#now if you mean in terms of thirsting..

[somedaytakethetime]

bestie i just know you’d thrive in both the F1 and hockey fandoms, you must go there. like- really. don’t waste your potential!!!

In terms of writing? I do try to make my writing very.. how to word it.. neutral? Non-descriptional? Essentially, overlooking the minor and odd references to football, plus the tags, I try to make the writing as neutral as I can so anyone can imagine whomever they might be interested in. Mostly because that's what I prefer to read about too, I would rather there be no references to names and defining body characteristics so it might fit most men. Granted, if you're around, you know which man I picture but I like to hope that anyone reading can picture just about anyone else too 😂

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Hawks Wants to Knock You Up | One Shot

Summary: Keigo is horny and ready to make a baby. Is this a weird biological side effect of his bird quirk? Hard to say. Whatever the cause is - Keigo is thirsty and ready to sate his thirst with your body. He's begging for you to make him a daddy. Are you up for it, sweetheart?

Important Notes/TW: All characters are A21+, Hawks is a Pro Hero, Hawks x Reader are in along term relationship, Hawks has a breeding kink and Reader is into it, consensual sex, MDNI, This is an adult only blog posting mature content

"Let's make a baby."

You drop the glass you're dying over the sink and swear as you watch it fall to the ground. It tumbles end over end, almost in slow motion. A moment later, it's back in your hands - still fully formed, no shards on the ground. A crimson feather zooms out from where it's wrapped around the glass - Hawks has used his quirk to save the day. As per usual.

"Excuse me?" You snap, holding up the glass with a shaky hand. "And stop doing that. Don't surprise me, you know I'm clumsy and break things."

"I mean it. Let's make a baby." He says, leaning across the countertop on his forearms. His hair is tussled and wet from a recent shower, his t-shirt and sweatpants clinging sinfully to his damp, slim frame. "I want to put a baby in you right now."

"Kei..." You groan, rolling your eyes. He's been saying this a lot lately, especially whenever you're being particularly domestic. You make dinner - baby talk. You take his hero costume out for dry cleaning - baby talk. You tell him not to forget his lunch - goddamn mother fucking baby talk. You often wonder aloud if his bird quirk includes some biological drive to reproduce. He honestly doesn't know.

"Come on baby - just let me fuck you. Right here. Right now." He pushes away from the counter and walks around to stand next to you. He reaches down and grasps at his package through his sweatpants - he's already hard. You place the glass on the counter to prevent yourself from dropping it again. You stare - jeez the way his sweatpants hang around his waist is absolutely delicious. The way his dick boldly bulges in his pants for you causes a spark of desire to shoot straight to your pussy.

Keigo keeps talking as he slips the waistband of his sweatpants down, revealing his hard, flushed cock. "I'll bend you over the counter, I'll suck on your clit a lil' - just the way you like. I'll eat you out and then...then...when you're nice and wet for me I'll slip inside you and fuck you until I knock you up." His pants drop to the floor and you can't help the way you moan as you look at him - his muscled thighs still damp from the shower. He steps forward, dropping his dick. He cages you against the counter, between his hard, muscled Pro Hero arms.

"Kei...we shouldn't." You giggle as he nuzzles into your neck, placing a hot kiss at your pulse point.

"Well I think we should." He whispers, sliding his hands down your sides and scooping at your ass. In one fluid movement he's lifted you onto the countertop, biceps flexing a bit with the effort of it. You forget how strong he is sometimes. It makes you swoon a bit.

A moment later, he's pulled your shorts off. They lay abandoned on the ground alongside your inhibitions. Keigo bends down and brings his mouth close to your pussy. He lets out a hot breath, smiling up at you as you feel your desire pulse and throb.

"What do ya say, birdie? Make me a daddy?"

[skygemspeaks]

marvel universe dashboard simulator: spideytorch ship war edition

(part 2)

🤟 spideyparktorchtruther Follow

🕷️ spideyslut22468

god i'm so fucking tired of hearing about johnny fucking storm's love life. it's always spideytorch this, stormparker that, and now i have to deal with this new monstrosity of a ship? have we considered maybe leaving them alone? these are real ass people, why are you even shipping them anyways? go find some anime twinks to thirst over

4,235 notes

🧟 avgnwyrkr Follow

so anyways i still haven't stopped thinking about that one tiktok where the person saw spider-man chilling eating a hot dog one day and went up to him to ask him what he thought about peter parker and it was so obvious the person was trying to start some drama or whatever but instead spidey just apparently went on for like ten minutes about how awesome peter parker is and how good he is at photography and how smart he is and how they've been friends for like ten years

guys, what if we've been wrong all along? what if spidey really isn't in love with johnny? what if he's in love with peter instead?

😏 shutterbugsupremacy Follow

that's what i've been saying!! i mean guys? peter parker is LITERALLY the only photographer that spidey ever allows to get proper photos of him? he's been taking photos of spidey since he was in high school! he literally put out a photobook that was entirely pictures of spider-man.

🕷️ spideyslut22468

y'all are reaching so hard i'm surprised you haven't pulled a muscle. if parker was really in love with spidey would he have sold his pictures to a newspaper that does nothing but slander spider-man's good name? from what i've heard, jjj pays parker pretty well for his spider-man photos. he's not taking pictures of spidey out of love or anything, it's all just for money. same with the book. he's a sellout.

😏 shutterbugsupremacy Follow

hey man, we all gotta eat somehow, and spidey has said in the past that he doesn't care about parker working for the bugle. also, see above about the video where spidey talks about how awesome parker is. maybe you need to cool your jets, yeah?

🕷️ spideyslut22468

spider-man has been friends with johnny storm literally since the fantastic four came onto the superhero scene, obviously he's gonna play nice when asked about his best friend's long-term boyfriend regardless of how he actually feels about parker. y'all are just looking for signs where there aren't any.

345 notes

🥰 stormparkerownsmysoul

look, i know that we've all had our differences in the past, but let us not think about what sets us apart, but rather what brings us all together.

16,345 notes

❎ superheroshipbrackets

310 notes

❤️‍🔥 spideytorchendgame Follow

me talking to anyone that will listen about my theory that peter parker is just a beard for johnny storm to help keep his actual relationship with spider-man a secret

❤️‍🔥 spideytorchendgame Follow

like guys just hear me out okay? spider-man obviously wouldn't want his real identity to be well known to the public, and publicly dating johnny would put him at constant risk of being found out. so that's why they have johnny fake date peter parker! he's the perfect candidate! i mean, we all know he has ties to, like, a ridiculous number of superheroes. he's worked for both reed richards and tony stark, and people have snapped pics of him hanging out with captain america and deadpool. he's even been spotted with daredevil and daredevil hates everyone! so him dating johnny wouldn't really put him at any more danger of being targeted by villains than he was already in. and what's in it for peter? i mean, he gets to live in the baxter building (he probably has his own secret apartment and doesn't actually live with johnny) and probably gets a bunch of expensive gifts and stuff to compensate for all the shit he has to put up with for being johnny's partner.

2,463 notes

[t4t4t]

"So to everyone scrambling to show the dolls that they care i have this to say: we got here because of you. It was your politics, your lines, your gender-class interests that led us to this place. If you want to switch shit up now and try to help us get out of this mess then the best thing you can do is take real aim at patriarchal civilization, both in the ways you are oppressed by it and the ways you carry it into your lives and movements. In the meantime, as Sanyika Shakur said to euro-american radicals, slide any extra weapons our way. We don’t need instagram videos, we don’t need t-shirts, we need patriarchal civilization to be weakened by war on many fronts.

To my trans sisters let me say this: no one is going to dig us out of this pit except for us. We need our own politics, our own armed units, our own territory and neighborhoods, to manage our own hormone production. So long as we are dependent on patriarchal imperialism we are never going to free ourselves. It’s one thing to recognize that it was the cis women’s movement or the transmasculine queer movement or whoever else who led us into this quagmire, but blame is only useful for splitting off. We still have to dig ourselves out, we still have to recognize that it was our political weakness that allowed everyone else to take advantage of us for so long. No one is coming to save us, no matter how many t-shirts they sell.

A real life example of what i mean. In Harlem recently a young trans woman of color, Jaia Cruz, was attacked by a man in a deli. The man struck Jaia repeatedly, calling her a faggot and a tranny. Jaia stabbed him in self defense and her attacker died. She was sent to Rikers island without bail and, after accepting a plea deal, got 15 years in prison. Her official sentencing is at the end of May and while there is a small movement to free her, very few of us trans women want to understand what Jaia Cruz’s case means for us. As with CeCe McDonald back in 2011, Jaia Cruz’s sentence proves that there is no legal way to defend yourself as a trans woman of color. White sisters haven’t picked this up yet.

See plenty of settler trans women are already armed. It’s popular and cute in our subcultures for white trans women to take thirst traps with their guns. This means almost nothing. Isolated gun fetishists will mean nothing when it comes to actually fighting a war against the state. A sister of mine compared them to those white settler rhodesian women who armed themselves against Zimbabwean revolutionaries. Without a revolutionary political-military theory and practice that sets us against the imperialist state and all of patriarchal civilization we, as settler trans women, are just as likely to die for white supremacy as we are to fight against it.

Was that blunt enough to shake things up a little bit? I learned the hard way (as we all do eventually) that niceties and saved feelings get us nowhere in real terms. The feminist (and anti-feminist) left has long relied on telling lies and claiming easy victories to avoid the hard, messy work of sharpening our practice and evaluating our failures. I know i must sound like a broken record at this point but this moment will be squandered without the intervention of sisters who patriarchal society would like to ignore, denounce as insane or fringe.

We are now, in a real way, gender outlaws. Not just because we violate unwritten patriarchal laws but because our very existence is more and more illegal. In this age of social media we have plenty of people sounding the alarm on these kinds of policies. What we need is a breakthrough in practical terms, new experiments in organizing and fighting against patriarchal civilization itself. We are, consciously or unconsciously, stuck repeating old forms of rebellion. Forms that didn’t work even when they were popular. The euro-style Marxist party building org, the anarchist charity projects, the Maoist youth study groups, none are adequate to even begin the work we need to do.

