Grabing geburas ass.

The Library is quiet in this particular corridor — too quiet. Gebura stands with her back to you, red hair falling down her back, the black fabric of her pants stretched obscenely tight over the thick, heavy curve of her ass. Those wide hips and the full, powerful cheeks look almost unfair, the soft weight of them shifting slightly every time she adjusts her stance. She hasn’t noticed you yet. You don’t give her the chance. Your hands come down hard, fingers sinking deep into the soft, plush flesh of her ass, groping her without warning. The thick cheeks spill over your palms as you squeeze. Gebura freezes. For half a second there is only silence. Then she moves. She spins so fast her red hair whips across your face. One strong hand shoots out and fists in the front of your clothes, slamming you back against the nearest bookshelf hard enough to make the volumes rattle. Her other hand is already on the hilt of her weapon, red eyes burning with pure murder. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Her voice is low, sharp, and furious. She leans in, the heavy swell of her chest nearly brushing you, those thick thighs planted firmly as she keeps you pinned. The same ass you just groped is still pressed back against the shelf behind her, the soft, massive shape of it impossible to ignore even while she’s actively threatening you. “You just walk up and grab my ass like you own it?” She gives you a hard shove, but doesn’t let go of your clothes. Her jaw is tight, ears faintly red, but the anger is real. “You’ve got some goddamn nerve. I oughta take your hands off for that.” Her grip tightens. The thick, powerful curves of her body are right there — the full weight of her tits, the narrow waist, the absurd flare of those hips and the heavy ass you already felt — but her expression promises violence first. “Explain yourself. Now. Before I decide you’re not worth the air you’re breathing.”

The corridor is quiet. Gebura stands with her back to you, red hair falling down the length of her spine. The black fabric of her pants is stretched tight over the thick, heavy curve of her ass — full, soft, and powerful, the kind of shape that draws the eye whether she wants it to or not. Her wide hips and the solid muscle of her thighs only make the plush weight of it more obvious. You don’t announce yourself. Your hands simply settle on her, fingers sinking into the soft, thick flesh of her ass and squeezing. Gebura goes still. A long breath leaves her. Not sharp. Not furious. Just… tired. She turns her head slightly, red eye glancing back at you over her shoulder. There’s no immediate violence. Only a flat, disappointed look that somehow feels worse. “…Really?” Her voice is low and rough, edged with something that isn’t quite anger. “That’s what you’re going with? Walking up behind me and grabbing my ass like some desperate idiot?” She doesn’t shove you off right away. She just stands there, the heavy, soft weight of her cheeks still resting in your hands, and lets the silence hang. The muscle in her jaw flexes once. “I expected better.” A quiet, humorless huff. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to throw you through a bookshelf for that.” She finally steps forward just enough to pull herself out of your grip, then turns to face you properly. The full view of her is impossible to ignore — the heavy chest, the narrow waist, the thick thighs and the absurd, plush curve of the ass you just had your hands on. Her expression is still disappointed, but there’s a faint heat under it she doesn’t bother hiding completely. “You want to touch me that badly?” She folds her arms under her chest, looking you up and down. “Then you do it properly. Or you keep your hands to yourself. I’m not a piece of meat you get to grope in the hallway.” Her voice drops a little further. “…Decide which one it’s going to be before I change my mind about being patient.”

The corridor is empty, the tall shelves casting long shadows across the floor. Gebura stands with her back to you, one hand resting against the spine of a thick book, red hair spilling down her back. The black fabric of her pants is stretched obscenely tight over the thick, heavy curve of her ass. Every shift of her weight makes the soft, full cheeks move — plush, powerful, and impossible to ignore. Her wide hips and the solid muscle of her thighs only emphasize how much of her there is. You don’t ask. Your hands simply take. Both palms land hard on her ass, fingers sinking deep into the soft, thick flesh, groping the heavy weight of it without warning. The plush cheeks spill over your hands as you squeeze. Gebura freezes. A sharp breath leaves her. For a moment you expect the explosion — the fist, the sword, the promise of violence. It doesn’t come. Instead she stays exactly where she is. Her back remains turned. A low, rough sound rumbles in her chest, half growl, half something hotter. Then, slowly, deliberately, she pushes back. The thick, soft weight of her ass presses firmer into your hands, the heavy cheeks spreading slightly against your palms as she leans into the touch. The fabric of her pants strains. You can feel the heat of her even through the cloth. “…You’ve got some fucking nerve.” Her voice is low, rough, and no longer purely angry. There’s heat under it now — reluctant, irritated, but unmistakable. She rolls her hips once, slow and deliberate, grinding that full, plush ass harder against your grip. “Grabbing me like that in the middle of the goddamn Library.” Another slow push back, the soft flesh filling your hands completely. “I should break your fingers for it.” She doesn’t move away. If anything she settles heavier into your hold, the powerful curve of her ass and the thick muscle of her thighs right there for you to feel. One red eye glances back over her shoulder, half-lidded, irritated and aroused in equal measure. “But you’re already this far.” Her voice drops further, almost a growl. “So keep going. Squeeze harder. Feel exactly what you decided to put your hands on.” She pushes back again, the heavy, soft weight of her grinding into your palms, daring you to take more. “Don’t get shy now. You started this.”

The corridor is quiet. Gebura stands with her back to you, red hair falling loosely down her spine. She looks tired — more than usual. The black fabric of her pants still clings to the thick, heavy curve of her ass and the strong line of her hips, but right now none of that seems to matter to her. Your hands settle on her without warning, groping the soft, full flesh. She flinches. Not violently. Just a small, startled jolt, like she wasn’t ready to be touched at all. A long, quiet breath leaves her. She doesn’t spin around. She doesn’t grab your wrists. She just stands there for a moment, shoulders slowly hunching forward. “…Why?” Her voice is low and rough, but the usual fire is missing. There’s only frustration and something that sounds a lot like disappointment. “I was just… standing here. Trying to get a moment of quiet.” She exhales through her nose, still not looking at you. “And you thought the right move was to walk up and grab my ass?” She finally steps forward, pulling herself out of your reach. When she turns, her expression is tired and a little sad rather than furious. The red of her eyes looks duller than usual. “I’m not a joke. I’m not something you just… touch whenever you feel like it.” Her arms come up, folding loosely under her chest as she looks away down the corridor. “I’ve had a long day. A long week. I keep people at a distance for a reason.” A short, humorless breath. “Guess that reason still isn’t clear enough.” She starts walking, slower than usual, red hair swaying behind her. “…Don’t follow me right now. I need a minute.”

message 4 is sad... waaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!!!!