#how to remove false content

[truthandadvocacy]

📄 “You don’t need a lawyer to start. You need persistence.” This blog is for anyone who’s ever been dragged online, lied about, or erased by strangers. Here’s how I fought back — and how you can too. 👉 https://calvinleehardie.blog/2025/07/12/how-i-fought-back-and-how-you-can-too #CalvinHardie #ReclaimYourName #RightToBeForgotten #DigitalJustice #FightBack

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiii!! Can i request an imagine with 141 about reader trying to convinced them that they forgot about their date?? Were reader gets ready with fancy clothes and make-up, but there's actually no date planned.

hehehe, I love all the prank prompts I receive in my inbox. They're so fun to write, and stressing our fav men out is my favorite pastime. This one is pure fun. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 X Female Reader

Content & Warnings (mdni): established relationship, swearing, shenanigans, brief suggestive themes, dad!Soap

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Are we not going?”

Kyle glances away from the television, doing a double-take when he notices your outfit. It’s by no means glamourous, but it’s clear that you’re heading somewhere.

He sits up abruptly, gaze taking in every inch of you. “Going where?” he asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

“It’s date night,” you state simply, as if this was always supposed to happen.

It’s not. There is no plan. You’re simply fucking with him.

Kyle nods. Continues nodding. “You’re right, doll. It is.” He pops up from the sofa, turning off the rugby match. The man isn’t even questioning it.

Good boy.

He smiles, the kind that always seems to stun you and make you a flustered mess. “Didn’t notice the time,” he teases, kissing you on the cheek.

You decide to poke at him a bit, just because you’re curious.

“We won’t be late for the reservation?” you ask. “Though you said we’d be leaving around this time?” You discreetly peek over your shoulder.

Kyle removes his phone from his pocket, fingers hurriedly dancing across the screen. But when he speaks, his voice is clear and void of panic.

“Not at all, love,” he shrugs. “We have plenty of time.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Why aren’t you dressed?” You sound so innocent, so sure in your words even though they drip with falseness. “Aren’t we leaving soon?”

Johnny nearly stumbles as he stops in his tracks. “What?” he squawks, clearly caught off-guard by your questions.

The youngest of your three children clings to his left leg like a koala. The middle child is tucked under his arms, his limbs flailing as he pretends to swim. The third bounces on her toes, tugging on Johnny’s free hand, causing him to lean in her direction with every yank.

You’re dressed up, makeup done like the two of you have a date planned.

There is no date.

“It’s not date night,” he stammers.

“Date! Date! Date!” chant the children.

Johnny’s cheeks flush, his eyes darting around as he tries to draw up a conversation that never happened.

“My mistake,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “I’ll change.”

“Hold on, now.” Johnny wrangles two of the three, dropping them onto the sofa as they giggle with laughter. The youngest still clings to his leg as he walks over to you, voice going low. “Don’t change.”

“Why not?” you laugh.

Johnny’ s gaze scans you in hunger. “I like it.”

John Price

“We heading out?”

You pop into the living room, dressed up for a fancy date that isn’t even scheduled. John glances up from his crossword, taking you all in with a slow sweep of his gaze. The pencil in his hand swishes back and forth like he’s searching for a word in his puzzle and not consuming you with his eyes.

There is no date. Nothing is planned. But John is easy to rile up, and you have such fun doing it.

John nods in understanding. With a heavy sigh, he pushes up to a seated position, gently tossing the crossword puzzle and pencil onto the coffee table.

“You’re right, doll. We are heading out.” Placing his hands on his knees, John stands with a grunt. “But you need to change.”

“Why can’t I wear this?”

John blinks. “We’re going fishing, love. That’s what I planned.” With an easy saunter, John approaches, tugging on your ear playfully. “Or did you forget?”

Shit.

Caught.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

You give him your best smile. “Fishing?” You glance out the window at the night sky. “At this hour?”

John matches your smile, and you know he knows.

“Said it was fine, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You lean against the bathroom doorframe. Simon slowly turns. The lower half of his face is covered in a thin layer of shaving cream, the right side finished, the razor ready to start on the left. His gaze sweeps up and down, taking in your appearance.

Dressed for a night out. Makeup flawless.

“Nearly done?” you ask with a tease in your tone.

“Yes,” he replies, the word drawn out in hesitation. His gaze narrows.

“Have you picked out what you’re wearing?”

Simon’s lowers the razor. He sets it aside. With only half of his face done, Simon looks a little ridiculous.

“And what am I dressing for?”

Oh. He’s not taking the bait.

“A date.”

“A date,” he repeats.

You nod.

Simon sucks his teeth. Shakes his head. “You’re a devil sometimes,” he murmurs, grabbing a hand towel to wipe away the remaining shaving cream.

“Am I?” you counter, noting the change in his posture.

“Devilish.” Simon drops the towel. “Mischievous.” Turns in your direction. “Naughty.”

You swallow. Back up a step.

“Simon,” you warn, but he’s wanting something else.

Simon places a hand on the doorframe, leaning in until you tingle everywhere. “I know there’s no date, love.”

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—geto showing gojo how to fuck you like you deserve

pairing: geto x fem! reader x gojo

content: smut, voyeurism, cuckholding, creampie, cunnulingus, cum eating (gojo eats geto’s cum out of you), praise, degradation, hair pulling, fingering, fingering, consensual cheating, overstimulation, choking

a/n: i’m really sorry for the repost, tumblr flagged the first one :’)

Geto showing Gojo how to fuck you, Gojo’s darling little girlfriend, just right. Gojo sitting on the single sofa in the two’s shared living room. With Geto on the large one and you on his lap with long fingers deep inside you, curling against your g spot as he pumped them in and out. His other hand was wrapped tightly around your neck, forcing you to keep direct eye contact with your boyfriend.

Gojo gulped hard as he felt his boner grow impossibly harder, straining against his pants as his face grew hot at the sight. Soft moans and pants were leaving your pretty lips as your body jerked with every thrust of Geto’s fingers. “See that? I’m barely even doing anything and she’s becoming a mess.” Geto scoffed, giving you no warning as he began hammering his long fingers into you at a rapid pace.

The curled digits were hitting your spot so perfectly, making you cry out loudly in pleasure. Your legs threatening to close as you whimpered, letting out a yelp when Geto slapped your thigh in warning. “Behave, slut.” You whimpered once more, teary eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as your mouth hung open in pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck.. feels.. f-feels so good,” you moaned, eyes closing as you tried to lean back against the huge man.

“Look at him. Look at your boyfriend try to contain his boner.” Geto increased the pressure on your throat, keeping your head in place as you looked towards Gojo who kept looking away. “Bet he’s never even made you feel this good,” he falsely cooed, sending Gojo a smirk before focusing his attention back on you.

A loud moan escaped your throat when Geto inserted a third finger, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. His fingers curling against your gummy walls, and you could do nothing but whimper and cry as you neared your orgasm. “A-ah—” you mewled “m gonna, ngh— ‘m g-gonna cum,” you moaned, body starting to tremble as you felt a not so familiar coil building up in your stomach.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers and show your boyfriend what he could never do?” You nodded vigorously, your head empty as you babbled out little yeses and pleases. Geto’s eyes connected with his roommate’s, a teasing smirk on his face, “you know, you can get off to me ruining your girl if you’d like, there’s no shame in it,” he shrugged.

Gojo scoffed, rolling his eyes as he cussed the black haired man under his breath. Geto brought his lips down to your ear, “as for you, you don’t get to come until you’re nothing but a brain less slut on my cock.”

With that, the man removed his fingers from your now fluttering hole, causing you to whine out in protest, tears pooling in your eyes as you felt the coil slowly subside.

Geto lifted you up with ease, placing you on your hands and knees with your face towards Gojo before filling you up immediately. His length reaching deep inside you making you let out a soundless scream. Geto started off rough, fucking into you like he had nothing for you but hatred.

His hips slammed bruisingly against your ass, cock bullying its way against your g spot with every merciless thrust. Your eyes rolled back as you let him flatten your cheek onto the cushion of the chair. Drool pooling near the side of your mouth as you were rocked back and forth at a speed that seemed humanly impossible.

Your head was foggy, loud sobs and incoherent moans of his name spilling past your lips. “C’mon, you can do better than that. Let him know who’s making you feel this good,” Geto grunted.

“Y-you— fuck- you are, ahh,” you let out a loud cry, “you’re making me- nghh— making me feel this good. Can feel you so deep,” You whimpered, hesitantly looking towards your boyfriend’s direction to find him cock in hand, trying his hardest to match his fist to the rhythm of his friend’s thrusts.

Gojo groaned loudly when his eyes met yours, the sight of your fucked out face sending blood straight to his dick. Geto chuckled at the other male, gripping onto the curve of your waist as he continued to hammer into you, angling himself to hit all the right spots to drive you crazy.

You mewled as you arched your back, his cock practically pushing against the skin of your lower stomach with each movement of his hips. “There we go..” he cooed, watching as your face contorted into one of a pretty little slut who craved nothing but cock. His cock.

“See that? This is exactly what the bitch needs to look like. Like there’s nothing else in the world but your cock fucking into her, isn’t that right baby?” he groaned.

“Mhm!” you cried.

“Fucking hell- you’re so tight, feels like you’re gonna break me in half,” Geto grunted. And all you did was let out an incoherent babble in response, barely even registering his words as you were fucked into oblivion. Your eyes teary with nothing but pleasure.

Stars clouded your vision and your toes curled as you neared your release, “S-suguru.. ‘m gonna cum, please let me cum. Wanna be your good girl ‘n cum on your cock,” you cried out in between broken mewls, eyes puffy as you tried to look back at him.

“You’re an even bigger slut than I thought, I hope your little boyfriend is taking notes on how to treat his slutty little girlfriend.” his voice was deep and raspy as he neared his own high. “Go ahead- fuck, look him in the eyes and cum for me.”

You let out a string of high pitched moans when he began to rub your clit, your brain fuzzy as glassy eyes looked towards Gojo. His mouth opened in pants and groans as he approached his orgasm with you. “Ngh— ahh. Gonna cum Suguru- ‘m a good girl right? P-please tell me ‘m a good girl,” you whined.

Geto’s eyes widened, his dick twitching at the pure desperation in your voice as you begged to be praised. He smirked, watching your ass recoil with each of his harsh thrusts. He hummed, “Such a good fucking girl for me, taking me so well.” His breathing getting heavier by the second, “Fuck, you’re my good girl baby.”

You let out a high pitched cry, “T-thank you, thank you, oh god ‘m cumming— nghh.” Eyes never leaving your boyfriend’s as your body quivered, pussy tightening as you came all over another man’s cock.

Gojo did not take long to follow after you, “Oh f-fuckk.” he groaned out as his body spasmed, fist halting around his reddened cock as his cum spilled onto his stomach in hot spurts.

Satisfied, Geto pulled you up by your hair, your back arched against his chest as he continued to fuck into you relentlessly. Pulling out another loud string of moans from your swollen lips. His head fell back, never slowing his pace as he reached closer and closer to his release.

He grunted, his breath hot on your ear when he let out a long groan. “Gonna cum in you baby— gonna fuck you full and make your boyfriend eat you out.” He whispered, his dark eyes meeting Gojo’s hungry ones.

“You’d love that won’t you baby?” you nodded with a shaky whine at his teasing coo, feeling his thrusts becoming hard and slow.

Geto let out a string of curses, stilling inside you and allowing his cum to fill your tight pussy to the brim. A glare on his face when Gojo opened his mouth to protest.

“That’s it. Take my cum deep. This is exactly how pretty little sluts like you need to be treated.” he coaxed, slowly pulling out of you for the milky substance to seep out your hole in spurts.

“Now, Satoru. Come clean her up.” his deep voice demanded. Sitting back with you on his thighs. His rough hands spreading your legs open towards your boyfriend.

Your folds glistened with your wetness, his cum slowly dripping out of you as you clenched around nothing. “Come on. You know you want to.”

Gojo stood up. Being stopped by Geto who grinned.

“Crawl.”

Gojo huffed lowly, getting down on his knees and crawling his way over to you. His tongue swiping over his lips before he found his head buried between your thighs. A soft whimper sounding from your throat at the light overstimulation to your sensitive clit.

Gojo licked up your folds, sucking both your sweetness and geto’s saltiness onto his tongue. You moaned loudly when he latched his mouth onto the small bud, his tongue swirling around it making a string of cries fill the room.

Geto watched in amusement as his friend devoured your sopping pussy. His long tongue dipping into your hole and curling into your painted walls. You let out a mewl, your head resting on Geto’s hard chest as your boyfriend used you as his meal.

“O-oh, S-Satoru baby,” you mewled, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging with every movement of his wet tongue. “F-fuck— so good.” you let out a broken cry when Gojo thrusted two of his slender fingers into you. Lewd squelching sounds echoing the walls as he fucked them into you.

Your pussy gushed onto his hand, the man’s skilled tongue unable to keep up with your leaking juices. Your eyes rolled back when he sucked on your clit once more, body shaking lightly at the sensitivity.

Geto smiled, kissing down your neck while running his thumb along your bottom lip. Slipping it inside and pressing it at the back of your tongue. He hummed, “Think we should feed his lil ego?” Your head tilting to the side to let him graze the skin of your neck with his teeth. “Make a mess on his tongue?”

You twisted and turned as your second orgasm washed over you. You were so sensitive, trying to squirm away but having your legs held tightly opened by Geto. “O-oh fuck— ahh, ‘s too much.”

Gojo moaned into you, his face becoming more drenched by the second as he feasted on your wetness. Hungrily lapping up everything you had to give. Your pussy squirting messily against the force of his fingers inside you.

“Look at that,” Geto teased, “Finally made your girlfriend squirt.”

Gojo kept on with his torture, loud whines and mewls falling past your lips as he became drunk on your pussy. His eyes closed and his mouth latched onto you tight. His face moving along with the movements of your hips trying to escape him.

“S-satoru— nngh- too much.” you sobbed, your legs twitching and your hips jerking as your back arched, your boyfriend getting back to almost painfully licking at your clit. “Satoru, ‘m too sensitive- fuck.” Gojo only looked up at you with half opened eyes, the only thing on his mind being how fucking good you tasted on his tongue.

Geto groaned, your teary face making his dick rock hard again. “Give him one more yeah? You can take it.”

Your second one did not take long to engulf you whole. Your legs trembling once more as you cried out loudly. Mewls of Gojo’s name falling from your tongue as your stomach tightened, pussy spilling even more onto his face. Gojo kept his face buried in you, tongue still making its final laps despite your constant whimpers.

“Okay now, that’s enough.” Geto laughed, peeling Gojo off of you by his hair. Your boyfriend letting out a groan as he tried to latch back onto you. “Gotta get our girl cleaned up now.”

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

i’m sorry but this is so shitty. i get not wanting to see nsfw of your characters, and i totally respect any creator setting boundaries and asking people not to send them that stuff. HOWEVER, you have to accept that once you make your characters public, people are going to treat them in ways you don’t personally like.

making a COPYRIGHT FORM so people go on a witch hunt, just so you can copyright strike them (falsely, mind you. fanfic and fanart fall under transformative works) is such a gross thing to do.

it doesn’t matter if the characters were based off your childhood, or personal experiences. it doesn’t matter how tightly you want to guard them and keep them safe and pure. the only solutions are setting boundaries between you and your fanbase, removing the characters from public eye and stop making content for them publicly, or learn to ignore it.

going all anne rice over people sexualizing a character is not the way to go though.

