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whumptober · 3 months ago

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WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

#whumptober #whumptober2024 #writing challenge #prompts list #prompts #writing prompts #whump

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pootlesquish · 10 months ago

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I do definitely have sensory issues, like why else would a particularly loud sneeze make me wince, or a screaming baby on a bus make me wish my earphones were noise cancelling?

but imposter syndrome is really out here telling me I'm faking every sensory issue I've ever had because I've somehow been able to force myself to deal with things like denim texture and nail polish smell and having long hair. I do find them unpleasant but I spent my entire teenage years trying to git gud at being a girl so I just forced myself to deal with it because I was *supposed* to wear skinny jeans and paint my nails and have long hair. so now I just, can't change because I like the aesthetic of those things now, and I feel like a fake because of it (:

#pootle rambles #autism things #sensory #post high school clarity

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deception-united · 8 months ago

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Let's talk about fight scenes.

Writing fight scenes requires a delicate balance of action, emotion, and detail to keep readers engaged and immersed in the moment.

Here are some tips to craft compelling fight scenes:

Know your characters: Understand their fighting styles, strengths, and weaknesses—are they offensive, or defensive? Spontaneous, or strategic? Trigger-happy, or reluctant? Their personalities and motivations will influence their actions and decisions during the fight.

Create tension: Build tension leading up to the fight to increase the stakes and make the action more gripping. Foreshadowing, verbal sparring, or physical intimidation can all contribute to a sense of anticipation.

Use sensory details: Engage the reader's senses by describing the sights, sounds, smells, and physical sensations of the fight. This helps to create a vivid and immersive experience—but make sure not to overdo it. Too much detail can distract from the adrenaline of the fight.

Maintain clarity: Ensure that the action is easy to follow by using clear and concise language. Avoid overly complicated sentences or excessive description that could confuse readers.

Focus on emotions: Show the emotional impact of the fight on your characters. Describe their fear, anger, determination, or adrenaline rush to make the scene more compelling and relatable.

Include strategic elements: Incorporate tactics, strategy, and improvisation into the fight to make it more dynamic and realistic. Think about how your characters use their surroundings, weapons, or special abilities to gain an advantage.

Balance dialogue and action: Intersperse dialogue with action to break up the fight scene and provide insight into the characters' thoughts and intentions. Dialogue can also reveal or support the characters' personalities and motivations.

Keep it concise: While it's important to provide enough detail to immerse readers in the action, avoid unnecessary padding or overly long fight scenes. Keep the pacing brisk to maintain momentum and keep readers hooked.

Show the consequences: Illustrate the aftermath of the fight, including injuries, emotional trauma, or changes in relationships between characters. This adds depth to the scene and helps to drive the story forward.

Hope this helped ❤

Previous | Next

#writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #fight scenes #deception-united

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luna-azzurra · 6 months ago

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Shit to edit OUT of the Novel

When editing a novel, it's essential to be ruthless in cutting out anything that doesn't serve the story or enhance the reader's experience.

Excessive Exposition, Cut lengthy explanations or info dumps that slow down the pacing or feel unnatural in the narrative flow. Show, don't tell whenever possible.

Redundant Scenes, Remove scenes that repeat information or don't advance the plot, characters, or themes in a meaningful way.

Unnecessary Characters, Streamline your cast by removing minor characters who don't contribute significantly to the story's development or conflict resolution.

Overused Clichés, Eliminate clichéd phrases, descriptions, or plot devices that feel tired or predictable. Aim for fresh and original storytelling.

Weak Dialogue, Trim dialogue that doesn't reveal character insights, move the plot forward, or contribute to the story's atmosphere or tension.

Verbose Descriptions, Pare down lengthy descriptions of settings, characters, or actions that don't add depth or relevance to the scene.

Unfocused Subplots. Cut subplots that distract from the main storyline or fail to connect thematically or emotionally with the central narrative.

Unresolved Threads, Tie up loose ends and resolve unanswered questions to provide a satisfying conclusion for readers.

Telling Instead of Showing, Replace telling passages with scenes that allow readers to experience the story through action, dialogue, and sensory details.

Inconsistent Tone or Voice, Ensure consistency in the narrative voice and tone throughout the novel, removing any passages that feel out of place or jarring.

Irrelevant Backstory, Limit backstory to what's essential for understanding character motivations or plot developments, cutting unnecessary details or flashbacks.

Extraneous Details, Trim unnecessary details or digressions that don't contribute to the story's emotional resonance or thematic depth.

Unrealistic Dialogue Tags, Replace overly embellished dialogue tags (e.g., "he exclaimed," "she pontificated") with simple, clear attributions (e.g., "he said," "she asked") to maintain clarity and flow.

Overly Padded Scenes, Condense scenes that drag on without adding significant value to the narrative, maintaining a tight focus on key story beats.

Inconsistent Characterization, Ensure characters' actions, dialogue, and motivations remain consistent throughout the novel, removing any instances of behavior that feel out of character or forced.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #writing advice #oc character #writing help #creative writing #writing block

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speechgears · 2 years ago

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SpeechGears Speech Therapy Tools: Clarity Of Speech | Autism Speech Therapy Activities | Benefits Of Speech Therapy

Both toddlers and adults can benefit greatly from speech therapy tools. Speech therapy for kids can reduce their general difficulty of speaking, early language development, and preparedness for school. It can aid with swallowing and vocal quality and boost independence and self-esteem. Speech therapy for adults can help with particular problems and benefit social and professional lives. Additionally, speech therapy can improve a person's capacity to speak, carry out daily tasks, pay bills, and more. It can also help with relationship building and brain growth.

#SpeechGears #speech delay treatment #tactile sensory tools #Speech Therapy Tools #Clarity Of Speech #Autism Speech Therapy Activities #Benefits Of Speech Therapy

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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

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DARK DESIRES

Last part of kinktober | main masterlist

ghostface!spencer x fem!reader; dubcon, knife play, sensory deprivation, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, rough sex

A twisted encounter with the masked killer roaming in your neighborhood had you questioning your morals because as it turned out, you were more attracted to him than you let on.

words: 6335

a/n: this fic might not be everyone's cup of tea. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU, DO NOT ENGAGE. Anyway, thank you for the amount of love everyone has sent me through this short series. I appreciate it❤️

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER you had with the masked killer was at home. You were in your living room, absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the television until the news captured your attention. You watched with a mix of fascination and horror as the unfolding report detailed a series of gruesome murders, each committed by a mysterious figure concealed behind a chilling mask.

"The armed suspect remains at large as law enforcement intensifies efforts for apprehension," the newscaster's voice declared. "Victims have sustained multiple stab wounds, with survivors recounting a chilling detail of a mysterious call from an unknown number before each attack. Citizens are urgently requested to report any suspicious phone activity."

As you sat there engrossed, a sense of dread began to coil around you. The details of the gruesome murders had been haunting enough, but a chilling realization gripped you as the camera panned across the crime scenes. Your eyes widened as the news footage revealed a recognizable building. That was the local library a few blocks away from your house.

A shiver went down your spine, and a cold unease settled in the pit of your stomach, as you realized that one of the victims was the young teenage boy who volunteered at the town's library every weekend. It then dawned on you with chilling clarity—a serial killer was lurking in your neighborhood.

The second time you saw the masked killer, his face was plastered around town. Ghostface. That was what they called him. The once-anonymous menace had transformed into a chilling icon that echoed through hushed conversations and whispered warnings. His mask, a pale and expressionless countenance with hollow eyes, exuded an unsettling aura of anonymity. It was what you saw in every corner; materializing on posters, shop windows, and even billboards.

Beware of Ghostface!

It was ironic. For someone who was murdering people with his bare hands, your community was giving him too much attention. It wasn't until you saw a group of well-dressed people, who clearly weren't from around here, that you realized how serious this situation was.

When the FBI arrived, you knew it was no longer a local matter, but a national concern. There was reassurance in their presence, in the sense that the full force of specialized agents was now focused on apprehending the killer that haunted the streets. But despite their formidable presence, against all expectations, the masked killer continued to pursue more victims.

You couldn't help but wonder every time someone you knew was reported dead—were these people even doing their job right? What were they doing here when they couldn't arrest one person when they came in a full pack?

You never really noticed these agents, although you did sometimes see them lurking around shops and houses to ask questions. You didn't really give them much attention, until that one night when you walked back from work and saw a figure leaning casually against a sleek, black SUV adorned with government markings.

He was standing alone, arms crossed and eyes focused on you as you slowly stepped closer because the only way to your house was to pass this street. He was clad in the quintessential FBI vest over his dress shirt and tie, his sleeves rolled up along his forearms. His height commanded attention, casting a subtle shadow that seemed to stretch into the surrounding darkness.

A cascade of curly, unruly locks framed his face, falling in a chaotic dance that obscured much of his features. But even in the dark, you could tell he was handsome, and the messiness of his hair added a touch of his disheveled charm. Yet, it was his eyes that held you captive. Stark and penetrating. Instead of finding comfort in the presence of an authority, you felt an unsettling chill crawl down your spine as his stare lingered on you.

"You shouldn't walk alone at night with a killer on the loose," he stated abruptly, his voice cutting through the silence.

Caught off guard, you stammered in response, "I, uh, my house is right around the corner."

His eyes, still fixed on you, held an inscrutable intensity. You shuddered. Without thinking much, and fueled by a sudden surge of unease, you briskly left his side.

People say the third time's a charm, that the idea after two unsuccessful attempts or failures, the third attempt is more likely to be successful or fortunate. However, in your case, you didn't know what to make of it when you encountered the masked killer for the third time.