So don’t waste your time buying t-shirts or filming tiktoks. The undertaking that’s sitting in front of all of us is too massive for any of us to shirk our duties, and anyone who doesn’t pitch in is getting left behind. The fracturing that’s happening now between dominant male fascism and gender outlaws isn’t going to leave anyone untouched. Lines are being drawn and you might look down to find you don’t like what side you wind up on. It’s harder to make that choice than you think.

Arm the dolls."

[abbotjack]

Honestly I think Shawn, a grown man, can stand up for himself lol

“He’s a grown man, he can stand up for himself.”

Right—but that response isn’t as neutral as you think. It’s a deflection. A way of shifting responsibility for boundary enforcement back onto the individual who’s been placed in an uncomfortable position, rather than asking why he was put there in the first place.

Because this isn’t about whether Shawn Hatosy—or Pedro Pascal, or any other man—can assert a boundary. It’s about how we’ve created a culture that expects them not to. It’s about how consent is routinely ignored, overwritten, or turned into a joke in public space—especially when it comes to men, especially when it’s dressed up as irony, “feminist thirst,” or progressive kink-positivity.

It’s about the refusal to admit that consent isn’t just about sex.

Consent is about presence. It’s about participation. It’s about emotional safety. And it’s about power.

And that matters in every context—including fandom, celebrity culture, and the increasingly blurred space between admiration and projection.

When you call a male celebrity “daddy” in the middle of an interview—on camera, unprompted, fully aware it’ll go viral—you’re not giving a harmless compliment. You’re placing him inside a sexualized, hierarchical, kink-coded role, and demanding a performance. You’re not inviting him into a shared dynamic. You’re building one around him and daring him to resist.

And that’s not just parasocial behavior. That’s coercion. Coercion dressed up in a clickbait blazer and a winking “teehee.”

And patriarchy? Patriarchy loves that. Because patriarchy has always taught us that men, especially older, stoic, men, aren’t allowed to have boundaries. That they should be flattered by sexual attention. That their discomfort is a flaw in the man, not a failure of the situation. That a man’s silence means yes.

So when a male celebrity tenses up or shifts uncomfortably after being called “daddy,” we don’t pause. We dismiss him. We say:

“Come on, it’s just a joke.”

“He’s hot. He can take it.”

“It’s part of the job.”

That’s not the language of consent. That’s the language of normalized entitlement.

Now compare that to when I commented on Shawn Hatosy’s TikTok and said he was “so babygirl-coded.” And he liked it.

Why? Because “babygirl,” as it functions in contemporary online fan culture, isn’t built on dominance or performance. It doesn’t demand control. It doesn’t assign erotic authority. It’s a term that signals affection, vulnerability, softness—a playful, sometimes absurd, often tender reverence for men who deviate from traditional masculinity.

That kind of language lives within fandom culture—inside our sandboxes. And when I call someone “babygirl-coded,” that person can ignore it, engage with it, scroll past, or opt in. There’s no pressure. It’s an aesthetic label, not a demand. So when Shawn likes that comment, he’s participating on his own terms. That’s what parasocial consent looks like: voluntary, pressure-free, and rooted in choice.

Now imagine if I had written, “You’re such a daddy. Ruin me.” Totally different tone. Totally different power dynamic. Even if he never saw it, I’d still be inserting a kink-coded script into a public space as if he had agreed to it. And if he had seen it and felt uncomfortable? The onus would fall on him to disengage quietly or laugh it off, because culturally, we’ve given men almost no tools to say “no” without backlash.

Feminist methodology asks better questions:

Whose comfort is protected?

Whose silence is treated as consent?

Whose body is seen as public property?

Whose boundaries get overwritten for the sake of the bit?

We know the answers. They’re gendered. And they’re broken.

When a man is called “daddy” during a press tour, he’s not being asked to play. He’s being expected to perform, sexually, powerfully, on command. And if he doesn’t? The consequences aren’t just social, they’re structural. He’s seen as less fun. Less marketable. Less valuable as content.

That isn’t just unfair. It’s anti-consensual.

As Sara Ahmed writes, to be the one who names a problem is so often to become the problem. The one who says “this feels off,” “this crosses a line,” or simply, “this makes me uncomfortable” is marked as difficult, humorless, or ungrateful. We see this dynamic unfold constantly with male celebrities—especially those who don’t laugh when called “daddy” in person, or who subtly resist being pulled into a sexualized performance they didn’t agree to.

When a man sets a boundary, even quietly, he disrupts the fantasy. And instead of asking what created the discomfort, the culture asks why he couldn't just go along. Because admitting that men can say no, that they’re allowed to feel uneasy, that they don’t exist for our projection, requires challenging the very entitlement fandom often runs on.

So let’s be clear: You can thirst. You can spiral. You can bark, cry, and post your little essays about his shoulders in peace. You can call him whatever in your sandbox corner of the internet.

But forcing someone into your kink-coded fantasy in person, without their consent, and then reacting negatively when they don’t play along, isn’t empowering. It’s not subversive. It’s just public boundary crossing, dressed up as flirtation.

It’s not “owning the gaze.” It’s replicating it—just with the roles reversed.

And reversing the roles isn’t the same as dismantling them.

Roles—no matter how ironic or reversed—are still roles. And assigning someone a role without their participation isn’t liberation. It’s just performance under pressure.

So yes, he’s a grown man.

And that’s exactly why his boundaries matter—especially because he’s not just a celebrity, but a real person, and a parent. Being called “daddy” in person, during a professional setting, isn’t just awkward—it’s an unsolicited invitation into a kink-coded dynamic he didn’t agree to. And when that man is a father in real life, the term becomes even more jarring, blurring roles in a way that’s neither funny nor flattering. His visibility shouldn’t come with the expectation that he absorb sexual projection or emotional labor just to keep the mood light. Silence is not consent. And feminist ethics, if we’re actually practicing them, demand more than clever thirst and role reversal. They require awareness, accountability, and respect for boundaries, no matter who you’re talking to or how attractive you think they are.

And if your only defense is “He can take it,” you’ve already admitted he might not want it, and decided you didn’t care.

That’s not fandom. That’s entitlement. Wrapped in a punchline and passed off as progressive. (referencing this interview)

[k4vehrtz]

WHORETICULTURE. various jjk men / sub gn. reader

synopsis. filled with lust for some fucking guy.

who. nanami kento / satoru gojo / toji fushiguro / heian era! sukuna . ✦ . what. one night stand / unprotected sex / mild religious themes/ thigh riding / slut shaming / against a wall / mean dom (or just brat)! satoru / exes with benefits / exhibition / recreational drug use + alcohol consumption ergo dubious consent / oral (r giving) / body betrayal / brat! reader / implied cnc kink + masochism / domination loss / mild degradation + nipple play / double penetration

notes. terms are kept general thus gender neutral reader but it’s entirely up to your interpretation. a mini compilation of thirsts i had while attempting to fight writer’s block and an unforgiving schedule.

⸻ ## I KNEW IT WHEN I. . .

MET HIM !

[ NANAMI KENTO ]

nanami kento was the embodiment of the traditional man in every sense. he was a businessman — clad in a white button–down, black slacks, and a matching tie hanging around his collar. five days a week, monday to friday, nine a.m. to five p.m. a true provider.

that much you can assume from observation alone. he’s not like the usual crowd; the man stands out. so, it’s only natural that you become curious.

“i’m not above sex before marriage,” and when he speaks, he takes his time to carefully enunciate each word with practised precision. something you didn’t know you were attracted to until now, straddling his thighs.

“somethin’ tells me you’re not just a—” he presses a finger to your lips, interjecting, “if you’re suspicious of me we can always stop,” and you quiet down, rocking your hips back and forth as you feel his erection grow beneath your crotch.

the backseat of his car is a tight fit but it makes it all the more intimate. remnants of nicotine on his breath waft across your face, warming your skin.

“the windows are tinted,” he murmurs, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb, “it’s as private as it’s going to get,” before inserting the aforementioned finger into your mouth.

you smile to the best of your ability, wet muscle swirling around the salty digit as you maintain your grinding. slow and steady, purposeful movements that prompt just the right amount of friction between the two of you.

“isn’t this—” nanami interjects once more (you can barely get a word out), by way of pressing his thumb against your tongue thus causing a copious amount of saliva to cascade down your face. it’s wet and messy and done entirely for his own amusement. “we’re not celibate.”

[ SATORU GOJO ]

“do you—” he pauses mid–sentence, startling blue eyes fixated on his cock sliding in and out of your puffy entrance before continuing, “usually sleep with the stranger that saves you from a creep at the club or am i special?”

if you could’ve, you would’ve rolled your eyes. he’s talkative — too talkative but you find yourself enjoying the sound of his voice anyway. your hole quivers and tightens, gripping him like a vice at the implication that hangs between the two of you.

“i’m not easy ‘toru,” you protest in a weak attempt to sound firm though it leaves your parted lips as a breathy whine instead. and satoru smiles at that, chest rising and falling rapidly as he laughs.

“when did i say you were easy, stupid?” he asks, feigning innocence as he tilts his head to one side, bringing one hand up to your face to pat your cheek.

the action being somewhat degrading in its own sense. but ‘toru — satoru — was just like that. saying one thing and meaning or doing another. you couldn’t wrap your head around him.

and he revels in the fact, his smile continuing to grow; the type that meets his eyes and makes them crinkle ever so slightly.

“you wound me,” he tsks, bringing his lips closer to your ear as your body jolts upwards against the wall in sync with his cock bullying your hole, “all i meant by it was that we just met and look where we are now.”

‘it’s the same thing’ you think, but that’s all it is — a thought. when your lips part, you only vocalize a string of  moans. satoru was a labyrinth and you were lost in him — or rather the pleasure he provides.

“bet you’re already justifying this in your head.”

⸻ ## I LOVED HIM WHEN I. . .

LEFT HIM !

[ TOJI FUSHIGURO ]

“what —” he lifts the shot glass to his parted lips, “are you thinkin’ about?” before swallowing a mouthful of cheap liquor, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he does so.

it’s a good question; one you don’t know the answer to, but a good question all the same. you’re thinking about everything and anything while simultaneously not thinking at all — a blunt dangling haphazardly between your lips.

