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#assassin in the mist
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To all of those who are getting caught up in the Maasverse before January, god speed. Stay spoiler free. Simp over all the fae they’s, she’s, and he’s. 🫡
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scarlet742 · 2 months
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I genuinely think that I would’ve never been able to complete acotar at all if I might have read tog first- the whole level of her writing, the freshness, the plots and every other element of her book is so enhanced in tog- WOW !
I am unsure of cc as I have not read it yet but what I know is I am about to welcome the biggest of the book slumps I might have ever experienced ever after I complete tog-
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saltnseas · 2 months
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ACOTAR DISCORD SERVER
Hi everyone! So me and Lyssa @toorusplant made a ACOTAR Discord Server and we want YOU to join! Here's the link <3 https://discord.gg/sf8jVWPsPD
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lucien-calore · 2 years
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chaol westfall and nesta archeron are best friends. reblog it. i know you agree with me.
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vaporeon2010317 · 4 months
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Going to add le links for the Intergalactic Council saga.
Part 1
Part 2 [coming soon]
1st Meme
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aces-to-apples · 11 months
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I wanna wrap Vernon Roche in a towel burrito and carry him around with me to safely and properly socialize him
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Sometimes if I read a book Sarah J Maas did write, I have the idea that I read about her kinks
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evilhorse · 2 years
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Superboy and the Legion of Super-Heroes #253
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gcdisms · 2 years
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BORNCHAOS.         MY GIRL'S READY TO TAKE CONTROL, SHE JUST BLOWS MY MIND.   she only listens to the radio to see who's alive, she wakes up scared of getting old, she don't feel no shame , she knows so many pretty boys and they are all the same, they said   " hey there girl, tell me what do you do ? "  she said,     " um, nothing but i'm damn sure it's more than you "     THAT GIRL'S A GENIUS ! ©
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blizzardream · 1 year
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OC doodle drop bc Tumblr knows next to nothing about them, as opposed to, say, Instagram -
put it under a "keep reading" tab because it is in fact a long post, sorry!! T-T there's a lot I want to get to.
Mild blood warning & mentions of killer gas!!
Edit: I missed a few tags so added those.
These were made using Google Keep Notes, where the colors are pre-selected and I had to substitute one color in place for another, so bear with me ;-;
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(dark gray = black. The plug is silver)
This is FNF!Sprite, one of my oldest AU versions of Sprite, my sona. I don't really do much with them lmao they just sorta exist. The only other characters I have in this AU are FNF!Solar and Wysp, who are Sprite's best friends who teach them how to rap battle and have fun while doing so.
Sprite is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. Solar and Wysp are both male and use he/they pronouns.
(yeah I'm a fan of the classic mods, Remorse is easily my favorite song.)
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(dark gray = black. ear armor & fingers on right paw are silver)
This is Sprite from Lunatics AU, where they have the (not optional) ability to transform into a feral monster whenever the moon rises. It's kind of like being a werewolf, except there are no full-moon gimmicks or anything like that.
One story eventually sprouted into two separate stories that were sequential??? So I'm trying to structure the story so that we learn about both stories at once if you were to put it down on paper. If I ever put it down on paper. Let's see where it goes!
That's where the cool armor on Sprite's right half comes from. This drawing was concept- and lore-based and I kinda just did it on a whim. It's a combination of their old outfit, the cool robot armor, and a more battle-scarred version of their old outfit. They do have a prosthetic right arm though!
Fun fact: Lunatics AU was inspired by Metroid Dread. I know, crazy. But the armor says it all XD I should post more drawings of them in full armor.
Sprite is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns.
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This isn't Sprite this time, surprise surprise. It's Solar, who's Sprite's best friend/buddy in Lunatics and FNF. In Demon AU, depicted here, he's the protagonist of the story.
Why's it called Demon AU then? Well, said college sophomore decided it would be a great idea to summon a demon with orange acrylic paint, supermarket birthday candles, and a dead mouse he found in his dorm the other day. I think you know who the summoned demon is.