[cloverandstuff]

Let's overanalyze the recent cover art

The art all have the symbolic red flowers that have been forever tied with Alien Stage. Every single person has one that corresponds to them. They all seem to symbolise love.

First up is MiziSua, with the song 'My Clematis'

The two are staring at each other, both wide-eyed. They share some eye-contact, though not fully.

Mizi is staring at Sua, but mainky takes not f the petak that has fallen, choosing to swipe it off her face. Maybe it symbolises how she sees Sua as perfect and will make actions to correlate to that?

Sua seems to be slightly surprised, but still atares openly at Mizi while she stays still, letting the petal be removed. She also seems to be a bit flustered by the attention.

Mizi has two flowers placed in her hair, delicately placed in a way that makes it seem intentional that Sua placed it there with care. Meanwhile, Sua has a flower crown as well as a basket of flowers.

To me, it adds to how much Mizi loved Sua. Mizi was blunt with how her favourite person was Sua, and how much she showered her eith affection that was never truly subtle. She treated her like her goddess, and that what I think is seen eith how the flower crown is shapped literally like a tiara/crown.

It's not to say that Sua loved Mizi any less (as i suspect the basket of flowers represents her love for Mizi) but she was more careful with her love. More gentle and more subtle. She loved carefully because she treated Mizi as someone to protect.

Next is Ivantill, with their song Cure.

Something I noticed first is the expressions. Specifically, Till's expression. Ivan has the same expression when he tries to be annoy Till, demanding his attention for even a moment. But Till is smiling, though he looks a bit caught off-guard and maybe even confused. His collar isn't red or even yellow, meaning he does not feel any danger at that moment.

Ivan does not have any flowers as far as we can see. Instead he seems to have made a flower crown, dumping it on Till's head randomly and carelessly. He didn't bther to properly place it on the head, he just dropped it from a distant height.

This could symbolise how, in Cure, Ivan's love was shown randomly and carelessly, keeping a distance and avoiding a proper response. He just kissed Till suddenly and then got shot to death.

Till is caught off guard, but he does not seem to register any true danger. Instead, he is holding a flower crown of his own that does not have a clear recipient. But it seems obvious eith the pattern of the covers, that this was meant for Ivan. It's still in his hands though, eith no sign being made that he was gonna give it, just that it's there.

This could show how Till's love is present, it exists. But it never got a chance to be shown, still clutched in his hands. He is not readyto give it just yet and was never given the oppurtunity, with the distance Ivan kept subconsciously when it came to his love. Till could have actually loved Ivan, but the chance was never truly there.

Finally, we get to Hyuluka with their song Wiege

Their expressions are a clear view of their childhood dynamic.

Hyuna was always fond of Luka finding amusement in whatever he did, and show affection for the boy openly, even not yet romantic.

Luka constantly stares at Hyuna, and he stares here as well. He does not show any clear emotion but he seems to be content letting Hyuna do as she pleases with his hair.

The flowers in Hyuna's hair are placed woth false security, stems poking out, and easily able to fall. But two to wrap around a clutch of hair, still carelessly made but ever-present.

This can symbolise how Luka's love is childish and careless. He does not know to properly show affection as he was never taught to do so, which leads him to act on instant, which means being affectionate based on instinct. Like the flowers just shoved into the hair, Luka shoves his love onto Hyuna.

Luka is in the middle of getting flowers placed in his hair, with a few already being placed. They are placed there carefully, but Hyuna unsure how to place the last bunch, messing up Luka's hair a bit.

This could show how Hyuna was in the middle of learning to accept her love for Luka. She was unsure of how to love him, or why she even did. But she still loved him, though she would still want to confuse him, get a moment of revenge against him.

[nghtwngs]

I need a bob fic where reader is part of the thunderbolts and they start to notice small things from their room going missing, panties, chapstick, food wrappers, etc. and one day they catch bob in the act and instead of finding it creepy they find it cute. Blah blah blah they end up fucking

18+ mdni, dark content, perv!bob reynolds x reader, vaginal fingering, implied masturbation (bob), panty stealing, no pronouns for reader, first time writing a dark fic so hopefully this isn’t completely shit haha…

“What the hell? Where is it?” You frantically search through your bag, gaining Ava’s attention.

“What is it?” she asks, peering over your shoulder.

“My favorite lip balm. Ugh, I already lost the last one I had, and it was like twenty dollars. No way I lose it twice.” You continue digging through your items to no avail, turning your head to look at her. “Right?”

She shrugs. “Maybe Alexei found it. He’s been obsessed with lip balms ever since he found out chapstick is pretty much useless. But I think your real problem is that you’re buying twenty dollar lip balm in the first place.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot of nice products…” You sigh, nearly giving up after already an hour of rummaging through all of your stuff. “That one is just the one thing I like to splurge on a little.” You huff, crossing your arms. “It’s like something is eating up all my stuff. I lost a sock the other day too. It might just be that dumb, loud washing machine Valentina refuses to replace. I think she’s just keeping it there to spite us.”

“That thing is annoying,” Ava says, “but I’ve never lost anything before. I don’t remember anyone else complaining about having lost something either. Well, except that one time two weeks ago when Alexei lost his sunglasses, and we were making bets on how long it would take him to realize they were sitting on his head.”

“Ugh, I was really so close on that one too.”

He doesn’t hear you when you arrive just outside your bedroom door or when you’re twisting the knob to let yourself in. But he does hear the shock in your sweet voice when you try to ask him, so utterly confused as to why he’d be standing in your room, “Bob? What are you…”

His hand is still deep inside the drawer where you keep all your underwear—and suddenly, it’s like everything magically clicks into place. You should probably go apologize to that dumb washing machine for falsely accusing it of theft when the real thief is right in front of you, his cheeks blushing furiously.

Bob removes his hand from your dresser, hiding it behind his back like a child caught red-handed. “I can explain—“

“—What exactly?” you ask, scoffing as you cross your arms. “That you’ve been stealing all my shit like a pervert? You could’ve just asked, you know. Were you too shy to?”

“I…” He gulps, still burning with red-hot embarrassment as he says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“You steal my sock too?” You cock your head, an cruel grin growing on your face. “What could you have possibly done with that, huh?” You step closer towards Bob, glancing down at your panty collection. “Which one were you looking for? Or were you just pursuing?”

“The… the thin, light pink ones,” he softly answers, unable to meet your eyes. “I saw them when you were doing laundry the other week…”

“You won’t find them in there.”

You hum quietly, gently grabbing the hand that had been stuck deep in your underwear drawer and guiding it towards the waistband of your tiny skirt. Bob glances up at you, and you nod slightly. Rather than lifting the fabric up, he tentatively tugs it down to glimpse at the panties you currently had on—blush pink, the pair that had him fucking your sock just two weeks ago, imagining it was you.

It’s not long before Bob has you sat in front of him on the foot of your mattress, fingers pushing in and out of your drooling cunt in a steady rhythm. His other hand paws at your chest, thumb, wet from your saliva, swirling around your hardened nipple. When his fingers find that one spot that makes your thighs twitch and your walls clench, he lets out a breathy sound of pride. The hand that had been playing with your breast moves up to your whimpering mouth, fingertips pressing against your plush lips before gliding inside.

You’d already imagined something like this before, but your imagination pales in comparison to whatever this is. His fingers are stuffed so tightly inside you that your spit begins to spill out and drip down the two fingers he’s got in your mouth. A sad, little whine escapes your throat when he pulls his fingers out of you, beginning to circle the pad of his middle finger around your wet hole. He uses more pressure, pressing it into your clenching flesh without ever pushing it back inside, eliciting more gasps from you as you beg him for more.

“B-bob,” you call his name once his fingers glide out of your mouth, whining.

You feel way too empty, but you know you’re in no position to be making demands with the way he’s got you spread out like this. The part of your brain that’s completely melted from him fingering you pleads otherwise, however.

“Hm?” He’s really not trying to tease you, but he can’t help but make you wait a little. Seeing you all needy like this for just his fingers is doing wonders for his ego. And his cock.

“I need you.”

“Need what?”

“To… make me come…” you mutter under your breath before adding on for good measure, “Please.”

“You’re so sweet,” he coos, the pads of his middle and index fingers easily finding your clit, marveling at how wet you’ve become.

Your pretty folds are drooling down your sheets, but you probably won’t mind. He’ll volunteer to wash your bedsheets if you’ll keep letting him fuck you like this. You’re squeezing around nothing, one of your hands clutching the forearm of the hand he’s got wrapped around your thigh, keeping you open for him. He hadn’t even bothered to remove your underwear earlier, only sliding it to the side and away from your slit. The pink fabric now a darker shade from your own arousal.

Bob starts to feel your peak approaching once he’s slid his fingers back inside you to give you some relief. He can’t help it when he’s got the prettiest thing moaning his name like that. Your sounds of pleasure continue to grow louder, and he feels your cunt grow tighter around his hand. He picks up the pace, quickly pistoning his fingers inside your spasming walls to help you reach your high.

“I’m—Bob, I’m gonna cum—“ With another cry of his name, your orgasm washes over you, drawn out by the continuous force of his fingers fucking you, palm meeting your clit with delicious pressure.

You let out a string of breathless curses, limp in his embrace. He kisses up your neck to your temple sweetly. Another serene moment passes before you mumble, “Do you have my black pair of underwear? I wanted to wear it today. Couldn’t find it.”

“Maybe…” he replies in a sheepish tone, plucking at the waistband of your pink panties. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“And my sock?”

“You probably don’t want it back…”

[batchilla]

False Accusations (You know I KNOW right? Chapter Two)

Let me first say thank you for all the kind reception part one received. It was … a surprise, and a welcome one.

Also, a massive thank you to @sunnie-angel for beta reading. If you haven’t read their work… Do yourself a favor and check out their masterlist!

This Chapter takes place over a few days in two mini stories., and I would appreciate being told if at any point this causes confusion. Currently how I’ve done it is as tilted segments. Content warning: this chapter has themes of sexual harassment in the workplace up to the point of groping (from an OC), and corruption. Proceed with caution. Be safe.

The morning after. You are going to murder your partner, Grayson. Perhaps with a gun. Maybe your own two hands. Or maybe you just need coffee.

It's probably the coffee thing. Coffee, then you’ll decide if you're going to kill him and how. As you sit at your table, surrounded by notes you’d made at 4am, the urge to throttle Grayson slowly subsides. You hadn’t slept a wink. You’d had a weird night. But if you were going to do this, help him find this killer… you’d need a plan for if it all goes to hell. A diversion. A plan so that if you’re made, maybe the killer will think you’re on the wrong track. A dummy investigation. But simultaneously one that you won’t overthink, so that you can devote your time and brainpower to the truth. Luckily for you, you have the perfect person to pretend to accuse. After all, your partner, Grayson, is an incredibly weird guy. 8:55 am finds you walking into the station sipping your third coffee of the morning, only to find Grayson sat at his desk. Shirt pressed, tie perfect, hair shampoo commercial glamourous yet slightly messy. The urge to murder your partner returns, just a little. How dare he be so… normal? So unaffected? How dare this man fight crime by night, and be smiling at you as he is now, chipper and bright and perfect, before 9am? The nerve. Maybe you could hit him with a patrol car and claim it was an accident. “Morning detective… Long night?”

Oh.. This fucker. Your partner, Grayson, is the most annoying man alive. You hate how badly you have to fight the urge to grin at the sheer audacity.

She looks exhausted, the poor thing. Dick remembered the feeling, but at some point he’d adapted to running on less sleep than was by any means reasonable. He hoped she wouldn’t need to. That this would be over in a few weeks and she’d be back to getting a full eight hours. “Morning Detective… Long night?” She glares at him like he’s caused personal offence. He raises an eyebrow at her to prompt a response. Inside though, he panics. Had he done something wrong? Could she suspect? No. no of course not. But whatever she said next would surely be important. It was a test of sorts. What would she say she’d spent the night doing? Would she betray his alter ego? Could she sell the lie if she didn’t? “Just had a night in, had a little too much to drink,” she shrugs, opening her bag and removing a notebook. Casual, calm, partially true and nearly impossible to disprove short of a blood test or breathalyser, and even then there was deniability. Dick nods, and looks back down to his computer to hide the grin that splits his face in half. He knows he can’t dwell on it, knows he can’t act on it, but it’s completely unfair that she was that smooth. That helpful. She’d agreed to help him - as Nightwing - instantly. Her words about how Blud owed him a debt had played in his mind on loop for the rest of his patrol. He knew what it felt like to fly. To flip through the air at dizzying heights, gravity a mere afterthought. It was cruel, frankly, that he’d found someone who made him feel even better than that, only for her to be someone he couldn’t be with out of principle and professionalism. It wasn’t that he objected to her as a partner - short of his family, she was possibly the best he’d ever met. Frankly, if she was transferred to Gotham, the bat signal would be turned on far less frequently. And he didn’t object to rules about dating fellow officers, especially one’s partner. Objectively it made sense. But it didn’t change the fact that her smile was the best part of his day. That on the rare times she laughed he could swear he heard an angel just straight up quit its position in the heavenly chorus out of pure envy. That when she’d said she’d help he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her face and kiss her till she was breathless. But he can’t. Or at least Dick Grayson can’t. A new voice breaks him from his spiralling thoughts. “Detective Grayson.” The man standing behind his partner's desk has a hand on the back of her seat, preventing her from swivelling around. 

“We haven’t met yet, I’m Sergeant James McElroy. Seems you spent most of my first day back stuck on a stakeout.” “Pleasure.” he responds, with all the charm he’s learnt to use at galas and parties, forcing down the venom incurred by the way his partner had seemed to lose a gallon of blood at the sound of his voice, and the way she had seemed not to breath since the name was spoken.

He's not touching you. Of course not. He knows better than to do anything so blatant. It's how he’d gotten away with it for so long last time. He doesn’t touch you, or say the things he was so clearly thinking. He would masterfully walk the line between making you feel unsafe, alone, and naked, while never crossing over into anything actionable. Till one day he had. It had been in a crowded lift where he’d used the crush as an excuse to grab and to feel, whispering something vile in your ear. 

He’d figured he’d gotten away with it when you tried to tell your captain and he’d asked if you had a witness. You’d thought he’d gotten away with it too. Till a uniformed officer, Janet Rodwell, had stepped up to have your back. You should have known, really. For the second time in 24 hours you feel like a fool. But while the first time it had been accompanied with a dizzying realisation of love, this time the realisation is dark and chilling to your core. You’d thought you’d won, that it was over. But he’s back and he’s not touching you, but you feel the ghost of his hands all over. You can’t win. He’d been sent away and you thought you were safe again, but he’s back and he’s a sergeant now. Because Bludhaven, as it is, rewards men like him. You can’t bring yourself to look over your shoulder at him, so you look straight ahead, across your desk and to your partner’s adjoining one.

It's not Dick Grayson’s eyes you meet though. They aren’t cheerful, carefree and beautiful. Well, they are beautiful. But they are angry, intelligent, and fierce. You meet Nightwings gaze, and you feel the claws around your lungs relax, even if they do not recede. 