It started with a call.

At first, you didn't bother the unknown number flashing on your phone, especially when a killer was roaming around town with its known trademark of calling his victims before his attack. So you ignored it and continued to prepare your dinner. But then it rang again. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth time it constantly rang, you realized, that whoever was on the other line wasn't going to stop until you answered.

"Hello?" you nervously greeted.

"Hello there. Took you long enough," the voice on the other line replied. It was soft, distinctly masculine, quite disoriented, yet it carried a mysterious familiarity that you couldn't put your finger on.

"Who is this?"

"A person."

You scoffed. "Charming. Goodbye."

"Wait—no! Don't hang up!"

There was a sudden nagging sense that you had heard this voice somewhere before. "No, really, who is this?"

"A secret admirer."

You raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it," you said, leaning over the kitchen counter. "No one has ever had a crush on me."

"Well, I do."

"Tell me who you are then.”

"But it won't be a secret anymore."

You paused for a moment. "You really know me?"

"Of course, I do."

"Do I know you then?"

"Maybe," he answered, a playful ambiguity threading his response. "So, you got a boyfriend?"

What an odd question.

"Why?" You laughed. "You wanna ask me out on a date?"

"Maybe," he responded again. "So do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"That's a pity," he sighed, his tone taking on a flirtatious note. "You look too good in that shirt without a man appreciating it."

Your heart quickened at his words. Was he... you looked around your house, your eyes traveling across the many windows adorned in your personal space.

"W- What did you say?"

"You look too good in that white shirt," he repeated. "Doesn't leave much to the imagination."

You looked down at yourself. The shirt he mentioned was actually a tanktop you decided to wear for bed, but you weren't wearing anything else under it, so true to his words, this piece of clothing didn't leave much to the imagination. The hemline hung low on your chest, leaving a perfect view of your cleavage. The cold temperature of the room managed to make your body react, which was why your nipples were pressing hard against the material.

"Hello? Are you still here?" Sensing your silence, the voice on the other line held a sudden edge of urgency. "Wait—don't you hang up on me—"

You quickly ended the call. Feeling a sudden need for privacy, you hastily closed the curtains, shutting out the view from the windows as you clutched your phone in your hand. Your heart raced, and a wave of dread engulfed you. The unsettling possibility that someone might be targeting you, and not just anyone, but the masked killer, cast a chilling shadow over your thoughts.

The phone rang again. You hesitated, a part of you urging against answering, but somehow, almost involuntarily, you found yourself pressing the phone against your ear. The adrenaline of fear seemed to override your rational instincts, even against your better judgment.

"I told you not to hang up on me," the man greeted you, but his voice lacked the soft, friendly tone it had before. Instead, it had morphed into something more sinister.

"Wh-who is this?" you asked. "What do you want?"

"To volunteer. Let me appreciate how good you look tonight."

You were desperate now. Your feet guided you to the front door, and you locked it securely before quickly running up the stairs. Panic seized you as you checked and secured all the windows, the sense of vulnerability amplifying with each lock turned.

A sudden sound of laughter filled your ear.

"What you're doing is useless," he taunted. Then, with a sinister tone that cut through the air, his next words had you stopping in your tracks.

"I'm already inside."

The air in the house thickened with dread as his words hung ominously. Panic set in, and the once-familiar surroundings now felt like a trap closing in around you. Every creak of the house, every flicker of shadow, became a sign of impending danger.

He was the one to end the call, and you looked down at your front door from the top of your stairs. You calculated how long it would take you to escape your own house as you slowly descended down. But then, the closet door by the front, the small room where you kept your coats and unused items, suddenly opened.

The creak of the door echoed through the silence, and your eyes fixated on the widening gap. Your escape route seemed to diminish and fear paralyzed you. The once-familiar confines of your home now held an intruder, and as you stared at the ominous opening, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Your eyes widened, because right in the flesh was none other than Ghostface, stepping out of your closet with a knife in his hand. The chilling reality gripped you, and time seemed to slow as the masked intruder stood before your eyes. The pale, ghostly visage stared back at you.

You moved on instinct. You turned on your heels and ran back up the stairs, even when you were aware there was no escape unless you jumped out of your window. But it was a better plan than running right into the arms of a killer, so you picked up your pace, sprinting as fast as you could down the hallway.

But he was fast, unnaturally so, and suddenly you felt a vice-like grip around your waist. His hand urged you with brutal force before slamming your back against the wall. The impact reverberated through your body, and a gasp caught in your throat as the cold surface of the wall pressed against you.

His presence loomed, the masked figure inches from your face. The hollow eyes of Ghostface bore into yours through the chilling mask, and the glint of the knife in his hand reflected the cruel intent that hung in the air.

Panic engulfed you as his other gloved hand circled around your throat. "Pl-Please.." you chocked, struggling against the force he pressed on your neck. "...don't—don’t kill me."

The air felt constricted, and the desperate plea escaped your lips in a struggled gasp. The gloved hand tightened its grip, the leather cool against your skin, as Ghostface's masked visage remained impassive.

"Kill you?" he asked, an eerie edge in his voice. "That's the last thing I want to do right now."

You desperately placed a hand on his wrist as you let your phone hit the ground.

"Don't move," he warned. But you kept on thrashing around, the primal instinct for survival overriding reason, and he tightened his grip on you. "If you keep struggling, I might have to gut you out like a damn fish."

That made you stop. Satisfied you were listening, he finally let go of your throat. The release brought a gasp of air, and you stumbled back, leaning against the wall.

"I'm not here to kill you," Ghostface declared, the chilling mask betraying no emotion. "But I do have something else in mind."

He responded by caressing your face and pinning you against the wall. The cold, gloved hand traced a chilling path across your skin, and you felt the sharp contrast between the mask and the vulnerability of your flesh. He tilted his head as he saw the fear in your eyes, tears welling at the corners.

"Aw, come on, don't look so scared," he murmured, a perverse tenderness in his voice that clashed with the situation. His sharp blade went to your throat, the cold steel sending a shiver down your spine. He forced you to stare into the hollowness of the mask.

"Let me have my fun."

You felt the blade on your skin as he dragged the weapon along your body. He smiled when he noticed you tensing, trying to avoid the sharpness of the blade from grazing your skin. Through tear-filled eyes, you looked up, struggling to catch your breath. Fear still consumed you, a chilling grip on your senses, but alongside it, an unexpected emotion stirred. Curiosity.

As you gazed at the masked killer looming over you, a strange sense of intrigue took place. It was a baffling response, the surreal proximity to the infamous Ghostface left you grappling with a mix of terror and fascination. The sheer scale of his presence seemed to stretch into the shadows, and you couldn't help but wonder—was he actually this tall?

A sudden movement caught your attention as he took a step. He moved underneath the black cloak he wore, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he slipped a leg between yours. The confined space of the hallway seemed to shrink further as his presence pressed in on you.

And then there was silence. The air hung heavy with anticipation, and you sensed a deliberate slowness in his actions. It was as if he offered you a chance to resist, to push him away. But you didn't move. Instead, you held your breath, the rhythmic pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet.

"You've stopped struggling," he hummed to himself, trailing the knife over your shoulder. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

There wasn't time for you to reply as he hooked the blade under your top and ran it along the fabric, watching it snap under the sharp surface. The cool air hit your skin as you were suddenly exposed to him. Without warning, his other hand moved over your breasts, squeezing them roughly, earning a gasp from you. Your heart pounded with something akin to fear, or perhaps, it oddly felt like… excitement?

"Of course, you are," he muttered, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You could feel the cool touch of his gloved hand over your skin as he brushed his thumb over your sensitive bud. "Knew you were a fucking slut."

What was happening? It was wrong, morally twisted, yet you found a strange sense of anticipation as he continued to touch you. Your body was shaking, not just from fear, but from something else. While your rational side recoiled at what was happening, your body seemed to betray a darker truth.

You hated yourself. You loathed how easily you were giving in. You kept on reciting how wrong this was in your head, but when you felt the blade cut through the fabric of your shorts with ease, you didn't mind as much. Then your breath hitched when he quickly ripped your panties with his knife, and somehow you were now naked with his leg placed between your thighs.

"Would you look at that?" He taunted, his leathered hand moving over your curves. "You're dripping."

You let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up your thigh, stopping just before his fingers brushed over your heat. The touch was so faint it shouldn't have even had that much of an effect on you, but it did. It fucking did.

This was so unlike you, you weren't the kind of person to let someone you barely knew touch you. You even disliked the idea of a one-night stand. Yet here you were, legs wide open as you let a murderer touch you, and the messed up thing was, you wanted more.

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing your clit teasingly as if to test your reaction. You bit your bottom lip, stopping yourself from moaning aloud, your eyes fluttering closed as he played with your clit skillfully.

He was far too good at this, you found yourself thinking. Your body jerked as he increased his pace and you knew he had a goal in mind—to make you fall apart. The fast pace of his fingers had your brows furrowing as you chewed your bottom lip, desperate to keep quiet despite the way your hips bucked and rolled against his hand. He let out a chilling laughter.

"Stop acting like you don't want this," he said, increasing his pressure on your clit. Your eyes screwed shut, and you focused on that touch alone, the leather sliding over your wet skin. "Let me hear your pathetic voice."

You shook your head furiously.

"No?" He mocked. "You wanna bet how fast I can make you scream?"

His fingers moved from your clit, dragging down your slit and collecting your juices, briefly stroking you, earning a muffled cry out of you. Your chest began to heave, your hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over you casually. He laughed again.