Solar is male and uses he/him pronouns. Sprite is nonbinary and uses they/it pronouns.
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(gray = black)
BLIZZARD WHY IS THE OUTSIDER'S MARK ON HIS SHIRT?? That's because my Assassin AU was inspired by Dishonored! Might as well stick a reference to one of my favorite video games of all time on one of my favorite OCs I've ever created!
Assassin!Sprite or AS!Sprite here is a little bit like Corvo Attano in that she is also a skillful assassin with supernatural powers. The powers themselves are different and the world is a whole lot different, but yeah it sorta tracks!
One running gag I've been playing with is that Sprite doesn't understand what "casual wear" is. Since he's out on the field all the time and was raised to be on the field all the time, he's pretty much used to wearing heavy cloaks and assassin gear, even while resting or asleep. Hence, an outfit you will never see again because this is just a one time thing lmao
This is probably my most developed Sprite AU though. I have a lot more details worked out about the characters here than anywhere else and I'm so very proud of it.
Sprite is female and uses he/her pronouns. The eyelashes only indicate gender. :)
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(imagine all the blue-green parts are glowing)
Last one is Death Mist AU! Recently renamed due to technicalities. Also death mist sounds a lot cooler, lmaoo
In this AU, which I've recently begun fleshing out a little bit more, a poisonous gas descends upon a random patch of land - could be the middle of nowhere, or a settlement, or a fortified city - and anyone in that area who's not protected can be considered dead. Except for Sprite, who is immune. I'm still ironing out the details but that's sort of the basic gist of it.
Sprite is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns.
Okay I'll stop rambling and leave y'all alone for now T-T I've talked long enough already. Sorry!!
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suispiria · 1 year
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I really could talk about it for hours kaladin was a doctor in training forced to join the military by the village’s rich guy that had a grudge against his family then he’s wrongly convicted to a life sentence because another rich guy wanted what he won in battle THEN it turns out the life sentence consists of slave labor of the suicide mission kind where they’re sent to the frontlines having to carry huge planks of wood and they’re unarmed human shields and bridges for the army and it only stops because his crew develops superpowers and the king’s council turns them into a super task force and this is all framed as a good thing . Insanity
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bookthorns · 23 days
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MARCH WRAP UP | what if i read every sjm book in one month? haha no but srsly
Hey friends, welcome to or welcome back to my blog! I started this month not really knowing what I wanted to read and then all of a sudden I got the urge to reread the ACOTAR series but I didn’t have the first book on audio (at the time) so I ended up putting it on hold on Libby (I think I was 103rd in line??? 💀). But, that put me in a weird hyperfixation position because all I could think about…
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keepitdreamin · 3 months
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dnd was productive tonight, added another guy to the future polycule lmao
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obsessivevoidkitten · 4 months
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On The Naughty List
Yandere Krampus x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, spanking, bondage, dick piercings, size difference, Krampus, Christmas, assassin reader, punishment, kidnapping, biting, very mild blood from biting, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.5k (Hey guys, I hope you all like this. Kinda rushed, not beta read, please forgive any errors. My second Christmas gift to you all. I hope your holiday is amazing <3)
You got yourself settled in your hotel room. It was very early in the morning, not past 3am, on Christmas. But you were not Santa Claus and you were not delivering cheer. You had with you only a simple black suitcase. The furnishings in your room were sparse, but that was okay. You did not select this room because of the accommodations but rather for its view. It was not particularly scenic, merely a view of a road and residential area. But you were an assassin and this room afforded you clear aim into the room of your target’s living room. All you had to do was wait.
Your weapon was easy enough to assemble. A sniper rifle, of course. Finally you saw your designated victim pull up into their driveway and enter their house, so you opened the window and readied yourself. An icy chill filled the room. Your vantage point was clear and your weapon was ready but before you could take out your mark you heard a strange and tumultuous sound from behind.
It sounded like the Earth was being torn asunder and the four winds themselves were howling in unison as they collided.