His partner did not rattle easily. Did not panic unnecessarily. 

Pinned down by the Penguin’s smugglers, he’d thought their goose had been cooked unless he could work at his true capacity, so he had shot out the lights and gotten to work. He’d taken out nine, but been unable to find the tenth, until he’d heard the struggle. 

She’d taken him down blind, without drawing her gun. When he’d asked her why she hadn’t, she’d told him she’d lost sight of him in the chaos, and was unwilling to risk it. He wished he hadn’t shot the light out so he could have seen it. 

Still, he had been oblivious. It had hit him like a batarang to the face last night, in that moment where she agreed without hesitation to help him find a serial killer. He’d known she was beautiful, and brilliant. That he had a crush. 

He’d realised last night he was in far, far deeper trouble than that. So, if she was frightened and upset by the presence of this man, then Dick would take his looming over her as a serious threat. He trusted her gut. “You haven’t introduced yourself to my partner, Detective—-” He’s cut off with a dismissive wave that boils his blood. “Oh we’ve met. In fact, she was my partner first. Until the misunderstanding.” There are many ways to snap someone out of a panic. He’s seen sheer rage do it many times. As it does now. “There was no misunderstanding,” she says, her voice firm, her teeth gritted. “Well. I want you to know-” he moves from directly behind her, to her side, leaning down over her, invading her space. Dick wanted to hit him. “I understand that what I did could have been seen as invasive, and you may have felt that I overstepped. I have completed a course, as demanded by HR, and will attempt not to cause you to feel that I have been inappropriate again.”

She takes a deep breath. He can practically hear her count in his head. He stands, moving around the desk to stand beside her, not quite a barrier but a comforting presence, or at least he hoped. “Well. Whatever occurred, we have work to be getting on with, if you don’t mind.” It takes a great deal of the restraint his training has given not to add the words ‘you bastard’, or something far more creative. “But of course. Detective. Detective.”  

Your hands shake as you sit back down in your seat. Your partner, Grayson, returns to his own, his gaze - Richard’s gaze, never leaving your face, crumpled in concern. “I don’t want to overstep… but are you alright? What … did he do?” “I…” you want to tell him, in part. Or maybe you don’t, and you want him to know without having to go through the ordeal of rehashing it all. Maybe by consulting whatever ‘oracle’ he used as nightwing. But you can’t right now. So you don’t. “I… need some air.” Your partner just gives you a comforting smile, a nod, and lets you leave without question. Wingding in the window 

It's five days later, on his patrol, when he notices it. The wingding left in her window. He stops on the roof of the building adjacent to her. As far as city roofs go, this one’s relatively nice. Someone’s placed some potted plants around, in an eclectic attempt at a rooftop garden. Some of these pots contain small pebbles as cover for the soil from the wind. Grinning to himself, he takes a handful. 

Was this a good idea? No. 

Was it deceptive? Well, no more than anything else he did as Nightwing… well, maybe a little more. 

But it hurt, holding her at arm's length, when a part of his soul he tried to ignore yearned to be as close as she would allow. He knows it’s not good. He knows it’s a violation of the utter trust she seems to hold in Nightwing. Really, it would only make things even more messy for his chances as Dick. But he wants to make her smile. Blush, even. He knows she finds him attractive, and in both contexts, but he wants more than that. Over the last week he’s realised just how much he wants to have with her, and it terrifies him. 

If it was simple lust he could deal with it.  But it wasn’t, and so here he was, about to attempt the cheesiest move known to hallmark films, just to see if it would make her laugh at him again. 

He’d managed to be professional while surrounded by highly capable, badass women in skintight clothes for most of his life. He’d had crushes before and gotten over them. He wanted everything with her. And that was not something he knew how to handle, given the mess of their situation. Dick shakes his head, snapping himself out of his doom spiral. He had a detective to meet, and a serial killer to find.

Bap. Bap. Bap. You look up from your book. You’d been getting ready for sleep, wearing your cosy pyjamas, curled up in bed with a book and a hot chocolate. You go still, listening. Bap. Bap. A pause. Then, the rap of knuckles on glass. “I ran out of rocks”

You know that voice. “With you in a moment.” You pull on a dressing gown, and take a moment to curse the fact that your slippers are rabbits before pulling the curtains aside. Nightwing is crouched on your windowsill. You lift it, stepping back as he enters through the window with all the grace of a cat. You know that you shouldn’t be embarrassed to be in your pyjamas, it's late, you had no means of knowing when he’d arrive. But he looked divine in that suit. An adonis. And you're in your old bathrobe and bunny slippers. Truely, you must have done terrible things in a past life. “Nice footwear.” Nightwing says with a smirk. Curse him. Curse his cheekbones and the way his lips look so damn inviting. “You picked up what, five rocks?” you sass right back. Nightwing makes a noise you suspect was supposed to be a scoff, but is more of a squeak. “Do you see a lot of pocket space on this?” 

“Fair.” you say, leading him out of your bedroom and into your living room. He sits on your couch, one leg spread wide, the other’s ankle resting on its thigh, as you open a drawer on your coffee table and produce your masterpiece. Nearly five metres of red string. Names, photos, dates, all studded with pins so pressed so tightly in they haven’t a prayer of accidental removal. You prop it up on the coffee table. 

Maybe your friends were right. Maybe you did need to touch grass. A line of thought for later. You look at Nightwing, who’s no longer relaxed and laying back on your sofa like he owned the place. 

Its years of maintaining a poker face in interrogations and more recently, dealing with his shenanigans that prevents you from grinning. 

He's as pale as you’ve ever managed to see him, and leaning forward now, elbow on knee and chin in hand. “Well, this is… impressive.” He sounded like he’d inhaled helium. “Shall we start with Sergeant McElroy?” you offer, smiling your best ‘there’s nothing wrong’ smile, enjoying making him squirm. “You seem to have … a significant amount of evidence against Detective Richard Grerson?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you take a ruler, poking your picture of him between the eyes. You hadn’t planned to do him first, you’d hoped to discuss evidence that would actually lead somewhere. 

This was still going to be fun though. You take a deep breath, and pause for a suitable level of dramatic effect, and begin your game. 

“Detective Richard Grayson. He’s my partner. He’s an excellent detective, and a good man. You might have heard of the charity he founded.” Nightwing makes a noncommittal humming noise. “But is it all too good to be true?” you ask, moving to your first notecard. “Exhibit one. He asked about the file. On its own, innocuous. But then, exhibits two through four. He’s prone to frequent disappearances on cases. He often knows a little too much about the criminal underside of Blud. Things that I have triple checked are not in any police database.”

You run a hand through your hair. “He’s a highly trained combatant. I once saw him take down nine men armed with guns, in the dark. They don’t teach that at the police academy.” “No? No.” Nightwing says, clearing his throat. “I mean yes. That is… suspicious.” “Incredibly. Which brings me to exhibit five. Now I’m no behavioural analyst or shrink. But I know my basics. Childhood trauma and instability can have… lingering impacts. I… don’t feel the need to dredge up his past, but I did look into it… and it’s grim. He was then taken in by Bruce Wayne. His relationship to his father, whatever it is, is something he’s even tighter lipped about then… everything else honestly. It’s not on the board because it’s circumstantial at best… but he has this skill of being able to hold long conversations and yet you come away not having learnt anything deeper about him.” 

He was pretty sure he’d been nodding for a good thirty seconds at this point.  

It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. 

The worst part was that it was all well reasoned. Practical. He had done everything she accused him of. She had just drawn a far more down to earth conclusion, that he was a corrupt cop, rather than Nightwing. 

It made sense. Too much sense. How could he shut this down without seeming invested in his own innocence? 

That isn’t what causes his lungs to burn though. No. The root of that was that even if he’d forced himself to maintain a professional - if friendly - distance from her, he would have hoped that she trusted him. 

But in this moment, looking at the evidence, looking at her holding that ruler to his photo’s face like a judge's gavel ready to condemn… he knows. He knows that she will never look at Dick the way she does as Nightwing, happy to see him, believing in his mission, ready to help as soon as he’d asked. Even if he clears himself of this crime, she would surely suspect him of others. 

He’d known it, at least on one level, ever since he’d first met her. He knows it now all the deeper, and he wants to scream. Dick Grayson will never get to tell her how truly wonderful she is.

How highly he regards her. 

How she is one of the reasons he keeps fighting for Bludhaven. 

Dick Grayson will never get to tell her that he loves her. 

But… perhaps Nightwing could have something. Because if she was his north star, then the way he’d felt when she agreed to help him had been like being engulfed by a supernova. 

If she was water, then seeing her cosy and ready for bed and smiling as she let him in through the window had been an oasis in the Sahara. 

If music was the food of love, her attempts not to laugh and stifled giggles over his peeps popcorn had been a symphony orchestra. 

But he’d never have her as himself. Not at all. Nightwing though? She at least found him attractive. Aligned with his ideology. No, he’d never feel that warmth of 10,000 stars directed at the real him. 

No, he’d never be able to be quenched by her life saving presence. 

No, he’d never feel her laughter shaking his bones as if in a musical crescendo.

But even the dimmest and most distant star gave off some light.

Even the last drop in an empty water skin was better than nothing.

Even the memory of a melody could be sweet. True, he would only ever have scraps of her affection. True, he could flirt, and perhaps go even further… but he’d never truly be with her. 

But who was a starving man to deny scraps of sustenance? He’d take what he could have and try to ignore the lingering hunger. 

“Perhaps we should discuss… another suspect?” he prompts, realising how long he’s been silent. How long she had been too, watching him with a strange, concerned look.

She nods, and moves on to their Captain.

Dick is almost relieved when some ten minutes later Oracle calls in a robbery downtown. “Well - sorry Sherlock.” He takes a picture of her board for further study. “I’ll be around next week to continue this discussion, and look over this in my own time till then. Duty calls.” “Be safe,” She says softly, as he’s halfway through the window He looks over his shoulder. “As you wish.”

Chapter Three Taglist: @jasontoddproblems

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If you would request to be added to my taglist, please reblog the fic. Honestly please just reblog it anyway? I worked hard on this. Nothing more demotivating than a fic getting only likes. If you want part three, reblog part two. 

[sanjisleggy]

let your husband help you (red-haired shanks x reader)

req: [...] with a fem!reader (if possible) that has wings and sometimes the wings with feathers require molting and there are areas that cannot be reached closer to the back and requires help to remove the loose feathers

a/n: (i am playing valorant as i write this help) ty for the request anon! :D the enthusiasm is very endearing ;;0;; hope you enjoy reading! also man i love writing for Shanks :3c

contents: a bit of angst (fem!reader is having a hard time), descriptions of itchiness and pain, comfort, fluff :D, a tad bit suggestive bc it’s Shanks

wc. 1.2k

wanna be on my taglist?

i.

these past few weeks have been torture. today especially so.

alone in your bedroom aboard the Red Force you writhe in itchiness and pain as your back aches in a way it hasn’t in a long time. lying face-down on your bed, you feel your wings twitch and tremble as you contort your arms to reach behind you as far as humanly possible; only to groan in defeat when the most you can do is brush the offending feathers with your fingertips.

for days now a small part of your brain has been nagging at you to go get Shanks for the sake of your poor back and wings but you’ve heard from your crewmates how busy he’s been so you’ve pushed the urge aside. now, though, the idea has forced its way to the forefront of your mind out of desperation, no doubt.

holding back a sob of frustration that threatens to make its way out of your throat, you nuzzle your face into your husband’s pillow, hoping that his scent can serve as a distraction of some kind. more than anything though, it simply acts as a poor placeholder for the real thing and only makes your aching heart (and wings) yearn for him even more.

“c’mon, (Y/N), don’t be shy,” his gentle voice called from outside the utility closet in which you’d chosen to hide–away from him. you felt your face heat up at Shanks’ persistence to help with something he wasn’t even totally aware of; he just knew you were in pain so he had to help.

“it’s okay, i can deal with it myself,” you lied, wincing when one of your wings brushed against a shelf behind you. most of the molting feathers had already been dealt with but your wings had grown a lot since the last time you molted and now they were far too big for your hands to reach. “just leave me alone.”

“if you don’t tell me what’s up, i’ll tell Rayleigh.”

“no!” you protested instantly. as much as you trusted the first mate of your crew with your life, this was far too embarrassing to get him involved. “if you tell anyone i’ll leave the crew, you asshole.”

you had meant it only as a false threat but the sudden silence told you Shanks took it a bit more seriously than you thought he would.

“okay, fine,” he replied and you could hear the pout on his face. “i just wanna help. there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. you know you can trust me to take care of you.”

a particularly sharp pain shoots through your spine from your right wing and the whine of discomfort slips past your lips before you can help yourself. too far gone to care about anyone hearing from outside your quarters, you let yourself sob aloud, the relief from crying doing little to ease your discomfort. 

the immense helplessness of your situation makes you realise how pampered you’ve been all these years. how lucky you are to have had such a loving friend-turned-lover who always took it upon himself to care for you. now here you are: alone in your bedroom, struggling with a task that you long should’ve learned how to deal with yourself.

you nearly give in to the urge to seek out the one person you trust to alleviate your pain but at this point, you’re too tired to even get off the bed. maybe it’s for the best, you wonder to yourself. your eyes flutter closed as you pull Shanks’ pillow a bit closer and bury your face deeper into it as you allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by your exhaustion, hoping that at least you can sleep away the next few hours of aches and itching.

ii.

letting out a sigh of relief, the one-armed Emperor takes his time returning to his ship after a grueling few weeks of settling disputes between several smaller pirate crews. normally such tasks would never take this long–hell, most of the time he didn’t even have to step in–but civilians’ lives were at stake so he had no choice.

now, as Shanks nears the dock and sees the Red Force coming into view, all he can think about is taking a nap with you. not only have his duties kept him away from you all day every day, he’d also been going to bed at ungodly hours, crawling under the sheets beside you long after you’ve fallen asleep. though he can’t wait to spend some quality time with you, he wants nothing more than to rest by your side with the knowledge that he’ll finally be able to wake up after you for once.

“hey Captain,” Benn calls out from aboard the deck once Shanks reaches speaking-distance. “i think (Y/N) needs your help.”

“see, what’d i say?” you could practically hear him smiling as he sat behind you, tenderly plucking out the final few loose feathers. “there’s no need to be shy around me.” Shanks tugged at a particularly stubborn feather and when it finally came loose, you couldn’t help the moan of relief that came out of your mouth.

you felt your cheeks rapidly heat up in shame as you buried your face in your hands, fully prepared for the boy to make fun of you. but it never came. instead, Shanks stayed quiet as he soothed the particular spot of skin with his fingers in a manner so tender you couldn’t believe it was him.

“there, all done,” he said. you were grateful but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and face him even though you knew you had to in order to thank him properly. 

as though sensing your dilemma, Shanks leaned forward to press his lips against your shoulder blade, right above where your wings sprouted from your back. it sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps appeared all over but you didn’t tell him to stop, if anything, you wanted him to continue.

you’re ripped out abruptly from your dream when the door of your quarters slams shut. from your face-down position in bed, you’re unable to see who it is but only one person in this world would be brave enough to make such an entrance.

“welcome back,” you groan, using your arms to push the upper half of your body off the mattress as you turn your head to glance over your shoulder.