“you want to know what i’m thinkin’ about?” so you answer his question with a question like a smart ass instead, leaning in until you’re nose–to–nose with the man you swore you’d never see again. and he doesn’t hesitate, a half–smile playing on his lips as they ghost yours. they’re warm, lighting a fire beneath the surface of your skin in its wake.

“no, i don’t want to know,” he sing–songs in response, catching you somewhat off guard. what blindsided you though was him lowering the waistband of both his grey sweatpants and his boxers. his cock, exposed to the cool air of the alleyway, standing at full mast—a vein running from the base to the tip.

suddenly your mouth feels dry and your knees feel the slightest bit weaker. it’s muscle memory — or its evil cousin that encourages your body to betray you.

you’re sinking to your knees, blunt discarded somewhere on the concrete (for god’s sake, you don’t care). your lips part, cheeks hollowed and throat relaxed. quiet anticipation coursing through your veins as you feel the weight of his cock in your palms.

“you know what to do,” he rumbles from above you, picking at the beds of his nails. and he’s right, you do know what to do; how he likes it.

you take him into your mouth, dragging your tongue along the outline of his piercing some ways below the head of his cock. and toji lets out a satisfied groan. once, twice, and then a third time before you focus on taking his full length into your mouth inch by inch until he’s hit the back of your throat.

from there, you move your mouth along his length, tracing every inch of it with your tongue — imprinting its shape in your mind all over again. it’s more like refreshing an old memory rather than creating a new one.

“knew you’d—” he clenches his jaw, cock throbbing in your mouth as saliva mixed with his pre–cum slips past your lips stretched to capacity around him, “come back t’me.”

 [ HEIAN ERA! SUKUNA ]

“i’m—” your breath hitches, catching in your throat in sync with the rise of your shoulders, “many things my lord, but sorry isn’t one of them,” as your hips stutter.

momentarily. one hundred and twenty seconds.

it takes sukuna less than thirty seconds to capitalize on your fault. two hands wrap around your hips, nails pressed into the tender skin forming crescent-shaped indents. you’re forced to move to his rhythm now; cruel and unforgiving.

“should’ve focused on what’s important little one,” he clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment. he’s far from disappointed though, his cocks — both of them — buried to the hilt throb inside of you. and an onslaught of tears blur your vision; your mind is clouded by a myriad of sensations.

you’re somewhere between excruciating pain and unbelievable feats of pleasure.

“this isn’t—” you try, albeit with great difficulty as your words come in between gasps. but sukuna interjects, the corners of his lips curling upwards: “fair? stupid, this game of ours was never meant to be but you know that already.”

two more hands make contact with your skin after that exchange; two fingers on one hand pinching your nipple whereas the other holds your face in place so that you maintain eye contact with him.

and sukuna rolls his eyes as soon as your gazes meet though it’s a somewhat playful gesture. something most would find difficult to picture. but not you — never you.

“stop pretending to be a damsel in distress i’m not a—” he pauses mid–sentence, smile growing as he thrusts his hips, “well, i’m not that kind of monster,” the sound of his skin colliding with yours echoing throughout the room.

you whimper, staring at him through half–lidded eyes and a curtain of lashes wet with unshed tears: “i like what i like.”

 © k4vehrtz — all rights reserved. do not, under any circumstances, plagiarize / repost / translate my work.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

I wouldn't mind if you wanted to share your feelings/thoughts on the Louis matter. I always liked reading what you had to say. I did notice that that tweet seemed to be the last straw for a lot of people in terms of keeping quiet about a lot of stuff that's been bothering them for a while. Also the fact you've been sort of away from it for a while means you'd have a more balanced and less heated perspective haha

yeah, ig that's true...... i was thinking of my perspective as incorrect bc i was so far from all of it but maybe it is an advantage. most ppl here know how much i've loved louis and for how long, so it's weird for me to admit how annoyed or even indifferent i've grown towards him. what i'm gonna say now is gonna piss some ppl off but ig i don't mind, but also pls keep in mind that this is literally just how i'm feeling, one single person somewhere on this globe. at this point i wish i cared less

i know that, for me personally, it's mostly been the tone of the fandom that has turned me off, which ofc has been fed by him: pretty superficial, about his looks, that have been pretty basic. empty platitudes about life, about being authentic without actually feeling real to me. oasis without the maniacal edge (which is what makes someone like liam gallagher intriguing). back when i felt like he really was still signalling it kinda felt like not a lot of people were genuinely interested in that part of him. like. im not here to thirst at a picture of that man im sorry i don't care how he did his hair and if that's all my dash is, i'll lose interest

another major reason, as well, is that i was projecting a lot onto him: memories of how he used to be (in public), ideas of how interested he is in queer history or his queer identity, how left-leaning or anti-establishment he is, etc. and some of that might be true but i can't see it in the way he profiles himself now, and i'm over the idea that i should be seeing through three thousand layers of his 'image' to the point where there is almost nothing that indicates that i've got the story straight yk. the way he wants to be seen is not the way i see him, so then it's me who's got to move on. i've accepted that gradually now to the point where it's so obvious i was lying to myself and pretending to love him more than i did for a while there. most of all, i was waiting for him to do something else, something more. if i then get annoyed bc he doesn't fulfill those imaginary expectations i've set, then that's on me. i'm annoyed now that i was wrong, but mostly that i was a bit delusional about him for a long while

and i get closets, i get the problems of the industry, i still know all of the things i knew when i was convinced that i should stand by him/them. that doesn't mean i have to pretend i like whatever he's doing with his solo career atm. i'm not going to another tour with red/black lighting and chicago songs, i've seen it by now. at the end of the day, i'm a fan of good (live) music, and i haven't listened to his solo stuff anymore since the obsession died down.

i was letting my feelings die down quietly for a while tbh and yeah, the recent stuff has really irked me. hinting at the new album and that it's going to be basically fitf all over again, tweeting that the fandom is toxic and for what? but before all that the new 28clothing collection, accompanied by the saddest fucking interview i've ever read about someone i wish i didn't care so much about.

at this point i don't know why im typing all of this out. what is the reason. i don't mean to make anyone angry. ig i just needed to vent, let these thoughts go. anyways. if he comes back with an album that wins me over again completely, then all i can say is that i'll be extremely happy.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Remmick x male reader or (enby at least) can be switch or dom remmick or dom reader doesn't really Matter imo

In the Thirst||Dom!Remmick x Male!Reader

MDNI +18

Summary—y/n refuses to come to the terms that he’s a vampire but remmick is there to remind him of that.

Warnings—dominant partner, biting, bloodplay (light), overstimulation, praise/degradation kink, power imbalance (consensual), light restraint, monster traits (fangs, claws), grinding, oral, size kink, light pain kink, reader loses control in a safe, affirming way.

Word count 1327

The house was dim and cold, lit by a flickering desk lamp and the distant rumble of thunder beyond the concrete walls. You paced the perimeter like a caged animal—boots dragging, body humming with something that wasn’t just exhaustion.

Your throat was on fire. Your stomach ached with a gnawing emptiness that had nothing to do with food. Your fangs had dropped hours ago and refused to retract.

But you hadn’t fed. Not since the change. Not once.

You stopped at the sink, gripping the counter, staring down at your reflection in the cracked mirror. Pale skin, red-ringed eyes, veins threading faintly beneath the surface. You looked feral. Wrong.

Not me, you thought. This isn’t me.

Behind you, the door creaked open. You didn’t need to look to know it was him. You could feel his presence in your teeth.

Remmick.

“You’re spiraling,” he said, calm and low.

You didn’t answer.

“You didn’t feed again after I told you too,” he added. “And don’t lie—I’d smell it if you did.”

You turned, jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not fine. You’re starving, Y/N.”

You looked away, furious at the way his voice wrapped around your name like a tether. “I’m not drinking blood like some fucking monster.”

“You are a monster,” he said bluntly, stepping into the room.

You flinched.

Remmick’s voice softened. “So am I. But you don’t see me wasting away pretending I’m human.”

You met his eyes, fury burning low in your gut. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to become—this thing.”

“You think I did?”

Silence.

He stepped closer. “You think I wanted to wake up needing blood like breath? You think I liked my first feed—how I tore into a body just to survive?”

You swallowed hard, throat raw with thirst and shame. “At least you embraced it. I’m not like you.”

Remmick stared at you for a long beat.

Then, quietly: “You could be.”

The words slid under your skin, too intimate.

He moved closer still, until the air between you crackled with something electric. “You’re holding back because you’re scared of what it means. Of who you are now. But your body doesn’t care. It wants. It needs.”

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” you rasped.

“You already are.” He gestured toward your own trembling hands. “You’re hurting yourself. You’re starving yourself to death just to prove a point.”

You hated how your legs shook. How dizzy you felt. How right he was.

Remmick’s hand found your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. It was the gentlest touch you’d felt in days.

“You don’t have to be like them,” he whispered. “But stop pretending you’re not like me.”

You closed your eyes.

Your fangs ached. Your skin burned. Your monster wanted out.

“…I don’t know how to do this.”

Remmick exhaled like he’d been waiting to hear that all week. “Let me help you.”

You opened your eyes—and for the first time, didn’t flinch at the hunger staring back in your reflection.

You’re starving,” Remmick growled, voice like honey laced with poison, hand still cupping your jaw like he owned it.

He did. Right now, in this moment—he did.

And you didn’t resist when his grip tightened, or when his other hand slid down your chest, dragging over the torn fabric of your suit, fingers parting it like it was nothing. You didn’t stop him when he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Let me see what that monster’s hiding,” he muttered.

Your cock was already straining against your pants, aching and leaking, desperate for friction. Remmick’s glowing eyes flicked up, locking onto yours as he undid your fly with slow, deliberate cruelty.

When he freed you, his low whistle sent heat straight to your gut.

“Fuck. You’ve been holding this back?” He wrapped a large, cool hand around your length, stroking once—firm and slow. Your head hit the brick wall with a groan.

“You’re so fucking hard, baby,” he murmured. “You need to come that bad?”

You gritted your teeth. “Y-Yeah.”

Remmick licked the head, teasing your slit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your desperation. “Good,” he whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

And then he took you into his mouth—all at once, to the root.

Your knees buckled. A strangled sound tore from your throat as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked you like a man starved, one hand pinning your hips to the wall while the other dug claws into your thigh, holding you still.