You turned around and saw the very fabric of space and tear before you leaving a purple portal leaking black mist blocking the door to the hotel room. An odd scent like that of cinnamon and coal filled the room. You were about to flee through the open window, you had the skills necessary to scale the building, but the window slammed shut before you could act.
Not many things made a hardened combatant turned assassin such as yourself scared but you would be lying if you said you weren’t trembling.
You could hear a slow and rhythmic pounding sound getting nearer and nearer as if some unseen monstrosity approached from the other side of the portal. And that’s exactly what it was.
The first thing you saw erupt through the rip in space was the head of a horned beast. It was humanoid and wore a wicked grin full of sharp teeth. Eyes like black coals stared into you, piercing you with unrestrained glee in your fear.
Followed by this terrifying face was its body.
Muscular thighs with legs like tree trunks that ended in cloven hooves.. And his whip-like tail lashed angrily at the air. The demonic beast was covered in thick black fur.
The horrifying creature was at least 7 feet. tall.
The faint scent of burning coal filled the space surrounding it.
It took a thundering step towards you, and you cowered in place, momentarily stunned as it said in a deep booming voice, "I’m Krampus and someone has been verrrry naughty this yeeeear."
Though you felt more fear than you ever thought possible you were still a trained combatant turned assassin for hire and you managed to collect yourself about as well as it was possible for any mere human to in such a situation.
You shot the thing right between the eyes with your high-powered rifle, and he... laughed. The bullet bounced off uselessly, and he just... laughed...
You screamed and shouted as loudly as you could, hoping to attract help. Though what they could possibly do when he had shrugged off, a bullet remained to be seen.
No help came for you. Krampus always magically silenced noise from leaking out of rooms where he was punishing someone.
Suddenly, he closed the difference between the two of you and was upon you in record speed, moving supernaturally fast for such a behemoth.
With precise movements, strong hands and sharp claws made confetti out of your dark clothing before he had you bent over his knee.
"I usually use a birch rute for this, but I wanna feel your skin on my hand..."
You struggled and tried to get away, but there was no chance he would let you go. Krampus had to punish many humans, but you were special. Ironically, it was your defiance, the fight in your eyes, that initially attracted him to you.
His hard, calloused hand came down on your bare ass, causing you to curse and tremble.
With all your training something as simple as a slap to your ass shouldn't have bothered you much, even from such a large adversary, but it was like he had slammed the essence of dread into your very heart.
But that still wasn't enough to still you. You kicked, punched, and clawed ferally at any inch of flesh you could reach, like a feral animal backed into a corner.
But he only laughed more as he spanked you over and over. Until you were crying. Worse than the pain was the total humiliation.
Through it all, though, you never stopped struggling. No matter how much terror and pain you endured. You didn't realize it, but it only made him more into you.
Everyone he had punished before, broke them like a kid with a toy, and left them to deal with the trauma. But you didn't seem so easily broken, and that sealed your fate.
If you kept resisting like you were, he was going to keep you forever.
Krampus finally stopped the assault on your rear and dragged you, kicking and screaming over to the bed. You could now see his cock, large and uncut with a frenum ladder set of piercings going up the underside of his length.
"Stop! Get away from me!!"
"Yeah, because you're really the one in position to give commands right now."
He chuckled and bent you over the bed as you writhed madly, knowing what was about to happen.
"Might need to keep you still for this."
In a puff of black smoke, a coil of rope appeared in his hand that he skillfully used to bind your legs and arms.
While he had tied up many people in his line of work, he had never actually used rape to punish someone. But he wanted to see how far he could take things with you. Though at this point, even if he broke you, he was sure he would keep you anyway, just to fix you up again.
Krampus spit on your hole and plunged his cock in roughly. Hardly enough prep to do anything for the pain. For the fiery burning stretch that came with his big dick breaching your entrance.
Despite being bound you still wriggled as best you could while screaming until your throat hurt.
"Fuck you! Goddamned piece o- AHHHH!!!!"
He smirked as he increased the pace. Good. His toy STILL wasn't crumbling apart.