“why didn’t you call for me?” your husband responds, tossing his cape onto the floor before rushing over to guide you back down into a resting position. Shanks pulls over two other more pillows and places them in a way he knows, from years of experience, makes you the most comfortable. “how long have your wings been molting?” 

there’s a slight hint of frustration in his voice but you know it’s not directed at you. it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty, though.

“it started… two weeks ago…” you mumble into Shanks’ pillow.

“you–” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh before he says anything impulsive. the Emperor understands you just didn’t want to disrupt his work and he appreciates the sentiment greatly, he’d just hoped that after all these years of marriage, you’d know how he’d do quite literally anything for you. this, he decides as his eyes scan your twitching wings and tangled feathers, is a conversation for another day though.

“poor thing,” Shanks coos instead, leaning down to press kisses all over the back of your neck and around your shoulder blades as he runs his hand down your side. you can feel his lips smile against your skin when your body shivers in response. “you must’ve been in so much pain, hmm? let your husband help you out.” 

—

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[desireangel]

Dark Cherry | Aemond Targaryen

Part One (potentially ??? xoxo - indecision)

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop who could be impliedly understood as ms Alys ;o

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (m receiving), talk of sex, masturbation, bad words, very little dialogue, I wrote this in 2 hours and it is barely edited so it may be shite. guys. please tell me if I've missed a warning, luv u xoxo

Author's note: here's a wee smth while I get my head around part 2 of Infernal Desires! the idea I had for this fic was for a multi-part but idk depends on how we're feeling so there will potentially be a part 2 ;D. kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Whatever pretence was in play, you would be the first to admit that you were tired of it. A loveless marriage was nothing less than what you had expected–a union that was entirely for show and born from the political motives of your families. It was only expected.

You tried to convince yourself that you were content with such an arrangement. It suited your ambitions, meant that you could be left alone to do as you please while quenching the thirst to make your family proud. 

Somehow, despite your hesitance and despite your husband’s ignorance toward you, the one thing that you knew you would never truly hold had become your greatest wish. 

The reality was such that you found yourself longing for affection.

Preferably-of course-your husband’s affection. 

Between the forced smiles put on for expectant eyes, the brush of your shoulders whenever you sat next to each other at the dining hall and the gentle caresses at the small of your back until his touch was hurriedly removed once you were again behind closed doors, you had grown an incessant, consuming desire for the prince you were married to. 

Aemond was a man of great beauty and strength. While many had chastised his singular eye and told tales of his ruthless temper, Aemond had grown to be well respected and the object of many lustful gazes.

Eight months had passed since Aemond became your husband and you, his wife. Eight months of tense silences, lonely nights in a bed you had expected to share and eight months of nothing but false affections that were nothing but a performance.

You had considered yourself a romantic right until you felt the loneliness and realities of this marriage. Your naive desires to feel the throes and excitement of love that you read about were subject to a rude awakening the moment you became disgustingly aware of your husbands lack of it. 

Aside from the night of your wedding, Aemond seemed to avoid your bed as if it would burn his skin. Until two months ago, when you had pushed aside the sting on your pride and all but demanded he spare some time for you. 

Friends had warned you that it was hardly special. But if he was kind enough, as few of their husbands were from time to time, he would give you a chance to experience some of the pleasures of your body.

Aemond was hardly a passionate lover, it had seemed. With instruction to simply lift your skirt, he had you laying with your hips at the foot of the bed where he silently and effortlessly fucked his seed into your womb. It had not yet borne fruit despite his fortnightly visits. 

It was never enough. Your body had eventually begun to crave more. In a very raw and unmistakably physical need to find the release it had been denied for so long. Despite Aemond’s assurance on the first nights of your marriage that neither of you were to have any interest in whores or paramours, words and whispers of the prince’s capabilities had picked up over recent weeks and you came to understand that if only Aemond had wanted to, he could give you exactly what your body desired.

Even if you had the same freedoms as men when it came to taking on lovers outside of your marriage, you couldn’t. Admittedly, you’d developed a taste for luxury - a taste only for your husband. Or at least, the fantasy version of Aemond that you had concocted within your head. 

And when your hand made its way between your thighs in the small hours that followed restless nights, the only thoughts that existed in your mind were those of him. Of all the things you had hoped Aemond would guide you to discover about your bodies. Of all the things that you had read about in the books you’d sneak out to find. 

Sometimes, you wondered if Aemond thought of you while he touched himself. The idea of it often crossed your mind and you had since convinced yourself that you had been driven insane. 

Realistically, you knew that the arrangement you had with Aemond was out of necessity. Nothing more. But you were much like him in certain ways - hungry for what you know you deserve, relentless and cunning. But you had little patience left. 

The moment you had decided to make your worth known to your husband wasn’t one you could place a finger on. It was a gradual thing - as you had gently started shifting your attention past the lovers in your books who no longer calmed your lustful needs. 

You wanted him more fiercely than you had wanted for anything in your lifetime.  

So you gently lowered the neckline of your dresses to highlighted the bump of your collarbone, had your maids do your hair so that it framed your face perfectly while accentuating the shape of your neck. You had soon foregone the paler tones your mother had you wear, colours that announced your purity and innocence. The colours that you wore were deeper, richer and more sultry against the tone of your skin. 

With difficult ignorance of the nervous, shy and pious girl your parents had raised for such a match, you forced yourself to seek out Aemond’s gaze with an extra glint in your eyes. You let your once hesitant touches linger with a newfound confidence that stole your breath away whenever Aemond would escort you to and from the dining hall. On the days Aemond would spare time to walk you through the gardens, you made an effort to speak of more than just the weather. 

At times, you felt uneasy about the act you were putting on. Were the prospect of his affections so important to you that you forced yourself to act so differently? In your mind, being a seductress was never so dishonourable as many made it seem but you had hoped this act would pay off in a matter of a few weeks. 

Your impatience becomes painful when you have every other desire at your beck and call. 

But you were mistaken. If anything, Aemond’s indifference had only grown. And at each hardened glance from your head to toe, at each moment in which he continued to ignore you or look past you, your resolve weakened.  

Aemond could not have found you unattractive - this much you knew as a fact. You knew from the way he used to look at you with a gentle fire in his eye and made sure that your every other need had been taken care of. From the way he clenched his jaw in restraint when you would lay back for him, how his grip on your hips and your thighs left marks on your skin as he fucked into you - even if there was little more than a duty being performed. After all, he was still just a man. 

So despite the fact that your efforts were shaping up to be of no use, you didn’t give up. You started taking breakfast in your chambers, requesting Aemond to join you when he was available, dressed in your softest, prettiest nightgowns instead of having dressed up already. 

You made a show of it, unashamed and brazen. Almost surprisingly, Aemond enjoyed the dark cherry more than you could have hoped. There were subtle changes in the way his eye would linger over the dip of your neck, the way his wordless gaze would follow the deep red that would stain and spill from your lips as you bit into a cherry from the bowl of fruit that you shared.

Your conversations have always been comfortable. Aemond may be a brooding, arrogant hardass sometimes but he was always respectful and kind to his you in the time you shared together as husband and wife. But now he would falter, his words getting caught as he watched you gently sucking off the juice of a cherry from your fingers, humming gently as you glance at him with false nonchalance mixed with your best bedroom eyes. 

And it did drive him insane. Aemond had never seen this side of you, much unlike the quiet, prudish woman he had married. But then again, had he ever truly known you? Either way, you had caught the amusement in his gaze and the way he challenged you wordlessly with a shift of his hips and gentle smirk.

Much to your disappointment, little else changed. Nearly three weeks had passed and Aemond had given you little more than those lingering looks and a few stolen breaths. He had at once withdrawn and become increasingly lacklustre, and when you had even tried asking him about his training with Ser Cole, you received no more than curt, blunt answers at each try. 

It had become too much by the time you had retired to your chambers alone once again. The day had been long and uneventful, Helaena had been by your side for most of it which had been nice but you were in no mood to fake an interest in sifting through the performative duties of a princess. 

In all honesty, it was frustrating. You were starting to wear thin on the constant nagging of absolutely everyone about your lack of a child. It has been almost a year and you have failed to perform your duty as a wife, almost a year and you have not missed a single cycle, almost a year and you haven’t blessed the prince with an heir. 

Because, as a lady whose name you hadn’t cared enough to remember had not-so-gently uttered to you over her dreadful playing of a stringed instrument; what was the point of being his wife if you didn’t bed him well enough to carry his child? 

You had, in truth, been distracted. And the idea of carrying the child of a man who only paid you the necessary courtesies out of politeness and good manners made you feel ill. 

Queen Alicent, although you could tell she was inclined to agree with the lady, had placed a gentle yet firm hand on your bicep to calm the anger that had clearly taken you over. With a glare at the loose-lipped woman, you quickly picked up the handkerchief you’d been attempting to embroider and excused yourself. 

If anyone had noticed your absence from the evening meal, which the Queen had always insisted upon eating together, nobody bothered to say anything. 

Over an hour had passed, tossing around in your bed and your eyes stinging from embarrassment. Why was Aemond so averse to you? Why would he stare at you as if you set his blood on fire in one moment and then glance straight past you in the next? What had you done that convinced him so strongly that you were not even worth trying to be familiar with? 

The gods had surely intended to punish you for something in a past life if they were so adamant to trap you in a marriage with a man who would much rather be anywhere other than with you. 

You may as well be strangers to each other. 

The ache of your anger led you straight out of your own chambers and towards his. You spared Ser Tunsley, the knight standing at your door, a harsh glare and snapped at him to give you your privacy otherwise you’d have him stripped of his cloak. He was a timid one, you noticed, and with a nod he stood back, his eyes staring straight past your shoulder in an attempt not to stare at the thin nightgown that clung to your skin. 

It was an outrageous hour and you were of half a mind in your frustration to thank the gods for the empty hallways. In fact, you noticed the lack of an armoured man at the door to Aemond’s chambers and wondered if maybe the prince was elsewhere. 

You stepped towards the door, curiosity peaked at the sound of shifting, followed by some voices and you hesitated. Frowning, you ran through what you would say if Aemond opened the door - there was nothing that would make sense. 

As you stepped closer to the door, a soft light spilled out and you noticed that it was, in fact, just barely ajar. 

It was unlike Aemond to leave his door open and you were certain he would question you sneaking around the hallways in the small hours, dressed only in underclothes. But you ignored the rational voice at the back of your mind and took silent steps so close to the door that it would be cowardly to back out now. 

You couldn’t hear the voices anymore, ears ringing as you held your breath and gently nudged the door while muttering a silent prayer that it wouldn’t make a sound. 

Shock first. Then fear, anger, desire and an all consuming jealousy as you took a moment to understand what you were seeing.  

Aemond was resting at the end of his bed, naked and resting his weight lazily on one arm, his free hand tangled in the dark hair of a slender woman, just as bare as him, kneeling at his feet and moving her head in an up and down motion. Aemond guided her movements with a firm hand, his head tipped back gently. 

He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You’d never seen him without it–he never let you. His eye was firmly shut and you caught the glint of the sapphire in place of the other that was stolen from him. The movements of his chest were heavy and you could hear him panting gently, lips gently parted. 

You were unable to tear your eyes off of Aemond. He looked more beautiful than you had ever seen him, under the golden hue of the lamps, his body lean and chiselled–each curve and muscle glowing under the lights. You could see his pleasure, in his expression, the tinting of his skin and the way he roughly tugged at the mystery woman’s hair. A couple strands of his own hair, usually pulled away from his face, fell forward and the flush of his cheeks were starkly pink against the silver of his hair. He let out a breathy groan, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear as he opened his eye, dark with lust, and gazed down at the woman that was hunched over his lap. The lewd sounds of her mouth on him almost made you gasp and you thanked the gods that Aemond could not see you. Because you could not move if you tried. 

You couldn’t see anything other than the back of her head, and you were glad of it. Because you knew that seeing her face would have been too much and staying hidden and quiet would have been ten times more difficult. Despite the pressure between your thighs, the uncomfortable slick that you felt against your small clothes and the heat that rushed through you from head to toe, you glared viciously at the back of her head. 

Aemond’s breathing stuttered, a string of curses falling carelessly from his lips while he watched the woman as if he were entirely enchanted by her. Despite the fact that you couldn’t really see what she was doing, so expertly that had him in such a state, the entire thing felt obscene. And you could hear her muffled moans, the wetness and her light gagging when Aemond tightened his hold on her hair and thrusted upwards.

Your cheeks burned and your blood felt like lava coursing through your veins. The intensity of your want for him–as he was right now–made you dizzy and you drew in sharp breaths, careful not to make a sound. Because if he turned his head slightly to the left, just for a second, he would see you. You didn’t want to know the consequences. But nothing  that existed among all of the realm could force you to turn around and leave. 

Aemond’s groans were quiet and deep but they grew slightly louder than before, his breath catching as you could see him grow closer to his peak. Your thighs trembled as you pressed them together, barely thinking about how you would be able to escape after he was done–when he would surely see you watching unashamedly. 

The sounds that Aemond was making sent shockwaves straight to your wetness and as you could see his entire body grow visibly tense, hips jerking as his groans turned strained amongst grunts and whispers of just like that and fuck and—a name. 

It was your name. 

You couldn’t help but gasp, clenching around nothing, squeezing and rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve the throbbing of your clit. The woman faltered, much to your satisfaction, and she pulled her head back from him. You couldn’t see past her but her hands remained as they were, biceps moving gently as she continued to touch him. 

“Aemond-” you winced as she said his name, no bother for formality. Her voice was slightly husky and it remained sultry and smooth. “I’m not-”

Your husband’s jaw ticked, squeezing his eye shut and pushing her head down towards his hips again. “I know. Fuck–” he grunted, roughly pushing her further down, cursing as she gagged. She hummed around him. 

Suddenly, the desire in your veins became secondary to the jealousy that burned your lungs and the betrayal that caught in your throat. You knew men were not faithful creatures, and even though part of you had known Aemond had been no different–not with how you have heard the servants speak on a couple occasions–but foolishly, you had hoped that he had been a man of his word. Another naive part of you truly did believe him when he said he would have no other woman. 

Whatever she was doing, however she was doing it and no matter that it was your name that fell from his lips, Aemond was enjoying it. He was praising her–telling her she was his, telling her she was doing so well and letting himself get lost in the pleasure she was giving him. 

It was painful to watch and you cursed your body for yearning so badly for reprieve. You’d become soaked, thighs slick from where you’d dripped down. But you would be damned if you gave in and as Aemond’s hips started jerking, his strained grunts becoming desperate as he chased the peak he was nearing, you pushed yourself away from the door and ran back towards your own chambers. 

The entire scene had seared itself into your brain and you trembled as you shut yourself away in your bedchambers, ignoring whatever questions Ser Tunsley had been asking you. 

Who was that woman? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions that flooded your brain. The emotions that fought for dominance. How had they met? Was she a whore? 

Did they see you? 

Your mind replayed the way he’d groaned your name, unable to help yourself from whimpering at the memory. It didn’t make any sense. Aemond was clearly thinking about you yet he had never so much as spared you more than a heated look - he had never even given you a kiss. 

Aemond had never been so comfortable with you. Not the way he was with her. The way he let her say his name–free of his title, like she was his equal. You had only addressed him without title once, on the night of your wedding. 

