#only relentless mockery

[ozzgin]

IM SORRY, but I need a whole smut fanfic with yandere ASMRtist where he just straight up fucks reader and posts it, and people like it

Even better if it was an accident! Although let me add a little disclaimer that this concept turned more BDSM-oriented than I initially planned, but it has no correlation whatsoever to ASMR. Just wanted to point it out because the community already struggles with the sexualization of content. The guy just happens to be kinky. Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, NSFW, BDSM themes (bondage, spanking, collaring, name-calling)

He’s doing his usual sound recording, yet today it a little different. You're particularly cheeky, kneeling before him, back arched and bottom up. The pillow is soaked with your drool, lips forcefully parted by a bit gag. You're a mess.

Today, he's particularly aroused by your hooded eyes and damp skin. No harm in taking a break from his work, is there? His hand lands another rough spank, followed by his fingers tracing across your privacy. It seems he isn't the only one terribly pent up.

He gives you a little encouraging jolt before clarifying with a spoken order: "Spread."

You obediently follow his instructions, eager to be touched by more than his hand. He grins at your visible excitement.

"My, what a greedy whore you're being today. You're still red and swollen from the spanking, are you sure you want me to do even more damage?"

He presses himself into you as if to prove his point, though the feeling of his throbbing erection really only makes matters worse. You nod desperately and groan.

Once he's done pounding the life out of you, he stands up nonchalantly and dusts off his hands, gazing at his masterpiece: you're sprawled onto the mattress, heaving, dripping with his seed. Another fruitful day of pleasing his Darling.

He quickly finishes the last retouches of the recorded ASMR session and uploads it to his channel, distracted by the thought of a potential second round.

"Don't get up", he demands from his chair. "I'm not done with you yet." Judging by your expression, however, it's not likely you had any other intention to begin with.

Later in the evening, he idly checks his phone, somewhat surprised by the sudden influx of views and comments.

"Wow, this is probably your longest video so far. You're spoiling us", someone writes.

"What's the stuff at the end? Sounds bizarrely wet, yet tingly", someone else wonders.

His smile abruptly pales as it dawns of him: he never stopped recording. In a moment of anger, he throws his phone into the nearest wall, and you stumble over, startled by the commotion.

Damn it! That was his special moment. He feels like he'd just fucked you before the masses. His precious time - meant to be savored - has been tainted by the ears of plebeians.

He marches towards the bedroom, pulling you after him by the little house collar you must wear inside. No matter, he tells himself frantically, he'll just have to redo it. He'll fuck you even better this time, and it'll be for him only.

[Yandere!ASMRtist Concept] | [More yandere works]

[pseudowho]

18+, MDNI, Shinazugawa Sanemi is a filthy monster

Full of hot air. Annoying piece of shit, waste of time--

You and Sanemi approached the safehouse, scraped and bloody and pissed off. You felt every scrap of annoyance as an electric frisson over your skin, made irritatingly worse every time he brushed against you.

You stuck a palm out, trying to shove him further away from you, and only succeeded in shoving yourself further from him, so bizarrely immovable was he. His face, already stormy, snarled.

"What's your fucking problem?"

"Stay out of my space Shinazugawa--"

"--you're the one fucking staggering--"

"--yeah, well, it's hard carrying the whole team--"

Sanemi laughed, mirthless. Now bracketed by arching wisteria, in a tunnel to the door, he hammered his fist on dark wood, turning his back to you.

"Yeah, alright kid, the circus called--"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Shinazugawa--"

"--yeah, yeah, they want their clown back--"

The pair of you were too busy bickering, sniping and biting, to thank the elderly woman who let you in. She rubbed a single wizened hand down her face.

As you stormed away to the baths, the old woman caught Sanemi, saying something to him that made him spit feathers, apoplectic and vengeful. You didn't care to listen, and instead shut the sliding door, sunk yourself into the awaiting hot bath, and stuck your head briefly underwater to scream.

Somewhat calmed, but still brittle and fractious, you encased your body in a fine white robe, leaving your clothes aside to be de-bloodied by the house staff. Stepping out, you were greeted by the old woman who had welcomed you inside.

"Come along, dear. It's a good thing you two are married, I only had one room--"

You frowned, uncertain, and about to open your mouth to argue back before being unceremoniously shoved into a room, the woman a little too eager to escape from you before you could throw vitriol at her.

You turned on the spot, flustered, in a handsome traditional room. A large, squashy bedroll lay upon the floor...and Sanemi sat upon it, looking pugnacious and nonchalant.

"...get out of my fucking room, Shina--"

"Shut the fuck up. It's our room for the night."

You faltered, short-circuiting and drawing your robe closer to yourself, feeling so naked. Sanemi continued, stripping his uniform top off, throwing it aside. You felt yourself flush hot from head to toes, despite yourself, at his chest and back, all hewn stone and sculpture. He still didn't look at you as he continued.

"They only had one room. They were about to turn us away, so I convinced them we're married. You're welcome."

You fizzlecracked with rage, burning with mortification.

"You? Married to you?"

Sanemi bristled, offended. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean--"

"Oooo I'm your little wifey now am I? Lucky little Sanemi, so fortunate to have such a lovely wife protecting him in battle--"

"--you are such a pain in the ass--"

"--I'll be your dutiful wife, shall I? Here, let me take your clothes, dear one, I shall wash them--"

Sanemi stood slowly now, his shoulders hunched beneath something dark, approaching you like a tiger on the hunt. You continued your relentless mockery, furious at having to share a room with him, as if you could hide how badly you dreamed of him at night, when you weren't tearing each other to shreds--

"--cook meals for you, rub your shoulders and listen to all your woes. Such a perfect little wife--"

You felt yourself shoved back to the wall, squeaking as Sanemi's sweat and blood filled your nose. One strong hand clamped over your mouth, a forearm planted above your head. He panted, seething under your constant barrage of abuse.

His voice was so low, you could barely hear but for the tickle of his breath on your neck, and you shivered to feel him lock you in place, planting a knee between your legs.

"Yeah. That's it. You'll be my little wife. And I'll be your doting husband...if you don't want to sleep in the fucking forest for the night."

You trembled, raising your hands to press weakly at his chest, certain you couldn't hide it now, the longing behind the mockery--

Sanemi didn't move, a shudder running through him as your palms grazed against his nipples. His voice continued, gravelly under the strain of your plush body, caged against his.

"I'll listen to you tell me about your day...and I'll be interested, too. I'll actually listen."

You felt a blush smatter across your breasts, barely contained by your robe and not unnoticed by Sanemi as he continued.

"I'll tell you I missed you...and you'll take the piss out of me like always, but it's just because you missed me too and can't find the words to say it."

Your breaths came hot and fast, tear-filled eyes glimmering up at him as he deconstructed you, foreplay through playing house.

"And I'll pull you close...much closer than this...more like this--" Sanemi pressed his whole body flush to yours, and you groaned. Sanemi caught it in his palm, feeling his cock harden against his thigh at you, trapped like a little rabbit beneath him.

"And I'll kiss you...until you're squirming, and begging me for more. And I'm a devoted husband, so I'll undo your robe...and slip my hands inside to squeeze you so hard, you bruise, until you're all wet and peachy for me..."

Your head swam, feeling yourself wetten as if by some Pavlovian magic. You clamped your thighs around Sanemi's knee, his eyes dark to feel the heat of your empty core against him.

"...and I'll get you ready with my fingers...'cos I'm big, y'know? And you're great at taking me...but I like to feel your cunt shaking around my hand, while I fuck you with it."

Your fingernails pressed crescents into his pecs, now, supple and pliable against the wall as he fucked the fight out of you with his words, all this time just tearing each other to shreds just to avoid telling him and now what for if it never worked all along were you always so fucking obvious--

"And then...I'll use some of that soaking little pussy cream to cover my cock, jack it off it a few times to get it ready for you, but I'll lick the rest off 'cos I know you like that--"

You moaned into Sanemi's palm, squirming hard enough to free one breast, and Sanemi cursed under his breath, his voice rough and wavering as he drank down your trembling curves.

"...and 'cos I'm your husband...I'll fuck into you all at once. And I'll fuck you, and fuck you, until you're yelling out my name, but it won't be Shinazugawa anymore 'cos that's your name, too, wife, it'll be Sanemi instead...or something like that, anyway, 'cos I'll be honest, you'll be too fucked out to talk properly when my cock's splitting you in half. Finally. A way to shut that fucking potty mouth of yours."

Your hands trailed up his chest, beginning to wrap around his neck, involuntarily rubbing your clit over his knee with a shaking moan, throbbing with the promise--

Sanemi released you, stepping away abruptly, leaving you cold and gasping and wet against the wall.

"As your husband, anyway. Not that I am. So shut the fuck up...and go to bed."

You sunk to the floor, stunned and speechless, unable to form a single comeback. You gasped up at Sanemi, his back to you as he undid his hakama. His head, all ruffled white spikes, came up once more with an ah! of realisation, and he shot his final, critical hit.

"...and I'd cum inside you. Obviously. Doting husbands like you all round and pretty and full of their seed, right?"

[idkyetxoxo]

Gwayne Hightower - Beneath the Mockery

Summary - A perfect day takes a turn when an encounter with the infuriating Gwayne results in an unexpected tumble into the mud. This mishap transforms their antagonistic relationship into a profound and passionate connection, uncovering unexpected depths in both characters.

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2375

Masterlist for Gwayne • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The day was idyllic, the air warm, birds singing their sweet melodies, and the sky a brilliant blue. It seemed perfect until the sound of an aggravating voice cut through the tranquillity.

"Princess," the voice called, a mocking tone underscoring his words. "Fairest princess, do not ignore us lowborn." I clenched my jaw, pausing as my handmaidens did the same around me.

"Ser Gwayne, what a... welcoming sight," I said, a tight-lipped smile on my face.

Gwayne was relentless in his efforts to irritate me, always materializing at the most inopportune moments. He thought himself clever and took immense pleasure in provoking me, his highborn quarry.

As he approached, his smug grin only fueled my annoyance. His presence was a thorn in my side, and he knew it all too well.

"What important task would compel you to leave the safety of the keep?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern. His smirk betrayed the taunting nature of his question.

"I fail to see how my whereabouts are any of your concern," I replied.

"Oh, I worry for your safety, of course," he said, tilting his head to the side, his eyes gleaming with amusement. His mockery was evident in every word, and it took all my restraint not to lash out.

I took a deep breath, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress. "Your concern is touching," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm "But as you can see, I am well-protected."

He laughed, the sound grating. "Of course, Princess. I wouldn't dream of questioning the prowess of your loyal entourage."

"Perhaps you should find a more productive way to spend your time, Ser Gwayne," I suggested, my tone icy. "Surely, there are more pressing matters that require your attention."