He moaned around you, vibrating through your whole body. You looked down, and fuck—it was obscene. His cheeks hollowed, his throat working, strands of dark hair clinging to his face as he worked your cock like it was his personal mission.

You snarled, fangs bared, claws punching into the brick behind you. “Remmick—fuck—Remmick—!”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t want you to hold back.

You came hard down his throat, vision flashing white. He swallowed every drop, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

When he finally pulled back, he licked his lips. “Tastes like sin,” he said darkly. “You’ve got more in you.”

You tried to speak—tried to tell him that was already too much—but he was already back on his feet, lifting you like nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist again on instinct.

“You’ve been hiding from this too long,” he growled into your mouth. “No more. You’re gonna take me now. Every fucking inch. I want your control gone.”

He pressed into you, grinding his hard length against your hole through both your ruined pants, the friction making you gasp, already half-hard again.

“Beg me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Beg me to ruin you.”

You hated how fast the words came. “Please—fuck—please, Remmick, I need it—need you—”

He bit into your neck again, deeper this time, and your body went wild.

Your claws raked down his back. You bucked against him, panting, desperate. The pain only sharpened the pleasure.

He pulled back just enough to tear your pants down, letting them drop to your knees. Then he shoved his own down just enough to free his cock—thick, heavy, glistening. It pressed against you, and your breath caught.

“You gonna take this like a good monster boy?” he murmured. “Or do I have to break you open first?”

You groaned, nodding frantically. “I can take it—fuck, please—”

He didn’t prep you. Not really. Just spat into his hand, slicked himself, and lined up.

You were still loose from the adrenaline and the orgasm, and when he pushed in—slow, firm—you clawed at his shoulders, crying out. The stretch burned, and it felt so fucking right.

“That’s it,” he groaned, bottoming out. “You feel that? That’s mine now.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Every nerve in your body lit up.

Then he moved.

He fucked into you hard, slamming your body into the wall with every thrust. The brick scraped your back, your legs tightened around him, and you loved it. Loved how unhinged he looked. How primal. How yours.

“Say it,” he growled, pounding into you. “Tell me you’re done pretending. Tell me this is who you are.”

You moaned, dizzy. “I’m done—I’m done, I want this, I want you—”

He snarled and buried his face in your neck again, biting harder, drawing blood.

The pain made your second orgasm hit like a freight train—messy, untouched, body shaking as you painted both your stomachs.

He fucked you through it, relentless. His own rhythm faltered, then slammed hard once, twice—then he growled your name and spilled inside you, holding you so tight you thought he’d never let go.

The alley was silent afterward, save your ragged breaths.

He stayed pressed against you, still buried deep, nuzzling your neck with shocking tenderness.

“I saw you tonight,” he whispered. “The real you.”

You let your claws rest gently on his back, finally unafraid.

“…And?”

“And I want him.” His mouth grazed your cheek. “Over and over again.”

[kikyoupdates]

☁ yandere ♡ oneshot masterlist

🔮 masterlist ☁

❝ You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev and ao3

💫 masterlist

❝ You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow. ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev and ao3

🧪 masterlist

❝ You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last. No matter what it takes, you are going to leave your mark. ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev, ao3, and wattpad

💎 masterlist

❝ You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy. ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev and wattpad

💔 masterlist

❝ You awaken one day with virtually no memories. The only thing guiding you is some strange system that likes to dictate your every move, and for some reason, it insists that you make certain people fall in love with you. Desperate for answers, you decide to go along with its demands. After all, how hard can it be? ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev, ao3, and wattpad

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❝ Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister? ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev and ao3

💋 masterlist

❝ As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood. ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev, wattpad, and ao3

💘 masterlist

❝ Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye. With the goal of becoming a hero, you enroll to U.A. and soon find yourself drawing the attention of many. Will you form genuine connections with others, or is this all just your power's will? ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev and wattpad

🩸 masterlist ☁

❝ Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood. ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev and wattpad

🦋 masterlist ☁

❝ Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship. ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev

🗡️ masterlist ☁

❝ Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you? ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev

💞 masterlist ☁

❝ A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned. ❞

more chapters of this story are available on quotev

🥀 masterlist ☁

❝ Following your mother’s recent passing, you are visited by a group of men claiming that your father abandoned all his debt and obligations, leaving you to take his place.❞

this story is completed on quotev

👑 masterlist ☁

❝ Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams? ❞

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[terrythemerry]

I just watched Wish (2023) and it made me realize something kind of sad about Disney’s treatment of villains.

So Disney has a long history of villainy from the OG Evil Queen who is willing to murder a girl just for being pretty to the misguided like Auto thinking he’s protecting humanity in Wall-E. They are mean, jealous, prideful, vain, and many relish in just being the worst of the worst. However every now and then we get a glimpse of more complexity. Zootopia’s Bellwether dealing with years of racism and mistreatment, Gantu trying to stop what he thinks is a monster in Lilo and Stitch, Up’s Muntz being a heroic explorer before paranoia consumed him, etc. The thing that makes me sad about these villains is that not one of them has ever had a chance at redemption or change in Disney’s eyes and nowhere is that sadder to me than their latest villain, King Magnifico.

(Spoilers below)

King Magnifico is the magical founder of a utopian society that accepts people of all races, religions, and backgrounds. Who created this wonderful place after what is heavily implied to be a violent invasion destroyed his homeland when he was but a child. This past trauma led him to study magic and become a powerful sorcerer so that nothing could hurt him or the people he cared about ever again. His magic is a protection that he extends to all who choose to live in the city. The city is vibrant with a colorful community full of artisans, musicians, and dancers. He takes no taxes from them, but does take their one true wish upon joining this society.

When given these wishes it is understood that he will ensure their safety and possibly grant them one day. Something important to note about the physical manifestations of the wishes is that they give off a warm and comforting aura as they represent some of the purest parts of a person’s soul. Magnifico has been surrounding himself with this magical comfort for a very very long time by himself and I don’t think it’s unfair to say he has become addicted to their presence. The wishes are giving him a magical comfort through the kind souls within them, a feeling he could’ve probably also gotten if he had spent more time with his people.

It doesn’t look like he ever really got the chance to commune with his people properly because somehow the society kicked off on his wish granting abilities. People had to give him their wishes if they wanted them granted and eventually the ones that he couldn’t grant in good conscience or out of fear started adding up so he began locking them away. Keeping them safe so no harm came to the people. The rare occasions that anyone else interacts with these wishes is during wish granting ceremonies that the people are borderline rabid for. With good reason, it is their souls they’re thirsting for after all even if they don’t really know it.

However, Magnifico clearly doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as he’s given these people a wonderful safe haven from the horrors of the outside world where they can be whoever they want to be, do what they want to do, make what they want to make, and still all they see in him is a tool to fastpass to something else they want even more than the peace he’s given them.

This is clearly shown early on, before any of his evil behavior starts to take root, in relation to his assistants. We get a expo dump after the first song telling us that Asha wants to become one of his assistant to increase the odds of her grandfather’s wish being granted as there is a correlation between past assistants and having wishes granted. Something important here is that there have clearly been many assistants, suggesting that it’s a revolving door position without really explaining why. Who would want to keep finding assistants over and over again, when really you should find someone who could do the job long term right? Well we get to find out the likely reason when Asha steps up for the role.

When Asha comes to interview for his assistant position he sees she is nervous, he tries to calm her down, and he even manages to relate to her through fond memories of her kindly father who he clearly knew. After seeing her true resolve to do good he decides to trust her with something few people in the entire kingdom get to see, the vault of wishes. To which Asha doesn’t even hesitate to ask, after politely being told not to prior, if he’ll grant her grandfather’s wish.

Magnifico is blatantly stricken by her request, sadly remarking that most people at least wait a few months before doing so a.k.a pretend to be interested in helping him rather than trying to use him to grant a wish. This is likely why the assistant job is a revolving door. Magnifico tries to find someone who he thinks will truly and selflessly fulfill the role only to discover time and again that people are just using it to get direct access to him to ask for a wish. Then he can’t trust their true intentions anymore and moves them along.

After Asha makes her request he does take the time to look at her grandfather’s wish but dismisses it as too dangerous because it is the vague desire to inspire the next generation. Clearly we as the audience know that her grandfather means to inspire them to do good, but we have to remember Magnifico has seen the worst of society. He has seen the darkest wishes and desires of mankind and survived them. He brushes Asha off telling her she’s too young to understand, which is honestly true. She’s lived her entire life cloistered in peace and comfort thanks to him and the rules he has made. She has never had to know war, strife, or hardship thanks to him, yet she doubts his decision without understanding the trauma that guides it. This is what I believe pushes Magnifico into his villain arc, something that I don’t think we’ve ever really witnessed in a Disney movie.

Usually a villain already is the villain by the time the film rolls around, even the twist villains. Lotso had already been deliberately sentencing other toys to torture. Prince Hans was already planning to murder his way to a throne. Evelyn was already plotting her revenge. Magnifico wasn’t though. He was the hero. He had saved his wife and a whole city’s worth of people from whatever drove them from the mainlands. He wasn’t physically abusing/mistreating people like Gaston even if he was vainly basking in their adoration.

When Asha pushes him on the wishes he pulls back from her, identifying her in his mind as a threat and treats her as one. He dismisses her and tells her that her family’s wishes will never be granted by him, but he will still keep them safe as he has been doing. Essentially meaning nothing will change for her from what it has been. You know a happy loving existence of complete acceptance and wholesome family life or as Asha interprets it, a fate worse than death.

His interaction with Asha triggers him, as she’s pushed at the flaws in his reasoning for holding onto the wishes. The flaws are true, but his mind is clouded by fear of a lack of control, likely stemming from the horrors he witnessed in his childhood when he had no control. He also likely has a bit of an addiction to the warm fuzzies that the wishes give on top of his fears. While he’s ruminating on that some massive wave of magic blows through the kingdom and messes with the thing he’s already stressed beyond reason about, the wishes.

Magnifico frantically searches for any answer, even considering a dangerous tome of forbidden magic that he knows is trouble before his wife manages to talk him down.