"I'm going to make you scream so loud your neighbors will know how much of a slut you are."

And then he pressed the edge of the blade on your throat at the same time he plunged two fingers inside you. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open and a loud squeal left your lips, the sound distorted by the vibrations surging through your body. He hummed in satisfaction at how fast it was to earn that moan from your lips, and surprisingly, he loved the sound you made.

It didn't take long for him to force more sounds out of your pretty mouth. You felt the coolness of the wall behind your back, the pads of your fingers brushing over the concrete in a pathetic attempt to get a hold of something, anything that could keep you steady while his fingers kept pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt with a wet, squelching sound.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, saturating every cell of your trembling body. The electrifying rush heightened your senses, amplifying the surreal nature of the pleasure. You wriggled your hips under the pressure of his body that was keeping you pinned against the wall, feeling so fucking embarrassed by the wetness dripping out of you.

"Fucking filthy, letting a murderer touch you." He then dragged his fingers out of you and started to rub your clit in tight, rapid circles. You practically cried out and quickly bit your lower lip to subside another embarrassing moan. "You know how many people I've killed with this hand? The same hand touching your sweet little pussy?"

Your thighs tightened around his hand, trying desperately to push him away. He responded by sinking three of his fingers inside you and groaned at the way you were clenching around him. "Look at you taking my fingers so well."

The leather slightly burned your skin, and somehow, it only heightened your pleasure. The heel of his palm pressed against your clit hard as he continued to curl his fingers. You gasped as your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him while his fingers pushed deeper into you, touching a spot you had never been aware of. The sensation brought an unusual feeling to your senses. You looked at him in confusion, your eyes widening.

"Pl- Please, stop," you begged out of fear of the unknown. The tickling in your abdomen was becoming almost unbearable, and you clasped your thighs together and involuntarily bent your knees a little in an attempt to make his fingers slip out of your wet cunt.

With a feral growl, he suddenly threw the knife on the floor before wrapping his hand around your throat, pinning your head against the wall.

"Take it," he hissed and tightened his grip, making you jolt forward. You helplessly part your legs and whimpered as his palm brushed over your clit with every thrust, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as he held you in place. "Fucking take it."

The sensation was overwhelming to the point tears began to trickle down your face, and you tried to desperately blink them away as they hindered your vision.

"Oh, you're crying now?" He cooed, still rocking his fingers violently inside you. "Pathetic."

Before you knew it, your hips were bucking, distraught cries escaping you. Your body shuddered as if it were under his control, forcing out your orgasm like it was effortless as his fingers curled inside you, continuing to stimulate you even after you begged him to stop.

It wasn't long before he was bringing you back up again. His pace turned into a more intense speed that, to your surprise, the familiar contracting of your pulsing walls was followed by the splurge of weird liquid coming out of you. Your mouth fell open as you writhed against him, your sensitive cunt almost numb to the sensation as he pressed you for more.

You were so numb you could no longer feel his fingers buried deep inside your convulsing walls, squeezing around his digits as you shook in the tremors of your release. When you looked at him in shock, cheeks burning crimson and chest rising and falling heavily, a pretentious laugh left him. With a vulgar squelching sound, he slipped his fingers out of your pussy.

"Squirting like a pathetic slut,” he spat, his other hand still wrapped around your neck. "Told you I'd make you scream."

Your body turned pliant as you gave in and sank against the wall. You watched him lean down through your half-lidded eyes as you tried to ground yourself, his movements deliberate and swift, grabbing your wrecked shirt from the floor. You watched in confusion as he pressed the flimsy material together before firmly shoving it over your eyes.

Panic surged through you as the sudden darkness enveloped our vision. Although you couldn't see him, you heard him very well. His muffled breathing behind the mask, the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusted the material at the back of your head. Your other senses were heightened when you were robbed of your vision that you could even smell him.

The sharp scent of sweat and a faint hint of earthiness clung to him, as though remnants of the ground followed his presence. Yet, amidst the rawness, there was a surprising note of sweetness, as if a subtle cologne lingered beneath the surface.

God, he was so close. His chest was now pressed against yours, and then suddenly, almost forcefully, you felt warm hands grip your jaw. Your mouth fell open.

He took off his gloves.

Goosebumps rose on your skin when a sudden breeze of air brushed across your face and you gasped. You could barely think clearly, and you could barely even brace yourself when harsh lips captured your mouth desperately. You couldn't believe what was happening, because holy fuck—you were kissing Ghostface.

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way he kissed you. A deep shuddering groan rippled through him as he continued to assault your lips. You were too stunned at the way he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you in a way that had your body trembling at the sheer force of intensity traveling through your veins.

And when you finally felt his bare fingers grazing along your drenched core, going up and down your swollen folds, he captured the moan falling through your lips with a groan.

"So fucking filthy," he whispered against your lips as he continued to tease you. His voice, once muffled, was now very clear. The tones were distinct, carrying an inexplicable familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory. But before you could even try to recall where you had heard it before, he surprised you by increasing the speed of his fingers.

"You want more of this, don't you?"

You shook your head, but your body was saying otherwise. Your hand gripped his arm as he started to play with your clit again, and your knees buckled pathetically. His other hand fell on your waist to steady you while he pressed a kiss on the hollow point of your throat, traveling further up the skin till his teeth nibbled on your ear lobe.

He then grabbed onto one of your legs and hiked it around his waist as he pushed his hips into you. You could feel the outline of his hard cock behind the cloak he was wearing and you let out a whimper when he started rolling his hips.

"Is this what you want?" He rasped out at the shell of your ear. You felt strong hands grip your wrists before he pushed them above your head, pining you against the wall. "You want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You shook your head again, attempting to anchor yourself. The struggle was evident in the tension of your muscles, each fiber resisting the pull toward surrender. You should push him. You should cry for help. Yet here you were questioning your sanity as you slowly, almost desperately, grind your hips along with his, yearning for more friction.

"Dirty, dirty slut," he muttered against your lips before kissing you once again, swallowing your whimpers as his hips snapped into you. "I bet you feel so tight around me."

Desire roared fire in your veins, and you whined. He leaned over and captured one of your nipples in his wet, warm mouth, and you moaned again before he let out a satisfied hum. You could practically feel the smirk curling on his lips as he taunted, "You react so well. I might have to keep you."

Goosebumps rose along your skin. Then in a swift and forceful motion, he yanked you, abruptly pushing you to the ground. The impact was sudden and jarring, leaving you landing on your knees.

As you tried to make sense of what was happening, a hand pushed against your back, and you toppled forward, landing on the ground face-first, finding yourself on your hands and knees. A sharp smack hit your bare ass from behind and you jolted in surprise.

"Spread them wide for me," He murmured, gaze skipping over your nakedness. He marveled at the sight before him, the way you shamelessly arched your back at his command. Yet when he noticed you hesitating, he dropped his voice in a lower, sinister tone.

"Don't make me use my knife."

You quickly did as you were told, your hands traveling behind you, spreading your sticky thighs in a languorous stretch, and you shuddered under the weight of his eyes. You whined at the feeling of the cold air hitting your exposed skin and a trickle of your arousal ran down your thigh, much to your utter embarrassment. "Look how pretty you are."

Heat blossomed in your chest. Then the sound of a belt being undone had you whimpering, and you moved instinctively, arching your back even further. One of his hands landed on your ass again with a sharp smack before he gripped a firm handful of it. You could hear more rustling and a slight soft thud behind you. The lack of vision made you overly sensitive and you found yourself waiting with bated breath for his every move.

With a sharp tug, he pulled you back by your hips before one of his hands landed on the back of your neck. You felt him push down hard and you obliged, lowering your face and upper body to the floor as his other hand remained holding your hips up in the air. And then you felt him—pulsing warm right at your entrance.

A pitiful groan escaped your lips as the tip of his cock swiped back and forth along your folds. He moaned out a deep, pleasure-filled noise that reverberated around the small space at the feel of your arousal coating him. And then suddenly, without warning, he abruptly plunged inside of you. He thrust straight into that spot deep inside that stung so good a sharp cry slipped out of you. It was painful, his sheer force of girth stretching you apart, though that cry quickly became a low moan of pleasure.

The man behind you showed no mercy, thrusting his hips into you with force and purpose, so hard you felt your body inching across the hardwood floor with each stroke. Your mouth fell open when one of his hands released your neck before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you and he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher.

He held himself there as he used the grip on your hair to haul you backward to him. Your back was arched, his cock still buried deep inside of you as you fell back into his chest. For a few moments, it was almost uncomfortable, but then, surprisingly, you felt even more aroused than you already were.

You pushed your ass even higher, arching your body in search of more of that delicious sensation. It felt like electricity shocked your entire body, triggering intense waves of pleasure that repeatedly spread wildly from your core as you focused on the pleasure building between your legs, the burning sensation filling you to the brim.

It was maddening. Frustrating, even. Because you didn't even care anymore, you didn't even care if you exposed for him, you didn't even care if your knees ached from the hard friction of the floor because any shreds of sanity and pride had long since been destroyed. You wanted more. You needed more.

It was so twisted. You longed to be broken by him. You longed to be ruined by him.

You had never imagined being in this position, kneeling on the floor with a murderer thrusting himself into you, yet here you were, whimpering at the sensation of doing the forbidden. Your mind turned delirious he released the hold on your hair, his hand snaking around your front to grip your throat.