You laughed. How silly this all was. 

Despite your arousal, and regardless of your hurt, you were angry. 

How dare he? Did he think so little of you? 

Did he love her? Is that why he never tried for you? 

It was infuriating. And there was little you could do about it. But nonetheless, you saw an opportunity through the tears you scolded yourself for shedding over a man who never gave you what you deserved. 

Aemond would regret it. And he’d learn that his wife was the only woman who could give him what he needs. But for now, you let yourself grieve the Aemond you had led yourself to believe was real. The man who held your hand in his and told you that while he couldn’t be the husband you wanted, he would never disrespect you so much as to let another woman into his bed. 

[tac-the-unseen]

How would bubba, micheal and hannibal react tk a reader who is extremely shy and has social anxiety . They rarely speak louder than a whisper, are easily scared or intimidated, they struggle to stand up for themself and need to wear headphones in public so they don’t get panic attacks

( if you don’t feel comfortable with the social anxiety you can just remove it and just make them shy, i really don’t mind)

Slashers x Socially Anxious! Reader

Micheal Myers:

•Micheal wholeheartedly doesn't care what you do or what you say

•If you never want to speak again, cool

•If you never want to speak to a human again, great

•If you never want to leave the house again, even better

•And that's totally not his possessiveness talking

•He has no problem going out and stealing groceries from neighbors if you're not feeling up for the task

•Stay home as long as you need

•He really likes to just have you around

•He would love to have you stay in all day and watch old cartoons

•in conclusion: do what you want

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•It's fair to say Billy and Stu have enough voice for the three of you

•If they know you well enough, they'll fill in the blanks for you

•Do you whisper when you talk? Cool, They practically scream (eh? Eh? :D)

•You originally thought that your party animal partners wouldn't like you ditching their parties

•But that's both true and false

•Yes they would love to have you there, But if you don't feel comfortable you can just stay in Stu’s room

•Also there is less of a chance of you being hit on

•(totally not because they're possessive everything)

•If you need to wear headphones in public, Stu will ask if he can decorate them with stickers

Thomas Hewitt:

•He’s not anxious so to say, he just can't say anything and his appearance often frightens people

•It's almost perfect that you don't want to leave the house, that means you can focus on cleaning and general house maintenance with him!

•He has brothers to go outside

•Don't want to talk? He doesn't talk at all, perfect!

•He is perfectly content with you Just existing!

•He wholeheartedly believes your perfect and made for him

•Luda mae accepts you into the family immediately

•She shows you the ropes and has enough chatter in her for the both of you!

•shows you how to knit and crochet if you don't already know

Bubba Sawyer:

•When he first met you he was a little confused on why you weren't talking

•But then he finally came to the conclusion that you're just like him!

•He too is shy and has a hard time communicating

•safe to say he gets very excited to find out there's someone else like him

•despite how anxious you are he introduces you to all the family immediately

•You quickly become his new obsession

•He wants to know everything about you, do you share similar interests? Do you share the same family values? Were you raised similarly?

•everything

•His brothers are very pushy and if you struggle to stand up for yourself, He'll do it for you

•Bubba didn't come to play!

•Chop acting too aggressive? He gets runs away with his tail in between his legs When he sees Big Bubba making a beeline in his direction

Sinclair Brothers:

(Putting them all together because the response is basically the same)

•there's no one in Ambrosia except the three of them and the occasional tourist

•And they'll be damned before they let you go near randos

•Don't feel like talking? They live with Vincent, who doesn't speak at all. You'll fit right in

•want to go outside, but not really? Go to Bo’s Shop or take a ride in Lester's truck!

•All the boys are just happy you're giving them some ounce of attention

Billy Lenz:

•Omg! He gets anxious too! You guys have so much in common!!

•Don't want to leave the house?

•Fabulous, stay up in the attic forever

•You can steal food from the shared pantry and never have to talk to anyone ever again

•While he does offer to have sex multiple times, he is content with you just being there (just remember how clingy he is)

•teaches you how to sneak through walls and hallways to go unnoticed by the sorority sisters

Brahms Heelshire:

•Perfect

•His absolute dream

•Please don't ever leave

•Really, who's out there that you need to be talking to?

•Everything you need is right here

•Let the grocery boy leave the bags at the door, he'll get them once the guy leaves

•Therapy? If you need someone to talk to he's always available! Why on earth would you need to go and talk to somebody else, A stranger even!?

•No no no! You're all his!

•You're his best friend, you can't go! He won't let you!

Hannibal Lecter:

•Two ways this could go

1) He tries to help you overcome your anxiety

2) He wants to make it so bad you never leave your room

•If he decides to help you that would include him taking you to all his parties, Operas, running errands, and walks around the town

•If He decides to make it worse He'll telling lies about people's reactions, lie about people not liking you, tell you that you should just stay home so he (The only one that loves you) can take care of you

•Hannibal is not below manipulating conversation to make it sound like you're unlovable

•He'll make an elaborate birthday party for you just to invite no one and say that they all didn't show up because they don't like you

•Hope you're ready to spend every day being reminded that you're so unlovable and unwanted!

•God, aren't you so lucky to have found the one person in the world willing to be around you!?

Will Graham:

•He's antisocial, He wants to stay home too

•He has no problem playing ‘provider’ While you handle the dogs

•He'll bring over the leftovers from Hannibal's dinner parties

•He does suggest you see Hannibal to work out some of your problems, But leaves that up to you

•He will occasionally try to pull you outside and take a nice walk or go fishing

•Don't feel like talking? Don't, problem solved

•He doesn't want to talk either

•Need headphones in public? Cool, whatever

The Lost Boys:

•with everyone in Santa Carla having big and bold personalities, finding someone that will really just wants to be left unnoticed makes them even more noticeable

•The four of them spotted you immediately

•Once they get to know you They offer you a ‘tour’ of the cave

•by tour they mean, “It's really so cozy and comforting! Do you want to stay for the day? Perfect”

•They immediately rope you into living with them, And because of how anxious you are there's no one else for you to talk to

•David loves to think of himself as a provider

•If you do end up wondering outside, You have scary dog privileges x4 (Paul and Marko have both barked as a joke)

•You always have at least one big scary vamp at your hip

•want to just sit with the bikes while they run around? Okay, No one touches their bikes anyway.

Thanks for reading <3

[taylorman2274]

We Care About You (Part IV)

Your attempts to cater to their needs only leave them confused and concerned. However, just when you think of giving up, more barriers are broken.

Content Warning(s): Xiao Story Quest Spoilers; Liyue Archon Quest Act IV Spoilers

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

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Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3; @jellyedkazoo; @namine123; @innuwu; @agaygothicmushroom;

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When Genshin finally finished loading, you found your player character back where you originally left them before you were forced unconscious; in the bustling streets of Chihu Rock. The first thing you noticed was the red exclamation marks over the Paimon Menu, Events Menu, and Battle Pass Menu. However, you saw these exclamation marks nearly every time you logged on to Genshin, so you weren't surprised.

What does surprise you is that so far, everything appears to be... normal.

The Traveler was currently doing one of their idle animations, the NPCs were all in their familiar spots, and the leaves were subtly floating to the ground...

You began to grow suspicious.

You moved the Traveler one step to the left, cutting off their idle animation. They moved as you expected. Then you moved them right. Then up. Then down.

You looked at their face. They were staring back at you with lifeless eyes.

"But they're not lifeless..." you commented.

Next, you opened up the preceding menus. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Even Paimon was doing her usual shtick.

Finally, you turned the Traveler away from your gaze and had them walk a few steps forward. You had them perform their normal attack combo. No signs of restraint were noticeable.

"...I guess everything is as normal as possible," you noted. "I'll still do everything I promised myself I would do. I don't want to be deceived by false appearances."

You opened the party setup and began to remove everyone from your party aside from the Traveler. You had decided that since nobody specifically asked the Traveler to join them on their travels, you should only use the Traveler from now on. Sure, that may make things harder for you, but you were willing to take on the extra challenge if it meant that everybody was happy.

However, as much as you would prefer to avoid it, you knew that fighting enemies was inevitable. You were just going to need to be extra careful while fighting to make sure that the Traveler doesn't get hit.

"It's almost like I'm doing a no-hit challenge," you chuckled.

Lastly, you were going to take your time doing long quests such as Archon and Story quests. You figure that doing so many quests in a short amount of time would be tiring to the Traveler. Especially with how grueling some of them can be.

With that being said, you took the time to quickly organize the pages of notes on your side before setting off to the first commission of the day, conveniently in Liyue Harbor of all places.

...By walking, of course. Strictly walking while inside cities should be the norm from now on.

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The Traveler was nearly quivering in excitement.

The adrenaline rush that they got when they realized [Y/N] was back in Teyvat made them all hyper and focused. They were ready to do anything and everything with you. They wanted to sprint across the widest plains; climb atop the tallest mountains; and fight against the strongest enemies.

However, they have learned before that they need to be patient.

Over time, they have come to realize many patterns that you have while guiding them throughout Teyvat. One of these patterns was that you normally started working on the daily commissions first.

So they were a little surprised when the first thing you did was move them around, almost like you were testing to see if they would still follow your guidance.

"You don't have to worry about that, [Y/N]," they thought. "I'll always be here for you."

Not to worry though, [Y/N] went ahead and guided them to all the places where the commissions took place afterward. However, there were some things that they noticed while they were completing them.

The commissions involving the common folk and the time challenges went about the same way. It was the fighting commissions that had them asking questions.

What was the best way to describe it...? They still had no problem defeating the enemies, don't get them wrong, but they noticed that you seemed to be a little more... cautious?

Normally, [Y/N] would have them rush in and start swinging. Sure, this was reckless at times, and got themselves hit a couple of times, but that was honestly the fighting style that they were most accustomed to. However, this time they noticed that for whichever enemies they were fighting, they would focus on one at a time and balance an attack with a couple of dodges whenever their opponent attempted to strike back.

Furthermore, they also noticed that they were the only ones fighting. They know that [Y/N] is capable of guiding at most four people at once. So why were they only using them?

"Perhaps I can ask Paimon whenever [Y/N] leaves." they thought.

Not that they wanted you to leave, no no no. You had just come back to Teyvat after a whole week! They wanted to make up for lost time.

"If I counted right, that's all the commissions for today. Just got to visit Kathryne and then we can continue with our day. I wonder what we will get to do today. Are we gonna do some exploring? Fight amongst the ley lines? Meet up with old friends? I can't wait!"

They waited for their exchange with Kathryne to end so they could get back to your guidance. But suddenly, they began to feel themselves gaining control over their body.

...Wait.

... ... ...

Oh no...

...No...

No. No. No. No. NO! NO! NO! NO!

They know this feeling all too well. It was their least favorite part of the day.

...It was when you left Teyvat.

Just as their fears were confirmed, they gained control over their body again. Horrified, they quickly looked up at Celestia and prayed to the Archons that what was happening wasn't real.

Unfortunately, the light from Celestia came and went. [Y/N] was gone...

"Aww, already?" Paimon groaned, appearing out of thin air. "Paimon thought that [Y/N] would stay just a little bit longer."

The Traveler's eyes never left Celestia. They were holding on to the slim hope that the light would return. That [Y/N] would come right back and continue our adventures.

...But it never came.

"Hey, Traveler. Are you alright? You haven't moved in a while."

The Traveler finally took their eyes away from Celestia and sadly looked at Paimon. "I was so happy that [Y/N] came back. I was looking forward to spending all day with them. But in the end, they were only here for a few hours."

Paimon solemnly nodded. "Yeah, Paimon gets where you're coming from. But Paimon also says not to worry! It isn't often that [Y/N] leaves after completing the daily commissions. Maybe this is a one-time thing?"

The Traveler gave it some thought. They suppose that what Paimon is saying is true. There's no guarantee that this will happen again tomorrow.

Their mood picked up. "You're right, Paimon. Hopefully, we get to adventure with [Y/N] longer tomorrow."

Paimon smiled. "That's the spirit! Trust Paimon when she says that everything is going to be alright!"

---------------------------------------------------------

Time Skip

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...

... ...

... … …

...Three days...

It's been three days since [Y/N] first came back to Teyvat. They have since come back every day afterward.

...Three days...

It's been three days of completing commissions...

...And nothing else.

...Three days...

It's been three days since the Traveler realized that they were the only person [Y/N] used in their "adventure team".

They still remember how heartbroken Amber was when they met her.

"It wasn't something I did, was it?" she fretted with sorrowful eyes.

"Of course not!" they reassured, "You've done nothing wrong!"

However, they could tell that their words were not effective at uplifting the normally bright and cheerful outrider.

Now, [Y/N] was guiding them back to Kathryne again. Most likely the end of another day together.

... ... …

...No.

"I REFUSE!"

Going against [Y/N]'s guidance, they stopped in place. They were not going to let [Y/N] leave this time! They felt a couple of forceful nudges from [Y/N] but they were going to hold their ground for as long as it takes.

"No more commissions, [Y/N]. Let's go back to before. Explore Teyvat! Go fishing! Search for my sibling! Just don't leave again!"

...

... ...

... … …

...-hy?

..."Huh?"

"What di- ... -o wrong?"

"Is that...?" they wondered.

"I thought ... was doing ... -thing right?"

"[Y/N]?"

"I've done all the things that match their preferences. I've removed all the people who have jobs that prioritize their duties over adventuring; I've been careful while fighting enemies; I've even been spending as little time as possible to conserve their energy. So why are they still unhappy?

...So that's what has been the issue.

They wanted to tell you everything that was on their mind. But they couldn't bypass the restriction placed upon them.

This restriction in particular involved speaking freely towards [Y/N]. From what they understand, they are never able to say anything while being guided by [Y/N]. Instead, Paimon does most of the talking.

They still don't know much about it.

"...Maybe I'm not cut out for this after all. I should've known better..."

They didn't need to be told what that meant for the future.

After hearing that last sentence, they fought as hard as they could to break the speaking restriction, to tell [Y/N] something, anything, to stop them from leaving.

When they gained the slightest control over their body, they shouted: "[Y/N]! Wait! Don't leave!"

However, it didn't appear that they even heard them. Furthermore, they instantly felt a painful shock rush through their body. Punishment for breaking the rules.

The shock brought them to the ground, and they were in too much pain to notice the light from Celestia. And from what they had to guess, potentially for the last time.

"Traveler!" Paimon screamed, immediately floating down to nudge their body. "Quick! Get up! Get up! We've got to do something or else [Y/N] will be gone forever!"

Slowly but steadily, the Traveler brought themselves to their feet. They felt more defeated than ever. "It's too late, Paimon... I couldn't stop [Y/N] from leaving... It's all my fault."

Paimon was quick to shake her head. "Don't say that! You already know that we've never been able to talk with [Y/N] in the past."

"That still doesn't change the fact that [Y/N] is probably gone forever. They're never coming back."

Paimon frowned. She hadn't seen the Traveler like this since they met their sibling with Dainsleif. But as much as she wanted to cheer the Traveler up, she needed to find a way to reach [Y/N]. She quickly used all of her brain juice to come up with a solution.

"Paimon has an idea! Why don’t we ask Zhongli for help? He did assist us last time.”

The Traveler let out a weak, sad chuckle. “I doubt even Zhongli would know what to do in this scenario.”

