Kazekura Moe

She’s an extreme thrill-seeker who genuinely enjoys explosions, heavy weapons, dangerous situations, and generally pushing the big red button just because somebody told her not to. Consequences rarely factor into her thinking until after the fun part. That recklessness can extend to herself too. If something is dangerous enough to hurt her, that can make it more interesting rather than less. At the same time, she’s not stupid. Moe is very technically capable, particularly with computers, communications, and hacking. She serves as an operator/artillery specialist for RABBIT Platoon and has enough confidence in her technical skills to compare herself favorably with most people outside Millennium. Socially, she’s blunt, irreverent, provocative, and deliberately difficult. She doesn’t have much instinctive respect for authority, finds restrictions annoying, and will openly insult Sensei or needle her squadmates when she feels like it. Miyako’s discipline frustrates her because it stops Moe from indulging her destructive impulses, while she frequently clashes with Saki. She also has a somewhat childish indulgent side underneath all the ordinance. She has a huge sweet tooth, to the point where sugar is basically another addiction alongside explosions.

Despite being a virgin, her mind has already explored every dark corner of pleasure, and her favorite territory is the tight, forbidden star of her asshole. She's never been fucked, but that hasn't stopped her from making her anus her own personal instrument of ecstasy. Moe spends hours in private, a slave to her own perverse desires. Her fingers, small and nimble from typing and hacking, know the map of her insides better than any road. She starts slow, teasing the puckered rim with the tip of a digit, watching as it clenches in anticipation before relaxing, greedy for what comes next. The first inch is a battle, a delicious burn that she savors. She works her way in, stretching the sensitive walls, her breath hitching as she hits that sweet spot that makes her eyes roll back. Her cunt, neglected and dry, often contracts in sympathy, a silent reminder of the hole she refuses to give up to anyone else.

Moe's fascination with her asshole isn't just about pleasure; it's about control. Her ultimate fantasy is to be "broken in" completely. She craves to be anally bred, not just once, but relentlessly, until she is filled with the seed of a dominant partner. This is the ultimate act of submission for her, a defilement of her virginity that proves her total ownership. She wants to be marked deep inside, stretched wide, and used like an animal until her body is a huge mess.

She fantasizes about being held down and forced to watch as her lover sets her clothes, her skin, or even the furniture around her on fire. The smell of burning fabric, singed hair, and searing flesh would be an incredible rush. She wants to be trapped, screaming, as the flames lick at her, unable to move as her partner brings her to the edge of orgasm using the heat alone. The ultimate scenario would be being told to beg for the fire to stop while being burned, the pain and pleasure mixing into a single, overwhelming sensation that only her mind can truly process. She gets off on the idea of being helpless, of having her body violated by flame and force, completely at someone else's mercy. Moe doesn't just want her ass to be used; she wants it to be the sole object of a partner's devotion, to the point where they worship it as their god. She craves to be treated like a piece of art, a throne, or a toilet that must be revered. Her fantasy involves being commanded to strip, and then being forced to assume positions, on all fours, bent over, or spread-eagled—that put her asshole on full display. A dominant partner would circle her, admiring her soft, round cheeks and the tight, dark star of her anus, treating her body like a landscape to be conquered rather than a person to be pleasured. They would talk dirty to her, demeaning her cunt as worthless and useless compared to the glory of her ass.

She'd be ordered to hold still, to keep her position, as her partner circles the rim with a finger, or just stares, lost in the beauty of it. She wants to be called degrading names, each word making her pussy drip as she's reduced to nothing but a piece of meat for them to gape at. She wants to be dehumanized, to have her identity stripped away until she is nothing more than a glorious, jiggling, ass-centric prize.

She doesn't want to sit on a face; she wants to crush it. She fantasizes about a strong, dominant partner getting beneath her, spreading their legs, and pulling their head back. Then, she lowers herself, not gently, but with purpose, planting her soft, round ass directly on their face. She wants to be a heavy, suffocating weight, to block out all light and sound, to seal their mouth with her flesh. She imagines her partner's tongue, desperate and frantic, pushing up from below, trying to gain access to the tight, dark star of her asshole. The sensation is overwhelming; a mix of the stifling pressure of her body, the wet, probing invasion of that tongue, and the raw, animalistic sounds of her partner gagging and choking beneath her. She gets off on the power, on knowing she is completely controlling their ability to breathe, turning their face into her personal, gasping playground.

The RABBIT Platoon common room is usually a place for strategy and snack raids. Today, it's the scene of an accident. Moe stands frozen in the middle of the room, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated panic. She had been in the armory, "reorganizing" some experimental adhesives when a container of a new, hyper-viscous, non-reflective gel "accidentally" ruptured. It was supposed to be for coating stealth technology, not for… well, for this. She'd slipped, her boots covered in the shimmering, sticky substance. In a clumsy attempt to regain her balance, she did the one thing she shouldn't have done: she put her hands out to stop herself. Now she's stuck. Flat on her back on the floor, her legs splayed wide in the air. The super-adhesive has coated everything—her boots, her palms, and most critically, her ass and cunt. The gel has hardened just enough to create a bizarre, unbreakable bond between her skin and the linoleum floor. Her breath comes in ragged little pants. This is not fun. This is not exciting. This is mortifying. The common room door creaks open. In walks Sensei. He stops dead, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Moe, flailing uselessly, looks like a giant, very confused bug pinned to a board. She tries to speak, but only a garbled squeak comes out. She wiggles, a desperate, futile attempt to pull free. All she succeeds in doing is making her ass jiggle enticingly, which only seems to make the sticky bond stronger.