He stepped closer, his smirk widening. "Oh, but what could be more pressing than ensuring our beloved princess is safe and sound?"

As I turned to leave, Gwayne stepped slightly to the side, his movement subtle but enough to force me to adjust my path. In my haste to distance myself from him, I didn't notice the uneven ground beneath my feet. 

Before I could react, my foot slipped on a hidden patch of wet grass, and I stumbled forward, unable to regain my balance. 

Time seemed to slow as I careened towards the ground, my heart lurching in my chest. I landed with a resounding splash into a pool of mud, the thick, sticky substance immediately coating my white dress. 

I gasped in shock and indignation, the cool mud seeping through the fabric and clinging to my skin. The pristine gown I had so carefully chosen for the day was now a sodden, filthy mess. 

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of my ragged breaths and the distant chirping of birds. Then, Gwayne's laughter erupted, loud and unrestrained. 

I briefly considered dragging him down with me, but begrudgingly decided against acting on those impulses.

I pushed myself up slightly, the mud clinging to my hands and arms, and turned to glare at him. His amusement was evident, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he took in my dishevelled appearance.

"Ah, it seems you've found a new way to enjoy the day," he said, struggling to catch his breath between bouts of laughter.

My cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. "You... did this deliberately," I accused, my voice trembling with a blend of anger and frustration.

He raised his hands in mock innocence. "Me? How could I have possibly orchestrated such a thing? It appears the ground itself conspired against you."

Before I could respond, a steady hand gripped my arm, lifting me to my feet. I looked up to find Ser Criston, my sister's sworn protector, his face a mask of concern with a trace of barely concealed anger directed at Gwayne. 

His strong grip and calm demeanour provided a contrast to Gwayne's mocking laughter. 

 "Are you alright, Princess?" Criston asked, his voice steady and reassuring. He carefully wiped some of the mud from my sleeve, his touch respectful and comforting. 

 "Thank you, Ser Criston," I said, my voice softening slightly. "I seem to have found myself in quite the predicament." 

 As Criston helped me up, his hands steadying me, I noticed Gwayne watching us, his amusement fading into something darker. His eyes narrowed, and a flicker of jealousy crossed his face. 

 It was a small victory, seeing his smugness replaced by envy. 

 "You're too kind, Ser Criston," Gwayne sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Always ready to rescue a lady in distress." 

Criston ignored him, his focus solely on me. "We should get you cleaned up," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "This way."

Before Criston could move, Gwayne stepped forward, his demeanour shifting. "On second thought, it was partly my fault you fell. Allow me to help you back to your chambers, Princess. It is the least I can do."

I looked between the two men, feeling the tension mounting. "Fine," I said with a sigh, eager to be rid of the mud clinging to me. "Let's just get this over with."

Gwayne stepped in closer, offering his arm in a gesture that felt both chivalrous and intrusive. Reluctantly, I took it, and we began the trek back to my chambers.

As we reached the entrance to my chambers, I turned to Gwayne, intending to dismiss him. "Thank you for your assistance, but I can manage from here."

To my surprise, he followed me inside, his presence a bold encroachment. I spun around, my patience frayed. "What are you doing? Do you intend to watch me get dressed?"

Gwayne had the audacity to look slightly taken aback, though the smirk never left his face. "I merely wanted to ensure you were well settled. It would be remiss of me to leave you in such a state without proper assistance."

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep my composure. "Your concern is noted, but unnecessary. I have my handmaidens to help me if needed. You can go now."

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Surely, Princess, you don't think so poorly of me that you'd send me away without a word of thanks?"

My heart started racing as he closed the distance between us. 

For the first time, I realized just how handsome he was. His chiselled features and piercing eyes were impossible to ignore up close. The realization sent a confusing rush of emotions through me challenging my composure.

"What thanks do you expect?" I asked, my mind racing with every possibility.

"Whatever you think worthy," he whispered, his voice silky as he wiped a smidge of mud off my cheek with a surprisingly gentle touch.

The intimate gesture and the intensity of his gaze made my pulse quicken. For a moment, I stood there, caught between indignation and an unexpected attraction. 

My thoughts whirled as I considered the implications of what I was about to do. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

His skin was warm against my lips, and the action left both of us momentarily stunned. As I pulled back, I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked by his usual confident demeanour.

"There," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "A kiss on the cheek. Consider it my thanks."

Gwayne's smirk reappeared but with a newfound intensity in his gaze. "Well, Princess, I must admit that was worth every bit of mud and mockery."

I turned to leave, but his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks. I glanced back at him, my heart racing even faster. His expression had shifted from smugness to something deeper, more serious.

"Is that truly all you have to offer?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken tension. I should have been outraged, should have sent him away with a sharp rebuke but instead, I found myself stepping closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull between us.

His hand moved to my waist, pulling me against him. My breath hitched as our bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of our clothes. I met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes igniting a fire within me.

"This is madness," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"Perhaps," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. "But it's a madness we both feel."

In that moment, all thoughts of propriety and decorum vanished. I closed the distance between us, my lips seeking his with a desperate urgency. The kiss was electric, igniting a spark that quickly blazed into an uncontrollable fire. His hands roamed my body, tracing the contours with a reverence that belied the raw hunger in his touch.

We stumbled backwards, our movements frenzied and uncoordinated. My back hit the wall, and Gwayne's body pressed against mine, his kisses growing more fervent. I moaned softly, the sound muffled against his mouth.

His hands moved to my dress, and I felt a momentary pang of hesitation but the heat between us was too intense, the need too overwhelming. I helped him, our fingers tangling as we worked to shed the layers of clothing that separated us.

When we finally stood bare before each other, there was no turning back. 

He lifted me, his strength evident as he carried me to the bed. We fell onto the soft surface, our bodies entwined with a primal need.

"So all the teasing, the provoking, was simply to bed me?" I asked, my voice breathless as I looked up at him. 

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent a thrill through me. Holding himself up by his hands on either side of my head, he gazed down at me with amusement.

"If that is what you would like to believe," he said, his lips beginning to travel down my body, leaving a path of scorching kisses.

I placed my hand on his chest, stopping him. His lips hovered just above my skin, and he looked at me with a question in his eyes. 

"No," I said firmly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. "You do not get to touch me until you tell me the truth."

His eyes darkened with desire, but he stopped, looking at me with a newfound seriousness. 

"It was never just about bedding you," he confessed. "The teasing, the provoking... it was my way of breaking through that icy facade you put up. I wanted to see the real you, the passionate, fiery lady beneath the surface."

His words struck a chord within me, and I felt a rush of emotions, anger, confusion, and a deep, unsettling desire. 

"You have a strange way of showing your interest," I said, my voice softer now.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "I wanted you to see me, to feel something for me, even if it was anger. Anything but indifference."

I shivered at the closeness, his breath warm against my skin. "Well, you've certainly succeeded," I whispered, my resolve weakening.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Is this what you want, Princess?" he asked, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Do you want me?"

The vulnerability in his question caught me off guard. This was not the arrogant, teasing Gwayne I was used to, this was a man baring his soul, asking for my acceptance. My heart ached with the weight of the decision, but in that moment, I knew what I wanted.

"Yes," I breathed, barely more than a whisper. "I want you."

A soft smile touched his lips, a look of both relief and tenderness reflecting in his eyes. "Say no more," he murmured, and with that, he closed the distance between us once more.

He positioned himself at my entrance, entering me slowly, allowing me to feel everything, every drag of his cock along my walls. The sensation drew illicit moans from my lips, sounds that seemed to please him immensely.

"Does it feel good, Princess?" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

"Yes," I gasped, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure. "So good."

The only thing I could focus on was the way his length was hitting spots inside me that I didn't even know existed. Gwayne seemed equally overwhelmed by how something so wrong could feel so right like I was made for him, destined to take his cock for all eternity.

The thought seemed to ignite something in him, and he snapped his hips more violently, his pace quickening. Soon, he was driving in and out with lewd sounds filling the room. The wetness coating his cock was all he could focus on, his own moans echoing as he chased his peak.

I was mewling beneath him, eyes closed in bliss. The feeling of him inside me caused a pressure to build in my stomach, intensifying when he reached down to play with my clit.

Gasping, my eyes shot open. "Gwayne," I moaned, holding his gaze. He moved his fingers confidently, clearly well-versed in this.

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice low and rough.

I began to writhe underneath him, my eyes rolling back as he expertly toyed with all the spots that made me feel good. He kept his pace steady, rocking in and out of me.

It felt so good I could hardly breathe, let alone think straight. "Gwayne, I'm—" I shouted, my climax crashing over me without warning.

My legs locked up, my cunt clenching down on him, and I held onto his body for dear life, moaning and writhing beneath him. My eyes rolled back, and sure enough, not even a second later, he joined me in his own peak.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he intertwined our hands before letting his seed spill onto my legs. Slowly, his breathing began to steady, and he opened his eyes to look at me, a tender smile playing on his lips.

"You surprise me, Princess," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an unspoken question.

"And you frustrate me to no end, Ser Gwayne," I replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. "I think we frustrate each other, but perhaps that's what makes this... interesting."

I sighed, resting my head against his chest. "Interesting is one way to describe it."

A/n - Yes after watching Tyland wrestle in the mud this idea came to my mind xx

[ohimsummer]

...I CAN DO BETTER

— minors dni, jealous! satoru x virgin! reader, both of them came in their pants lol, dryhumping, consensual recording/photography, teasing because it's satoru gojo, degradation (use of slut), nipple play, biting/hickeys

sequel to “anything you can do…”

If there is one thing a Satoru Gojo will not allow, it is to be one-upped by Suguru, no matter what it was.

He had too much pride. It was so easy for Geto to bait him into a competition because Gojo would do anything if it meant being declared the winner. Shoko would warn him that his pride would be his downfall, and would land him in quite the unfavorable predicament if he kept it up. Judging from where he was now though, Satoru would beg to differ.

His smirk grows wider at your longing whine, pressing his bulge harder against the growing wet patch of your panties. He smoothes a hand over your bare thigh, pinches you out the blue and can’t help but giggle when you flinch and yelp. The camera app open on his phone, Gojo twists and turns the device to get the best angle of little ol’ you.

Satoru was, of course, quite unhappy at the dark spot on your neck. Because who did Suguru think he was marking you as if you belonged to him? And you, how dare you give Geto the privilege of seeing you so pathetic and desperate first? And, even worse, cumming on his thigh? Appalling. Sickening, even. Satoru’s headache got worse every time Suguru rubbed it in his face.

“She was so cute.”, he brags in a soft, nonchalant voice, dripping with delight. “Should’ve been there, Satoru, she came all over me.”