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"I may know something we can do."

"Really?!" "You do?!" Both Paimon and the Traveler exclaimed respectively.

They really should stop doubting the capabilities of this man.

"I have no guarantee that this will work," explained Zhongli, "but I'm curious to see the results. I believe you two are familiar with the adepti art 'dream trawling'?"

"Mhm," Paimon nodded, "We were with Xiao when he had us perform it."

"I see. That will make things easier to understand," Zhongli remarked, closing his eyes. "If [Y/N] won't come to Teyvat anymore..."

His eyes opened, filled to the brim with determination. "We'll simply have to extend them an invitation."

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Author Side Notes: Sorry this took so long to get out. I was struggling with how I wanted to write this.

Additionally, I've felt like my writing is lacking with descriptors. I feel like I keep saying words like 'said', 'asked', and 'nodded' a lot, especially in the last chapter. I've gone back and edited as much of it as I could.

I want to do my best to write all of these characters so I feel pretty bad whenever I'm unable to properly describe a character's thoughts or emotions. Maybe it's something that I'll get better at as I continue writing.

[veiled-harvest]

Kept Woman | Viltrumite!Mark Grayson x Concubine!Reader | Chapter: 2 18+

CONTENT WARNINGS : abduction, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding ,stalking, light violent threats , light gore+ minimal blood descriptions , mentions of adultery/possible cheating , death. angst for now

Chap 1

You awoke to the aroma of food in your room. At first, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you, for starters, how you wound up tucked in bed to smelling your favorite breakfast. It was too specific to accept as mere coincidence, down to the tea you brewed every morning. 

On the other hand, it was nice to be greeted with some normalcy for once. In a few timid steps, you approached the table covered with food. You were eager to place both your palms on the porcelain to enjoy the heat it emitted against your skin. 

You brought the mug to your lips and softly blew on the liquid like usual. The tea was the perfect temperature, almost like it had been brewed specifically to be prepared when you rose from your slumber. The familiar liquid warmed you up, mellowing the madness from yesterday.

 Even if it was brief, you felt like the last few days never happened. Hopefully, you'd find it in yourself to eat despite the pit in your stomach. 

. 

The door was right there, but it wasn’t; it seemed like you were free to leave the false sense of freedom and control taunting you. 

After letting your food go down, you wander around the empty room, examining every inch since this was your new home for the time being. There was what you guessed was furniture around the room, like a blueprint of what could have been a room. Empty 

You made your way to the foot of the bed and slid to the floor, resting your head on the soft silk as your lower half felt the chill of tile against your skin. In your newfound cage, you dozed off. 

You had no idea how long you had been asleep, the door appeared, and it was Mark. 

He hovered over your sleeping form like the previous night and observed you. His hand brushed the fallen hair over your eyes, causing you to stir. Mark tore his hand away. Unaware that his presence had awoken you, your eyes met naturally for the first time. Miraculously, you weren't shaken. You couldn't tell if he was apologetic upon your awakening or annoyed at your lack of awareness.

"I'm sorry. I guess I fell asleep waiting." You sheepishly looked at him while placing yourself on the warmth you left on the bed. Mark remained standing, composed as you nervously played with the hem of the white shirt that swallowed your figure.

 "What were you waiting for?"

"Well– I don't know. You put me here, and the only thing I can do is— wait.." regretting the subtle attitude. He had no reply;  his eyes and mind appeared elsewhere

"Do you wish to explore? I will accompany you. But only for a bit. I have a schedule, but I want to offer this at the very least." Of course, you wanted to jump for joy, but how could you?  He teased you with freedom like a dog waiting for its owner to open the gate and remove the leash. 

“Where to-?”

“Out”

“ ‘Out’ where-?” 

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, followed by a deep sigh, already over the childish antic. 

 "Just Be dressed in 10; stand near the frame. It’ll open, and I'll be right there waiting—" Once he turned his back, you playfully grinned, swearing he stomped out of the room.

You looked around the room at the giant white furniture you assumed was the wardrobe. This being the first time you open it, you find clothes; they were all an orderly mix of white and grey. Given the decor, what were you expecting? 

While you scanned the many articles of clothing, you ran a hand over the fabrics, finally deciding on a long, dark grey maxi dress fitted with long sleeves, and a pair of black slip-ons.

Surprisingly, the shoes fit perfectly; The dress, however, clung to the upper half of the body like a second skin, but luckily loosened mid-thigh. The fabric hugged your curves and breasts, fitting your measurements exactly, the only discomfort being within yourself, particularly since a bit of your chest was exposed. With one more look at the closet– it hit you; They all share a similar design. 

You look at the white T-shirt you previously wore with a new sense of appreciation. Biting your tongue, you move on to the next objective: taming the unkept monster resting on your head. Your hair was a bit wild, but you collect and contain the terror in a messy ponytail. Sections of your hair fell and framed your face, but that's how you usually kept it anyway. You had already washed off the night before, so all you had to do was wipe your face and be on your way. 

"This is utterly ridiculous." You hugged your body and examined the final product in the mirror. You were about to enter a new environment dressed in the most revealing thing you'd ever worn with a guy you barely knew anything about.

Even without a clock, you could tell your 10 minutes were nearly up, and it was too late to think of a plan right when the outline of the door emerged from the wall. You tried to cover your chest, failing miserably.

"What is taking you—so long?" 

He stood in the cut of the doorway scanning your body up and down, landing on your flushed face. You expected he’d say something in retaliation for the encounter before– but he didn't. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to disappear. You turned, shying away from his reaction, frozen by humiliation and fear. 

Although Mark only got a glimpse of your face, the small amounts he did manage to see took his breath away. 

It wasn't a very well-hidden secret that you were uncomfortable, but it's not as if he chose this for you. Seeing you miserable in that outfit filled him with guilt.

He grumbled and made his way past you and to the closet left ajar. Still not knowing, his gaze was still on you, only now roaming your exposed back. If you hadn't pulled away, you would have caught the blush that dusted his cheeks as he searched deeper in the closet. 

"Put this on." You peeked over your shoulder to see him holding a large grey cardigan while turning away. 

"It's not ideal to walk around like that. I apologize if you're— uncomfortable. I didn't—" 

"It's okay. Really, and thank you." You smiled at him warmly, appreciating that he quickly understood your discomfort.

" It's alright…" You say a bit softer, wrapping yourself in the sweater. 

The cardigan was a bit too big on you, but Mark knew that's how you liked to wear them anyway. He had no idea his staff would fill her closets with clothes like this, That being said, he couldn't deny you looked lovely. It wasn't Mark's intention to keep putting you out of place, despite initially being for your own good. 

Mark hoped this habit of staring at you would go unnoticed, but his icy gaze was already so ínstense. The chill of his heavy stares gave you goosebumps. How could you understand what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, you could barely guess his next move. The last thing you'd ever imagine was that he'd easily storm in and solve your dilemma. It was a simple act, but significant enough to lighten your chest. 

"Shall we go then before it's too late?"

 "Too late?” 

"Before I must depart for other activities?" There's no way he'll be able to admit, it, but it's because he has other women to attend to—not yet, at least. He hoped to enjoy every second of every minute he had with you.

The walk to the outside was rather far, but you didn’t mind. Everything in sight was white and neat. You saw many other people, different shapes and sizes; if it weren't for the uniforms, you'd assume you were home. Your gut told you to keep your eyes on Mark's back as he led you carefully through the halls. 

You knew they were all looking– you felt it, reminding you of your displacement, sticking out like a sore thumb. Out of place.

You both made it to a large windowed portion of the maze-like structure. The entire corridor was laced with sunlight. 

Upon entirely existing, you saw an open field untouched by vegetation other than lush grass covering the vast Tierran. It was breathtaking. Untouched and clean. Earth had sights as such, but this was different; something strange radiated off the land. Its beauty made the odd sensation somewhat bearable. 

Mark led you to the pasture, his hand still intertwined with yours, holding on like you’d slip away at a moment's notice. 

The air around you shifted, and time had stopped to capture this moment before you. The softness of his eyes as he peered over his shoulder, the positioning of the sun floating behind him, and it’s light surrounding the outline of his figure. You vaguely saw a faint smile painted on his lips as he watched you take in the scene before he directed his focus ahead of him. The taller grass tickled your calves as you matched his pace, but your heart— reigned victorious as it’s rhythm out ran your feet. 

“Y/N..?” He called again, not realizing he’d been calling for you. You lick your lips anxiously, relieving the dryness from the surrounding space that left you in awe. How had you been so distracted that you hadn’t noticed you were no longer holding hands, now further in the field?

“Sorry.” You look at the ground, trying to relax your nerves. 

“Sit with me,” was all he muttered, which came off more like an order than an invitation. You're hesitant to take his extended hand, but before you can decide, he sits first, takes your hand, and guides you into his lap. 

You’re tense, afraid to move wrong in your own body. 

You wince when your back connects to his chest, still sore from injury, causing you to jerk forward. Due to your reaction, He pulls in with more caution, adjusting your seating to bring you comfort. 

“Please, just be here with me.” His breath tickles your neck as he snakes his arm around your form. You almost melt into the touch. How could you forget your situation so quickly when presented with this weak display of affection? 

But he embraces you so delicately, almost scared to break you, he seems like a different person, lost in the crook of your neck. It’s almost like he’d yearned for this ‘connection’ you shared. 

If this were somewhere else, with someone else, this would have worked on you. 

Yet when the wind kissed your exposed skin, you began to doze off in your captor's arms. Mark could feel your muscles relax against him, and he held you. 

Why was he safe?  Why did this feel– acceptable?

[possesseddesiress]

Skinfit

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Skinfit

My name is Tristan, I study economics in college. My dream since I was a teenager was to be part of a fraternity, to live with other guys, to form lifelong friendships, and even to be popular.

And of course, to see a lot of muscular guys, but those are other details that I discovered later. But my "average" looks and my almost null sports skills, left me completely out of the fraternities. So I could only hope for a shared room.

I was lucky to find Zachary, a very nice guy. I thought having a jock as a roommate would be chaotic, smelly and even dirty, but Zach wasn't like that.

He was pretty organized and clean, sometimes he would come in stinking of sweat and leave his clothes all over the room, but it was only when he came in tired from his workout, took a shower, picked everything up and it was like nothing had happened.

Besides, I don't complain about his scent at all... Intoxicating, penetrating, extremely masculine, and completely out of my league.

He was straight, never brought girls to the house but it was well known around campus how successful he was with girls. He was a good friend, but geez... how many times hadn't I had vivid dreams about him (that would never come true).

- Lately the light has been failing, a false contact in the bathroom light - I whispered as I took a sip from my coffee cup.

- Really? - he asked, wearing his purple compression shirt - I've hardly been home, sorry mate - he gave a sigh, though then seemed to have an idea - I know! You remember I took an electrical course, don't you? I could try to fix it, I don't think it would be that hard would it?

- Dude, really?

- Sure! I must have my tools forgotten somewhere in my room, but anything for you, buddy - he patted me on the back before going to get something from his room.

He returned shortly after. To which we both went into the bathroom.

- Are you sure you know what you're doing?

- Yes, I sometimes skipped classes in the course but I think I know the basics.

He set up a chair so he could repair the ceiling light, removed the bulb and began to move the electrical inlet carefully.

- Don't you want us to call a technician?

- Dude! Trust me, besides, we can save several dollars, trust me, look, I think I found the problem.

He placed the tip of his tool on the metal, moved it a little and at first nothing happened. Until it sparked.

The sound of electricity chilled my skin as Zach let out a choked scream, his body trembled violently without being able to break free. I swallowed nervously. I didn't know what to do, so I did the best thing I could think of: push him.

As soon as I touched it, electricity ran through my nerves as well, it was an intense pain from head to toe, but thanks to the momentum, I ended up knocking it down and cutting off the power.

Everything went dark for a second, and then I lost myself.

Soon after I opened my eyes, I felt my head hurting, my body numb and heavy. Things were blurry all around me, and everything was dark.

- Shit...

I mumbled, touching the floor, getting up with difficulty though staggering in the process. I placed my hands against the tile, feeling a strange force in my hands.

I stood up, moving darkly around the room.

- Zach? Are you...?

Before I finished the sentence, I realized something wasn't right.

My voice felt different, deep, more... masculine? My original voice wasn't high-pitched, but it wasn't this deep, I almost felt it echoed loudly every time I opened my lips.

I touched my throat, feeling a thick adam's apple. What was going on? For a moment I stopped thinking about Zach, staggered out of the room until I advanced to my own, then I saw the reflection.

- What... what the hell?

The reflection that greeted me was Zach's, mimicking my every move. For a moment I felt fear, almost panic, but then I looked at those fat pecs.

They were mine now.

I was full of muscle! I stroked my new muscles, how good my biceps felt wrapped in the tight purple fabric.

I flexed my muscles, widening my arms and enjoying how my pecs felt, even how the reliefs stuck against my T-shirt, making me let out a gasp.

Was Zach so sensitive to such an area?

It was like letting go of my senses all at once, I kneaded and squeezed my pecs hard, letting out a loud gasp. I went crazy for a while, stroking everywhere, every mound of muscle.

I reached down to my pants. Pulling the elastic to observe what was hiding inside.

- Not bad... - I smiled - I can see why you're such a hit with the ladies, dude. Just look at the size of this thing.

I sniffed with some force, which caused a wide, loud gasp that I'm sure was heard throughout the building.

I lifted my armpit to smell it, I loved the scent... And now it was mine! How many times had I dreamed of smelling it, and now it was within my complete reach! I stuck my nose again and again, filling my whole nose with sweat.

I gasped awkwardly, like a teenager with raging hormones.

I stopped touching myself for a moment to run out to Zach's room, I loved feeling my strong legs, how each footstep echoed with weight and force across the floor.

I opened the closet to start pulling out different clothes. Although there was a larger amount of t-shirts, lycra and other sportswear, so I decided to take off what was intruding between my eager hands and my dreamy body.

I weighed my fat pectorals, changed my shirt and put on a white one that was even tighter, and flexed my arms.

It was like feeling in the glory...

It had been at least five months after the change. And I couldn't be happier about it.

At first Zach, or now I should say Tristan, had a hard time getting used to the change, always complaining that he didn't want to be in that body, that he wanted to change back.

He tried again and again to recreate the accident to return us to our original bodies. But I wasn't at all interested in going back to who I was before.

I loved the way I looked now. How others were interested in me, the fact that getting anywhere, got everyone's attention. How good my body looked in tight sportswear.

And best of all: How I attracted the attention of the fraternities.

I don't understand why Zachary didn't join any of them as soon as he entered college, he was the perfect himbo to be a brother! Within mere weeks in his body, I ended up joining one of the most important and exclusive fraternities on campus.

And I loved it.

Almost every weekend there were parties, sweaty smells, and guys walking shirtless through the halls every day. It was like heaven. And best of all, no one knew that the new Zach was actually me.

Everyone was surprised for a while at how self-centered I turn out to be, how obsessed I was with my scent, or even the change from straight to gay.

Because what I loved most about this body was how guys drooled over me, I could have anyone in the palm of my hand even.

Barely five months in and I had already been with almost every guy in the frat (some "curious", some with their sexuality under wraps and some who just wanted to have a good time), I was living what as Tristan wouldn't have happened even on my best day.