The fact that he could even be talked down rather than ignoring her outright shows that Magnifico does have good in him. He’s just reacting out of a genuine panic. His panic is only worsened by huge mob continuing to beg him for wishes in exchange for doing what should be the selfless act of defending their kingdom from what is essentially perceived as an attack. Not having any faith left in his people he turns back to the evil book to give him the key to stopping this perceived attack.

Just to be clear King Magnifico goes to the big bad evil book not to gain more power for funsies, but to try to find a way to stop a perceived threat. Everything he does from this point on, such as threatening his wife, can no longer be fairly tied to him, because as the movie repeatedly tells us he is under the EVIL book’s influence. His wife even looks through the same book to try and see if there is a way to break the sway she knows it has over him, but says she can’t because the EVIL book said no.

Yada yada yada and Magnifico is sealed inside a magic mirror and smugly told to rot in the dungeon by his previously loving wife.

Seriously?! What the heck?! This guy was the perfect candidate for rehabilitation. He wasn’t flawless, but he wasn’t a murderous psycho like most of the other Disney villains. Disney loves to preach kindness, acceptance, and good will with their heroes, but never does it allow the message of change.

I was shocked going back through the catalogue and slowly realizing none of their villains, regardless of how tragic their origins are, are ever truly allowed a second chance. The hero may offer it, but the baddy never is truly expected to change or reform. Which is honestly super messed up to me. People make mistakes. Some can be small/insignificant, but some are big and do hurt people sometimes. That doesn’t mean they can’t change for the better.

Now I’m not saying every villain is redeemable or good, it’s just a bit surprising that for all the messages of kindness and acceptance we haven’t really gotten forgiveness in 100 years. Seeing the “bad guy’s punishment” just deeply bothered me this time. Probably because so much of the bad that Magnifico does is clearly a trauma response and as a punishment for not acting appropriately to said response he gets sentenced to eternity is magical cell.

[widows-venom]

⊹₊⟡⋆ THE EMPRESS

(teacher!)lilia calderu x gn!reader

✮⋆˙summary

lilia was trying to teach you card reading, but you are constantly distracted. she makes it her mission to find out what distracts you so much and punish you accordingly.

✮⋆˙trigger warnings

spanking (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink, some degradation

✮⋆˙author’s note

hey, starling here! so this is my second post and i never thought my little story about wanda would blow up as much as it did! thank you for all the likes and reblogs, and followers! before i posted, i had three and now i have 60!

i’m working on the second part to my wanda story, meanwhile, enjoy this if you like :)

in this story, i tried to make the reader gender neutral, i hope that’s the right term. i mean, obviously the reader is described with having female body parts, but i kept the pet names gender neutral. for my non binary enjoyers :3 let me know what you think, please! i do not want to offend anyone or stuff, and decided to try it out.

you had never known hands could be this attractive. sure, you’ve read of it. random people in the internet thirsting about a celebrity’s, or a movie characters hands but in real life? it had seemed odd, weird even but right now, you understood it all.

you were sitting across from lilia, who was somewhat of your teacher. you had come into her little store and asked if she could give you instructions on tarot reading and lilia had decided to just take you under her wing, because she had enough time, how she put it.

you think she just wanted to spend time with someone.

whatever words lilia was explaining to you, you were too focused on something else. the way her hands, those veiny, slender hands were moving around the tarot board. she was probably explaining to you which card belonged where, which place holder symbolised what — but your mind was completely fixed in those hands.

her slender, long fingers, adorned by short, manicured nails. her pretty, chunky rings that fit her overall style and personality. they did something to you. your stomach churned, your legs clenched together.

god, how would those hands feel on your skin? wrapped around your throat. her nails gently raking up and down on your thighs before parting them. her fingers brushing through your folds, her cold rings making contact with your clit and —

“are you even listening to me right now?”, lilia’s soft but stern voice rings out, affectively cutting of whatever imagery had been playing in your head.

until you look up and meet those big, brown puppy eyes of hers. the once that make you want to fall on your knees and beg for forgiveness, even though you haven’t done anything. the one’s that make you wnat to do anything she asks of you.

“sweatheart”, lilia huffs, her brows furrowing a little. “answer me”

god. did she even know what she was doing to you? you wet your dry lips and swallow, hoping to smoothen your hoarse throat. you shift on your chair, trying to ease some tension and cross your legs.

“i- of course i was listening, lilia”

her eyes narrow at you. “you know i don’t like liars, sweatheart”, she drawles, her hands resting on the divination table and lilia leans forward a little. “spit it out. now”

her commanding tone sends a shiver down your back and you you have to gulp. shit. “i was-“

“starring at my hands like a pathetic whore?”

you flinch, eyes widening at her cross language. you immediately sit up straighter, heart beating against your ribcage. “no, i was -“

“lying? again?”, lilia sharply cuts you off. “maybe i ought to teach you a lesson, hu?”

she rounds the divination table and comes to a stip before you, shifting your chair effortlessly with her foot so you’re facing her. she’s towering over your sitting form, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.

“now, what to do with such a naughty girl”, she mutters. her eyes raking up and down your body, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“lilia, i-“, you attempt to save yourself. but do you truly want to? no.

“bend over the table”, her voice is low and commanding, it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“what?”, you ask — but like a puppet, do as asked. you bend over the divination table, it’s cold edge diggig into your stomach.

lilia studies your form for a few moments, before her hands cone up to gently caress your butt. “i think today you need a different lesson taught”, she mutters, more to herself than you.

“one in obedience”

god, you could have moaned on the spot and maybe you would have, had her hand not come crashing down on your butt.

a pained cry falls over your lips, but lilia immediately shushes you with a gentle rub on your butt and a kiss to your cheek.

„sh, sweetling“, she mumbles, her lips brushing against your cheek. her breath is hot on your blushing cheeks. „be a good pet for me and stay still“

a shiver runs down your body and you weakly nod. your grab the edges of the divination table, trying to ground yourself while lilia‘s hand continues to rub soothing circles over your butt.

„i‘m thinking 6 more spanks“, lilia says softly, a contemplative undertone in her voice. „one for each card placement you didn’t listen to me explain“

it seems — fair.

you can’t really argue with her logic, and you can’t exactly voice your approval, because her palm meets your butt again.

a mix between a moan and a pained groan leaves your lips and you close your eyes.

„is that alright, my darling?“

god, how you love her concern, her eagerness to punish you but still be nice. it makes you rub your legs together. „t‘is okay“, you weakly mutter, which earns you another kiss on the cheek.

„that‘s a good pet“, lilia praises soflty and spanks your butt again.

that was three. so four more to go. god, you can’t wait. you‘re already so wet, it’s embarrassing. what will lilia do with you, once she‘s done with your punishment? will she fuck you? or leave you high and dry?

another spank cuts of your thought process. it was harder than the others, but lilia immediately soothed you by gently caressing your behind.

„there you go again“, lilia huffs, her brows furrowed in irritation. „your little mind wandering off when you should be paying attention to me“

„sorr-”, your apology ends in a moan, as lilia‘s harsh palm connects a fifth time with your behind.

„sorry won’t cut it, darling“, she huffs firmly. „where does your mind wander off to, hm? tell me, pretty pet“

lilia rubs her hand in circles over your butt and when you hesitate to speak up, the sixth slap hits you — dangerously close to your center.

„i said tell me, brat“, her hand is in your hair and pulling your head back. it’s surprisingly firm but gentle — like everything lila does.

you decide you don’t want to try and push her limits. today, at least. who knows, maybe this little incident will happen again. for now, you‘ll enjoy what you‘re getting.

you clear your throat before you speak. „i‘m thinking about you fucking me“

it was a blunt, breathless statement. which earned you a low chuckle and your last spank — right on your core.

it was softer than the others, but it still made you flinch and an immediate moan slip out.

“oh do you now?”, lilia purrs and leans forward, her chest brushing against your back. her hand still rests on your core, gently rubbing circles over your clothes. “well that can be arranged, darling”

was this a dream? or were you finally winning in life?

lilia sneaks her arm around your waist and swiftly undoes the button of your pants, which makes you realise she’s definitely done this countless of times before.

“if you need me to stop or slow down at any time during this, you tell me, alright?”, lilia asks, no, demands of you.

you let out a shuddering breath and nod. “yes lilia”

a smirk tugs at lilia’s lips and she pulls down your pants, along with your soaked underwear. “such a good pet”, she mumbles, her eyes fixed on your glistening core.

“who knew a little spanking could get you this wet?”, she muses and slides two of her fingers through your wet folds, parting them with a soft sound.

a moan leaves your lips and lean your burning forehead against the cold divination table. “lilia please”, you moan pathetically.

a gentle chuckle rings out and lilia’s fingers brush against your clit, making you jolt. “so needy, my sweet pet”, lilia tuts. “but i suppose you deserve a reward after taking your punishment so well”

you don’t think anything has ever fet so deliciously good, as her veiny fingers breaching past your wet entrance. you’ve never been turned into a moaning mess so quickly, as with her fingers gently moving in and out of you.

lilia’s breath is heavy in your ear as she pumps two of her fingers in and out. her pace is steady, meant to reward and get you off.

“god- fuck”, you moan, which earns you a chuckle.

“such a good pet, hm?”, lilia murmurs into your ear and her other hand sneaks around your waist to start gently toying with your clit.

you moan loudly and arch into her touch. “yes- lilila please-“

lilia groans into your ear, which makes your brain even fussier than it already is. “that’s it, just like that”, lilia whispers and starts to pepper your neck with kisses.

“are you going to cum for me, pretty? yeah?”, she whispers, her fingers plunging in and out of you.

“gonna cum on my fingers?”, lilia continues, wanting to talk you through it. “that’s a good pet, so pretty obedient for me”

you whimper and whine, your hips erratically moving against her hand to feel her even deeper, needing to cum. “please, please, pretty please lilia”

“that’s mommy for you, darling”

that’s all you need. your stomach coils together, your back arches into her and you cry out. “oh god, oh- mommy!”

“there you go, good pet, good pet”, lilia whispers and helps you ride out your orgasm with languid strokes. she detaches her hand from your clit and slows down her fingers, before gently pulling out.

you whimper at the empty feeling, your fussy brain wanting more of her.

lilia softly helps you move from the table and gathers you in her arms. she sits down on the chair you’ve sat in before and pulls you on her lap.

the older witch hooks your legs over the arms of the chair and begins stroking your pussy again. her movements are slow and steady.

you whine and lean against her, your head wanting to nestle in her neck, but her disapproving tut stops you. “look at the table, my darling”, she orders, her hands slowly parting your folds again.