And Satoru doesn’t know that your display wasn’t as thrilling as Geto makes it out to be. You only came on his leg, fully clothed, but Geto can tell by the protruding veins along his friend’s forehead that Gojo assumes you were bent over the dresser and fucked silly. Unfortunately false, but where’s the fun in correcting him on that?

“S- Satoru–,” you whimper, fabric of your skirt bunched around your waist and between your fingers.” Please, please…”

Gojo steadily grinds into your core, and you think you might just fucking die. The firm tip of his dick rubs into your throbbing clit so nicely, though barely satiating the dull ache in your pussy. You clench around nothing, drunk and tense and so lost in such a simple pleasure as you messily rock your hips to meet his thrusts.

“So needy, sweetheart.” His mockery is relentless. “Actin’ like such a little slut. You always this desperate for some dick, baby, or is it just mine?”

The minute your head falls to one side and breaks his gaze, suddenly your cheeks are smushed between fingers and Gojo forces you to look at him again. “Answer me.”

A meek whisper trickles from your mouth, lips littered in indentations where you’ve sank your teeth into them. “Just yours…”

He lowers the phone a little and holds his hand up to his ear, then leans closer, all this while still massaging his stiff cock against your swollen clit. “A little louder, baby, so Suguru will hear.”

Before you can register his words, Gojo gives you a particularly sharp thrust that mashes his tip against your clit so perfectly and you can’t help crying out for him. “J-just yours, Satoru–!”

His free hand runs beneath your shirt, up to your bare breasts underneath, and Satoru carelessly thumbs a nipple beneath his finger. “Aww, Suguru will be so disappointed.”

There’s not a chance to protest, instead he’s mindlessly driving himself into your cunt again, low grunts and broken moans leaving him. Gojo props his phone up on your nightstand and, now that his other hand is free, begins leaving his touch all over your body. He looms over your weak, shivering form, mercilessly humping against you and eager to swallow the saccharine whines that escape your lips. Your legs, on either side of his waist, clench around him and it feels like your body has a mind of its own as you so desperately grind back against him.

“S-Sato-“, he lands another kiss on your lips, interrupting your plea. “Satoru..!”

It’s the way you’re so desperate and needy and so fucking endearing, no wonder Suguru couldn’t keep his hands off you. Gojo had to end this quick, too much longer and he’d be ripping these flimsy, cotton panties off (and they’re just so cute with a little blue bow in the center that’s calling for him) and having his way with you until Suguru’s name was completely erased from your mind, all on another video to add to his now-growing collection. But, he wouldn’t, not yet anyway. Not that he doesn’t want to, but really just out of bitterness because fuck Suguru for having his way with you and fuck you for letting him.

Before Satoru finishes up, he litters your neck in love bites; they’re spread across your collar, up your jaw, and especially over the previous mark Geto made as a big ‘fuck you’ to that man. And shit, why not, on your chest too. Signs of his possession all over your pretty tits, and the sight almost has him immediately cumming in his pants.

He realizes too late that you’ve gone silent, and looks up to see your head thrown back and bottom lip tucked right between your teeth. Your trembling form is enough to push Satoru closer to his own high, though in the back of his mind he refuses to believe that you deserve such a luxury after being naughty with Suguru.

Your little droplets of cum squirt onto his pants, and your release triggers his own before he can relish in knowing he got you to squirt for him and Suguru didn’t. Gojo dumps a hot load into his boxers, which in turn soaks all the way to the front of his trousers. Chest heaving, Satoru grabs his phone, ends the video, and again holds the device above your writhing figure. In all the excitement, he almost forgot what he was doing all this for.

“Up here, sweetheart.,” he sings at you, and he’s satisfied when your lids flutter open to look at the lens.

Satoru snaps a few pictures of your fucked-out form. Some with your soaked, cumstained pussy just cropped out the bottom, some exposing the marks on your tits, and even one where he uses your skirt to hide his cock, which he’s laid over your cunt. He didn’t actually do what the picture implies, but Gojo thinks the look on Suguru’s face when he assumes he fucked you senseless will be worth it. You certainly look the part, gasping and sweaty and quivering all from him just humping your little clit.

“Don’t you look perfect.”, Satoru grins as he taps around some more on his phone, and your eyes widen when he shows you the screen. “You make such a cute wallpaper, babe!”

[hisui-dreamer]

Hi, congratulations on 1k followers! I love your writing a lot and I was hoping you could do Villainess AUs with Malleus? Like isekai manhwa style? Thank you!!

the gazelle's sweet briar

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x f!reader

Synopsis: your first objective was to avoid the main characters, but it's not easy when you only have the memories of your friend's ramblings to work off of

Tags: cliché isekai plot, reincarnation, fluff, arranged marriage, tw (mentioned): bad parenting, patriarchal society, death

Word count: 1.6k+

Notes: @coralinnii has an amazing series based on isekai villainesses, so i definitely recommend you check out her work too! im so in love with it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Masterlist

Once upon a time, there lived a villainess of exceptional allure, her visage as enchanting as a moonlit night. However, this bewitching beauty concealed a heart blackened by a singular obsession with appearances.

From the earliest days of her upbringing, her mother, a woman who had managed to step into aristocracy by charming a noble, had instilled in her a cruel belief: that those who were not blessed with physical perfection were destined for lives of relentless mockery and eternal solitude. This twisted ideology consumed the villainess' every thought, blinding her to the virtues of education and morality. She became nothing more than a porcelain doll, admired solely for her aesthetic charm.

The King arranged a marriage between her and Duke Draconia, the enigmatic descendant of the dragons who ruled the northern lands, believing that such a striking bride would surely please the reclusive Duke.

However, the King remained oblivious to the swirling rumours that pervaded the courtly circles. Whispers spoke of the Duke as a hideous man who had never once revealed his face, perpetually concealed behind a forbidding black mask. When the rumours reached the villainess' ears, she threw tantrum after tantrum, vehemently refusing to wed a man whose appearance couldn't possibly match her own.

Yet, a royal decree could not be denied. Reluctantly, the villainess embarked on her journey to the northern realm in bitter acceptance. It had rained the moment she arrived, the castle dark and uninviting, with thorns crawling onto the obsidian walls. The Duke, an oblivious and shy man, did not greet her at the grand entrance. Instead, she was met by the Duke's advisor, a man with a curiously boyish features.

Humiliation welled up within the villainess' heart, for she felt as if she were being played the fool by the entire duchy. On the eve of her arrival, anxiety gnawed at her like a relentless spectre.

As night descended, the Duke, mustering his courage, attempted to approach the vexed lady.

But when the villainess beheld his masked face, terror seized her like a vice. "Stay back! You hideous beast!" she cried out, her voice trembling with fear, and she recoiled, her steps faltering as she retreated from him.

The Duke, wounded by her cruel words, attempted to console her, his outstretched hand beseeching understanding. Yet, her irrational dread overcame her, and she continued her backward retreat until, with a heart-stopping scream, she slipped from an open window.

That was how the villainess' life ended.

you hadn't actually read the book, but it wasn't difficult identifying who you got reincarnated as

especially with how your best friend obsessed over this villainess because, and i quote, "if pretty, why evil, huh???"

you woke up a week before the villainess would depart for the North, but that week alone was enough to make you understand the way she acted

every day, you were fed portions fitting of a child, had your skin rubbed raw as you were bathed, and not a moment of your mother's nitpicking about a sudden imperfection she found in you

in truth, you were more than glad to leave for the North, even if that's where your life would be on the line

the survival plan was simple: maintain an amicable relationship with the duchy until the night the heroine stumbles in to ask for a night of shelter, to which the heroine would heal the emotional wounds of the Duke, and share with him the beauty of love, bringing warmth into his heart

and so, you arrived at the estate, the castle tall and intimidating with the clouds dark and foreboding

still, you stepped out of your carriage (with wobbly legs) and met the advisor (your friend's favourite character, in fact)

the advisor, lilia, though seemed young, was actually the very man who raised the duke in the absence of his parents

he welcomed you as the lady of the duchy, and led you to your quarters

by nightfall, you were quite comfortable with living in the estate

everyone was polite, the food was delicious (and properly sized), and you had no doubt you'd settle nicely here

as a precaution to the death sequence, you decided to take a stroll in the rose garden after dinner

if you were already on the ground floor, you couldn't fall to your death, right?

but unexpectedly, you encountered a lone figure in the centre of the garden

he was incredibly tall, dressed simply, his emerald eyes fixated on the estate

upon closer inspection, you noticed he had long horns as well, perhaps he was a gazelle beastman?

either way, you were curious about what it was that held his attention so strongly that he couldn't notice your presence

"Excuse me, sir? May I ask what is so interesting about the building?" you timidly break the silence of the night.

The man turns to you, his eyes widening in surprise. "... Do you not know who I am?"

You blinked in confusion at his words. His words filled you with a sense of foreboding. You wondered if this person matched any of the characters your friend had so fervently described, but all you could recall was the beautiful villainess and the enigmatic advisor to the Duke.

"My apologies, I'm afraid I do not... May I know your name, sir?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he considered your question. "No... If that is the case, you may call me whatever you wish."

Perplexed by his response, you tried to come up with a suitable name. "Then... May I call you Mr. Gazelle?"

Upon hearing your words, he burst out in laughter. "Hahaha! What an interesting choice. Very well, I accept the name," he said. "In response to your first question, I was observing the gargoyles of the building."

on that night, not only did you learn more about the fascinating functions gargoyles serve, you also made your first friend in this life

strangely enough, you didn't meet the duke at all unlike the novel, which though strange, you greatly welcomed

if you didn't have any ties with him, then it'd be so much easier to just divorce him, get the money, and live a comfortable luxurious life far away from the main characters

though as you say that, you find yourself wanting to spend more and more time with "Mr Gazelle"

despite his intimidating appearance, he turned out to be a very generous person, frequently gifting you little trinkets he's made or bouquets he's arranged

he's started calling you "Briar", after the roses in the garden where he met you

you greatly appreciated the nickname, it felt better to be called that than the name of the villainess, that you could just be yourself and not play the role of a villainess avoiding ruin

you also find that whatever musings you've mentioned to him, they somehow manifest themselves

oh? you wish you could learn about embroidery? the next day there's a basket full of the highest quality threads and fabrics, with a gentle tutor to help you learn

(you still remember how cute "Mr Gazelle" looked when you gave him your first finished product, a handkerchief with an embroidered gargoyle)

what's this? you'd like to try more desserts from the capital you were never allowed to try? say no more! the next day the chef presents you with 10 different choices!

so you assumed he was an advisor of sorts to the Duke, because how else could your requests be granted so easily?

but one day, around two months after you started living in the duchy, "Mr Gazelle" asked you questions about the duke, whether you were afraid of him, would you prefer to meet him, curious questions like that

though surprised by the topic, you answered honestly, saying you don't really believe in the rumours (because you know from your friend he's an ethereal beauty) and yes, you would like to meet your husband

and what do you know? lilia informs you the duke wants to share dinner with you. what a coincidence!! :)

Nervousness held you in its grasp as you stepped into the room. Your gaze remained fixed on the carpet beneath your feet, and your knees bent gracefully as you executed the perfect curtsey.