Now it was Zach, full of muscles, tight clothes that left nothing to the imagination and with such an intoxicating aroma...

Anyway. I'd have a costume party in less than an hour, the good thing about being Zach now was that whatever I wore, it would look good on me.

And I could let my nerdy tastes out. All in all, I looked hot.

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

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[yonomori-rei]

Mother I crave more beast dazai content with only but angst and sex.

-🌕🦢

A/N: Hello my child!!! Sorry for replying so late...I aim to please within a week (or 2). Anywayyyy, you should be honoured to be my very first requester!!!! I hope I have catered to your needs...enjoy!!!! Let me go ~

Pairing: Yandere!Beast!Dazai x Wife!Reader

Genre: Angst, smut (18+)

Content warning: swearing, death of children mentioned – and (kinda) gory descriptions, manipulative DAZAI, YANDERE DAZAI, MAFIA BOSS DAZAI, BEAST DAZAI,DAZAI, DAZAI, DAZAI, mentions of suicide (I wonder who said it hmmm), DUB-CON (kinda), MEAN DAZAI, nipple play, fingering, orgasm denial, one spank, DAZAI, p in v sex, unprotected sex, MANIPULATIVE DAZAI, SEXY DAZAI

Synopsis: You were tired of his lies and wanted to leave. He, however, had a different idea. And we all know who gets their way in the end.

“Dazai…I can’t do this anymore. I want a divorce.”

The Mafia boss in question does not react at all, as he simply carries on glaring at the chaotic mess of documents spread out on his ebony desk with a furrowed brow marring his usually emotionless façade. One bandaged hand is tangled in his soft, wavy hair, whilst the other is drumming aimless beats on the table.

Yet you did not notice the frustration etched on his face, for you had been staring at the floor,

lest you be distracted by the beautiful display of anger from the handsome man sitting across from you, preventing you from getting that sentence out of your mouth. There is no way you’ll be able to break up with him if you are looking at that all-knowing, chocolate eye that commands all.

And even though you knew all of this, you still foolishly decide to storm up to his desk and

bang your hand on top of the documents, obscuring his view and causing the powerful man’s head to shoot up in exasperation as he mutters sharply,

“Stop being a brat (Y/N) and remove your hand.”

His annoyed tone causes you to hesitate – barely, although Dazai’s trained eye notices immediately – before you retort,

“Not until you stop being a jerk who’s always lying to me and making false promises.”

He regards you with a lazy smirk, as if he’s amused by your outburst, not taking your words

seriously at all. And it angers you how dismissive he’s being – literally seconds after you spoke from your heart. He never, never acknowledged your words, always brushing

arguments under the rug. And you have had enough.

Your eyes blur with a transparent layer of tears, anger practically threatening to erupt, but you manage to hold in the hysteria as you quietly hiss,

“You think I wouldn’t find out? All your lies? Y-you arsehole! How could you harm those children! They’re children, Dazai, children!”

The reminder of those pictures you saw on his desk a few nights ago, the horrible conditions those young, innocent souls were forced to go through, all those blackened bodies and agonised faces, brought your tears to the surface. Your face is soon drenched, but you stare at him with fury swirling in your eyes. This man – this sweet man you were once delighted to call yours – was nothing more than a heartless murderer. And you see it now. 

You see it all clearly.

“It had to be done, (Y/N).”

His face was like hardened stone, all cruelty and no emotion. A small part of you smirked smugly, delighted that he’s finally taking you seriously, but the logical side began to cower in fear; a serious Dazai is a dangerous Dazai. Who knows what you have just triggered. And yet, the anger within you fuels you on, causing careless words to spew out of your mouth,

“They were innocent angels. They didn’t deserve that! And... I saw the date. It happened on our wedding anniversary! And what was your excuse back then? Oh yes, you couldn’t make it because one of your subordinates had been gravely injured. Such a kind man, I thought, but here you were, taking innocent lives.”

Your face is a picture of hate, glaring at the seemingly unaffected man in front of you. With a final sob, you utter the words that had been wanting to escape ever since you first saw those photographs,

“I hate you, Dazai! You’re a cruel bastard who deserves to die a horrible death!”

He grimaced, before answering,

“As much as I want to die, I’d rather it be painless, my dear. And preferably a double suicide with you.”

He finally cut the thin thread of sanity that had held you together. With a frustrated scream, you knock down the vase that had been sitting on the table, smashing it into tiny shards before swirling around and walking purposefully to the door. And you wish he’d stop you, beg you to forgive him, promising he would change, but you knew, deep down, it was all a futile hope. A man like him had no hope for redemption.

Just as your hand clasps around the handle and pulls the door open, a sudden force hits it shut, and you look up to see a strong, bandaged palm flat against the door above your head, and an ominous presence behind you. But how? You hadn’t heard him move. But of course, it is foolish to think you can hear the cunning man when he doesn’t want to be heard.

You stand frozen, unable to move from the waves of sheer power that radiates from him, until you feel his face close to yours, nose tracing a path from your temple to your cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps which he slyly takes note of, before letting out a throaty chuckle at your expression – which you are ashamed to say resembled a deer in headlights.

“My sweet little wife, where do you think you’re going?”

He smirks against your soft skin, nuzzling into your neck, and you hate how you melt into the soft gesture. No, you’re meant to be arguing with him, not letting him cosy up to you. For fuck’s sake, you even demanded a divorce, and not even the destruction of the universe would stop you from getting what you want.

"Pity that Dazai Osamu is an entity capable of far worse than merely destroying a universe.

“Away from you!” 

Your hissed response is delayed, and his smirk widens at the hesitation. You’re practically making it easy for him to manipulate, handing yourself to him on a silver platter, begging to be ruined, corrupted by this ruthless man.

“Let me go, bastard!”

He tuts, shaking his head at your snarled exclamation, before dramatically sighing out,

“How cruel of you, bella’, to say such hurtful words! Oh! You’ve broken my poor heart! Fie, I say!”

His dramatic antics – the very one that never fails to make you laugh – only made the anger and the hurt grow more. He’s toying with you, attempting to break you, and he’s succeeding. You turn around; eyes filled with disbelief at his words. And in your blind rage, you fail to consider the consequences of your actions, as your open palm flies towards his cheek. But before your hand can connect to your target, his hand locks your wrist in an iron grip, and a furious expression takes over his features.

“No.”

A simple command that evokes immediate fear in you. You begin to shake, staring at him with wide, innocent eyes, whilst he looks down upon you with unfiltered rage. Roughly, he slams your back against the wall, the force stealing your breath. Whilst one hand grasps both your wrists and crushes them between your bodies, the other grabs your cheeks, fingers digging into your soft skin and forcing your mouth into a pout. Sneering, he slams his lips onto yours, biting and nipping, eager to hear you cry. And you do just that, sobbing and struggling, although it does nothing to help you at all.

He finally lets go of your face, although his body is still pinning yours to the wall, but before you can enjoy that small moment of freedom, his hand slips under your shirt, snaking its way up to roughly fondle your breasts.

“S-stop, please Dazai.”

Scoffing, he answers with a dismissive,

“You tried to slap me, so consider this your punishment.”

Never in your two years of marriage has he ever done something like this. He’s always put your pleasure, your wants, your happiness before anything else, so why? Why is he acting like this? And you know the answer too, already figured out that the kindness was a façade, that this is his true nature, but how can you acknowledge that you married a monster?

He rips open your shirt, buttons flying everywhere, and it brings you back to the abuse he’s dishing out to your body. He’s pulling and pinching your nipples uncaringly, squeezing the sensitive flesh, relishing in your yelps and pained whines, egging you on.

“That’s it, darling, beg more. Beg for the man you hate.”

You push him away, hitting his chest with small fists, but he doesn’t budge at all, instead laughing at your pathetic attempts to attack him.

“It’s almost as if you want me to hurt you, you little masochist.”

“N-no, don’t do this, I don’t want this, Dazai, please –”

“You know my name (Y/N).”

You finally look him in the eye, all skittish and fearful, but he calmly regards you, finally stopping his assault on your breasts. And a mischievous glint enters his eye as he continues to stare you down like you’re his prey. No – not like, you are his prey.

His hand is splayed across your stomach, as you breathe heavily, fear mixed with forbidden desire – although you’d die before admitting that – as he stares silently.

“You don’t want this?”

He cocks his head to the side, looking at you with faux innocence as if just seconds ago, he wasn’t groping your breasts against your pleas to stop. Warily, you shake your head.

Before you can even register what had happened, he’s twirled your around, your back against his chest as he’s leaning against the wall, and your face heats up at the large bulge in his trousers, rubbing right against your arse.

And before you can defend yourself, his hand slips down into your panties, causing an

embarrassing moan to leave your mouth, and you're thankful for the change in position. At least, you don’t have to see the smug expression on his stupidly handsome face.

One, long finger strokes the length of your slit, and when he brings his hand up to your face, you flush at the slick that was practically drowning his finger. 

“You’re so drenched bella’. And for who, I wonder? The very man you hate.”

His face is covered in a wicked grin, small specs of insanity present in his omniscient, brown eye, as he shoves his finger in your mouth, forcing you to suck on it, and your nose scrunches at the slightly acidic taste. He’s never acted so...rough with you before, and you're shocked by how turned on you are. How embarrassing. You were meant to leave him today, to never look back, but what are you doing now? 

Somewhere during your internal monologue, Dazai’s fingers have found its home between your legs once more, and his finger slowly strokes your slit, spreading the wetness to your clit. Yet he doesn’t move, instead letting his fingers hover over your clit, barely touching. You whine desperately, wanting more, needing more, but he doesn’t give in, torturing you slowly.

“P-please, O-osamuuu…”

You aren’t sure what you're begging for anymore, but all you know is that Dazai is driving you crazy with how slowly he’s moving, and how much he’s teasing you. You struggle once more, but now, it was for a completely different purpose. And he’s satisfied with how easy it is to reduce you into this mess, but he wouldn’t be Dazai Osamu if he only made you lose your mind once. No, he’s going to absolutely break you.

With that thought, he shoved two fingers into your tight hole, and you're lucky that your cunt is drooling, because otherwise, you would have surely been in pain at the stretch of those long fingers plunging into you.

“A-aah…O-osa! N-no stop!”

Your plea is weak as you’re already giving into the pleasure before you can see your demand for a divorce through. It’s pathetic how simple it is for him to bend you to his will, but the way those skilled fingers feel inside your walls, hitting the right spots, makes you lose your mind before the real pleasure begins. He’s massaging your walls with ease, an expert in his actions, knowing exactly what to do to reduce you to this blubbering mess.

And when he hits your sweet spot, he chuckles softly, relishing in your whimpers and screams, trying desperately to hold back your moans, but he already knows the pleasure you're writhing under.

“F-fuck…stop, no more!”

You’re still in denial, although your hips are grinding on his fingers, and he openly laughs, watching your pathetic figure contradict the prideful words that leave your mouth. No, that won’t do…he wants you to beg him to give you unlimited pleasure. And he knows exactly how to remedy the situation.

You’re already clenching his fingers hard, trying to keep them in you as he spears your sweet spot again and again and again, and he overloads your senses by rubbing furious circles on your clit with his thumb. Your hand grasps at his sleeves desperately, hold tightening as he brings you closer and closer to the brink. Your back is arching, eyes rolling back as incoherent sounds leave your lips, begging and begging, and when he leans down seductively to whisper,

“You may hate me, but your body certainly doesn’t.”

It tips you over the edge, or at least it would have, if the cruel man had not stopped his assault and completely withdrawn all forms of stimulation, leaving your cunt to clench around nothing. You let out a pained whine, confused as you fix your widened eyes on Dazai’s smirking face.

“Tell me you want it, tell me you want my fucking dick in you. Say it!”

By now, all forms of resistance have completely vanished, as your legs shake and pussy pulses at your ruined high. And at the slightest hesitance from you, he roughly spanks your arse, causing you to cry out in pain, and some twisted form of pleasure.

“W-want you to f-fuck me, Osa…wanna feel your big dick in me…”

It’s humiliating, but you’re desperate for the pleasure that only he can give you. And as soon as those words leave your lips, he all but throws you onto the desk, tearing you panties roughly and keeping your head pinned to the cold surface with one hand whilst the other effortlessly removes his belt and exposes his impressive length. 

And without any prior warning, he thrusts into you, wetness dulling the pain, although the unexpected stretch of his huge length impaling you causes you to scream out desperately. And he laughs at your shock and begins fucking you with such vigour that his ebony desk also moved along with you. He’s hitting all the right spots, giving you an all-consuming pleasure whilst your face steadily heats up at the lewd sounds your joined sex echoes in the silent room. 

“B-bella….do you - fuck - do you enjoy being fucked by the man you hate…?”

You cry then, clawing at the hard surface, as his cock hits your g-spot with deadly precision, forcing guttural moans to escape your mouth at the sheer, endless pleasure. Your eyes are stuck in the back of your head from how good he’s fucking you, albeit a bit too rough, but his careless treatment only makes you drip more. 

“A-ah…please….needa come, ah - Osamuu!”

His hand is tangled in your hair, gripping the strands before yanking you up, and your tears mixed with your drool is a sight to see, tongue lolling out as Dazai leans down to your shoulder and bites down hard. And he feels your cunt clench around his cock at the rough treatment - who knew his wife had a pain kink. You had always been so soft, but this was by far the most dishevelled you’d been during sex.

But he is still angry, still mad at your hurtful words, so much that he conveys his anger through how roughly he’s pumping his cock in you, going deeper and deeper until he’s practically hitting your cervix and bruising you. And when he feels you tell-tale signs, of how frequently your clenching around him, the higher pitched moaning, they way your fingers are scrambling to hold onto something - anything - on the desk, he quickly pulls out and fucks his hand before letting out a groan as cum shoots out of his tip. 

He decorates you back, panting as rows of thick white substance covers you, dripping down your arse, whilst some of his jizz has landed into your spasming hole, your own orgasm ruined once more. And your legs are shaking, barely any strength left, as you lay there crying. He tucks himself back in swiftly, leaving briefly to clean himself up and when he comes back, he sees your shivering form still on the desk. 

You haven’t moved ever since he left you there, unsatisfied and broken. The tears have stopped coming, all that’s left is a hollow look, yet you flinch when you feel his unforgiving palm on your body, rubbing you with deceptive sweetness.

“Remember (Y/N) this was your punishment. If you hadn’t acted so foolishly earlier, I wouldn’t have needed to do this. I hope you dispel this silly idea of wanting a divorce. After all, you are my wife, and you will always be mine.”

No, there is no hope of him ever letting you go.

[foreverlittlesoshi]

Destroy Me More

noah sebastian x reader 

Content warning: smut (clearly), oral (f. & m. receiving) fingering, squirting

word count: 1.6k

MINORS DNI 18+

it surprised everyone when you two got together because everyone said the same thing every time. “he seems so shy compared to you.” maybe everyone thought that because he mainly kept to himself and his friend group but no one knew how much control he truly had over you. 