You continued to meet his savage thrusts with your hips, slamming into you as your wail turned into a ragged scream. The sensation, though pleasurable, became too intense to handle. You attempted to move away from him, stealing his breath as your inner walls clenched around his cock. His firm hand gripped your hips tighter, preventing you from pulling away as he held you in position, thrusting his cock into your throbbing pussy.

A helpless sound trickled from your throat as your body jerked, and he mercilessly fucked you through it. Everything was so intense your mind was struggling to comprehend what was happening as he pounded into you roughly. You tried to breathe through the incredible pleasure surging through your body but you were too overwhelmed. "T-Too much."

"T-Too much," he mocked. A sinister laugh sliced through the darkness, sending shivers down your spine. "Fucking. Take. It."

His words were punctuated with every snap of his hips. The insistent thrust made you thrash your head as your body convulsed, dragging it out and heightening it to a point where you could only wail. Your breath came in harsh pants; his breathing was as rough as he urged you on, and you gave yourself over to the wildfire consuming your body. You whimpered, head rolling back onto his shoulder.

"That's it, taking me so perfectly," his voice, now a sinister whisper, slithered into your ears. "Knew you were special the moment I saw you."

A gasp escaped you, the weight of his words settling with an unsettling realization. Amidst the darkness, you felt the contours of his laughter.

"Don't act so surprised. I'm your secret admirer, remember?" You felt his hand leave your hips before it trailed toward your front. You knew what he was about to do and you clenched him involuntarily, already anticipating what was to come.

"Fuck," He hissed. "You feel so tight around me. I really do have to keep you now."

The coil inside you was dangerously close to snapping and he growled as your cunt clenched around his cock.

"Oh, you liked that. You like the idea of me using you? Fuck you whenever I want?" He questioned, his fingers moving to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. You bit down on your lower lip, feeling the coil in your abdomen tightening at his sharp movements, your hands moving to his wrist as you tried to ground yourself.

You gasped when you felt him tightening the grip on your throat, the skin tingling as he repeated the motion. "Filthy little thing, aren't you?"

"I-I—" You spluttered, feeling your legs going numb. You squealed when you felt him pick up his pace on your clit, rubbing messy circles against it as your back slumped against him, mouth parting, your tongue slipping out between your lips.

It was too much. You felt like you were about to explode. Your mind went blank. Your body felt numb. There was nothing else you could do but to give into the force of pleasure consuming you as he fucked you roughly, his hips hitting you in harsh motions.

"You gonna cum now?" He grunted, pressing his mouth at the shell of your ear. You helplessly nodded, not able to make out any coherent words anymore. He groaned between thrusts, keeping a firm grip on your ass to keep you from squirming. "Go on then, cum on my cock like the filthy whore that you are."

As if on command, your body spasmed involuntarily. It started with a prickling of your skin creeping up your body, over your breasts and face, inner walls tightening around his cock, and you came hard. You squirmed uncontrollably as all that pent-up pleasure welled up in your core. Your heart was pounding erratically against your heaving chest you could even hear the pounding in your ears.

Your mind was in a drunken haze as the pleasure continued to flow through your veins, his fingertips languidly brushed against your clit. But despite the desperate spasms of your pussy, he continued to penetrate your body. Every thrust hit more intensely than the last, wetness flooded from you as reality slipped away, and all you could do was burn, vocally urging him on as he moaned darkly behind you.

You were very far from sanity from everything consuming your body. You felt him everywhere. His grinding cock, the press of his fingers as they moved to toy with your clit, and his blunt nails cut around your throat. Your cunt continued to possessively grip his cock as you wailed breathlessly.

Heat traveled through you, body quivering and going boneless, the warm ripples of release dulling the sharp edges of your mind as he drove into you and finally chased his own high. The filthy feel of him emptying inside you, your shimmering release, and his hands decorating your skin with fingerprint bruises, was all you could focus on.

Until the distinct sound of sirens echoed in the background.

Your mind went hazy as you tried to anchor yourself and you heard him chuckle in amusement. "I guess you really woke your neighbors up," he said, letting go of his grip around your throat. You let out a breathless sigh when you felt him slipping out of you, surprisingly feeling empty.

He groaned as his eyes traveled down, watching the way his release dripped down the length of your thighs. “It’s a pity I have to cut this short.” Then you felt his lips near your ear. “Until next time."

"W- What?" Your head snapped up. "You'll come back?"

"I'll be here when you least expect it." Then the unexpected happened. He surprised you with a gentle kiss on your shoulder, a stark contrast from everything that had taken place. "Keep your doors unlocked for me."

A sudden emptiness enveloped you as he withdrew from your personal space. Your mind was struggling to make sense of what happened. And now the realization that he wasn't behind you anymore prompted your hands to instinctively reach for the makeshift blindfold, swiftly slipping it off your face.

Blinking in the sudden light, your eyes adjusted to the surroundings. Your eyes caught his figure standing tall at the top of your staircase, back turned, a fleeting glimpse of brown curls disappearing beneath the mask he hastily put back on.

He abruptly turned to you. A shuddered gasp escaped your lips as he looked at you for another fleeting second, as if he was giving you a silent promise as the faint sound of sirens continued from the distance. You stared back at him, heart thrumming in your chest.

And then he was gone.

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kairologia · 8 months ago

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Your 12th house gifts and areas you struggle with most, according to your rising sign.

The 12th House is traditionally a desolate, dark, and isolating place. But what insights might you gain, were you to confront and explore that which you've been avoiding? Not unlike how every chart has a “natal promise”, every 12H has positive potential and negative burdens to show for itself. Here, we shall dive into that. Use Whole Sign Houses.

P.S: one configuration cannot explain everything about you as a person with a full-chart and a bunch of unique personal experiences, so if you do not relate to everything, that’s fine. ♥

— Aries Rising with Pisces in the 12H:

· Gift: Aries risings are profoundly intuitive & empathetic and this fact is oft understated. These people tend to be blessed with creativity & plenty of artistic gifts, and are incredibly inspirational to those around them. The teacher that inspires their students so profoundly they remain unforgotten even decades later, the hype man that supports their friend group’s endeavors most — these archetypes are found across the zodiac spectrum, but at an unusually high concentration among Aries risings.

· Struggle: they tend to feel overwhelmed by their unspoken emotions and have a hard time asserting personal boundaries. Aries rising natives tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves, and have a hard time keeping things in. If they *feel* something, they will make it known.

— Taurus Rising with Aries in the 12H:

· Gift: Taurus risings are blessed with incredible resiliency, & can overcome anything if they so desire. They tend to enjoy most & even be skilled at artistic pursuits that revolve around the erotic &/or grotesque. They are rarely put off by things, and are the type of people that can listen to you vent about all sorts of topics, no matter how ‘gross’ or taboo.

· Struggle: ironically, Taurus rising natives tend to simultaneously be very impatient while also being inclined to repressing and internalizing all sorts of emotions, not unlike a dormant volcano, leading to inner and outer conflict. They tend to be hot-headed and struggle letting go of matters they found hurtful.

— Gemini Rising with Taurus in the 12H:

· Gift: These people are incredibly grounded intellectually and it shines through their mental clarity and ability to communicate with precision. Though they may appear scatterbrained to others, their mind palace is incredibly well-compartmentalized. They tend to be great at artistic pursuits that call upon multiple senses at once and provide strong sensorial experiences.

· Struggle: Gemini rising natives tend to overanalyze emotions, which hinders the spontaneity and adaptative quality associated with other Gemini placements. They also tend to repress their desire for relational pleasure and connection, and have a hard time accepting that even they desire to connect with others.

— Cancer Rising with Gemini in the 12H:

· Gift: Cancer risings are capable of understanding the perspective of others with incredible ease, which grants them a versatile penmanship & communication skillset. They tend to excel at communication, writing, teaching, getting things across, as no matter how complex the topic at hand they will manage to break it down to others in a manner that is simple enough to be understood by anyone — in part explaining why they tend to be so great with kids.

· Struggle: Cancer rising natives often have a hard time reconciling rational thought with emotional intuition, leading to indecision — growing up, possibly as a defense mechanism, most Cancer risings tend to pick one end of the emotion vs reason spectrum and sticking to it, leading to unavoidable inner tension in adulthood.

— Leo Rising with Cancer in the 12H:

· Gift: not unlike Aries risings, their intuitive senses & understanding of other people’s hidden emotions are widely underestimated. Their ability to foster deep emotional connections with others & nurture those around them is second to none. They also tend to have the very rich & versatile emotional inner world that is often associated with water moons – in part explaining why they’re known for their creativity & dramatic flair.

· Struggle: Leo risings have a tendency to retreat into isolation upon feeling vulnerable. They tend to repress their feelings from the outside world, and hardly feel comfortable enough to let anyone in. In more extreme cases, there might even be a propensity towards denying certain emotions and repressing them altogether. They have a very polished facade & a strong sense of self, and consequently will hardly appreciate breaking out of character.

— Virgo Rising with Leo in the 12H:

· Gift: Virgo risings are known for telling it like it is — their authentic manner of self-expression and courage to confront anything that gets in their way is their signature brand. Though many Virgo risings tend to prefer blending in and going unnoticed, they’re in actuality extremely creative, and will hardly let other people’s narrative steer them at will.

- Struggle: a Virgo rising’s biggest critic is themselves, and oftentimes they tend to forget that their own desire to be perfect may not be shared by others, as most people value authenticity over perfection — leading to Virgo rising natives feeling rejected by those around them, as their desire to advise and help is inextricably linked to their sense of self. They tend not to realize that said advice is often unwarranted and unsought for, consequently taking everything to heart, which may result in them struggling with self-acceptance and vulnerability.

