Slight N/sfw - Tumblr Posts
♡ Yandere Alphabet with Bi-Han ♡
pairing: bi-han x gender neutral!reader
content warning: toxic/abusive relationship, yandere themes, murder, abduction, out of character content, mild nsfw
author notes: i do NOT condone this behaviour in real life and neither should you (happy october)
Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Bi-Han is not all that affectionate. Most of the time, the atmosphere is tense and almost always on edge. On rare occasions however, Bi-Han most commonly shows his affection through spending quality time with his darling. If he’s spent enough time with you, the feeling may get more intense, and it may soon lead to him wanting to go further by starting to bring PDA into the act, even if it means screwing you in a secluded corner of the outdoor community.
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
He’s quite the messy one for a Lin Kuei warrior, but he’s the grandmaster, so you kind of saw it coming. He isn’t willing to kill in front of you, but he may have to if there’s no other choice.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
He would talk to you the way he talks to everyone else, although he is considerate enough to not mock your pain, and briefly introduce himself if you are unfamiliar with him.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Probably not something too intense. He’d probably persuade you to join the Lin Kuei, but that’s probably it.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Bi-Han hates appearing “weak” or “vulnerable”, so he wouldn’t bare too much of his heart to his darling. If you’ve been spending time with him long enough, he may start to become more vulnerable around you, but only if he trusts you, and he doesn’t trust easy.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Fighting with someone like Bi-Han is not impossible. His patience very thin and his temper the opposite of cold. Push his buttons too many times however, and he may as well leave you FOR DEAD.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
He has NO time for games. This is a serious relationship with him and there is NO need for your complaints.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
Fights. LOTS of fights. Not fighting with this man is pretty much inevitable. He’s very mean about it too, always degrading, punishing, and he may get physical if his buttons are pushed.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
He kind of wishes for his darling to be just like his mother, as he still hasn’t moved on from her death. He also wishes to have his darling’s hand in marriage one day…
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Hoo boy, he is one jealous man. And he isn’t one to deal with his own problems in a healthy way either. Expect him to lose his shit the moment he finds out that you aren’t his.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Bi-Han is quite cold the first time you meet him, always putting up emotional walls. If you get to know him better, you’ll find out about his more lonely side, and he may even open up to you.
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
He hates the idea of “courting” because it usually involves gets his darling’s friends and family involved. He’d rather approach his darling with more private romantic conversations.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
He pretty much acts cold and ruthless around pretty much everyone, although he may try to tone it down around you since you are in a relationship with him.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
He may isolate them from everyone else by locking them in the house or in some room, or he may turn down the temperature during sex if his darling steps out of line.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
Most likely to talk to others, especially your family and friends. He does NOT want them involved in your relationship.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
Bi-Han’s patience is always as thin as a pencil, and he is prone to losing his temper. Be careful not to press any of his buttons, because this is gonna be a tough day.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
I don’t think Bi-Han is one person to consider “moving on”. In fact, your death would shatter him, even as he tries to hide his sorrow with a mask of anger.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
He probably would feel guilty at first, as he’s aware that it’s not the right thing to do. He would probably feel less guilty about it if you’re one of the more compliant ones though. He doesn’t really want to let you go, as he feels you are perfect for him, but he would not restrict you completely, as he would still allow to go and get some fresh air once in a while (if you behave that is).
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
Bi-Han has dealt with loss before, but the death of his mother just BROKE him. He could never move on, and could never live life normally without getting painful memories of her. He wished his darling could be just like his mother, because he still has not let go of her.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
Seeing or hearing you like this just frustrates him. Like what is he supposed to do? He’s conflicted about feelings and he doesn’t a good job at comforting others, as he is known to be a bit condescending at times.
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
Not necessarily, although being a cryomancer does raise the danger level a LOT.
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
Acting like his mother is a good one for him. He hasn’t moved on from his mother’s death ever since. It won’t last too long though, as he’ll quickly get tired of your games and you’ll have hell to pay for manipulating him like that.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Not always intentional. But if he loses his fucking mind then it’s quite likely he would. If you suddenly hear the sound of ice cracking, then it’s already too late.
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
He’d worship you as if his mother was still there, and he’d work and fight harder than he usually does just to impress you (it’s not cute, because he may do reckless things just to have your attention)
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
It would probably take around a month or two to pine after his darling before he decides enough is enough. Even less time if you decide to push his buttons (he has many of them so watch out).
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
He most likely would, albeit not intentionally. The isolation from others would be the first thing that breaks his darling.
This image comes from @homme-parfait. Check out his gallery if you like these kinds of pictures. Second image was made using gimp, and credit goes to <a href='https://www.freepik.com/photos/abstract'>Abstract photo created by user14579558 - www.freepik.com</a> for the texture that I used for the effect.