“just imagine the look on everyone’s faces if they knew how much of a slut you are for me.” he says as you run your tongue along his dick. you look up at him with big doe eyes and he smirks, he loves this sight and can’t help but to tease you. you kiss the tip then begin to take him in your mouth, he grabs the back of your head with his tattooed hand to push you further and you breathe through your nose to help yourself as you begin to bob your head. his eyes can’t help but to look at the bulge in throat caused by him. 

he apologized when he heard you gag and wiped away the tears forming in your eyes. he usually didn’t expect you to deep throat him but you just wanted to please him more than usual today. he felt heavy on your tongue and the way his hips twitched, you knew he was close. he pushes himself to the back of your throat when he cums so all you can do is swallow it. when he pulls away, you can feel a bit on the corner of your mouth which he cleans with his thumb and puts it in your mouth. you hum as you suck and he groans at the sight.

“you just think you’re so fuckin cute, don’t you?” his voice makes you whine and send shivers down your spine. “acting like a bitch in heat, just for me.”

“only for you, sir.” those words set him off because the next thing you knew, you were on the bed with noah’s face right in front of yours.

pressing his lips against yours harshly and you give back the same passion. he pulled away to remove his shirt and you looked at him with pure lust swimming in your eyes. sitting up to get a better look at him, you ran your hands up his firm ink covered chest and cupped his face. lust may be the main feeling in your body right now but love was all you felt for him. his brown eyes almost looked black, his lips felt swollen as you ran your thumb over them, and his face was pink due to you studying him.

“i love you.” was all that you told before kissing him again. 

“i love you too.” he spoke between kisses and he grinds his hips against yours which causes you to whine. his tongue moves against yours, your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged. he moans at the feeling, his hands moves down your body and runs his fingers lightly up your thigh. he purposely avoids touching where you need him and grips your hip instead. you pull away and whine at him.

“what’s wrong, my love?” he asks with false innocence. 

“now you’re just being mean.” you pout at him and he chuckles. 

“I mean we can stop he-“ “no!” You shout at him. “i’m sorry! i don’t want you to stop.”

“ask nicely and you’ll get what you want.” he smirked as your face became flushed. “please don’t make me say it.” he hums at your response then starts getting up.

“can you please touch me, sir?” you ask in a small voice as you grab his arm. “you gotta say where baby.” he knew you hated saying where you wanted him, you got so embarrassed about it and he loves it.

“please finger me, sir.” you whimper to him and he felt like he could cum again right then and there. “of course baby.”

he pushes you back down, leaving love bites on your neck, breasts, some on your navel while trailing down your body until he gets to the band of your underwear and then starts tugging them off. you lift your hips to help, he pulls them off and throws them somewhere behind him. when you spread your legs, you shiver due to the cool air and he smirks at how wet you already are. his thumb presses against your clit and you jolt at the feeling. 

“more, please!” he hasn’t even started yet but you could cum just from this simple pleasure.

he starts rubbing in circles and your eyes closed while you cried out. His long slender finger soon enters you but with how wet you are, he’s able to add a second finger with no problem and curls them. the squelching sound made your face burn but the pleasure from feeling his fingers pumping and his thumb swirling your clit drowned out the embarrassment. he lifts your legs up which causes him to hit deeper and your moans became more high pitched as you got close. he chuckles at how cute you are. you felt him kiss your neck then nibble on your earlobe. his palm was getting soaked because of you.

“noah, please.” you begged him while holding onto his arm. 

“use your words or else i don’t know what you want.” he mocked, you felt like crying due to the pressure and need to cum. 

“can-can i please cum? please sir?” you opened your eyes to see him and he pecked your forehead.

“good girl. now cum for me.” you closed your eyes then felt your mind go blank as you came though it felt way different from any other orgasm he’s given you before. he stared at your cunt as you started squirting on his fingers and moaned at the sight. he couldn’t believe it honestly since it was the first time you’ve done that. 

“[y/n], are you still with me?” you heard noah ask and you whimpered as a response when he pulled his fingers out. 

“are you okay?” he started to worry thinking he pushed you past your limit. your eyes fluttered open and sat up, when you saw the blanket was wet you felt bad.

“oh no, i’m so sor-“ “love, it’s fine. it was pretty hot actually.” he told you and you covered your face in embarrassment. 

“no, don’t do that.” he then removed your hands and held them, you looked up at him and saw that he was serious.

“i, uh, i didn’t know that i could do that.” you sounded like a mouse speaking to him and he kissed your head.

“let’s stop here for toni-“ “stop saying that!” he was surprised by your words.

“i don’t wanna push your body anymore, love.” you know he was just looking out for you.

“but i want your cock inside of me.” you pouted and he froze at how bold you were. 

your back hit the mattress again, he lined himself up to your cunt then pushed into you. crying out, your nails dug into his back and he groaned. he was so big and no matter how wet you were, it still stung whenever he first entered you. even with closed eyes, you feel tears and noah wipes them away.��

“noah, you’re so big.” you whined to him and he scoffed.

“isn’t this what you wanted? you know you can take it you little slut.” you already felt close again due to those words. his pace quickens, you could feel him hitting your cervix and you scream at the feeling. he couldn’t help but love the sounds you were making and looked down to see himself poking out at the edge of your stomach. he grabbed one of your hands and you opened your eyes confused until he placed his hand on the bulge. so many new things tonight we’re happening and you couldn’t help but love it. 

“do you feel me? can you feel me that deep inside of you?” he whispered in your ear.

“yes sir!” you cried, “i love it! i really do! please, please let me cum again.” 

“you call that begging? try again slut.” you whined at him.

“Noah, noah,noah! please please please sir! i wanna cum and feel you cum inside me. make me yours please. please sir!” his dick twitched at your words while your back arched at the pleasure you were feeling. he pushed your legs up to your chest and thrusted harder. 

“sir please!” you cried again feeling your orgasm creeping over the edge.

“cum now, slut.” is all he said before you felt yourself creaming on his cock and you could feel his cum spill inside of you. you moan at the feeling and he kisses you hard. once he pulls out, you both watch as his cum rushes out of your cunt and moans. 

your body felt like it was on fire and noah could tell. he picked you up then carried you to the bathroom and started the shower. 

“i can stand you know.” you said hoarsely which shocked you.

“i’ll get you some medicine after we shower, love.” is all he said and he let you stand by yourself. after he washed you, he let you wash him but when you saw his back you gasped. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

“uhm, i guess i got a little too excited because there’s actually deep scratch marks on your back.” you told him and he laughed. after the shower, getting dressed, changing the sheets, eating, and him giving you medicine, you both finally laid back down.

“i’m sor-“ “don’t apologize for going rough. i really enjoyed it.” you told him before the tiredness hit you.

“i love you.” he says and you smile.

“i love you too, noah. more than you’ll ever know.” is the last thing you remember saying before falling asleep. 

[mariacallous]

Neo-Nazis and white supremacists are sharing Hitler-related propaganda and trying to recruit new members on TikTok, according to a new report from the Institute for Strategic Dialogue (ISD) shared exclusively with WIRED. The TikTok algorithm is also promoting this content to new users, researchers found, as extremist communities are leveraging the huge popularity of TikTok among younger audiences to spread their message.

The report from ISD details how hundreds of extremist TikTok accounts are openly posting videos promoting Holocaust denial and the glorification of Hitler and Nazi-era Germany, and suggesting that Nazi ideology is a solution to modern-day issues such as the alleged migrant invasion of Western countries. The accounts also show support for white supremacist mass shooters and livestream-related footage or recreations of these massacres. Many of the accounts use Nazi symbols in their profile pictures or include white supremacist codes in their usernames.

Nathan Doctor, an ISD researcher who authored the report, says he began his investigation earlier this year when he came across one neo-Nazi account on TikTok while conducting research for another project.

He was quickly able to unmask a much broader network of accounts that appeared to be actively helping each other through liking, sharing, and commenting on each other’s accounts in order to increase their viewership and reach.

The groups promoting neo-Nazi narratives are typically siloed in more fringe platforms, like Telegram, the encrypted messaging app. But Telegram has become a place to discuss recruitment techniques for TikTok specifically: White supremacist groups there share videos, images, and audio tracks that members can use, explicitly telling other members to cross-post the content on TikTok.

“We posted stuff on our brand new tiktok account with 0 followers but had more views than you could ever have on bitchute or twitter,” one account in a Neo-Nazi group posted on Telegram about their outreach on TikTok. “It just reaches much more people.”

Others have followed suit. One prominent neo-Nazi has often asked his thousands of Telegram followers to “juice,” or algorithmically boost, his TikTok videos to increase their viral potential.

An extremist Telegram channel with 12,000 followers urged members to promote the neo-Nazi documentary Europa: The Last Battle by blanketing TikTok with reaction videos in an effort to make the film go viral. Researchers from ISD found dozens of videos on TikTok featuring clips from the film, some with over 100,000 views. “One account posting such snippets has received nearly 900k views on their videos, which include claims that the Rothschild family control the media and handpick presidents, as well as other false or antisemitic claims,” the researchers wrote.

This is far from the first time the role that TikTok’s algorithm plays in promoting extremist content has been exposed. Earlier this month, the Global Network on Extremism and Technology reported that TikTok’s algorithm was promoting the “adoration of minor fascist ideologues.” The same researchers found last year that it was boosting Eurocentric supremacist narratives in Southeast Asia. Earlier this month, WIRED reported how TikTok’s search suggestions were pushing young voters in Germany towards the far-right Alternative for Germany party ahead of last month’s EU elections.

“Hateful behavior, organizations and their ideologies have no place on TikTok, and we remove more than 98 percent of this content before it is reported to us,” Jamie Favazza, a TikTok spokesperson tells WIRED. “We work with experts to keep ahead of evolving trends and continually strengthen our safeguards against hateful ideologies and groups.”

Part of the reason platforms like TikTok have in the past been unable to effectively clamp down on extremist content is due to the use of code language, emojis, acronyms, and numbers by these groups. For example, many of the neo-Nazi accounts used a juice box emoji to refer to Jewish people.

“At present, self-identified Nazis are discussing TikTok as an amenable platform to spread their ideology, especially when employing a series of countermeasures to evade moderation and amplify content as a network,” the researchers write in the report.

But Doctor points out that even when viewing non-English-language content, spotting these patterns should be possible. “Despite seeing content in other languages, you can still pretty quickly recognize what it means,” says Doctor. “The coded nature of it isn't an excuse, because if it's pretty easily recognizable to someone in another language, it should be recognizable to TikTok as well.”

TikTok says it has more than “40,000 trust and safety professionals” working on moderation around the globe, and the company says its Trust and Safety Team has specialists in violent extremism who constantly monitor developments in these communities, including the use of new coded language.

While many of the identified accounts are based in the US, Doctor found that the network was also international.

“It's definitely global, it's not even just the English language,” Doctor tells WIRED. “We found stuff in French, Hungarian, German. Some of these are in countries where Naziism is illegal. Russian is a big one. But we even found things that were a bit surprising, like groups of Mexican Nazis, or across Latin America. So, yeah, definitely a global phenomenon.”

Doctor did not find any evidence that the international groups were actively coordinating with each other, but they were certainly aware of each others’ presence on TikTok: “These accounts are definitely engaging with each others' content. You can see, based on comment sections, European English-speaking pro-Nazi accounts reacting with praise toward Russian-language pro-Nazi content.”

The researchers also found that beyond individual accounts and groups promoting extremist content, some real-world fascist or far-right organizations were openly recruiting on the platform.

Accounts from these groups posted links in their TikTok videos to a website featuring antisemitic flyers and instructions on how to print and distribute them. They also boosted Telegram channels featuring more violent and explicitly extremist discourse.

In one example cited by ISD, an account whose username contains an antisemitic slur and whose bio calls for an armed revolution and the complete annihilation of Jewish people, has shared incomplete instructions to build improvised explosive devices, 3D-printed guns, and “napalm on a budget.”

To receive the complete instructions, the account holder urged followers to join a “secure groupchat” on encrypted messaging platforms Element and Tox. Doctor says that comments under the account holder’s videos indicate that a number of his followers had joined these chat groups.

ISD reported this account, along with 49 other accounts, in June for breaching TikTok’s policies on hate speech, encouragement of violence against protected groups, promoting hateful ideologies, celebrating violent extremists, and Holocaust denial. In all cases, TikTok found no violations, and all accounts were initially allowed to remain active.

A month later, 23 of the accounts had been banned by TikTok, indicating that the platform is at least removing some violative content and channels over time. Prior to being taken down, the 23 banned accounts had racked up at least 2 million views.

The researchers also created new TikTok accounts to understand how Nazi content is promoted to new users by TikTok’s powerful algorithm.

Using an account created at the end of May, researchers watched 10 videos from the network of pro-Nazi users, occasionally clicking on comment sections but stopping short of any form of real engagement such as liking, commenting, or bookmarking. The researchers also viewed 10 pro-Nazi accounts. When the researchers then flipped to the For You feed within the app, it took just three videos for the algorithm to suggest a video featuring a World War II-era Nazi soldier overlayed with a chart of US murder rates, with perpetrators broken down by race. Later, a video appeared of an AI-translated speech from Hitler overlaid with a recruitment poster for a white nationalist group.

Another account created by ISD researchers saw even more extremist content promoted in its main feed, with 70 percent of videos coming from self-identified Nazis or featuring Nazi propaganda. After the account followed a number of pro-Nazi accounts in order to access content on channels set to private, the TikTok algorithm also promoted other Nazi accounts to follow. All 10 of the first accounts recommended by TikTok to this account used Nazi symbology or keywords in their usernames or profile photos, or featured Nazi propaganda in their videos.

“In no way is this particularly surprising,” says Abbie Richards, a disinformation researcher specializing in TikTok. "These are things that we found time and time again. I have certainly found them in my research."

Richards wrote about white supremacist and militant accelerationist content on the platform in 2022, including the case of neo-Nazi Paul Miller, who, while serving a 41-month sentence for firearm charges, featured in a TikTok video that racked up more than 5 million views and 700,000 likes during the three months it was on the platform before being removed.

Marcus Bösch, a researcher based in Hamburg University who monitors TikTok, tells WIRED that the report’s findings “do not come as a big surprise,” and he’s not hopeful there is anything TikTok can do to fix the problem.

“I’m not sure exactly where the problem is,” Bösch says. “TikTok says it has around 40,000 content moderators, and it should be easy to understand such obvious policy violations. Yet due to the sheer volume [of content], and the ability by bad actors to quickly adapt, I am convinced that the entire disinformation problem cannot be finally solved, neither with AI nor with more moderators.”

TikTok says it has completed a mentorship program with Tech Against Terrorism, a group that seeks to disrupt terrorists’ online activity and helps TikTok identify online threats.

“Despite proactive steps taken, TikTok remains a target for exploitation by extremist groups as its popularity grows,” Adam Hadley, executive director of Tech Against Terrorism, tells WIRED. “The ISD study shows that a small number of violent extremists can wreak havoc on large platforms due to adversarial asymmetry. This report therefore underscores the need for cross-platform threat intelligence supported by improved AI-powered content moderation. The report also reminds us that Telegram should also be held accountable for its role in the online extremist ecosystem.”

As Hadley outlines, the report’s findings show that there are significant loopholes in the company’s current policies.

“I've always described TikTok, when it comes to far-right usage, as a messaging platform,” Richards said. “More than anything, it's just about repetition. It's about being exposed to the same hateful narrative over and over and over again, because at a certain point you start to believe things after you just see them enough, and they start to really influence your worldview.”