“you’re going to listen and watch as i explain the cards this time, alright?”

“yes mommy”, you say shakily, willing your hips not to thrust upwards into her touch. “m gonna listen”

“such a good pet”, lilia praises, a proud undertone in her voice.

she pulls out a random card of her tarot deck and holds it in front of you, so you can see it. meanwhile, she gingerly runs her fingers up and down your slit, rubs your clit every now and then, but other than that, doesn’t do anything.

she’s teasing you and you don’t know how much of the cards you’ll recognise with her maddening touches.

“what’s this card, darling?”, she asks and you can almost hear the smirk in her voice.

“the empress”, you choke out.

[neuvistar]

aventurine x fem!reader. cw. some hsr leak spoilers? + a lil rushed | not proofread, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancies, use of nicknames (feminine terms too, wife.. etc), minors dni. ( this is another aventurine thirst.. slight spoilers(?) r in the beginning!!)

aventurine was the last of his kind, he acknowledged that often. his people, oh his people.. many of the innocent lives of his people were lost, like a baby losing its mother. he knew there was no use in trying to look if there were still survivors, it’s truly no use. he was the last of his kind. and he spent countless days, hours, weeks, months and maybe years thinking he’d die alone, with nobody by his side.. chained to the life of a loner, who is forced to live knowing he couldn’t save anyone of his kind.. chained to a life where people all around him hated his guts.

that was until he met you, his pretty little wife.

aventurine’s always wanted kids, to say the least. not only to restore his kind, but to raise children with you, take them out to parks.. realize the true importance and meaning of a love of a father.

aventurine’s heart belonged to you completely, he couldn’t remember the last time he’s been happy like this.. he loved you with all his heart and it showed. aventurine would kiss you, hug you and rub your belly.. whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “one day.. your tummy will be ready and full of my younglings, my darling wife. are you excited for that day?” you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you gave him a playful smack on the arm. “you’re getting too excited, ‘turine. i’m not even pregnant yet.”

“yet.” aventurine’s hands eagerly made their way down, tracing the shape of your body. "beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and filled with admiration. "you’re so beautiful, i can't help but touch you. my future younglings are so lucky to have such a pretty mother.” his fingers lingered on your breasts, savoring the feeling of their soft weight in his palms. aventurine's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smoldering intensity in their depths. "i want a daughter with your eyes.. and your beauty, a son with your intelligence.. please. i need it all.” honestly, he’s probably so whiny n desperate all the time, always talking about getting you pregnant.. wanting to see you carry his offsprings, he wanted to restore his happiness and your own.

“mm, i know you don't want me to stop, don’t you?" aventurine’s voice was husky with desire. his hands slipped lower, tracing their way down to your lower abdomen, teasingly brushing against your wet panties. "i’ve been imagining this all night long.. watching you care for our baby girl or baby boy,” he reached beneath your panties, toying with your folds with the tip of his fingers while the others pinch and pull at your nipples. “.. you know i can't stand it anymore, baby. not when you know how much i want to claim you right here, right now. i want children, pretty girl. can.. we?”

“please.” you murmured. a grin emerged from his pretty face, eyes widened as he felt the warmth radiating from between your legs, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, his mouth watering at the familiar scent. He couldn't help but lick his lips as he continued to rub his hand against your sensitive folds, his thumb brushing against your clit. leaning closer, aventurine pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue slowly making its way past your parted lips, exploring your mouth hungrily. there was one thing and one thing only in his mind, he was gonna breed you full tonight. your husband’s hand moved up to cup your breast, squeezing it gently before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and index finger, causing you to moan even louder. your body arched into his touch, begging for more..

“so beautiful.. so perfect. such a pretty little thing for me,” aventurine grunted as he continued to thrust in and out of your wet cunt, his cock stretching your walls further than you have ever experienced before. the blonde wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up slightly to better angle his thrusts. "i’ll treat you so good, dollface, our little babies are gonna have such a great father, believe me honey.” he panted, his breath hot against your neck. “fuck, ‘turine.. feels too good..” your nails dug deep into his shoulders, leaving shallow marks as you could almost see the stars, biting your lip to suppress the soft whines that threatened to leave your lips. “i know honey, i know it feels good,” aventurine knew he could feel his release building up inside of him, it’s like he buried himself within you to the absolute hilt, his cockhead rubbing against your sweetest spots. “god, i can’t wait for your pregnancy to bloom, dollface.. just like a fuckin’ flower.” his member throbbed and pulsed violently, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through both of you.

“can you feel it, doll? my love for you? can you feel it?” you nodded eagerly, your face pressed close against his neck with your eyes sealed shut. “i’m gonna get you pregnant, kay? ‘gonna fill you up like its no tomorrow.. make my dreams come true. ‘can't wait to see my little ones inside you, honey.. i’ll take care of you.”

well.. it’s best to say that maybe he’s finally not gonna be the last of his kind any time soon.

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[tojisrealwifey]

F In The Chat — r. sukuna

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Synopsis: Sukuna puts on a show for his viewers, and you are the lead actress

・❥・characters: ryomen sukuna.

・❥・requests : rules

warnings: mdni, 18+, smut, mastrubation (f), degrotary terms (slut, whore), exhibitionism (kinda? he fucks you in front of thousands of viewers), fingerfucking, use of vibrator.

・❥・wc: 1.4k

・❥・masterlist

Head thrown back on the sofa, you heard quiet squelches, intermittent huffs, and sounds of keyboard clicking.

Sukuna had his attention on the screen, the chat flooding with comments as he worked through another area of crossfire.

He continued his commentary, unconcerned that you were fingering yourself, your arousal becoming a pool on the leather. It was he who gave you the order and instructed you to prepare yourself for him.

It had initially excited you but you were confused as to why he would ask that right before his scheduled streaming time.

But it all became evident when he booted up his streaming system while you were knuckles-deep in your cunt.

His webcam recorded his face as well as the scene behind him, including his bed. Next to his arrangement was a little loveseat—the one you're sitting in right now—positioned a little distance away from him.

Luckily, the webcam was unable to detect you, hiding you from his audience.

Your fingers worked inside you, letting out small moans, loud enough to make sure it was only audible to your boyfriend.

"S'kuna...please...you're so mean~" 

You continued to whine and plead until Sukuna had no choice but to look at you. Swiftly muting himself for a second, he speaks in a low, teasing voice.

"Tch. C'mere, slut." 

He commands, red eyes meeting yours. Your eyes sparkle eagerly as you fix your skirt, Sukuna going back to talk to his viewers.

"Y'all haven't met my bae yet, have you? C'mere doll." He holds out his hand, moving his chair back for you to slide in.

You walk into the frame, grinning sheepishly as Sukuna's hand circles your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

"Say hi, doll~" 

He smirks into your ear, feeling your bare pussy flush against his covered thigh, the material of his sweats soaking up your slick. Your thighs clench together, growing hot due to the proximity.

"H-hello..." You give a brief smile, eyes catching the flood of comments.

'lucky bastard' 'you have a gf??!' 'she's smokin' hot bruh' 'sheesh possessive much?' 'show those hands kuna' '10 out of 10' 'he could do so much better' 'she's outta your league dude' 'bro continue the game' 'nice to meet ya!' 'what's her name?' 'he calls her doll?! i'm so jealous' 'i want that hand around my neck'

The inappropriate words woven throughout the comments cause your eyes to bulge. You pondered whether Sukuna had to endure comments like these on a regular basis and whether this was the norm.

And even though you try to contain your jealousy, you silently grit your teeth when you notice the comments that insult you or blatantly thirst over your boyfriend. 

With your legs slung over one side of Sukuna's lap, you shift and snake your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.

Sukuna chuckles, the verbal gesture reverberating on your cheek as he soothes a hand over your head.

"My baby was sleeping, don't mind her. Let's finish the fight." He says, shifting closer so everything below your waist is no longer in view.

He continues, discreetly muting himself a bit later knowing everyone's attention would be on the game now.

Since you were sitting sideways, he taps on your thigh, urging you to get closer. 

"Lift your ass, baby."

You do so, leaning into him more to lift your hips sideways, your pussy open for him.

His hand drags up your skirt enough to uncover your ass, fingers immediately ghosting over your folds.

"So. Fucking. Wet."

He growls, his fingertips circling your clit at a torturing speed.

Your cunt pulses in anticipation, vision getting foggy at the thought of being fucked live. His fingertips circle your clit, your arousal cascading across your thigh.

"S'kuna...your fingers please..."

"Be quiet."

Your lips tremble at his denial as he continues to torment your clit. You glance at his computer screen, observing as his left hand continues to spam some buttons on the keyboard.

Although you wondered what he managed to do without using his mouse, and you would be right to assume that.

He was failing miserably but his attention was now fixated on you, noticing your cheeks glow red, eyes scrunched up, face pressed against his shirt.

His slender hand cups your cunt, wanting to see you grow desperate on his lap. You squirm as impatience looms over your being. You were one stroke away from fucking him then and there.

Thankfully your prayers were answered as Sukuna smoothly slips two fingers into your cunt. You hiss at the notable difference in your fingers and his, feeling your hole stretch further and his digits reach deeper.

This would never get old. No matter how many times he does this, his hands will always be your favorite. 

You groan as he starts to move, thrusting slowly. You would have been complaining about the speed if it hadn't been for the delicious stretch.

"You're so wet, but I need you to be drenched. Need these juices all over my set up~"

Your eyes sting in embarrassment, not being able to contain your whimper due to his nasty words. As soon as he had said that, you were empty once again, hearing Sukuna rummaging through his desk.

You jolt hard once a harsh vibration pulse on your clit— unable to hold back, you let out a moan before instantly sealing your lips shut.

Sparing a glance at the chat, you saw numerous comments of people trash-talking your boyfriend's performance in the game, but none of them said anything about your wanton actions.

"Mmmm, eyes on me, slut. Keep moanin' for me. Need to see you bitch and whine like a whore."

"H-hurts 'Kuna! S-sensitive...please..."