— Libra Rising with Virgo in the 12H:

· Gift: Libra risings have mastered the art of knowing that multiple things can be true at once, & their analytical minds are loaded with insight into hidden dynamics & truths. They tend to favor a practical approach to resolving emotional conflicts, which makes them seem as though they fear & avoid conflict, when in truth they had already assessed the situation and figured out the best path to returning to center.

· Struggle: Libra risings repress thought & opinion to keep the peace, & consequently feel as though their opinions matter less or not at all to those around them — which, once brought up, might come across as a point of confusion to those around them who generally value their insights immensely. They also tend to overanalyze emotions, be it their own or those of others, and thus struggle with expressing deeper feelings, or believing others to begin with, leading to inner conflict.

— Scorpio Rising with Libra in the 12H:

· Gift: Scorpio risings posess the ability to understand subconscious patterns no matter how convoluted they may be. Even at times where they struggle with understanding themselves, their emotions, desires and behavioural patterns, those of others are hardly a secret to them.

· Struggle: the 12th house is a lesson on balance & compromise for Scorpio risings. Their desire for harmony in inner conflicts is often at odds with their own subjectivity & inclination towards taking extremes in their daily lives, so they tend to struggle immensely with balance. They simultaneously obsess over & repress their hidden desires & preferences, leading to power struggles within the self. They also tend to struggle with forming connections with others, whether it’s due to failed past connections or an inherent fear of commitment or merely an extreme sense of detachment.

— Sagittarius Rising with Scorpio in the 12H:

· Gift: Sagittarius risings are known for their fearlessness and inclination towards spiritual & occult pursuits. A Sagittarius rising is never one to say no to or back down from new experiences, and have a sense of freedom that is defining to their personhood. Everyday is a potential new lesson to these people.

· Struggle: the same sense of freedom may lead to their tendency towards escapism. They tend to struggle with confronting their less superficial, deeper emotions, & may repress their anger a lot in their youth — leading to their being a lot more explosive and thrill-seeking in adulthood. Sagittarius risings are the type to prefer trying anything – even things many would advise against, just to prove a point, whether to themselves or others – as they believe they have no teacher other than life itself.

— Capricorn Rising with Sagittarius in the 12H:

· Gift: Capricorn risings are known for their philosophical perspective & optimistic outlook on challenges, which often translates to an ability to grow wiser at a faster rate than their peers. Their beliefs & values play a crucial role in their selfhood, so they tend to invest a lot of time into spiritual pursuits.

· Struggle: the flip side of their beliefs and values shaping their inner world in a way that is hard to get across to others is that they may be the type to struggle with forming connections with people who do not share the same beliefs & philosophies. They also tend to fear failure more than anything, & struggle to surrender to their own place in the grander scheme of things — these two points are inextricably linked and in order to grow past either, you as a Capricorn rising ought to address both simultaneously.

— Aquarius Rising with Capricorn in the 12H :

· Gift: Incredibly disciplined and persevering in confronting their inner fears. Overtime, they tend to develop a sense of stability and self-mastery that is second to none. While not intuitive in the stereotypical sense, they tend to have inexplicable hunches about things that hardly ever turn out to be incorrect. They tend to live well with & within chaos, sometimes at the expense of their well-being.

· Struggle: they tend to repress emotions and have a strong fear of vulnerability, which hinders their ability to form intimate connections and grow emotionally — they feel as though they have a built-in indestructible wall blocking them out & holding them back from everyone else. They may struggle with becoming responsible, or feel as though they matured too soon. Sometimes, it’s a bit of both.

— Pisces Rising with Aquarius in the 12H:

· Gift: Pisces risings are infinitely more rational than they are believed to be. They have an uncanny approach to understanding subconscious patterns, & tend to reason their way through any situation before reaching a judgement. Very insightful people who tend to be incredibly inquisitive as well, and would prod answers out of anyone if they so desire.

· Struggle: Pisces risings tend to isolate often, whether as a way to recalibrate or just out of preference. Natives of this rising sign, especially those with Air moons, often struggle with detachment and may find it hard to relate to statements implying they are inclined towards emotionality. These people often have or had a “weird kid” reputation ascribed to them by their peers that often stuck well into adulthood.

If you’d like a reading, more details can be found here!

#astrology #astro notes #astrological observations #hellenistic astrology #astro observations #astrology signs #astrology readings #zodiac #rising signs #12 houses #12h placements

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pin-k-ink · 9 days ago

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NOISE COMPLAINT ★ KOZUME KENMA

DAY SEVEN ➵ kenma’s neighbor’s the total package—sweet, sexy, and always bringing him dinner like it’s nothing. only problem? the walls are thin, and he’s stuck hearing every second of your late-night hookups. so, he gives you two choices: cut out the noise or bring it straight to him.

cw ➵ dírty talking, teasing, sexúal tension, manhàndling, fingéring, pet names, praise kínk, unprotected séx, mastúrbation, making out, squírting

wc ➵ 6.5k

kinktober masterlist

The muffled thump of the headboard slamming rhythmically into the wall stirred Kenma from his restless slumber. His eyes snapped open, pulse immediately kicking up in dreadful recognition.

Another night, another disturbance bleeding through the paper-thin walls from your apartment.

Even without straining his ears, Kenma could make out the unmistakable sounds - breathy feminine whimpers escalating into desperate cries of rapture...strangled masculine grunts punctuating the squeaking bedsprings...a raunchy symphony of skin slapping against sweat-slicked skin in primal desperation.

He groaned defeatedly into his pillow, already shifting amid the tangled bedsheets as familiar tendrils of heated arousal began lapping through his veins despite his misery. The wearied bags under his eyes seemed to throb in time with the steadily increasing tempo of those obscene noises filtering through the walls.

How many nights had it been now? Three weeks? Four? Kenma had long since lost track of the innumerable bouts of interrupted sleep thanks to your nightly...activities. All he knew for certain was that his admittedly gorgeous new neighbor had ushered in an era of unrepentant sex noise pollution mere days after moving in.

At first, he'd tried to simply tune out the rhythmic slap of headboards and feminine keening in polite embarrassment. You'd seemed so lovely and sweet upon your first meeting - demurely introducing yourself and offering warm smiles while explaining the little homecooked meals you enjoyed preparing for neighbors were just your way of making friends.

Kenma couldn't deny a part of him looked forward to those casual hallway interactions with your radiant presence each week, eagerly anticipating the casual brush of fingers as you passed off those tupperware containers still warm from the oven. Your mere existence exuded such an effortless warmth and caring aura, it was difficult not to bask in your light.

Which made the mortifying initiation into your...nocturnal hobbies that much more shocking upon its inaugural event.

The first time those gasping cries of bliss punched through the stillness and burbled into Kenma's apartment had nearly made him choke on his Mountain Dew. He distinctly remembered pausing his game, whipping his head around in stunned search of the source, only for a particularly lewd crescendo in your orgasmic bliss to solve the mystery.

Heat erupted across Kenma's face and throat in a scalding wave, making his ears ring with visceral clarity of each panted syllable punching through the walls at that moment. His mind's eye immediately conjured the accompanying visuals almost by autonomic instinct - your form convulsing in throes of rapture, radiant features contorted into a rictus of pleasure as a lean, sweat-slicked man plunged relentlessly betwixt your lewdly parted thighs.

Kenma shook his head feverishly, attempting in vain to dislodge the unsolicited glimpse into your most intimate moments. Yet the more frantically he fought against the sensory assault, the more insistently those lascivious details seemed to burn themselves into his consciousness.

In the weeks since that first incident, he'd settled into a torturous routine of being subjected to your impassioned lovemaking sessions through the thin wall separating your living spaces. Each night more partners, more feverish cries, more lurid noises that seeped into Kenma's subconsciousness and bloomed into vivid erotic imaginings he couldn't quite scrub away no matter how desperately he tried.

It didn't help that you seemed to make zero effort to stifle or restrain your amorous escapades, even in deference to respecting your neighbors' needs for undisturbed rest. If anything, the lack of inhibition and abandon with which you flung yourself into intimate pleasures only further stoked Kenma's lurid fascination.

You, the sweet-natured neighbor who cooked him hearty soups and delivered his mail with a smile, indiscriminately enjoyed night after night of mind blowing sex right next door. What's more, by Kenma's rapidly dwindling calculations, you appeared to have a healthy rotation of lovers filtering through to satiate your endless hungers.

Kenma swallowed thickly against the throb pulsing insistently in his throat as you cried out in trembling euphoria once more, that sultry cry shredding through the thin walls and engulfing his feverish cocoon of rumpled sheets. Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, his overwrought body simply refused to remain indifferent to the live pornographic soundtrack mere feet away.

You always did possess a certain magnetic allure, after all - one that initially drew his curious gaze whenever passing you in the halls. Those effortlessly tousled locks framing your radiant features...the serene, perpetually contented expression that put him in mind of a sated feline...the artful swell of your feminine slopes beneath casual clothing, all lush inviting curves just begging to be mapped and—

Kenma bit back a strangled whimper as your husky exhalations spiked up a fevered octave, punctuated by gruff masculine grunts of exertion in tandem. He could practically see your heaving forms through the drywall - those shapely legs scrambling for purchase against rippling masculine musculature...the frantic undulations of your torsos joined at the hips, driving that thick intrusion deeper with each ravenous surge...

"F-Fuck..." he hissed through gritted teeth, shoving one sweat-dampened hand beneath the elastic waistband of his shorts and fisting his swollen cock with aching desperation.