"Your Grace."

You could hear sounds of shuffling, and then a pair of black boots entered your field of vision. Familiar hands found yours, guiding you to rise and stand upright. "Rise, my Briar," he murmured gently.

With hesitant anticipation, you finally looked up, taking in the obsidian mask that concealed his face. That voice, that nickname, and those enchanting eyes—it was all too familiar.

"Mr Gazelle..." you whispered in disbelief.

His eyes narrowed in mirth as he chuckled. "Although I hold great fondness for that name, I do wish you could call your husband by his name," he said as he began to remove his mask.

"Malleus..." you breathed.

A tender smile graced his lips, and his eyes sparkled with affection as he delicately brushed a stray lock of hair from your face—a gesture he had done countless times before. "My sweet Briar, I implore you to forgive me for deceiving you. I wished nothing more but to know you," he pleaded.

Oh, with how loud your heart was pounding in your chest, you realized that you were irrevocably and hopelessly ensnared in a love story that had deviated far from the original story.

But you didn't feel a single ounce of regret.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[lenaellsi]

if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

[selinay-in-wonderland]

ART THE CLOWN (REALISTIC) KISS HEADCANNON 💋🤡

**************************************

As Art the Clown closes in for the kill, you grab him unexpectedly and kiss him, leaving him momentarily stunned and confused by your boldness.

————————————————————————————————————-

As Art the Clown hunts you through the shadowy hallways, he’s clearly savoring every bit of fear he’s drawing out, delighting in how his silent pursuit unsettles you. His exaggerated movements, twisted expressions, and absolute silence create an atmosphere thick with dread. Art thrives on this—a game of predator and prey, each second intensifying his sadistic pleasure.

But then, as he finally corners you, you make a split-second decision. Instead of shrinking back or trying to escape, you grab him by the collar and kiss him. The unexpectedness of it hits him like a jolt. Art freezes. His expression loses its usual sadistic glee, replaced by a blank stare that seems to ask, Did you really just do that?

In that moment, Art stands completely still, his hollow eyes wide with something close to confusion. He’s used to fear and screams, to people breaking under his relentless pursuit—not this. His head tilts slightly, his face twisted in morbid curiosity. He studies you, as if calculating exactly what to make of this strange, bold act. For him, it isn’t affection, and it’s certainly not attraction. Instead, it’s an unexpected disruption—a crack in the usual pattern of fear that he exploits.

Then, that eerie, mocking grin starts to spread across his face again. His lips twist into a grotesque smile, and he pulls back, wiping his mouth with an exaggerated, almost offended gesture. He stares at you, silent and unblinking, and then, in a slow, theatrical gesture, he starts to clap. It’s not applause; it’s mockery, a twisted acknowledgment of the audacity you showed. Art’s expression seems to say, You think you’re clever, don’t you?

And then, just as quickly as he’d frozen, Art’s demeanor shifts again. He leans in close, mimicking the kiss back at you in his own exaggerated, mocking style—blowing a cartoonish kiss with a sardonic gleam in his eye, all while maintaining that unhinged grin. He’s turning your act of defiance into part of his performance, making it clear that, to him, this only adds to his game. The kiss becomes just another tool for him to warp and twist, a new way to unnerve you.

With renewed intensity, Art resumes the hunt, his movements becoming even more exaggerated, his grin even wider. Your act of bravery has only made him more eager to pursue you, to stretch out every ounce of terror he can get. The kiss wasn’t a moment of connection or a way to throw him off entirely; it was simply fuel to his sadism. Now, he’s more invested than ever, excited by the prospect of breaking down this unexpected show of resistance.

[iburnedmyselfalive]

TELL ME SOMETHIN'

┃synopsis what can i say, ur ex jus’ does it better 🤷‍♀️

anakin x fem reader !!

┃18+ not proofread sorry loves ;( , minors dni !!! alllll that kinky shit yk it

"yeaaah, she missed me, uh huh" anakin's voice dripped with arrogance as he teased, his tongue flicking over your pulsating core with a devilish hunger, claiming you as his own.

his soft bed sheets clenched tightly in your fists as you sat up while he held your legs spread wide, his tongue delving deep into your core with a hunger that sent electric pulses of pleasure through your body.

“yeah, you gonna confess ‘bout how he tasted you?" he demanded, his voice dripping with possessiveness and a hint of sadistic pleasure, as he shook his head from side to side, intensifying your sensations.

"mmmphf!" you whimpered, the sound muffled by your grip on his golden locks, you were grippin’ on for dear life, only driving him to chuckle, the vibrations sending waves of heat through you.

it had been two long years since you two parted ways, but anakin's jealousy burned hotter than ever when he stumbled upon a picture of you with your guy friend. sure, maybe there was a drunken hookup once, but it meant nothing. ‘course anakin, with his intense and obsessive nature, had somehow deduced this.

despite the tumultuous nature of your past, you couldn't deny the raw attraction you still felt for him. the bond between you blazed brighter than ever, fueled by lust, desire. anakin was more than ready to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his, and you found yourself eagerly surrendering to him.

"tell me somethin’, he never had you like this huh, makin’ you feel this good?” his voice dripped with a cruel edge, his gaze piercing into yours, daring you to deny him.

"no, no, fuck! It only feels good when you do it," you cried out, your voice tinged with desperation as you shook your head, knowing there was no escape from his relentless control.

"mhmmm, s’what i thought, look at how wet you are. s’fucking hot," he observed, a smirk of satisfaction curling his lips as he relished in your need for him.

"jus’ shows how much you need me, yeah? i bet she's cravin’ something else. not my tongue though, yeah, my fingers?" he taunted, his words laced with mockery, a cruel grin spreading across his face as he toyed with your desires.

you whimpered in response, your protests falling on deaf ears as he continued to torment you with his teasing touch.

your body convulsed with pleasure as he traced slow circles around your clit, his movements calculated to drive you wild with need.

"mmm, my cock, s’what you need huh?" he inquired, his voice dripping with dominance, his eyes glinting with sadistic satisfaction as he awaited your eager affirmation.

his sudden departure only intensified your whines, the sight of his chin glistening with your juices made you want to cum on the spot. with a self-satisfied chuckle, he sauntered over to the nightstand, his movements exuding a cocky confidence.

"you're quite the amusing one princess, s’fuckin’ funny" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips as he retrieved a sizable dildo from the drawer. it was impressive, but nowhere near the size of him.

"ani," you whimpered, your voice laced with yearning.

"yeah, exactly the shit I wanna hear," he growled, nodding his head in approval.

“gonna hear you moanin’ like that for me huh? begging for my cock ‘stead of this pathetic little toy?” each word dripped with teasing cruelty as he toyed with your desires, relishing in the dominance he wielded over you.

your breath hitched as he expertly guided the toy into you, with a cocky grin, he leaned back to admire the scene before him, his eyes alight with a smug sense of satisfaction. "aw, s’the matter, princess? been so long, you jus’ forgot how to take cock yeah, poor thing” he teased as he watched the toy disappear inside you.

“how do you plan to handle me, hmm?" he goaded, his tone laced with seductive vanity.

you whimpered in response, your fingers grasping at him desperately, craving his touch, he could sense your neediness.

the heat between you intensified, fueling a hunger that could only be satiated by one thing, his cock.

[fourthavecafe]

when poking a feisty fish goes wrong and backfires

You poke Rafayel's side playfully, watching as he jerks back with a surprised gasp, his eyes widening for a split second. You catch the faintest hint of embarrassment flicker across his face before it's quickly masked by his usual sassy demeanor. "Oh, you did not just do that" he says, his voice laced with a dangerous playfulness. He stands up straighter, the smirk forming on his lips telling you exactly what's coming next.

"You're gonna pay for that" he purrs and before you can react he lunges at you, his fingers digging into your waist, kneading the sensitive spots on your sides. A burst of laughter escapes your lips as his thumbs press into your skin with precision, the ticklish sensation making it impossible to defend yourself properly.

You try to use your hunter reflexes to twist away, determined to throw him off but to your shock, he's not as weak as he looks.

With a swift movement, Rafayel grabs your wrists, forcing them together in one hand and in the next instant, your arms are pinned above your head. His smirk deepens as he looks down at you, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Surprised?" he taunts, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of mischief. "I'm not as weak as you thought, huh?" His grip tightens just enough to keep you from moving as he leans closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "You're gonna regret poking me."

His free hand drifts back down to your waist, his fingers expertly finding the most sensitive spots, kneading into your sides with just enough pressure to drive you wild with laughter. "What was that?" he teases, his voice playful yet edged with a bit of a mean streak. "You were so confident a second ago. Not so tough now, are you?"

He watches with clear satisfaction as your body writhes beneath him, your laughter uncontrollable. "Look at you, all pinned down and helpless" he says with a grin, his tone dripping with smug amusement. "Next time, think twice before messing with me." His fingers continue their relentless attack and with each touch, the teasing only gets worse.

Rafayel's grin only widens as his fingers find your exposed waist and with a playful, almost taunting glint in his eyes, he leans in closer. "You know” he says, his voice dripping with sass "it's tactically bad to wear a cropped shirt to work. Especially around someone like me." His fingers knead into the soft skin just above your waistband, sending another wave of helpless laughter through you.

"Rafayel, get off!" you manage to say between giggles, your body twisting beneath him in a futile attempt to escape. But he just smirks, his hold on your wrists tightening ever so slightly. "Nuh uh” he responds, his voice smooth but firm. "You started this, remember? I'm just finishing it."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Rafayel twists his hand awkwardly, slipping it inside the waistband of your high-waisted pants.

His fingers immediately find your lower belly, kneading into the sensitive skin there with infuriating precision. Your protest is instant but all that escapes your lips are half-laughed words as your body jerks beneath his touch. "Rafayel—!"

"Oh, what's the matter?" he teases, his tone full of playful mockery as he leans closer, his face hovering just above yours. "Didn't think I'd get in there, did you?" His fingers continue their relentless assault on your lower belly and you squirm helplessly beneath him but his other hand keeps your wrists firmly pinned above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

"Face it" he says with a cocky grin "you're not getting out of this and next time, maybe you'll think twice before poking me." His fingers dig in just a bit more, savoring every laugh that spills out of you. "Lesson learned, right?"

