm—I won’t, I promise…”

“If you do,” Nagi rolls his hips back, just enough that his tip stays in, and plunges back in with vigor, earning a stammered cry. “Let them hear it, all of it.”

Your entire body trembles at the heightened sensations running through. You stare between the two men, mouth agape as you wait for the next movements. Nagi adjusts your body in his arms, pulling your thighs further apart so they both could reach your furthest parts. Your walls flutter and grasp at anything and everything, tightening and clenching around their lengths, watching the stretch and flexes of their torsos so sensual that you’ve etched it in your memories right then and there.

“You like this, don’t you?” Barou asks, voice a roll of thunder.

Nothing coherent comes out, just a huff of a breath that you didn’t know you’ve been holding onto. Even at the start of the relationship, you’ve never been filled up like this before—toys were present, but that was the extent of it. You’ve always taken the lead, sexually guiding and dominating one of the men for that night, enjoying the sight of their fucked out faces. Seeing their eyes right now, drinking in the bounce of your breasts, the slick sounds emitting from your entrance, and the sobs dragging from your throat—you can understand why this is dangerously addicting.

You squirm, moan, and beg under their physical demands, pleading their names left and right. Barou groans at your silence, and despite the wildness in his eyes, he brushes your hair back, admiring your flushed out expression while he bottoms you out again. His hand travels down, circling your clit once more, and you hiss sharply, throwing your head back so hard against Nagi’s shoulders that your vision goes starry. Your consciousness weaves in and out, not sure what to focus on as your body’s currently being worshiped and used.

A new feeling starts building in your lower abdomen. It starts out as a rhythmic throb in your stomach before traveling all the way down to your clit, pulsing and being drenched in sudden heat. As if your head couldn’t get any fuzzier, you let out an impossibly erotic groan, “I-I feel funny…”

Nagi controls your body the best he could, but you feel the way he’s twitching inside of you, just as desperate for relief as you are. His hips are shaking with anticipation and want. He leans down and bites your shoulder to find ground. “Drug’s kicking in…”

“W-What?” Your eyes go wide, mind immediately cuts back to the aphrodisiac earlier, wondering how ridiculously strong the dosage was, but the questions quickly cut short.

Barou’s thumb presses harder against your clit and mumbles into the line of your cleavage, your nipples perking as they brush against his warm skin, “Sorry, but tough it out for us a little longer.”

You’re not entirely sure what they meant, but you take their word for it, just like you’ve had for the rest of the night. You shut your eyes and throw your body into a craze, relishing in the way the pads of Barou’s fingers play with the bundle of nerves and Nagi’s digits digging into the flesh of your thighs. Your moans throaty and deep, sounds escaping that you didn’t even know you were capable of making. The torrent of pleasure seems ceaseless, bright colors clouding your vision as you tumblr through an endless fog of bliss.

Sensing your incoming release, Nagi lifts you up even further, toned arms pulling your thighs even further apart, and you yelp and whine when Barou’s tip brush against your gummy core. Both men are deep in concentration, hips snapping back and forth, the sounds of all three of your bodies joining in a sinful harmony. If there is such a thing as a breeding haze, you’re certainly lost in it.

“S-Something’s coming up—fuck—I can feel it,” you’re close to cumming again, and just when you thought you’re going to fall over the cliff, Barou pauses just long enough to cup your tear streaked cheeks with both hands.

“You’re squeezing around us so hard right now, baby,” he sits still inside of you for a moment, watching your dumbfounded expression soon morph into fucked out ecstasy when he begins to pump mercilessly inside, raking and grinding against your walls. “Are you holding back? Don’t.”

Both men pound inside of you, pulling all the way out before diving back in as deep as they can go. The fractured orgasm they had left you hanging over before starts to build again. They stroke quickly and punishingly, tearing into the place where tears are now starting to flow from your eyes while keeping your hips suspended and motionless, denying you any space to move.

Drool dribbles down the sides of your mouth, your nerve endings and senses igniting every time your walls squelch and clench around their needy cocks. You gaze up at Barou, tears blurring your intoxicated vision as you digest his flushed out cheeks and focused face. Your hand grasps blindly behind you for the feel of Nagi’s neck, earning you a honey-coated sigh from the tall giant, “L-Love you, love you two so, so much—aah! I’m gonna—”

The rush arrives suddenly.

You cum hard with a shudder, biting back your cries and vicing your walls against them. You feel the leak of fluids seeping out of you, but Barou thrusts his hips upward, making sure that his fat tip presses against that special spot again. This blinds you with a final surge of pleasure. Quakes rumble through your body, briefly making you lose sense of time and place, and they’re both still fucking you despite your bones are turning into jelly.

It’s not long before they cum right after another, both pumping hot, steady streams of thick, white ropes into you until they’re gasping for air. Nagi exits first, inching his veiny dick out of you with an audible pop. As soon as Barou backs away, the feeling of emptiness takes over and only then do you realize how much they’ve worked it out.

You want to say something, anything, but you feel yourself drifting off, the bright but welcoming soreness aches all over your body. Before your vision fades, you hear the soft calls of your name and feel the slow raking of fingers through your hair, loving every second of it.

You roll around in the bed, stretching your body out and enjoying the comfort of the plush blankets draped over your shoulders and the warmth of the two bodies next to you. Unconsciously, you begin to giggle as you slowly pull yourself out of sleep, kicking against a firm leg.

A light groan and heavy arm sprawls across your body right after. You open your eyes at last, shaking away the grogginess only to find Barou staring longingly right besides you. He’s propped up, elbow resting against the pillow, as his long, dark locks carefully frame his face as he examines yours.

With his hand on your waist, Barou pulls on you softly while squinting blearily. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” you whisper back. You try to shift around, leaning up to deliver a chaste kiss to his cheek, only to miss and hit his bare chest instead. Soreness ebbs all over your body, primarily your inner thighs and stomach, a reminder of last night’s little apology.

“You’re too damn eager, aren’t you?”

“After the stunt you guys pulled, who wouldn’t be?”

“Consider it lucky,” Barou runs a hand through your hair, slowly to avoid any of the tangled knots. “It was a last minute plan.”

“Ooh?” your eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t know you were able to convince Sei to do all of that on such little notice.”

Barou chews the inside of his cheek, his face tight, seemingly admitting in defeat. “Wasn’t my idea.”

“Then—”

You feel the mattress dip beside you and then some stirring. Turning around, you greet Nagi with a bright, warm smile, even though he’s still very much groggy.

“Good morning, Sei,” you reach out to pet his hair, marveling at how soft it is, no matter how many times you’ve touched it before. “Wanna get breakfast soon?”

He stirs again with a groan, winding the sleep out of his eyes with his fists and looks around the room before landing on your face. He mimics a smile back.

“Mhm, let’s…” Nagi drapes his arms and legs over your bodies, a lazy attempt of a horizontal group hug. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he says, “Let’s stay like this for a while, yeah?” His hands fumble around, feeling the peak of your breasts and giving them a small squeeze.

Barou doesn’t shove off Nagi’s thighs from his lap—at least, not immediately. You quickly recognize it as an affectionate gesture, especially with the way he gingerly places it down. He rolls his eyes and huffs, but if you look any closer to your boyfriend’s face, you realize that he’s trying to hide any hint of satisfaction on his lips.

#my bean wrote onsen sex #i have given u an extensive notes #but tbh the most impressive one would be NAGI IS CUTE from me who is currently still beefing with this mf

1K notes · View notes