There was no denying the visceral reality any longer. Not when every punched-out whimper and throaty keen from your direction insistently transfigured itself into lurid flashes of you — gloriously nude, hair wild, curves glistening with a sheen of ecstasy as you coiled around whomever's form currently stretched and claimed your tender passages in long, unhurried strokes.

Kenma bit down harder against his plush lower lip until he tasted copper, frantically pumping his dick in time with the obscene rhythms driving the bedsprings into a squealing cacophony mere feet away. Wanton imaginings swamped his consciousness until he swore those velvet cries and muffled snarls resonated directly in his ringing ears.

His jaw slackened around a soundless howl as release detonated at his core like a cascading eruption, hips jerking in desperation as if seeking to bury himself to the root inside your honeyed embrace. Wave after rippling wave of ecstasy crashed over Kenma's nerve endings, leaving him slick and utterly spent, his harsh panting mingling with the tapering aftershocks of your mutual sated bliss.

At least until the inevitable guilt and shame could ebb back in alongside your even breathing slipping back to repose...

"Nnngh..." Kenma groaned in delirious agony, dragging his ruined palm down his sweat-sheened features in vain hopes of scrubbing away the delicious images. "How the fuck am I ever gonna look you in the eyes again after this...?"

But even as he squeezed his eyes shut against the blistering tides of remorse, Kenma couldn't erase the exquisite sensory memories seared behind his fluttering lashes this time. Of you - his sweet neighbor, his considerate friend - transcending all notions of purity and utterly immolating him upon your pyre of salacious rapture unwittingly night after night...

Kenma jolted awake to the intrusive rapping of knuckles against his front door, grimacing as the foggy vestiges of a mere few hours' rest still clung to his consciousness. He pried open bleary eyes to the dim glow of late afternoon filtering through the drapes - courtesy of another marathon night spent tossing and writhing in his own torment.

Even through the thick haze muffling his senses, the unmistakable scent of heavenly spices and savory aromas tickled his nostrils insistently. Kenma groaned in weary realization, scrubbing his hands through his disheveled hair as he forced himself up onto unsteady feet.

With the crisp recollections of the previous night's indulgent fantasies still playing on an endless loop behind his eyes, the very last person Kenma wanted to confront was the living, breathing catalyst itself currently standing on the other side of that door.

But his rumbling belly betrayed him with an insistent pang, fully aware that only one person could be responsible for the mouthwatering scents currently permeating the hallway. Defeat sagged Kenma's slender shoulders as he resigned himself to padding over and cracking the entrance open - only to freeze like a statue in the threshold.

There you stood in all your radiant, soft-lit glory, an easy smile playing over those plump, perpetually kissable lips that recently starred in such salacious reveries. One of your hands remained raised in preparation for another insistent rap while the other clutched an overladen tupperware dish, no doubt positively brimming with your latest home-cooked exploits.

"Kenma! Good, you're awake!" you chirped in that effortlessly warm cadence of yours, smile only brightening upon drinking in his form. "I was worried I missed you again for our usual weekly drop-off here."

Something about the genuine, guileless delight shimmering in your gaze at that simple prospect robbed Kenma's lungs of oxygen. Despite the erotic symphony still echoing through his shattered psyche from the night before, you reflected nothing but that same compassionate sincerity he'd come to associate with your presence over the months.

A cloaked juxtaposition of your debauched indulgences and this affable persona currently gazing up at him with such open warmth and care in your eyes. Kenma's mouth worked uselessly for a few breaths, utterly disarmed by the ease in which you toggled between those two extreme personas now.

"You...uh, I'm sorry...what?" he managed to stammer at last, feeling the heated rush of mortification prickling up the back of his neck.

Your tinkling laughter in response very nearly made his knees buckle treacherously. "Always so spacey in the afternoons, my sweet neighbor," you teased lightly, leaning closer with unmistakable concern creasing your lovely features. "But you look even more out of it today than usual. Everything okay? Did you sleep alright last night?"

The seemingly innocuous question slapped Kenma like a sucker-punch, flooding him with an onslaught of viscerally lurid recollections: of falling into sweaty, helpless raptures mid-fap session while your ecstatic cries echoed through the walls...of straining at his very limits to shove deeper into the phantom sensation of your honeyed, snug cunt swallowing him up in salacious convulsions...of your glistening, disheveled visage branded behind his fluttering lids while scalding release crested through—

"Hey now," your melodic chiding cut through the spiraling haze, utterly oblivious to the torrent of raunchy fantasies swamping Kenma's consciousness in your presence. "Don't you check out on me yet! I asked if you were sleeping okay."

Before he could marshal his thoughts into any semblance of coherent response, your hand darted out with shocking swiftness. Kenma's breath hitched in his throat as your soft, cool fingertips cradled his jawline with infinite tenderness, angling his stunned gaze towards the scrutiny of your concerned perusal.

Up close, you dominated every iota of his senses in an utterly dizzying assault - the rosy warmth of your exhalations caressing his parted lips...the headier, subtler hints of your feminine fragrance wafting into his flaring nostrils...the molten shimmer of attentiveness flickering behind those depthless irises as you drank in every weary nuance playing out across his features...

"Kenma..." you murmured, lips pursing into an adorable pout as your scrutiny traced the dark hollows of fatigue undoubtedly ringing his eyes. "Have you seriously been sleeping properly at all lately? You look absolutely exhausted right now, sweetheart..."

The unconscious endearment sheered whatever tattered scraps of composure remained within Kenma's enfevered psyche. Something seemed to wrench the air from his constricted lungs in a harsh exhalation, leaving him wheezing against the onslaught of forbidden imaginings your simple concern unleashed in his sex-addled mindscape.

He saw it all in the span of one stuttered breath - your tender expression melting into a lascivious smirk of dark promise...those plush lips parting in a wordless summons as you laced your fingers into his shaggy hair and dragged his stunned countenance lower, lower, until—

"It's...complicated," Kenma rasped, averting his gaze as something hot and mortified blazed in the pit of his gut. He hoped the dim hallway obscured the flush now surely mottling his cheeks. "And kind of...a weird situation, if I'm being totally honest."

You hummed a thoughtful note in clear skepticism, hand finally withdrawing from its cradling posture and allowing Kenma's lungs to expand once more. He greedily gulped down oxygen to sooth the embers of temptation smoldering madly at his core. But even that simple reprieve proved only a momentary salve against the sensual assault you presented.

"So..." Your amber eyes flashed with simmering humor and that familiar playful cadence as you cocked one hip out invitingly, "Since you're clearly being a stubborn pain and won't just tell me what's bugging you, how about you at least invite your friendly neighborhood chef inside for a bit?"

You punctuated the ostensibly innocuous declaration with a not-so-innocent swipe of your tongue over those plush lower lips in a subconscious gesture of pure distraction. But in Kenma's current overheated state, the fleeting indecent flash of tongue and teeth made his insides clench with violent, visceral want.

Images of you sinking to your knees before him in wanton invitation sliced through his psyche like lightning forks of arousal. Of trailing that soft, velvet muscle along the rigid length of his swollen cock with maddening leisure before wrapping those sinful lips around the engorged tip and taking him in to the root with one delirious—

"A-Actually," Kenma bit out roughly, shamefully aware of the increased strain in his cotton shorts now as insistent arousal began taking covetous form. "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea after all..."

Because having you in the same airless space after the lurid reveries plaguing his consciousness all night would only tempt fate beyond his already-strained endurance. Kenma wasn't sure just how much punishment his libido could withstand before something inside of him finally snapped and reshaped their dynamic into unknown, precarious territory.

Yet as your smile took on a touch more crestfallen resignation, a reckless part of Kenma couldn't deny the whisper-soft urge to draw you into his space, just to experience more of your physical proximity up close and personal. To stop simply fantasizing his deepest cravings and finally sample the temptation of you in the flesh consequence be damned...

"Okay, fine..." The assent rasped out before he realized the words had even taken shape. "But only for a little while - I really need to try and recharge after...well, everything lately."

A slight frown creased your brow at his vague yet loaded allusion, but you didn't voice whatever reservations flitted behind your chestnut irises in that moment. Instead, you simply brushed past Kenma's slender form into the dimly lit apartment, immediately allowing your feminine presence and intoxicating fragrance to saturate the air with heady invitation.

He stifled a shuddering inhalation through flared nostrils, resolutely shutting the door behind you before trailing after your wandering exploration. Despite the churning uncertainty and liquid arousal thrumming through every nerve ending, Kenma couldn't deny the illicit thrill singing in his veins at having you so casually inserted into his private space.

After nights of fantasizing his most lurid cravings onto your imagined visage and phantasmal presence, the realization that you were finally here in the flesh within touching distance was almost too potent to withstand. Kenma clenched and flexed his hands at his sides as you drifted like living temptation throughout his living room.

"So," you began over one slender shoulder, expression set in casual curiosity. "What exactly is going on with you, Kenma? Nothing serious I need to call emergency services over I hope?"

He swallowed convulsively around the fragmented keening noises threatening to splinter past his composure at any moment. "N-Not exactly. It's...well..."

Seizing your full regard head-on like a grounding lifeline, Kenma searched those attentive, inquisitive depths for enough courage to simply lay his depraved nocturnal admissions bare. Just come out with the blistering truth of how he'd pleasured himself to exquisite heights imagining you in the throes of passion scant feet away for weeks...