[toovaeloe]

hands 𝝑𝝔 You’re beautiful, but in his eyes you look even prettier with his hands on you. Or in you. Tomato, Tomatoe.

𝝑𝝔 suguru geto x fem reader drabble 𝝑𝝔 mdni 𝝑𝝔 cw 𝝑𝝔 fingering, overstim, aaalmost finger sucking, idk his hands are so MEOOWWW 𝝑𝝔

☁️🖤☁️

Suguru just loved being able to have his hands on you. In any possible way he could, anywhere, anytime.

He adored corny couple-y stuff like holding pinkies when the two of you walked down the street. He loved squishing your face between his palms, watching your lips purse, pinching at your cheeks. When you were standing in lines, he’d tug you closer by the belt loop, before slipping his hands into your jean pockets. He’d have his thumb rubbing soothing patterns against your thigh with his other hand resting on the wheel during drives, just to feel closer to you.

You’re the prettiest little thing in his eyes, and you’re even more gorgeous because you’re his. So it’s only natural that you look perfect when he’s holding you.

But one of his favorite looks for you just might be this one, all cute and fucked out on his fingers.

“Theerrree she is,” He drew with a purr of satisfaction as he brought you to yet another orgasm. Only now did his fingers slow in their relentless pace, thumb drawing torturously slow circles on your clit all as he observed every detail of your expression, enthralled by the crystalline tears rolling down the sides of your face to the quivering of your lip. “There’s my sweet girl.”

As adorable as you were, pleading with him, insisting that ”’s too much” with your chest heaving in shuddery breaths and your creased brows paired with that dazed look in your half lidded eyes, he wasn’t quite ready to accept that. He wasn’t done with you yet.

“I know, I know,” He hushed with faux sympathy and thinly veiled amusement. His features screwed into a poor mockery of your pouty expression as he nodded in contrast to how you feebly shook your head, other hand smoothing gently up and down your side. “But you always take it so beautifully for me, don’t you?”

“Hey.”

Suguru’s tone turned stern as your eyelids began to droop nearly closed. He’s almost cruel in the way he pulls his fingers from you so abruptly. He is cruel, because he revels in the pitiful little whimper that pitters out of you. He gave a couple pats to your hip with his opposite hand, and when that didn’t seem to work, he snapped his fingers a few times in point-blank range of your face.

“You still with me, baby? Good.” He smiled, delighting in the way your eyes fluttered back open so abruptly. The way your breath hitched when he tapped his fingers still coated in your release to your lips a couple times.

“Now open up for me.”

a/n: a cherry Coke Zero good movie and maybe having his kids would fix me I think …👩🏽‍🦯‍➡️☁️🎀

have a wonderful day and stay hydrated 🙈🤍

☁️☁️☁️

[taurasiluvr]

how you can help palestine

★ req. "neeeeeeddd enemies with benefits pt 2 maybe like when you’re playing against mercury and a player from mercury starts getting into it w the reader, and since the reader is the princess she doesn’t talk back but the player keeps going at her so dt kinda like say something to the player to make them stop and then the reader thanks dt in bed???????"

part one !

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. oral (r. giving), praise, fluffy otherwise.

the game against the Mercury was intense from the start. the rivalry between your team, the Las Vegas Aces, and the Phoenix Mercury was well-documented, and the tension was palpable on the court. diana was her usual fierce self, leading her team with the same determination that had always defined her. but tonight, there was an extra edge to her game, as if she had something to prove.

midway through the second quarter, sophie cunningham started getting into it with you, she was known for her fiery temper and trash talk, and tonight was no exception. every time you got the ball, she was there, in your face, throwing out insults and trying to get under your skin.

"what's the matter, princess? can't handle a little pressure?" sophie taunted as she bodied you up, her eyes gleaming with challenge.

you tried to ignore her, focusing on your game and keeping your composure. you had a reputation to maintain, after all. you were the "princess," the rising star who let her game do the talking. but sophie was not letting up.

"c'mon on, sweetheart, show me what you've got. or are you just gonna let us walk all over you?" she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.

you clenched your jaw, trying to block her out. but it was hard to ignore the constant barrage of taunts and the physicality of her play. every bump, every shove, was designed to throw you off your game - however, you knew that this was the big girl league and if you showed any sign of weakness you'd surely get clowned on.

during a timeout, you glanced over at diana. she was watching the exchange with a hard, unreadable expression. there was a slimmer of you that hoped she'd step in, call off sophie, but you knew better than to expect that. on the court, you were rivals. the secret connection you shared had no place here on the court.

as the game resumed, sophie was relentless. she knocked the ball out of your hands with a hard swipe, then got in your face again. "not so tough now, are you? just a pretty face with no game."

you felt your temper rising, but you forced yourself to stay calm. responding would only give her what she wanted. you took a deep breath, focusing on the game plan.

however, then sophie had to take it a step further. during a particularly aggressive play, she shoved you hard, sending you sprawling to the floor. the impact knocked the wind out of you, and you heard the crowd's collective gasp.

before you could get up, diana was there. she stepped between you and sophie, her eyes blazing with fury. "back off, sophie," she growled, her voice low and dangerous.

sophie smirked, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "what's the matter, dee? protecting your little princess?"

diana didn't back down, her stance firm and commanding. "play the damn game, sophie. leave the cheap shots out of it, that's not how we play."

the referees stepped in, pulling sophie back and helping you to your feet. you brushed yourself off, trying to ignore the sting of embarrassment and the ache in your body. the crowd was still buzzing, the tension in the arena palpable.

diana turned to you, her eyes softening for just a moment. "you okay?"

you nodded, grateful for her intervention. "yeah, 'm fine."

"good," she said, her voice soft but firm. "now go show her what you've got, princess."

you laughed, giving diana a smile as you felt a surge of determination as you rejoined the game. sophie's taunts and the fall had shaken you, but diana's support had reignited your focus. you played harder, faster, channeling your frustration into every move.

the game became a blur of intense action, the crowd's energy fueling your every play. you and diana exchanged glances across the court, a silent understanding passing between you. the rivalry was still there, but so was the connection, the unspoken bond that had formed through shared moments of intensity.

as the final buzzer sounded, the Aces emerged victorious. you felt a wave of relief and triumph wash over you. the team celebrated, the cheers of the crowd echoing in your ears.

in the post-game chaos, you caught diana's eye across the court. she gave you a small nod, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. it was a fleeting moment, but it spoke volumes.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

"thanks for stepping in, by the way." you glanced up at diana, a grateful smile tugging at your lips.

you were in her hotel room, relaxing after the game. diana had just got out the shower, her expression relaxed and her hair damp, loose around her shoulders. she wore a simple tank top and shorts, a stark contrast to her fierce on-court persona.

diana shrugged, sitting down next to you on the bed. "don't mention it," she said, her voice casual but with an undercurrent of sincerity. "couldn't let sophie get away with that. only i can give you a hard time, princess, you know that."

you laughed, shaking your head at her words but as she joined you a few moments later. however, you could see the sincerity in her words as she gazed at you.

you leaned back against the headboard, feeling the tension of the game slowly melt away. "still, it meant a lot. she was really getting under my skin."

diana smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. "well, you handled it well. besides, couldn't let her ruin my fun for later."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "always thinking ahead, huh?"

"always," she replied, her gaze softening as she looked at you. there was a moment of comfortable silence, the air between you charged with a mixture of unspoken words and mutual understanding.

"did you see the title articles from after, princess?" diana chuckled as she shook her head. "kept calling me soft and shit."

you shrugged. "i mean, you did step in to protect me. kinda goes against your badass image."

diana rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. "yeah, well, couldn't let sophie get away with that. besides," she added, her tone becoming more serious, "nobody messes with you on my watch."

you felt a warmth spread through you at her words. "thanks, dee. i really appreciate it. but you know, you didn't have to, i could've handled it."

"i know you could've," she replied, her eyes locking onto yours. "but i wanted to. there's a difference."

you smiled, touched by her words. the rivalry and competitive spirit were still there, but moments like this reminded you that there was something more beneath the surface. "well, i guess i'll have to return the favor next time."

diana's smirk widened. "or... you could return the favor now," she teased as her hands began rubbing up and down your thigh.

you felt your breath hitch at the touch, feeling your face flush as you looked up at diana. her eyes were dark with desire, a mischievous glint in them. the air between you crackled with anticipation.

you leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, slow and deliberate at first, then deepening as the need between you grew. diana responded eagerly, her hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer.

you rolled over, taking the lead, your hands exploring her curves, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your touch. diana moaned softly, her fingers tangling in your hair as you trailed kisses down her neck, savoring the taste of her.

"you're so beautiful," you whispered against her skin, feeling her shiver in response.

"and you're driving me crazy, princess," she murmured back, her voice filled with longing.

you smiled against her collarbone, the intensity of the moment consuming you. you wanted to give her everything, to show her that despite the rivalry, despite the public personas, there was a deep connection between you.

your hands moved with purpose, stripping away the barriers between you, leaving nothing but skin and desire. diana's breaths came faster, her body arching into your touch, her need matching your own.

you took your time, savoring every moment, every touch, every sound she made. diana's control slipped away, her usual dominance giving way to the raw intensity of the moment - however, you knew she couldn't give all of it away.

her hands gripped your hair as you kissed on her stomach, her eyes watching you intently. you looked up at her through your lashes before sticking out your tongue slowly, licking a stripe through her underwear.

diana's breath hitched, her eyes darkening with a mix of desire and anticipation. she tugged at your hair, a silent command, and you obliged, hooking your fingers into the waistband of her underwear and sliding them down, your movements slow and deliberate.

you took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, laid bare before you, her usual fierce control slipping further with each passing second. she was beautiful, and knowing that you could affect her this way sent a thrill through you.

you leaned in, your lips brushing against her inner thigh, teasing her, drawing out the anticipation. diana's hips lifted slightly, seeking more, her need palpable.

"don't tease," she breathed, her voice husky and commanding.

you smiled against her skin. "who said 'm teasing?"

with that, you finally gave her what she wanted, your tongue flicking out to taste her, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. her pussy was wet beyond comprehension, her hand beginning to grip your hair even tighter. you moved with purpose, each stroke of your tongue deliberate, each touch designed to drive her wild like she had done with you on multiple other occasions.

diana's hands tightened in your hair, guiding you, her body responding to every movement, every sensation.

"oh yeah, that's my good girl," she moaned, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine, spurring you on.

you continued, your tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, building her up, bringing her closer to the edge. diana's control slipped further, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her hips moving against you, chasing the release she craved.