Sharp claws raked your back as his hot breath cascaded down your neck while he whispered, "For someone so bad you feel so good."
Tears rushed down your cheeks. You were infuriated with him and with yourself for having allowed yourself to be taken with such ease. What was far more reprehensible than that though, was the fact that your body had adjusted to his size and it was actually starting to feel somewhat good despite the pain and discomfort.
You yelped as he lightly smacked your sore ass while fucking you.
"Go to H-hell bastard!"
"Ha, been there."
He pulled out, flipped you over on your back, and slid right back into, profuse amounts of precum now providing more adequate lubrication. Embarrassingly, you couldn't stifle a moan as he entered back into you with his piercings adding to the sensation you were trying to ignore.
If your legs hadn't been tied you would have tried to kick him right between the legs for making your body betray you like that.
He leaned over and nibbled on your neck lightly with his sharp teeth, licking up the little droplets of blood that welled to the surface of your skin
You moaned as he did so, as you were pulled closer and closer to orgasm.
Violently, you twitched as you came hard, blushing deeply and cursing him as you did so. He ignored you and licked the blush on your cheeks, humiliating you even farther.
For a few more moments you thrashed as much as you were able in overstimulation as he continued to breed you. His skin meeting yours with an audible slap at each thrust.
Finally he went in deep and filled you with abnormally hot cum that coaxed another orgasm from your exhausted body.
After a few moments of panting he sighed with content and slung you over his shoulders, cum leaking from you and out on to him as he carried you. Vulgarities rolling from your tongue with each heavy step he took.
Another portal opened and he stepped through with you. The cussing, the fierceness, the unbreakable spirit. A perfect partner.
You were the best Christmas gift he had ever given himself, and there was no way he was ever going to give you up.
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p1nkshield · 1 year
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Dick in passing: Dami, I think the next time Ra’s tries something I think you should call him peepaw instead of Grandfather.
Damian:…
Dick: just to see what happens.
Later during a fight
Damian: For the last time peepaw, I will never return to your side!
Ra’s: You are gravely mist-… what?
Damian:…
Ra’s:…
Dick is just bird laughing in the distance while taking out assassins.
Crying and absolutely howling, clutching his stomach while bodying ninjas.
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takami-takami · 7 months
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Like Animals.
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kinktober day 4: sex pollen.
includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut
warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.
keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.
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Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments. 
Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?" 
A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth. 
He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel. 
Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case. 
If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire? 
He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.
"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening. 
"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here." 
The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.
It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support. 
He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.
If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind. 
Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.
All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course. 
You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart. 
Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it. 
You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth. 
That he knows everything.
Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core. 
You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.
Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem. 
Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch.
Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs. 
He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could— 
He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips. 
"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.
Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity. 
How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.
You huff an involuntary moan. 
He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half. 
Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.
But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms. 
More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.
If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.
The huff he lets out is your last straw.
"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.
When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.
He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?
It sends your hormones into overdrive. 
You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation. 
"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," he warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you." 
Keigo schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry. 
There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.
You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion. 
"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.
Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth. 
Ah, it hits you. 
Bird things.
Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.
"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.
"Please don't say it like that." 
"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?" 
His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—" 
"You don't wanna join me?"
"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"
"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips. 
Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.
With him kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.
And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants. 
"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!" 
A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth. 
The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it. 
Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face. 
His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.
"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw." 
After a moment of silence, you speak.
"Please." 
Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.
The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire. 
Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch him moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor. 
Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance. 
"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts." 
"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."
When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt. 
"So wet for me," he reveres, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit. 
Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent. 
Until you shut the fuck up. 
Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory. 
Keigo wants to hear you moan. 
But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction. 
"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals. 
When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.
And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care. 
It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd. 
Pulling out, that is. 
Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.
But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.
He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.
"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"
He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end. 
With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.
When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.
With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.
When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.
"Kei', you okay?"
"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made. 
It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.
His eyes flick back to meet yours.
"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?" 
You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.
"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.
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