But before the words were even halfway formed in his racing thoughts, the reality of uttering such profanities aloud while drowning in the molten sincerity of your concerned stare short-circuited his ability to vocalize. Terror unlike anything Kenma ever remembered experiencing clamped like a vise around his chest at the very notion of shattering the fragile equilibrium between you both into something impossibly precarious.

Yet you only cocked your head to one side with infinite adorable patience, waiting expectantly for the earth-shattering truth to finally manifest. One perfectly manicured hand rose to habitually tuck a stray lock of silken tresses behind your ear - a subconscious gesture Kenma zeroed in on like a laser sight aimed directly at his spiraling libido.

That same lock tumbled free again moments later, your radiant features arranged in studious attentiveness. Just waiting with those utterly captivating doe eyes blinking slowly for him to finally man up and vent whatever profane confessions roiled at the forefront of his psyche.

"I...it's..." Kenma's mouth shaped the syllables, over and over, only for them to die stillborn on his tongue. Until at last, mounting desperation and frustration with his own cowardice propelled him into a blunt truth that fell like a granite guillotine blade between you both.

"I can't stop jerking off to the sounds of you fucking every goddamn night, okay?!"

Dead, viscous silence choked the airless living room as the last echoes of his guttural admission faded into nothingness. For a small eternity, neither of you so much as twitched a muscle - simply stared at each other across the scant few feet of separation with twin expressions of dawning horror on opposite ends of the spectrum.

A fresh wave of shame swamped his senses at your astute observation being laid so bare between them. At the implication that his own tormented cravings had become all too apparent in your innocent presence as of late. Kenma fleetingly considered simply wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole to escape this fresh torment.

But as you reached out to lay one soothing palm over his twitching knuckles in reassurance, a frisson of bone-deep yearning lanced through Kenma's core like a lightning strike. One undeniable truth roared up from those instinctual reserves of masculine hunger - he no longer possessed the willpower to retreat or dissemble from this tipping point you'd instigated.

Either he severed this infected root between them decisively in the next few moments, or surrendered all lingering control and simply seized what his primal urges had been howling for all this interminable time...

"So I have a proposal for you," he growled out in a rumbling baritone far deeper and more bestial than he'd ever heard himself utter before. "You can either cut the shit with your nightly fuckfests right now and give me some goddamn peace and quiet."

Kenma knew his searing glare alone could sear flesh from bone in that instant. But some unraveling part of him no longer had any compunctions about revealing the full breadth of his ravenous wants to you, even through brutally crass demands. Not when your own perpetually teasing presence and unsolicited carnal offerings had eroded away every ounce of his restraint over time.

However your features remained completely unruffled - not a single flicker of surprise or indignation flickering across those serene features marred only by that taunting shimmer of reflected firelight. As if you'd been awaiting this pivotal confrontation and reckoning for just as long as Kenma had been dreading its inevitability deep down.

At last you leaned forward, closing the already scant distance until your exhalations ghosted across his lips in soft bursts of temptation. "What's the other option, sweet neighbor?" You murmured in a husky, sin-glazed timbre that simultaneously sent red-hot lances of hunger spiking through Kenma's veins.

A shuddering inhale of that inebriating floral fragrance of yours was all it took for the final strands of his control to shred asunder. Kenma's hands lanced forward with utterly zero finesse or restraint remaining, fisting twin handfuls of your disheveled tresses to crash your mouths together in a punishing, open-mouthed clash of tongues and teeth.

You swallowed down his guttural snarl of overwhelming relief and possession like a sacramental offering. Your form melted back against the cushions as Kenma's body instinctively pursued, pinning you amidst a feverish tempest of roving hands and slick, carnal violation marking every slick inch of your succulent mouth in lurid ownership.

Finally, you broke away from the devouring kiss with a breathless gasp that stoked the banked fires consuming Kenma even higher. Your eyelids remained hooded to mere slits, dazed and molten with that same fiery promise that had driven him steadily towards the edge of utter madness these last few weeks.

"Or...?" You prompted with a wrecked rasp, somehow echoing his own thundering hunger even while sprawled out in beautiful disarray beneath him.

"Or..." Kenma paused to swallow another fortifying inhale, letting the lingering wisps of your sweet breath swirling between them only stoke his fearless momentum higher. "You let me be the ONLY one plowing that sweet pussy from now on...whenever and however the hell I want. No more random assholes clogging up the rotation, just me stretching you out night after filthy night."

He punctuated the shameless declaration with a forceful grind of his caged erection against the apex of your thighs, savoring your choked mewl of surprised delight. Part of you never wanted this rapturous, primal joining of forms to ever cease. To remain tangled and desperately intertwined with Kenma's lean, quivering frame forever while he plundered your mouth in deep, ravenous sweeps that stoked molten embers throughout your core.

But another part - that same mischievous, teasing part that found such wicked delight in driving your sweet neighbor to the brink of desperation through the walls each night - couldn't resist prolonging this aching torment just a little further.

With a trembling inhale, you summoned what tattered scraps of willpower remained and inched backwards, severing the sultry clash of lips and tongue with a slick pop. Kenma's eyes remained hooded to mere gunmetal slivers, glazed with a deliriously intoxicating lust that robbed you of the very air in your lungs.

"W-wait..." he rasped in a tone shredded from the intensity of your furious make out session. Those long, agile fingers flexed convulsively against your waist as if to reel you back in against his solid planes.

You pressed a finger to those beautifully swollen lips, feeling another sizzling jolt shudder down your spine at his desperate whine of protest. With monumental effort, you dragged your hooded stare up from the lewd distraction of his parted mouth and found his gaze swimming behind a turbulent sea of yearning and frustration.

"Don't worry, sweet neighbor," you breathed in a husky rasp that had his fingers spasming against your hip with renew fervor. "I'm not running off and leaving you like this...not after finally getting a taste of what I've spent weeks dreaming about..."

Kenma's features tightened imperceptibly, throat clicking in a labored swallow as you allowed your hands to trail from his chiseled jaw down the tensed cords of his neck. You knew those clever fingers would be mapping every whisper-soft tremor rippling beneath your touch in achingly intimate detail even through the lust-drunk haze.

"I just..." You ducked your chin to the side, allowing your hair to spill across the delicate arch of your jaw and expose the tender, perfumed hollow of your throat in a subconscious lure. "I think we could both use a little time to cool off after that mind-blowing make out session, no? Let these urges simmer back up to a full boil while we go about the rest of our evenings..."

Your eyes slanted back up to merge with Kenma's molten, hooded stare. Unconsciously, your tongue slipped out in a slow sweep over your parted, slick lips as you drank in the blatantly rapacious promise flickering behind his simmering regard.

"Then later on tonight...I'm going to slip back into your place and we can finally indulge in all those dirty fantasies for real." The husky promise rippled through the airless living room in a sibilant purr. "And this time...there won't be any walls between us to stifle a single sinful sound, sweet Kenma."

He shuddered violently against your palms, sinewy form going taut like a drawn bow as you confirmed what his devouring stare alone had been silently imploring. The raw, hungry sound that slipped free from between his teeth made your knees buckle treacherously.

Before you could react, Kenma surged forward once more to capture your lips in another drugging, open-mouthed clash. But there existed no coy restraint or building heat in this possessive plundering kiss - only the scaldingly intense desperation of a man who had finally glimpsed his darkest temptations writ flesh and realized he couldn't bear to wait a single second longer.

You whimpered against his savagery, fingers splaying against the hewn slabs of his chest as he tilted your skull back and pillaged your mouth without quarter. His hands roamed across your curves with restless authority, as if mapping each silken hollow and slope to pristine, photographic memory for future reference. By the time Kenma finally relinquished your gasping, bite-swollen lips with a filthy groan, you were delirious from the visceral intensity.

"Tonight," he growled with sub-bass resonance into the damp, musky sanctuary of your throat. Each syllable rumbled through your bones like a full-bodied caress. "I don't care if it's five minutes from now or five hours...you WILL come back again like you promised, babygirl. Are we crystal fucking clear?"

The feral heat radiating off Kenma's hypnotically swaying frame threatened to melt you into a prostrate puddle then and there. You could only swallow and nod in meek, stunned surrender as he searched your features with that ravenous intensity you'd only imagined in the most lurid of your late-night reveries.

At last, he seemed to find whatever confirmation of your compliance he required simmering behind your glazed stare. With one final lingering caress over the rapidly blossoming masterpiece of bruises he'd tenderly sucked into the skin of your throat, Kenma released you with obvious reluctance.

You staggered free on shaky legs, hyper-aware of how intimately disheveled you appeared - ruddy blush staining your cheeks, hair tousled and wild, lips swollen from repeated plundering, and the stickied slickness of arousal undoubtedly glistening between your thighs for anyone to see. Kenma remained framed in the doorway like a stoic obelisk of masculine covetousness refusing to let you leave his sight again until the time was right.

With one final, simmering look over your shoulder, you allowed the wrecked promise of tonight to linger between you like a balmier prelude. Then you turned on shaking heels to retreat, every nerve ending screaming out for the interminable wait to simply be over already.

Because in the smoldering aftermath of everything that had transpired, only one sizzling truth remained perfectly crystallized between you and Kenma at last:

There would be no more barriers separating hungry fantasies from rapturous reality any longer. Only the welcoming, inescapable promise of delirium rapidly rushing to consume you both whole once and for all.

The rest of the evening passed in a feverish blur for Kenma. No matter how he tried to distract himself - games, movies, mindless internet browsing - his thoughts remained consumed by you.

He kept replaying your heated makeout session over and over, body thrumming with echoes of your intoxicating taste and softness pressed against him. The featherlight scratches you'd left along his back in your passion had scorched themselves into his memory.