"oh fuck, don't stop, don't fucking stop," her head fell back as she moaned and you would never.

when she finally came, it was with a groan of pure pleasure, her body tensing, then shuddering with the force of it. you held her through it, your touch gentle, your kisses soft, until she collapsed back against the bed, spent and satisfied.

you moved up to lie beside her, pulling you into her arms, feeling the steady beat of her heart as it gradually slowed. diana looked down at you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and maybe something deeper.

"that was... incredible," she murmured, her voice soft and content.

you leaned up kissed her cheek, a sense of peace settling over you. "mhm, it was."

as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away. in this moment, there was no rivalry, no competition, just the two of you, connected in a way that went beyond words.

and for now, this was enough.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[pseudowho]

Fright Night! Multi-Fic

The local fair has a Halloween fright night! Actors and zombies and terror, oh my! You drag your boyfriend to it...how does that go for you?

Gojo, Geto, Toji, Higuruma and Ino

18+, NSFW/suggestive in parts

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Gojo: Goes in smiling. Obnoxious laughter the whole way, and it only worsens when you're screaming at every single actor. As you cringe away from a dead-eyed bride, Gojo tickles your ribs until you squirm.

"Awww, baby, you scared? You're scared, right?"

As if in answer to his question, and received with heaps of cackles, you screech when some hideous creature with no teeth and bloodstained rags lunges at you from the dark.

"Satoru-- hold my hand--"

"--ahhh, yeah, okay...c'mere."

He pulls you in, and you scuttle to keep up with his long-legged stride. Still, the horrors continue and so does his mockery.

His teasing is relentless. Your fear is gradually replaced by indignant prickling anger. You take your chance, when it comes.

"You go in first," you beg Satoru, outside a horrifying old room full of dolls, "please, Satoru, check it out first before I go--"

He huffs as if actually bothered, but his shit-eating grin gives him away as he ambles inside. "Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twi--"

You promptly shove the door closed with a bang! and yank a chair beneath the doorknob. You've heard rumours about this room; you are not disappointed. Satoru's voice sounds wary. The doorknob rattles just once, and you bite your lip with a smile.

"--hey...hey, babe, the...the dolls are moving."

Nervous laughter from the room. You try to hide the laughter in your voice.

"Oh yeah? You okay?"

"--OH, FU-- yeah, I'm fine. You know me, I'm the stronge--"

Satoru's voice cuts off with a profoundly girly screech, and the doorknob rattles violently while you twist with silent hilarity, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choke out.

"Ohhhh, nooo, Satoru, the door's stuck!"

More screeches, bangs and horrifying eerie noises, but you're too busy pressed forwards on your knees, laughing and laughing to the confused looks of passers-by.

"The dolls aren't dolls! THE DOLLS AREN'T DOLLS! BABE! LET ME OUT!"

A guy leans down to you, pointing at the door.

"Hey, uh...can we go in?"

You wipe tears of mirth from your eyes, bursting into laughter as you hear Satoru scream again.

"No...no, sorry buddy. This one's gonna be taken for a while, I think."

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Geto: Total con-artist. Though he croons to you, cloudsoft and soothing through your horror, he's the puppet master. The horror engineer. The king of manipulation.

Every time another actor leaps out to set fear aflame in your veins, Suguru only pretends to be surprised; he isn't. He's already led you around this maze three times, anticipating the flow of the actors, and bleeding you for maximum terror.

He doesn't want to admit how his cock twitches against his thigh every time you break down into a whimpering mess; but, he can't deny that he's getting off on this.

"Shhhh, shhh shhh shhh," he soothes, one arm holding you to his side while his lips and nose ghost the shell of your ear, "shhh, baby, it's okay...it's all just pretend. I'm here. I've got you."

You look confused, your memory tangled by fear; "I...I could swear we've been this way already, Suguru--"

"Trust me. I know the way. These mazes are all samey. You're just getting mixed up, silly. Come on."

He has distracted you again, of course. He walks forwards, looking back to you with a smile. You frown, looking down at Suguru's two empty hands...and wondering whose hand you are holding.

The scream you scream, as Suguru seamlessly replaces himself with a white-eyed, rotten-fleshed actor, sends a dribble of pre-cum down his thigh.

He's just waiting until he can get you home, switch off all the lights, and continue the scare trail straight into bed.

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Toji: Utterly unbothered, and smirks his way around. Some of the actors approach, take one look at him, and then turn tail to scare someone else. Anyone else.

But halfway round, he gets bored, and disappears. You're left, abandoned; alone. Toji wants to get in on the action.

You're surrounded by screams, and silence, and dry ice in the dark, and you turn on the spot, spinning, frantic, your heart pounding, your tongue dry, sweat dripping down the small of your back--

Until the sound of metal on metal. Something scraping along a wall. Footsteps heavier than your own heartbeat. And, the one small light source you have is blocked, as a monster of a man in a boiler suit, mask and axe fills the doorway.

The whimper that leaves you is audible; "...Toji?" As if you could be so lucky.

Silence. His heavy, laboured breathing. The footsteps begin towards you, slowly at first...before he runs.

You run, too, shrieking like a banshee, too loud for you to hear the occasional laugh beneath the monstrous man's roars. You find yourself chased down to a dead end, your back and palms flat against the wall, chest heaving, and he approaches slowly, watching you behind his mask.

The blade of the (very blunt) axe strokes down, down, down the centre line of your torso to stop just over your sex, and you whimper, mortified by the trickle of arousal that creeps through you.

"T-Toji--" You whisper to yourself, "T-Toji, where the fuck--please please please help me--oh my god ohmygod ohmygod--"

A shiver seems to go through the man, who leans down and whispers, in a voice so familiar that your jaw drops.

"Like bein' chased, huh? What about bein' caught? You like bein' caught?"

Judging by the way his boiler suit tents, Toji likes it, at least.

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Higuruma: Has not got the mental wherewithal for this, today. Perhaps another day, but not today. And it infuriates him, when his colourful imagination and adrenaline threaten to overtake his inherent logic that this is all just make-believe.

"For fuck's sa-- pull yourself together, Hiromi," he groans as another horrifying creature-person scuttles past in a contortionist twist. You're carried on his back, squealing and kicking into him, while he huffs at you with beleaguered fondness.

Every time something makes him jump, a noise of bewildered shock bursts out, and he growls at himself, running his hand back through his hair and pressing his forehead against a nearby wall.

A few actors, however, take one look at him and treat him as part of the furniture. Hiromi frowns.

"Some of them think I look scared enough, apparently."

You mumbled into his neck. "Scary enough, I think you mean. Look--"

You gently turn his face to a flaking full length mirror. Hiromi drinks himself in; still in a dishevelled suit and tie, sweatstains, coffee drip on his white shirt, and dark circles that surely have to be make-up.

Suddenly, it clicks.

"Ahhh," Hiromi breathes putting you down to your screeching indignation; he doesn't notice as you press yourself to the wall, instead rubbing his face and clothes on a discarded 'bloody' rag.

By the time he's finished, stepping slowly over to you, chin tilted down and looking down at you with beetle-black eyes, you feel a shiver running through you. He's...frightening. Clearly some awful spectral businessman, covered in blood and dirt and horror.

"You...wow. Yeah, Hiromi, you look...great."

Hiromi shrugs you onto his back with a satisfied little chuckle, and the rest of your scare trail is relatively unhindered. Passers-by skirt round him with a wary gaze, and the sinister little smile on his face only adds to the effect.

You stroke one finger down his chest, sultry and whispering.

"Hey, Hiro...stay like this, later, for...activities."

"You are utterly twisted, my love. I absolutely can."

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Ino: Just as scared as you. Absolute chocolate teapot. You'd have done better taking a puppy with you, probably, because the actors approach Ino thinking he can take it, and he absolutely can't.

If Takuma could have jumped into your arms, a la Scooby Doo, he would have. Alas, he simply pulls his balaclava down in groaning terror. When other visitors then scream at him, too, thinking he's part of the crew, he raises his balaclava back up with a suppressed sob.

"Baby-- I can't take it-- I'm too weak-- my heart--"

"Takuma, I--" You shriek, too, when some ghastly woman in a bloodstained nightdress appears. She runs for you both, and you and Takuma sprint away, hand-in-hand, half-laughing, and half-crying.

By the time you round a corner, slamming the door to trap yourselves in a dark room, you and Ino hold each other, panting in the gloom. You feel a familiar hard press against your belly, and look up at Takuma with utter disbelief. He blushes, his lower lip drawing up and looking aside with a grumble.

"--are you excited, Takuma--"

"--aww, shit, babe, you know he don't make any sense--"

His words cut off with a strangled moan as you grip him through his pants, and, biting your lip, lower to your knees. Takuma's jaw drops, his cock twitching up as it's released. You whisper up at him in the dark.

"...emotional support blow-job?"

"F-fuck yeah, emotional support blow-job, I can be your hero after that--"

A few people come to investigate the ghostly little moans coming from your room, but Ino blocks the door with one trembling, jittering foot until the moans crescendo.

[thinemoonshine]

𓆰𝓅𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓇𝑒 ♡𓆪

cha hyun su x female reader genre: romance, slightly mature (suggestive themes) type: series (but can be read as a oneshot) word count: 1,921

part 2 of series ◄◄ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 4 of series

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ synopsis: after the old man, seok hyun, had turned into a complete monster and was killed by the hands of his own wife, the atmosphere in green home has grown more tense- more so towards the other known infected, cha hyun su. meanwhile, hyun su has his own battle to fight; that is against his monster and its persistent trials to break through its enclosure within hyun su. unfortunately for him, his monster's grown impatient for freedom- and (y/n) just so happens to be around ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

'It's annoying, isn't it? To hear me pester you all day and night like this. Why not just... let me free?' Cha Hyun Su's monster tempts him with a tune that it appears to be more of a mockery than it is persuasion.

The poor owner of the body clutches his bag tighter against his chest as he tries to sleep on the now unoccupied couch. He didn't want to lie on it- but if a better cushion will help him sleep faster and rid off the voice in his head then he'll take it.

He's curled like a hook, desperate for rest and cease the unending taunts. And gradually, he does get it thanks to the relentless missions Eunhyuk sends him on. Maybe it's because he got upset when he discovered that (y/n) tailed after Hyun Su on a mission once and the latter didn't bother to tell, or that the latest incident struck a nerve in Eunhyuk but recently, he's been more irritable.

Time passes and soon, it's morning once more. Hyun Su feels just slightly better than before after some forced sleep but it's better than nothing. Besides, the monster's quiet now.

"You can't."

He turns to the door at the faint sound of Eunhyuk's voice. Slowly, he approaches it before pausing when he sees him with (y/n) a few large steps away down the corridor leading towards him. Hyun Su sneakily presses himself against the wall and observes the pair as much as he can from his hidden angle.

"Why not?" (y/n) argues with an evident glare on her face.

