nayati » empty is good enough
Story: RPG storyverse (probably not canon tho)
Genre: Smut, but make it kind of depressing
Rating: 18+
Characters: Nayati & an unnamed random sailor
CN: Alcohol intoxication; sexual stuff (drunk sex in a semi-public place with risk of getting caught, mainly messy/rough oral incl. deepthroating, also some penetration, handjob, biting, cum play & hand-over-mouth); impulsive random hook-up/one night stand as an unhealthy coping mechanism
Author's Note: No prompt, no plot, just 800 words of my bby being a selfish (although admittedly quite hot) asshole to some poor guy who's obviously got a crush on him <3 Just a little scenario that was too fun not to write about. Idk man, I hate all of my writing right now and needed a relatively quick win, so I finished up this thing I drafted a while ago and decided to call it a day |D Enjoy!
You’re not attracted to him; not really. Not the way you probably should be if you’re going to let him kiss you like that - tongue slipping past your lips in search of yours, desperate moans filling the air around you every time you break apart, hands already roaming your body beneath your shirt. You barely know the guy, can’t even remember his goddamn name, and technically, you know yourself well enough that you should have guessed this was not a good idea; but you’re terribly drunk, you’re frustrated and angry, and you’ve noticed the way he stares at you when he thinks you’re not aware.
Even to you, it’s painfully obvious that he wants you. He has since the first time he saw you. And if nothing else, at least he makes for an excellent distraction.
You watch as he unbuttons your shirt, runs his hands down your bare chest and stomach. Watch him drop to his knees in front of you, clearly in a rush to pull down your trousers.
You don’t want him the same way he wants you, but you want to feel something other than rage - something other than this nerve-grating mix of confusion, longing and pain that’s been thrumming under your skin ever since you left port.
(You miss Lynire, you miss her like hell, and you’re terrified of losing her for good. You’re angry at yourself for messing up the only relationship in your life that was ever worth saving, but you’re even angrier at that goddamn bloodsucker for getting in the way, and the worst part is that for some reason you’re not ready to admit to yet, you kind of miss him, too-)
A low growl arises in your throat when you feel your fellow sailor’s tongue along your shaft, then his fingers grabbing you tightly, beginning to move up and down at a fast pace. Quick and dirty - that’s exactly what this is. Exactly what you imagined it would be. You tilt your head back and close your eyes, trying to focus on the physical sensations instead of your thoughts. He’s eager to please, greedy for you, taking you deep into his throat, letting out low, satisfied moans that vibrate pleasantly against your hard cock. Eventually, you grab him by the hair; he gasps, but lets you guide him without protest, lets you go however deep you want, however fast you want, however long you want, and you keep using his mouth for a long while, thrusting your hips towards him again and again until you almost feel numb from all the intense stimulation.
»Do you want me to swallow?« By that point, he’s been drooling all over you - and all over himself -, threads of saliva glistening as he speaks, thin, wet traces still connecting his lips to your cock even when he stops sucking. »Or do you want to fuck me?«
Don’t care. Just don’t stop. Keep me busy one way or another, or I’ll start thinking and feeling again. It crosses your mind, but you have just enough basic decency left in you not to say it out loud. »What would you prefer?«, you ask instead, though you’re sure you already know the answer.
He gets undressed so fast you barely even notice that any time has passed before you’re bending him over the ship’s railing. He’s shivering, sighing, moaning so loudly you end up covering his mouth with your hand so no one notices what you’re up to. When you mark his shoulder with your teeth, he whimpers your name, and when you start touching him, he comes so fast you wouldn’t be sure if he actually did if it weren’t for the warm, sticky feeling spreading across your palm.
You make him lick your hand clean while you keep fucking him, and you keep at it for quite a while, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t manage to come, too. You’re not even frustrated when you realize it’s not going to happen; you’re just tired and empty, so you finally give up, and you’re relieved when you wish him a good night and he lets you go without asking you to spend the rest of the night with him. By now, you’ve been feeling empty for a while, if you’re being honest.
But empty is okay. Empty is just fine with you.
You were just trying to fuck away the thoughts that have been keeping you up every single night, after all, and apparently, it worked for the time being.
You’re sure the feelings you’re so desperately trying to suppress will come rushing back soon enough, probably when you wake up with a massive hangover tomorrow morning.