Most of all, Kenma couldn't stop obsessing over your brazen promise to return that very night, ready to shed any remaining barriers between you. Just imagining your beautiful form slipping through his door, eyes hooded with want, made his throat run dry with anticipation.

As the hours ticked by agonizingly slow, Kenma paced restlessly. He found himself checking the time again and again, willing the luminous numbers to flash closer to midnight...to the threshold of when you might appear on his doorstep once more.

A part of him worried whether you'd actually follow through, or if this had all been an elaborate tease. But your half-lidded gaze during your last searing kiss branded the back of his mind, stoking his patience blessedly.

At last, a little past midnight, Kenma's front door buzzer sounded like a cannon shot in the stillness. His heart leapt into his throat as he vaulted off the couch and raced over, peering through the peephole with bated breath.

There you stood in the dimly lit hallway, silhouette cloaked in a large trench coat that swathed your form from collarbone to ankles. A shiver of mingled excitement and confusion went through Kenma - was this your idea of building suspense?

He swiftly unlatched the door and pulled it open. You greeted him with a coy smile that made his pulse spike, stepping over the threshold and brushing past him into the apartment's shadowed interior.

Kenma's brow furrowed slightly as you strode further inside, still swathed in that oversized coat. Despite looking sinfully alluring sheathed in mystery, a small part of him felt a pang of disappointment that you hadn't shed your outer layers yet in preparation.

Swallowing down the brief uncertainty, he closed and re-locked the door, turning to gently grasp your shoulders from behind. His nose instinctively nuzzled the soft hair at your nape, breathing in your sweet, intoxicating scent.

"Should I...help you out of this?" Kenma murmured huskily into your ear. "I was hoping to pick up where we left off earlier..."

With a soft hum of assent, you reached up to lightly clasp his wandering hands. Then, maintaining that coy, heated eye contact, you shrugged the trench coat off in one smooth motion...

...to reveal your gorgeous form left tantalizingly nude beneath the discarded garment.

Kenma's breath stalled in his lungs as his eyes raked shamelessly over your bare skin, drinking in every lush curve and tantalizing dip finally laid bare before his ravenous stare. You really had come to him with no barriers remaining - in more ways than one.

His palms roved downwards, sliding around to splay across your lower stomach and draw you against his front. Your soft gasp as Kenma's hardness pressed against your backside made his pulse leap with visceral satisfaction.

"Do you like what you see, sweet neighbor?" Your voice dripped like honey, a sensual purr of temptation.

"You have no fucking idea," Kenma growled. His fingertips traced a slow path up the plane of your stomach to cup both breasts in his palms, savoring their weight and plush fullness.

A choked sound slipped from your throat as he teased and rolled your nipples, alternating his grip on your ample flesh. Kenma's lips latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing and nipping a trail along its length until he reached the fluttering hollow of your pulse point.

The salty-sweet tang of your skin flooded his tongue as he suckled, savoring the way your hips ground back against his erection. One hand slipped away from your breasts to travel downwards, skimming along your supple curves with reverent exploration.

By the time his questing fingertips brushed over your mound, Kenma was throbbing painfully with need. But he wanted to enjoy this moment, to drink his fill of you in the flesh before he claimed what was his.

As if sensing his ravenous intent, you parted your legs invitingly and arched back against his chest. Kenma groaned into your throat, dipping two fingers into the soaked seam of your pussy and coating his digits in your arousal. He spread you open, pressing down on your swollen clit while pumping his fingers in and out. Your whimpers of encouragement made his cock ache, his free hand gripping your hip tightly for support.

"F-Fuck...I've been dreaming about this pussy for weeks," Kenma moaned against your jaw, grinding his clothed erection against your ass. "It feels even better than I imagined."

Your hands rose to wind around the back of his neck, fingers twining into his hair as his deft fingertips plunged deeper and faster. He could feel you starting to tremble, breathy whines slipping from your throat as you arched into his touch.The knowledge that he'd driven you so far so quickly sent a jolt of primal triumph through his chest.

Kenma shifted his hold, sliding his other hand around to the apex of your thighs and sinking his thumb into your dripping core. His palm curled, providing pressure against your engorged clit while he pumped and scissored his digits inside your molten walls. Your spine arched against him, gasping moans echoing in the air as his fingers thrust and rubbed mercilessly.

"Come on, babygirl. You've been a naughty little tease to me for weeks, haven't you?" Kenma growled. "Time for a little punishment."

The added friction against your clit was too much for you to handle. With a strangled cry, your release crashed over you, pussy clenching down on his fingers and soaking his palm. Kenma moaned at the sensation, burying his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply as you rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Slowly, his grip eased as you came down, easing his fingers free from your soaked folds. With a groan, Kenma lifted his cum-soaked digits to his mouth and licked them clean, savoring your sweetness. He was so entranced, he didn't notice you had turned to face him until your tongue lapped up the remainder of your arousal, sealing your mouths in a fierce, devouring kiss.

His arms locked around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest. Your lips parted on a sigh, allowing his tongue to plunge inside and share your essence. You tasted exquisite, a heady cocktail of feminine want and salty-sweet arousal that went straight to Kenma's cock.

He backed you into the living room, never breaking the kiss, until the couch hit the backs of your knees. You sank down onto the cushions, dragging him with you. Your thighs parted, allowing Kenma's hips to settle between them. The sudden proximity of his throbbing erection made you moan into his mouth, sending another jolt of pleasure down his spine.

After a few moments, Kenma broke away, panting heavily. He reached up to palm the back of his shirt, shucking it off over his head in a single smooth motion. The sight of your eyes trailing hungrily across his naked chest made his cock twitch, a growl rising from his throat as he dipped his head to nip and lick a fiery path along your throat.

His fingers tugged and yanked at his pants, trying desperately to free his aching erection. At last, Kenma succeeded, kicking the unwanted garment off and wrapping a firm hand around his cock. Your breath hitched as his hardness brushed against your dripping entrance, rubbing the sensitive tip up and down your slit.

Kenma braced one arm above your head, propping himself up so he could drink in your reactions. The other hand gripped his base, guiding his length to your core. With a groan, he slid the crown between your dripping lips, nudging your clitand making you gasp.

"Look at me, babygirl," he demanded, waiting until your eyes met his. "I want to see you as I'm fucking this sweet pussy for the first time."

Your eyelids fluttered, lips parting on a ragged exhale. Kenma smirked, his cock throbbing at the way your expression tightened with desperation and hunger. Slowly, he eased the tip inside, moaning at the exquisite heat and pressure.

"You're mine now, understand?" Kenma growled, eyes burning into yours. "No one else gets to see this pretty pussy, hear those filthy sounds, taste this sweet cunt...just me. Say it."

You nodded, whimpering as his thickness stretched you open. "Just...yours...fuck!"

With a snarl, Kenma thrust the rest of the way in, filling you completely. Your back arched, mouth dropping open on a sharp gasp. You were so tight and wet, he had to fight the urge to spill inside you immediately.

Gritting his teeth, Kenma eased out slowly before thrusting in again. The slide of your slick heat along his cock was sublime, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. He began pumping his hips, savoring the sounds you made as he took you with slow, deep thrusts.

Your hands scrambled along his chest, nails scoring red lines into his skin. Kenma hissed, snapping his hips harder. He was already addicted to the way you reacted to his every move, the way your pussy squeezed his cock and how your eyes never left his.

"Fuck, you’re so hot," Kenma panted, grinding his hips. "Can’t believe I get to fuck you whenever I want, babygirl. Got this tight little cunt all to myself."

Your only reply was a keening whine, body rocking into his as his pace increased. Kenma knew you were getting close, could feel your walls beginning to flutter around him. He was too, his balls already tightening with impending release.

One hand trailed down to rub circles around your clit, eliciting a string of cries and whimpers. Kenma fucked you relentlessly, his free hand reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair. The combination of sensations pushed you over the edge, pussy clenching down hard on his cock and making him hiss.

Kenma groaned as you came, feeling the hot spray of your arousal as it drenched his length and thighs. His hips pistoned faster, chasing his own orgasm as you gasped and writhed beneath him. It didn't take long, not with the way your cunt was practically milking his cock.

With a guttural shout, Kenma came, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss. He kept thrusting, drawing out his orgasm, until finally he had to break away, gasping for breath.

Kenma collapsed on top of you, resting his head on your chest. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you close as his cock softened inside you. You nuzzled his hair, one hand coming up to stroke his sweat-dampened strands.

For several minutes, you remained intertwined like that, basking in the afterglow. Finally, Kenma reluctantly withdrew from your heat, rolling over and tucking you against his side. His hands trailed idly up and down your back, reveling in the softness of your skin.

"So..." You broke the silence first, tilting your head up to look at him. "Same time tomorrow?"

Kenma's lips twitched, a smirk curling at the edges. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not letting you leave my apartment for the next three days, at the very least."

You raised an eyebrow, though your teasing smile remained firmly in place. "Oh, really? And here I was thinking you were more of the reserved type, sweet neighbor."

"Well...you tend to bring out the worst in me," he retorted, a low purr rumbling through his chest as he drew you closer. "But don't worry. I have every intention of punishing you for all the trouble you've caused."

Kenma could already feel himself growing hard again, his spent cock beginning to thicken once more. You squirmed against him, biting your lip and shivering as his fingers slipped down to trace the soaked seam of your pussy.

"In fact," he murmured, nipping at the delicate shell of your ear, "let's get started on that right now."

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