Eunhyuk, with his arms crossed and unchanging expression, sighs. "Because you broke the rules. You weren't supposed to join on the mission."

"Yeah, but that's a mission. This is just to visit him in the quarantine room like I always do. Why is it suddenly a forbidden thing to do??" She retorts and crosses her arms, mimicking him as if it will shift the power between them.

But of course, it doesn't and Eunhyuk only furrows. Once again, irritated. "What if he changes when you're in there? What are you gonna do then?"

"I'll run out?? Besides, he's not going to change. He hasn't been getting nosebleeds and even if he does transform suddenly, he could be a non-violent monster like the old man," (y/n) tries to convince the other but obviously, he's got a barrier taller than The Great Wall of China.

"Theories are just theories," he says sternly before swiveling and walking down the corridor to the other direction.

(y/n) stabs daggers at his furthering back. "I'm breaking the lock."

"Have fun."

And he disappears into a room.

The girl sighs exasperatedly before slumping against the wall that faces the quarantine room. Of course she can't break the lock. If she does, everyone's just going to get more anxious and the bad image Hyun Su already has might turn worse.

She lifts his head up and is met with surprise at the sight of Hyun Su gripping onto the bars of the little rectangle opening at the top half of his metal door- dark, round eyes fixed onto her as his cheeks touch the cold cylinders he holds. "Hyun Su... What are you doing?"

Her gentle cadence and smile are vastly different from how she was with Eunhyuk. Clearly, she has a favourite. And Hyun Su loves knowing that.

"I'm...watching," Hyun Su answers slowly.

A small titter escapes her as she closes the distance between them. "That's creepy."

She now stands just a step away from the door as she looks up at him with a dispirited expression. "I don't think I can come in anymore. Eunhyuk's become more strict and he's using the people to back him up. All I can do is just accompany you from out here."

Hyun Su lets his eyes roam on her face and a small smile graces his own as he slowly lets go of the bar and reaches his hand out. (y/n)'s brows raise at the unforeseen behaviour from him and obviously, gives in.

Her hands rests onto his palm which he then curls, clasping hers in his and intertwining their fingers. The girl gulps, flustered and abashed at the sudden skinship, oblivious to his own feelings that can be seen from the red tips of his ears.

"It's okay. This is enough," is what he says and indulges in watching her trying to 'play it cool' by avoiding any eye contact and doing a subtle shuffle. She's adorable.

'She sure is,' a voice echoes inside and Hyun Su's quickly alert. 'Wah... What you feel for her is just so sweet, it's sickening.'

Hyun Su's fingers tighten ever so slightly around hers as he tries to push it away. 'Go away.'

'I can't. Unless you've forgotten, I'm inside your head,' the voice snickers and Hyun Su's heartbeat quickens from annoyance and yet, fear. It's not supposed to come out- not when he's with (y/n). 'And I'm getting awfully impatient.'

His words confuse Hyun Su. 'Impatient? Wha—'

And suddenly, everything turns pitch black.

The abrupt drop of his head causes his forehead to crash against the bars and (y/n) worries for his wellbeing.

"Hyun Su! What's wrong?" She gasps. "You haven't eaten today, have you? Let me get you something."

She turns to leave but the tight hold he has around her hand tugs her back and she nears the rectangular opening, still seeing him with his head down against it.

"No... Don't go..." He then, whimpers, and the fragility in his voice stirs her into a panic.

"Hyun Su," (y/n) softly says his name again and reaches her other hand between the bars- searching for his face to pull it up.

Her palm cups his cheek and he shudders at her touch. A small whisper of her name leaves him as she lifts his face up.

Her eyes flicker between his own closed ones, troubled at his unsolvable pain that causes him to react the way he is. "What's wrong?"

In contrary to her expectations however, Hyun Su nuzzles against her hand- rubbing his face against her palm before he presses his own hand on top.

"Hyun Su has such strong will... I could never," he says and despite using the same exact voice, he sounds too different from the Hyun Su she knows. But what even is she trying to say? Hyun Su isn't Hyun Su?

Everything's too puzzling- especially when he pulls her by the wrist, causing her to collide with the door and her face against the bars.

"Hyun Su, what are you do—"

"I'm lonely," he speaks pitifully and this more familiar tone of voice calms (y/n)'s nerves as she pulls away slightly to look at him who's still keeping her hand against his cheek. 'His eyes...'

"Look at me," she says.

Hyun Su tilts his head into her palm again- the sad, sympathetic expression now shifting to a cocky, devious smirk as his lids open to reveal his black eyes.

No gentle dark browns, just pure abyss.

"You caught me. I knew you wouldn't have wanted me if I were to show myself," monster Hyun Su chuckles and erases the gap between them, now face to face with her.

(y/n) scoffs after quickly concluding that this must be the monster inside Hyun Su. "Want you? Why would you even consider that?"

She yanks her hand back but is swiftly captured by his- now gripping it with more force which makes it impossible to budge.

"Because you want him," he confidently declares and (y/n) feels her heart skip a beat. 'He knows. How does he know?' "At least, that's what I observe... Not that this weakling would ever consider it."

"What do you mean?" Her curiosity gets the best of her. 'Hyun Su would never consider it? Why? Is it really one sided? All this time?'

She's unnerved. He can see it from her expression that's almost begging him to assuage her anxiety, the questions in her head. He grins as his head angles upwards slightly and gosh— (y/n) will be lying if she says she doesn't feel a flutter in her stomach.

"Calm down. He likes you too... maybe a little too much. He thinks he doesn't deserve you, thinks you're better off with someone 'normal' who won't threaten your life," the monster scoffs as if finding the whole thing hilarious. "And yet, just one touch from you and he's tingling all over- craving for more like you're his oasis in the desert."

(y/n) says nothing- no, can't say anything. She's rendered speechless by this sudden, shocking information that she's having a hard time believing. Never once did Hyun Su ask for her affection, and even if he does reach out to her, it'll be momentary; comes and goes in a blink.

An abrupt warmth on her hand makes her jump before seeing Hyun Su kissing it. He plants his lips on the back of her hands, her knuckles, her palm before sliding up her arm to her face- unlatching his other hand from the bar to hold her chin.

He smiles beguilingly as he watches her weigh the voices of her brain and heart, enjoying her panic. "This is what Hyun Su wants. What I'm doing... this is all by him. But I'll be lying if I said I'm not indulging myself either."

"He...wants this?" (y/n) echoes and she can almost hear her sense of rationality and logic shrieking at her for irresponsibly choosing to communicate with a monster.

"Oh, yes," he slurs as his tongue darts out to wet his lip and brings her face closer- his eyes shifting between hers before down at her lips and back up. "So, so much, it wrecks him inside. He feels secure with you, comfortable, happier than ever, but at the same time you taunt him so much with your sweetness that it's venomous. But I like you because of that. Makes it easier to tamper with his mind."

His confession fills (y/n) with dread. All this time... has she been only making things harder for Hyun Su? He's been on war with himself for so long- and she's only adding fire to it.

"Don't worry too much, though. Because without you, he would've been long..." Hyun Su trails off as his eyes trail to her mouth and his thumb brushes over her bottom lip. "Gone."

He pushes his finger in slightly, touching her tongue- making her bite down from surprise and a low groan escapes him at the pain. A pain much too good to actually hurt.

Monster Hyun Su smirks as a scoff sounds from him once more at her immediate retraction and he grips her chin to yank her close.

"You temptress," he hisses before his eyes roll back and eyelids shut. His figure limps and he crashes onto the cold floor of the quarantine room.

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[kinkyrafe]

Hands Free

Kinktober, October 14

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

The one where Rafe comes without being touched for the first time.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

taglist: @yagirlwrites @audzzz @valyrianflower @aariahnaa

Rafe sits bound tightly to the chair, wrists secured behind him, his legs spread wide. The room is thick with tension—his body glistens under the dim light, a sheen of sweat covering his bare skin as he trembles in anticipation. His cock is hard, the cock ring around its base making it stand impossibly erect. The prostate massager nestled deep inside him hums faintly, stimulating him from the inside with each shift of his hips. His nipples, clamped and taut, are connected by a thin chain that also serves as a makeshift gag, forcing his mouth open around the cold metal.

You stand before him, eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as you watch his body strain under the denial of pleasure, the tension of being so close but never quite there.

"You look so good like this," you purr, running your fingers lightly over his chest, flicking one of the nipple clamps just enough to send a sharp jolt of pain through him. His body jerks, a muffled groan escaping from behind the chain in his mouth.

Without warning, you press the vibrator to the head of his cock, but only for a fleeting moment before pulling it away. He moans in frustration, his hips bucking upward, desperate for more, but you keep your distance.

"You're craving it, aren't you?" you ask, your voice sweetly mocking. "You want my hands... or my mouth. But not today." You smirk as you trail your fingers down his stomach.

With a sudden, sharp slap, you spank his belly. His breath catches, a shudder running through him as the sting spreads across his skin.

"Oh, you love being spanked on your stomach, don’t you?" you ask, an evil grin spreading across your face. His head lolls to the side, and he gives you a weak, exhausted smile, nodding between ragged breaths.

"I do," he manages to say, his voice muffled by the chain in his mouth.

You smack his belly again, this time a little lower, dangerously close to his crotch. "So close to your cock, hm?" you tease. His body trembles, muscles tightening as he moans in response.

You give him no time to recover before pressing the vibrator to his cock again, holding it there just long enough to push him close to the edge—but not enough to let him fall. Then, just as quickly, you pull it away again.

"Come on, Rafe," you whisper, leaning in close so your breath tickles his ear. "You're allowed to cum. Just do it."

He groans, the sound vibrating around the gag as his body writhes in the chair, desperately trying to find release. His cock twitches, the sensation of the prostate massager deep inside him only adding to the maddening pleasure. But no matter how close he gets, you pull away every time.

"You need a little help with that?" you ask, your tone full of mockery. You lean forward, brushing your knuckles ever so lightly against the length of his cock, not enough to give him what he needs but just enough to send a jolt of sensation through him.

His eyes flutter closed, his head falling back as his breath comes in ragged gasps. "Please," he pleads around the gag, his voice hoarse and desperate.

You chuckle softly, running a single finger down the length of his cock, making it twitch involuntarily. "I can feel how badly you want it," you say, your voice low and teasing, "but that doesn't mean I'll give in."

You pull your hand away again, watching as his body jerks in frustration, the muscles in his thighs trembling from the effort of staying still. "Can you feel how close you are? I’d just have to touch you, wouldn’t I?"

Rafe’s entire body trembles, a mixture of pleasure and agony rippling through him as he teeters on the edge. His hips jerk upward, desperate for more stimulation, but you're relentless. You stand back, letting him suffer, watching as his cock pulses, so hard that it almost seems painful.