He grins evilly, loving your tortured expression. Gaining an idea, the position of his hands changes around your body.

He moves you so that you were straddling him instead, back against his chest as he plunges the tiny vibrator into your cunt, walls molding around the silicon.

His hand was in between his crotch and your dripping sex, fingers not moving from your hole as he continued to finger you.

His left hand was no longer on the keyboard, but instead, they handled a small device, pressing a few buttons here and there.

You hadn't noticed the vibrations getting faster, but due to your last reaction, Sukuna amped up the speed to the third highest setting, making you harshly jolt, eyes rolling back.

Your vision blurs at the feeling, such cruel vibrations right against your cervix made your head dizzy, his fingers adding to the coil in your stomach.

"Fuck yourself on me. Just...like...that~  Keep crying bitch...So. Fucking. Sexy."

Your body started to move, hands on Sukuna's gaming chair handles as you separated your back from him, sliding your pussy across his fingers.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

You pant with every thrust, your juices dripping down his knuckles, a puddle on his lap.

By now, everyone on the livestream had noticed the filthy actions. It was hard not to with tears running down your face and drool seeping from your mouth.

Shame had long left your body, mind forgetting that there were thousands of people witnessing your whorish act.

To make things worse, Sukuna started to roll back his chair, webcam capturing a full view of your sloppy pussy. And for the cherry on top...

...he turned on the mic, just as you started gushing around him.

"Cum for you! Gonna cum! For you! Only you!"

PING!

"So full! My pussy is so full~!"

PING!

"Ngh-! Spit in my mouth 'Kuna! Wanna taste you..."

PING!

"Will be a slut for you, S'kuna! Please go deeper~!"

PING!

"Can feel you so deep 'Kuna~!" 

PING!

"S'kuna~! Cumming!"

PING!

"Too much!" 

PING!

PING!

PING! 

PING! 

PING!

Your loud moans drown out all the donation pings that flood his computer. Sukuna smirks on your shoulder, canines digging into the skin as he chuckles at your sloppy cunt.

His hands fondled your bra-less chest, your shirt molding over your tit as Sukuna groped your mound, nipples visible through the fabric.

"Such a pretty whore I have here...don't ya think?"

PING!

PING! 

"Just look are this pussy..."

Sukuna maneuvers you to sit back close to his chest as his hands spread your legs apart, placing them on each side of his chair.

Placing the remote down, he spits on one hand, his other tearing off your shirt leaving you bare save for your skirt that was bunched up on your torso.

He later smooths his palm over your breast, spreading his saliva on your nipples making them perk up.

"Pretty tits too..."

"Ngh..."

"Shhh."

Sukuna gives a swift slap to your pussy when you started to whine, which only makes you yelp out once more. 

PING!

PING!

His hands stay on your cunt, spreading your folds.

"...And look at this tiny hole. Fuck her every day too, it doesn't make a difference."

PING!

"Caught me a slutty one, tastes fucking delicious. Wanna see her squirt?"

PING!

PING!

PING!

PING!

PING!

PING!

PING!

PING!

PING! 

PING!

"I'll take that as a yes. See baby? They love your sloppy cunt...what do you say?"

"T-thank y—fuuuckhh! Thank you!!" 

"Good slut. Such a good girl..."

[irisfixation]

it is generally understood within the adventuring community that some sort of contract should be preemptively made in order to protect oneself from an untimely death.

[original hypnosis fic, second-person narration from perspective of the subject. gender-neutral, little to no sexual content. please read accordingly, and enjoy.]

now, the act of seeking out such a contract, let alone the fact of its normalization, would have been taboo a few decades past. "we don't negotiate with pact-entities", the old elders crow; anti-demon and anti-fae rhetoric was accepted as the norm.

it only took looking at the rate of mortality, the expenditures of the local church, and getting over themselves to at last shake up the in-culture of heroics.

of course, that didn't mean they weren't diligent with their new protocols; information on prospective patrons was inscribed down in ledgers half phone book and half grimoire, noting the terms of agreement, the trustworthiness of pact-entity after pact-entity, any bargain a little too faustian struck through in red.

you'd watch your peers peer through the book, discussing the pros and cons of each. was an unlucky fate too much to pay? were compulsions too obstructive, did the bodily changes contrast too much with one's self-identity?

of course, they all ended up choosing sooner or another. better that than dying young and alone.

it was under this sort of necessity that you went to the house.

-------

it was closer to home than you expected, really - you anticipated some kind of ominous manor on the cliffs, or secluded cabin by the forest's edge, so the three minute walk from the town square came as a welcome surprise. its residence looked the same as any other lodging - you'd no doubt walked past it on your regular commutes countless times without batting an eye.

you knocked, and the door fell open, as if it had been awaiting your arrival; afternoon sunlight bouncing off the gossamer-thin threads adorning the hallway.

make yourself at home, she says. i'll be upstairs when you're ready to talk. you nod and ask if there's any consequences for eating any food or drink. i promise you this; all food i've set out here is yours to eat and drink without consequence comes the reply; perhaps a little verbose from anyone else, but necessary caveats for a pact-entity's trust. you oblige.

with throat wet and stomach sated, you ascend the stairs. the bedroom is small, humble even; you've seen more expensive homes by far from some of your more show-off rivals. more fit for a pauper than the-

"than Her Lady of Marionettes?"

yeah.

"i never cared all too much for the trappings of nobility. i'm satisfied simply living in peace here."

then why the contracts?

"it's mutually beneficial, no? i quench my thirst for control for a time, and you don't meet any horrible, lonely fates. it's no different from any other line of work."

more reasonable than any would-be evil queen you've ever met, let alone one considered an enemy to the hero's guild not so long ago.

"please. i never cared all too much for that arrangement."

she rolls in her bed to face you. despite her role, she looks little different from your sister or partner; eyes still closed, hands still set upon her crosses.

-------

you discuss business. she will string you up, she says; and then, if she were to find yourself in an otherwise fatal scenario, she will pull your body back, mend you, even clear your mind from any hostile entities trying to take it over.

what do each of you get out of this?

"i get to observe the world through your eyes. i get the joy of commanding a body beyond my own. you cede a small, negotiated amount of control, and in return you are freed from tragedy's grasp forevermore."

it sounded like a hell of a better deal than half of the faustian bargains you saw other contract-entities propose.

"if you'd like, we can provide a demonstration here and now. no permanent alterations, and you can back out any time you wish. is that amenable?"

it does indeed sound amenable.

-------

you're sitting by her side on the bed. she's set her crosses down in place of a needle she holds deftly between thumb and forefinger, pinched together like a bee ready to sting. "hold your left arm out, please? we'll begin now."

you do so, and she passes the needle through skin. you feel it travel up across the veins in your wrist, her other hand steadying you in place with the tenderness of lily-petals. your elbow twitches as it passes through; the nerves firing once in shock, but no more. up through bicep, then shoulder; and then out, a release in pressure from within as the needle finally leaves your insides, leaving a trail of silken fibres behind it.

she plucks the taut string left in its wake, and your arm twitches with it, pulled from within. "see? no pain at all."

next is the right arm, then the legs. she flutters around you like a sprite alighting upon forest blossoms, soft fingers and steel-precise nails moving you, adjusting your wrist or shoulders or rotation with studious diligence. the intimacy of being studied and guided like this is almost palpable.

"...and, done." she declares, finishing a line of thread across the shoulders and through the nape of the neck. "well, how is it? comfortable, right?"

"yes, miss", you are made to say; and then, immediately, recall the strings through your upper and lower lip alike, a third running through the seam in your tongue. right. you move your eyes to meet hers; she's smiling brightly, but it's more the naive smile of a child than the former evil queen's smirk you expected. the effect is equal amounts unsettling and genuinely cute.

"well, let's begin." she picks up her crosses again, and with one subtle rotation of a hand's balance, she guides you.

it's easy to follow through. your right arm raises with a poise and natural nature that shocks you, outstretched to one side. she returns her hand to neutral, and your arm falls back once again, more sudden and limp than you were expecting.

("excellent", she says.)

with that first test done, she guides you down the stairs. your eyes are still your own, so some reflexive part of you fidgets as your body glides down each flight of steps; you have no control over if you fall or not. she could throw you down the stairs now, and you'd be helpless; passenger in your own tumbling body.

but she doesn't. your hand remains firmly upon the balustrade, and your every footstep is delivered with care. by the time you reach the landing, your heart may be pounding, but you're just glad to have made it through.

("well done," crows her voice.)

the near-invisible threads all throughout your body continue to urge you forward - sometimes single strings tugging suddenly, but other times shifting in a steady unison, almost imperceptible from your body's natural movements save that no thought of your own guides it. you're in the kitchen, before too long - a rack of dried dishes shows that she, too, has been here recently. your fingers and palm grasp onto each bowl and glass, one by one, filing them away in procedure through the unfamiliar house.

with your body outside of your control, you'd think your mind would wander to idle thoughts; to the birdsong from beyond the window, perhaps, or to thoughts of how your companions are faring in their own attempts to find their own contracts. but all thoughts seem to be silenced by each consequent string's plucking, a resonance within yourself that numbs your brain under its force.

before you know it, the rack of dishes is clear, and you are ascending the stairs again. it's less scary going up, and she knows it; she takes each step faster now, with a fluidity of movement that your legs accept graciously. there is no joint pain, no hesitation - each step is placed with pinpoint precision, each movement following the next.

a puppet's dance, you think; then dismiss the idea just as quickly. you're just here to obtain insurance from danger, not to humor thoughts like that.

she's lying back down on the bed when you arrive - exposing her back to you, vulnerable. but her hands are still outstretched, each one holding those crosses linked to the many strings pulled taut across, within, and around you. "welcome back", she tells you. "i trust it wasn't too uncomfortable?"

"no," you say, "it was fine."