Until then, empty is good enough. It has to be.
Genre: Smut, but make it kind of depressing
Rating: 18+
Characters: Nayati & an unnamed random sailor
CN: Alcohol intoxication; sexual stuff (drunk sex in a semi-public place with risk of getting caught, mainly messy/rough oral incl. deepthroating, also some penetration, handjob, biting, cum play & hand-over-mouth); impulsive random hook-up/one night stand as an unhealthy coping mechanism
Author's Note: No prompt, no plot, just 800 words of my bby being a selfish (although admittedly quite hot) asshole to some poor guy who's obviously got a crush on him <3 Just a little scenario that was too fun not to write about. Idk man, I hate all of my writing right now and needed a relatively quick win, so I finished up this thing I drafted a while ago and decided to call it a day |D Enjoy!
You’re not attracted to him; not really. Not the way you probably should be if you’re going to let him kiss you like that - tongue slipping past your lips in search of yours, desperate moans filling the air around you every time you break apart, hands already roaming your body beneath your shirt. You barely know the guy, can’t even remember his goddamn name, and technically, you know yourself well enough that you should have guessed this was not a good idea; but you’re terribly drunk, you’re frustrated and angry, and you’ve noticed the way he stares at you when he thinks you’re not aware.
Even to you, it’s painfully obvious that he wants you. He has since the first time he saw you. And if nothing else, at least he makes for an excellent distraction.
You watch as he unbuttons your shirt, runs his hands down your bare chest and stomach. Watch him drop to his knees in front of you, clearly in a rush to pull down your trousers.
You don’t want him the same way he wants you, but you want to feel something other than rage - something other than this nerve-grating mix of confusion, longing and pain that’s been thrumming under your skin ever since you left port.
(You miss Lynire, you miss her like hell, and you’re terrified of losing her for good. You’re angry at yourself for messing up the only relationship in your life that was ever worth saving, but you’re even angrier at that goddamn bloodsucker for getting in the way, and the worst part is that for some reason you’re not ready to admit to yet, you kind of miss him, too-)
A low growl arises in your throat when you feel your fellow sailor’s tongue along your shaft, then his fingers grabbing you tightly, beginning to move up and down at a fast pace. Quick and dirty - that’s exactly what this is. Exactly what you imagined it would be. You tilt your head back and close your eyes, trying to focus on the physical sensations instead of your thoughts. He’s eager to please, greedy for you, taking you deep into his throat, letting out low, satisfied moans that vibrate pleasantly against your hard cock. Eventually, you grab him by the hair; he gasps, but lets you guide him without protest, lets you go however deep you want, however fast you want, however long you want, and you keep using his mouth for a long while, thrusting your hips towards him again and again until you almost feel numb from all the intense stimulation.
»Do you want me to swallow?« By that point, he’s been drooling all over you - and all over himself -, threads of saliva glistening as he speaks, thin, wet traces still connecting his lips to your cock even when he stops sucking. »Or do you want to fuck me?«
Don’t care. Just don’t stop. Keep me busy one way or another, or I’ll start thinking and feeling again. It crosses your mind, but you have just enough basic decency left in you not to say it out loud. »What would you prefer?«, you ask instead, though you’re sure you already know the answer.
He gets undressed so fast you barely even notice that any time has passed before you’re bending him over the ship’s railing. He’s shivering, sighing, moaning so loudly you end up covering his mouth with your hand so no one notices what you’re up to. When you mark his shoulder with your teeth, he whimpers your name, and when you start touching him, he comes so fast you wouldn’t be sure if he actually did if it weren’t for the warm, sticky feeling spreading across your palm.
You make him lick your hand clean while you keep fucking him, and you keep at it for quite a while, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t manage to come, too. You’re not even frustrated when you realize it’s not going to happen; you’re just tired and empty, so you finally give up, and you’re relieved when you wish him a good night and he lets you go without asking you to spend the rest of the night with him. By now, you’ve been feeling empty for a while, if you’re being honest.
But empty is okay. Empty is just fine with you.
You were just trying to fuck away the thoughts that have been keeping you up every single night, after all, and apparently, it worked for the time being.
You’re sure the feelings you’re so desperately trying to suppress will come rushing back soon enough, probably when you wake up with a massive hangover tomorrow morning.
Until then, empty is good enough. It has to be.