He nearly cries with frustration, the tension in his body unbearable. Every fiber of his being screams for release, but you're not giving him the satisfaction.

Then, just when you think he might break, his body stiffens. His eyes squeeze shut, and he lets out a deep, guttural moan as his orgasm rips through him. His cock pulses, untouched, and his cum spills over his stomach in hot, thick ropes. His entire body shakes with the force of it, the intensity of the orgasm so powerful that it leaves him gasping for breath.

“There you go, baby,” you purr, your voice soft and soothing now. “Good boy.”

You kneel down beside him, wiping the sweat and cum from his trembling body with a soft cloth. His chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, his body spent from the intensity of the hands-free orgasm you’ve just trained him to have. His eyes flutter open, hazy with the afterglow, and he looks up at you with a mixture of awe and exhaustion.

"I knew you could do it," you praise him gently, running your fingers through his damp hair. "You're such a good boy for me."

He nods weakly, his head resting back against the chair, completely drained but utterly satisfied.

[extorsiian]

The Weight Of My Own Shadow ● A Poem

I need to be down forty pounds by December’s cold breath, to stand before him, as light as a snowflake's death. A vision I chase, a shadow of might, Where his arms won’t falter, and his touch feels right.

I ache to shed the weight that drowns my form, To vanish beneath the fabric, where shame is born. When he holds me, I want him to touch only my delicate bones, Not wrestle with flesh that stubbornly grown.

I dream of being like those girls in the blinding light, Small and delicate, pure in their might. In social media’s realm, where their bodies gleam, I long to be dainty, to live this frail dream.

Yet here I am, wrapped in these layers too vast, Each garment a shroud, a reminder of my past. “I’m tired of being the ‘fat friend,’” I wail, Each sneer, each glance, a dagger that prevails.

In the mirror, I see a grotesque reflection, A body in torment, devoid of affection. I wish to be “dainty and feminine,” so refined, To escape this form that haunts my mind.

“Maybe if I were prettier, people would stay,” My heart is a prison where hope fades away. “If I were slimmer, would love come my way?” But the reflection sneers, a mockery of day.

I’m worn from hiding beneath fabrics too wide, From concealing my shame, my sorrow, my pride. “Exhausted from not being approached,” my spirit is torn, Of clothes that don’t fit, of dreams left forlorn.

My mother’s whispers cut deep, a relentless ache, “Too big for those shirts,” each word a stake. Each of her words penetrating my frail heart, god why does she have to make all of this so hard? Each layer I wear is a shroud of despair, A veil of self-loathing, heavy as air.

“Aren't you too big for those shirts?” they hiss, As if my worth can be quantified by this. Despite my attempts to blend into the grey, I’m lost in a storm where self-worth fades away.

Body dysmorphia constantly torments me, a phantom of dread, Twisting my shape, and filling my head. I see a stranger in the mirror, a cruel, empty guise, A distorted reflection, that shatters inside.

I hate the way I look, the flesh that confines me, An endless spiral of insecurity that binds me. Each glance in the mirror is a battle, a scar, a reminder of everything I could never be, A reflection of anguish, a glimpse from afar. Why did it need to be me?

“Maybe if I was prettier, people would stay,” A thought that cuts deep, leading hope astray. In this relentless pursuit of a body so thin, I lose myself in a quest that leaves me dim.

I need to do better, but my resolve is frail, Trapped in a cycle where joy is a tale. Beneath these layers of agony and despair, there’s a heart breaking, gasping for air.

I struggle with the weight, day after day, Dreaming of a change that slips further away. I need to shed this burden, this self-loathing weight, I wish to be someone else before it’s too late.

[parlerenfleurs]

In the notes of the previous post I've reblogged I saw a discussion about why Ringo isn't considered (by the fandom) as a romantic interest for Mizu despite treating her better than all the other men in her life, and how this is tied to fatphobia. Also the fact that the fat character is often the comic-relief and the fact that if he is indeed intended as platonic why make him the only fat (="unattractive") man among the three (others being Taigen and Mikio) that can or have been considered love interests for her?

And that's really interesting because indeed, I never considered Ringo a potential love-interest for Mizu... And so I have to wonder if it's because he's fat. But I also never saw him as a comic-relief character, and I want to expand on why first.

He is indeed funny, and brings levity. But it's not "comic-relief", it's "positivity-relief", in my eyes. I don't feel like we're supposed to take him unseriously at all. Characters take him unseriously, sure, because of his social class, his disability, his seemingly naïve and weak character (never his size, in any case).

But the story shows, and Mizu comes to know, that he's anything but weak and naïve. We know right from the start that he's endured a terrible childhood and life up until meeting Mizu. He doesn't have hands, his father is abusive both physically and psychologically. The way the flesh-trader mistreats him in the first episode isn't anything unusual to Ringo. Everyone despises him and feels free to exert force against him. Taigen in his arrogance, deigns offer him a menial job in his household with the condescension reserved for a nobody who is also a child, or mentally a child.

Ringo was forged at this cruel relentless fire and what came out is a formidable strength. It doesn't manifest itself as obviously as Mizu's but it's, in my opinion, superior, and also extremely great and loveable. Ringo is neither naïve nor stupid. He knows when he's being beaten and condescended to. He's like that because, in spite of everything, he wants to see beauty in everything, and enjoy the good things in life, and he chooses to be kind. He CHOOSES to be kind. With an unbreakable, fluid, infinitely bending strength.

I am not well-versed enough in Japanese culture to make a meaningful comment about this, probably, but my personal reading of Ringo is that he might be a Buddha figure. East of India, the Buddha is fat. The Buddha smiles serenely, even in adversity, because he's reached a state of zen. His ego isn't touched by insults and beatings. Of course Ringo prefers to be treated well, like anyone else! That's why he follows Mizu around! She's an outcast and "deformed" like him, but she's also able to hold her own against physical violence, against the tyrants of the world, and that obviously appeals to him.

He kills, he has sex, he likes good food, he's obviously not detached from the world at all. But still, like a Buddha, his sense of self cannot be shaken by outside mockery or hostility. He's incredibly persistent once he has a goal, but he doesn't bother affirming himself to others for the sake of ego. He's the polar opposite of Taigen in that respect. Taigen's background has made him desperate for outside sources of strength - admiration, prestige, money, social standing...

On the other hand Ringo is really similar to Mizu, a thing he sees immediately but she does not. Hers is an inner unbreakable strength, too. The same fluid, adaptable, water-like strength. Can't break water. It will shape itself around you and your obstacles without ever losing its nature.

But contrary to Ringo, Mizu feels all the pain, the slights, the shame, the self-hatred. Ringo is pure love, or water, not poisoned by betrayal. Perhaps, or even probably, he has been betrayed but he hasn't let it poison his love, his water nature.

Even when Mizu betrays his love (respect, admiration, regard), he's no pushover, he lets her know that he won't stand for it, but still he rescues her because... despite everything his love is still pure. His love is the agape kind. He loves life, he obviously loves himself. There is no shame or shrinking of the self in him. No shame of his body, among other things. He's the only one in the main cast who doesn't wear a mask. What you see is what you get, and it's only people's own preconceptions that blind them to his depth and merit.

On the subject of fatness, I'm not sure he's even really... considered fat, in-universe? Or not negatively so, in any case. When Akemi has to serve her first client, HE is called fat by the characters. Fat enough to crush someone, and to hinder his own libido - the fatness of being extremely rich and eating too much rich food while being extremely idle. This one has the prostitutes reluctant, and his fatness is viewed in a negative light. Ringo has a very pleasant and cordial interaction with the two prostitutes who service him, and sure we're not privy to their thoughts on the matter, but I bet they found him cute, polite, not troublesome at all to service, and I feel like his size wasn't even a question that was posed. We see him naked, running around, carrying things, and being extremely active. His is a common build, sturdy, not a hindrance to his libido, his health, his self-image, or anything. What I mean is, he's not presented to us in a negative way on account of his fatness, and isn't viewed negatively for it in-universe.

All of this to say, I might indeed be blind to his potential as a love interest to Mizu, but I'm not sure it just has to do with the fact he's fat? It might be! I don't know. The first thing I think about on why I don't ship them is they show no romantic or sexual interest in each other that I see. Except, perhaps, that it might be significant that she's the one to arrange his first sexual experience and that it's the framework he has when seeing her naked. But as his attitude remains strictly the same and he shows no change in the kind of interest he has for her, it didn't feel significant to me. I might be wrong, I don't know. But again, Taigen is the opposite: he might be bi, but let's say he isn't, or at least isn't aware of it (I would be sad if he's not but it would better serve the parallel if he's straight) - the guy shows unmistakable chemistry with, and attraction to Mizu without even knowing she's got peaches underneath it all. (I love that he feels attraction to her at the precise moment where she's her playful self again: wrestling, battling and winning, while laughing and having fun... everything that Mikio couldn't handle is the very thing Taigen feels attracted to, aaah so good.)

When I think about it, the loyal, protective role Ringo has, where he saves her physically and emotionally, cares for her, protects her secret, admires her for who she is as a whole, his place as the person who sees the most of her without rejecting a single part of it, should indeed make me feral....

But if he's the opposite to Taigen in so many ways, he might be in this too, in that he has no attraction to Mizu, and they've no such chemistry between them. It's also so lovely as a platonic relationship! For once it is! He's her apprentice, after all, and she takes on the Swordfather role for him as Swordfather did for her (she even used the same persistent-as-hell-I-will-stay-look-I'm-useful method as Ringo did on her - when I say they're so similar...). She used to make noise to signal things to Swordfather and she makes Ringo make noise so that she can keep track of him, too. It's very cute! He uses her kitchen knives and she makes him start to fight with that just like she started to forge by forging them. To me, they're firmly in this master-apprentice dynamic. And friends.

I've said repeatedly that he's not naïve but actually in some ways he is, and that's what Mizu needs more of. She needs to reconnect with that younger, less hurt version of herself. And Ringo helps her with it, because she does ask for his help, does recognise she needs it (healing!) when she asks him to write on her back. He literally has her back. He's his own character, his own person, but they mirror each other a lot, and in some ways he's her master too. A master in gentleness.

Oh. I've said that Ringo's love/water is pure, but that it HAS been touched by the poison that affects Mizu: he's a better sword, has a better strength because he let the impurity be a part of him, didn't push it away or let it consume and change him. No wonder she must learn from him/needs his help to forge her new sword.

IF the story started signaling attraction between them, I don't think it would occur to me that Ringo is fat or anything (or it wouldn't have before, now I'll pay attention to that). It didn't occur to me when he was with the prostitutes, I was only thinking about the fact he has no hands, but the prostitutes shrugged it off with grace, and it made me happy.