"i'm glad to hear it!" she says, turning to smile at you. "and you took to it so well, too! good doll."

there's something about meeting her eyes as she says those last two words that feels different from everything prior. something deeper, like the strings are mycelial network growing their own nerves to entangle around yours, setting them alight in a microcosm dance, your whole body twitching just subtly as you are affixed within her gaze, burning up from the inside out-

"oh, my apologies. old habits die hard it would seem."

she doesn't gesture you to sit next to her, but your body does so, so you can assume it was her will all the same. she turns to you and explains that the demonstration has concluded; that the act of forming a pact with her is something you can now think of on your own, that you can return to her any time you need and in fact she'll completely understand if she never sees you again. she snips off the strings, one by one, with a pair of ornate scissors - the ones within will dissolve organically, she notes, metabolized by your own body. nothing to worry about.

you're not worrying. you're not thinking much at all, in the aftermath of everything that's happened. but she is patient, and you have all the time you need to recover.

-------

she walks you to the door and waves you out with a flourish. you're reminded of how mundane the house is, and now you can see that same mundanity in the Lady's face; no different from any number of passers-by through the town square.

"safe travels~!" she says, and you walk out the door; your steps faltering just a little as you once more acclimate to control over your own body.

well, for a contract patron, that wasn't so bad. and she seems well-meaning enough. maybe you'll go back there sometime again, you think to yourself, and shrug as you make your way home.

[cheruberris]

○ ۫ ⠀،،̲ cheruberries 草莓 ͟ ͟𝐹ame ACTRESS! dr

vogue, 73 questions with ℒILITH MARGARETA TASHEV ✸ ،،̲ what do you think about your fans? ━━ ' um not much lol ... '

⠀⠀၇୧ ⠀ᅟ𓈒⠀ inside jokes and trivia u have to know within my actress! fame dr fandom!

tw death . i wrote a short book (about 26 pages total) called 'till death do us part' at the age of 14. and self published it (i mean.. released it on tumblr) at fifteen (2015) The book dealt with topics such as death, the male gaze, obssesion (especially with male validation), light substance abuse throughout alcohol and drugs, even sex etc. it was niche but huge on certain corners of tumblr dot com. you'd see quotes like ' When he walked by my casket, his eyes instinctively wandered to my thighs that were surprisingly visible in the little white dress they clothed me in- I took pride in the fact that even when I was dead, I was sexy enough. ' on every sad girls tumblr page. ˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 the whole context and concept of the book is hilarious. considering in every interview where i'm asked about my biggest fear i always instantly respond, "death." what prompted me to write it?? no clue.⠀

famous in my fandom especially became the era starting around 2019, where i did everything as to not be associated with 'till death do us part' . i felt like i wrote it in a bad mental state, and didn't want people romanticing neither the narrator nor woody && the topics it was overall dealing with. people were making it my whole thing, and i don't like being put into boxes.

but yeah. it turned into a meme how i'd literally block the term 'sequel' and the name of the book, from my mentions on socials. my fans now call it 'she who shall not be named' whenever they talk about it (つ╥﹏╥)つ

in terms of pop culture whenever there is a mean, manipulative and even just questionable man on the horizon he will be deemed 'a woody'. or woody energy. people genuinely use that saying, so weird. there was also this whole trend on tiktok, where i was asked to narrate the prologue of the book in an interview .. i agreed to it reluctantly. one sentence went viral as a voiceover and got used in those thirst trap edits all throughout 2020 ಥ﹏ಥ traumatized.

i got a marketing degree and dabbled in creative direction and marketing, i stayed away from social media and even deleted tumblr. it was all getting to serious to quick, considering that i was still young at the time. me going off socials and deleting apps to detox every once in a while is also an inside joke!! people gen say 'i'm pulling a lilith tashev' when they take a break from apps.

i got my first acting role through my marketing degree, because i was supposed to assist directing and marketing on euphoria. but.. i looked so georg that they ended up adding me to the show ... pretty privilege much ? ఌ︎. my character had some issues fr fr. like 'licking molly of some random dilfs dog tag type' issue (and daddy issues but shhh) and was honestly non fixable. people started saying that 'she was totally like irl me!!' which made me really uncomfortable. i guess that's what you get for not being online enough. people don't really know you like that. so i re-installed insta. i swear my fans are like male-manipulators, they know how to get me to react!!! :3

another thing about the socials situation ── there is this joke that i genuinely heal the world whenever i post something. whenever a new instagram photo dump hits the timeline, my fans are like 'look at her fixing climate change one step at a time 🥹 ' 'the world is healing!!!!' they are so DEPRAVEDDDD.

anyway. outer banks.

look. i was exhausted post-euphoria. like, mentally, emotionally, spiritually dehydrated. and my agent was like “okay babe but what if you did this beach show with hot people and treasure maps-” and i was like no thank you. and then she sent me a picture of drew starkey’s face. and i was like okay fine!

my character is this bratender. who is a brat, no pun intended. she's not a progue, not a kook ── highly doubt she even knows who she is herself. then episode five happened, and the rest was.. herstory. slow burn enemies to lovers with rafe cameron??? c'mon the people ate it up.

people were tiktoking the living shit out of the romance. like there's a clip of me getting lightly choked coupled up with ride by lana del rey lurking around somewhere. lana del rey is genuinely always my top #1 fan edit choice.

but anyway. the era was art and chaos.

except for when someone printed out a fan edit of our sex scene and asked me to sign it at a convention. BLOCKED. then people started meme-ing that, to the point where i still have people in my dms with a random screenshot of that infamous scene, being like 'sign pls 💔 💔' GET OUT OF MY DMS!!

even the cast started getting in on it. at a comic con panel, someone asked “what was the hardest scene to film?” and drew just slowly turned to me and said “emotionally? or physically?” URGHHHHH somebody get his talking license revolved dude gets me WEAK.

another meme from the era was a random fan, high af tweeting 'they’re like if mr. darcy and euphoria rue had a baby and she grew up in north carolina.' like what does that even mean?? there are people on etsy selling shirts with it #trust

don't even get me started on everything that went down between me and drew. i'd be here for days :O

[sigmasoyboy]

Surely nothing in the world ever felt better than [THIS]

Was suggested on instagram to write from Gage's POV and thinking about how I would ever write from someone who's been essentially dog lobotomized actually got me thinking so hard I started writing. The formatting of this one is a reading nightmare but the never ending run-on sentence tightly packed into one block of text feels the most appropriate to a dog's inner thoughts so… You have to suffer for the sake of art™️

cw: ableist and misogynistic language, PTSD, panic attack, murder, vomit, loss of humanity through being genetically spliced with a dog

Right now there is only [RUNNING] and [PANTING] and the wind whipping your face and twigs digging into your paw pads and snapping under your weight and the sweat tickling the inside of your thigh as it rolls down the expanse of your (ever) hairless leg. You almost want to throw your hands down into the decaying grass and leaves to propel your body further but (something) keeps you anchored to your bipedal ways, your body knows it was never made for sprinting on all four but your body was also bent once and could probably be bent further all the way to the other side transhumanised so far the evolutionary path to break all knowns nomenclature and classification and leap from (human) to [DOG] just as you do out of the shrubbery as soon as your hear [YOUR NAME], toes skidding into the overgrown lawn as you halt, tongue hanging out dumbly trying as you might to bring moisture back into your bone dry mouth. The useless instincts you (forcefully) have inherited work against you but thankfully [HE!!!] turns on the garden hose [HE!!] uses to bath you with and fresh water springs out, splattering everywhere against your open mouth. There used to be a better way to drink but you (forgot) how so you chew at the air trying to catch this pesky pesky water into your mouth while getting drenched, you were hot anyway, running so so hot from all the excess dopamine secreted by your happy happy dumb brain, so easily pleased.

Surely nothing in the world ever felt better than [THIS]; it’s the 100th time you thought this exact thing today not with words or inner monologue only pure unadulterated stabs at your mesocorticolimbic circuit, things are only [GOOD] or [BAD] not in terms of the morals (you lacked) but in terms of [PLEASURE] and [PAIN], so simple and so good like quenching your thirst and moving your limbs and eating and shitting and nerve endings being stimulated by a [GOOD SCRATCH] just like [HE] is doing right now immediately replacing the serotonin from the water [HE] just shut off, not having a care in the world for how greasy your (hair) feels or the way you wildly shake off to dry yourself or the fact that you are (not) a dog at all. You wouldn’t get any of it anyway because all you understand now is [ANGRY] and [SOFT] tone so as long as [HE] coos at (you) softly [HE] can say anything and (you) would happily (giggle) and [RUB YOUR HEAD] against his big calloused hands even if he was (talking shit). You were liberated against your (will) and you are too dumb to realize it, of course you are why would you ever stop and try to think when you can just march alongside [HIM] like [HE TAUGHT] [YOU]] like a good stupid fuckass (dog) getting all [EXCITED] because you realize [HE] is walking towards the [KITCHEN] which can only mean any and all (doubt) or [FEAR] that’s desperately trying to join each others can be [SILENCED] by a motherfucking spoonfull of [PEANUT BUTTER HOLY SHIT] sticky and salty and obstructing your airway momentarily but thank goodness you still know how to breath through your (nose) while you smack your (lips) desperately trying to (get away from the [DELICIOUS TREAT] clawing at the leathery cushion with your splitting nails nerve endings stimulated by [HURT HURT HURT FUCK what did you do why were you bad why is this happening to you this wasn’t supposed to happen you weren’t supposed to get caught in the first place but the [BITC H] squealed and slipped through your fingers and now you’re the one being [GUD LA DET SLUTTE VÆR SÅ SNILL] you should’ve made a bigger hole and (fucked it) so [BAD] no one will ever be able to identify your whore bitch corpse you r eally fucked up this time you can barely breathe through any hole now in out in out in out head heavy with the weight of ([HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS]) getting really really light so much so you don’t feel your (claws) slicing until the victim became unrecognizable aggravated [MASSACRE] of your (ultimate reality) now there’s only [DROOL] and a little bit of [VOMIT] and your clammy skin against the (cold old tiles) of the kitchen floor and [HIS] form above you [WARM] palm encircling almost your entire still trembling arm and (garbled speech) you can never [UNDERSTAND] again, it’s so [WARM] and (nice) your [TAIL] slaps the kitchen floor, beginning to unknot [HIS] brow as you can feel yourself (smiling) dumbly at [HIM]. And now there is only [PETTING] and [ROLLING ON THE FLOOR] with the sweet-acrid aroma of [PEANUT BUTTER] and [VOMIT] [HE] stops you from [LAPPING] just before your tongue touches it.

Surely nothing in the world ever felt better than [THIS].