If you enjoy this story, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For as little as $3 a month, you get access to unique muscle tf stories that nobody else sees. And higher tiers give you more rewards. Take a look, if you’re interested.
Rated mature and, for once, I’m going to choose NSFW as a tag to be on the safe side. I will not describe sex, but as part of this story, our protagonist will be shown his options, and so description will at least imply part of the bedroom and certain actions associated with that location. It’s Greek stuff. Of course it’s going to get on the riskier side. There is no graphic sexual content included in this piece, however. I refuse to go into that, as I’ve said before.
Author’s note: I’m mad as heck, because it’s not the same as my initial draft, but my laptop shut down on me without giving me a battery notification, so I lost a lot of what I wrote. I reconstituted it as best I could. It’s still satisfactory, but I’m mad all the same for not saving the draft more regularly. Lesson for the future, I guess. XD Anyway, enjoy. I assure you, it’s a very good read.
-----------------------------------------
A Heart of Stone
Peter Pearson always had a passion for the classics. The myths of his ancestral homeland, the great sculptures of legendary figures and unknown models alike. Goddesses and gods, men and women, children, heroes. He consumed them all from a young age. But nothing could compare to when he would stand in the museum halls and stare at the many statues and replicas from Greece and Rome. Truly, the Mediterranean had many secrets above and below the depths.
But in every instance above or below, there was always one constant, these gorgeous statues of stone and bronze and iron, of men and women fulfilling grand feats or suckling children. Olympian competitors blended seamlessly with anatomical studies. And all of them fueled and spurred the one desire he ever felt toward them.
He wanted to be just like them. Strong, like the mighty Heracles. Fit, like the ancient wrestlers of the Olympics. Hard, like the very rocks from which these statues had been chiseled with time, effort, and a steady hand.
And he had worked himself to the bone toward that end. He loved these statues. He loved their myths, their focus, their drive. They came from a simpler time, where magic still existed, where gods walked the earth, and men and women could live as they wished by the sweat of their brow.
Every week, he would visit the museum. He would sit for hours and ponder over their forms, their crevices. The smooth perfection of their sculpted bodies, ridged only where the master craftsman had gently probed with his tools to make it so. And every week, he would mimic the pose of those statues. He would smile and imagine for just a moment that he had joined them in that forgotten realm between the wakeful and the slumbering, where the old god Morpheus still crafted his dreams.
For years, he worked. For years, he struggled. For years, he invoked absolute discipline for the sole purpose of building his body into the perfect vessel to equal his heroes, his gods. And for all intents and purposes, that is, indeed, what they were. He worshiped them. He smiled each time he mimicked their posture. And though he didn’t have the same hair style or clothing (or lack thereof), he sought to mimic them in other respects.
Wrestling and weights came easily to him now. And there was a certain thrill to exercising that dominance, of gaining that satisfaction and reward of knowing that he had the strength to stand on his own and take what he wished. He still remembered when he took his trophy and raised it high for the statues to see, as if they were aware, as if they could somehow acknowledge his achievement.
Yes, in place of the Acropolis, this was his temple. And oh, how he longed to be a part of its clergy. Dead or alive, he didn’t care. He wanted to fit into this world, to leave distasteful modern society aside. If the gods formed man from clay and stone, then Peter wanted to return to it again. If they could bring metal and ivory and clay to life as flesh and blood, why not the other way around?
“You really do love this place, don’t you?”
Peter blinked in surprise at the attendant. She wore a shimmering white dress that frilled along the collar and hem. Her brown hair was rich and shone with a golden corona under the lights. Her golden tag glinted and flashed with every breath she took, leaving the letters indecipherable. Two dove hair clips helped to hold her hair back behind her ears while the remainder was bound in the jaws of a squeezing clip with a bronze rose motif.
It took nearly a full minute for Peter to regain his wits. “Excuse me?” he finally asked.
The attendant laughed. “This place. You love coming here. I’ve been watching you for the last six months.”
Peter blushed. “Well, yeah. It’s ... well, I don’t know what it is. I just ... I really like it here, you know? It feels like ... home, I guess.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly to ward off the embarrassment while his chest jutted forward in response.
She nodded. “I like the classics, too. Greece and Rome had such beautiful talent.” She smiled impishly as she looked to one of the nude statues. “And passionate men.”
Peter’s blush deepened. The usual technique wasn’t working. And worse yet, he could feel the familiar tingle of arousal stirring. He shifted his legs and tried to focus on the displays, instead. “Yeah, they inspired me to get into wrestling when I was a kid.”
“I wondered what sport you were involved with.” She laughed again as her hair swayed behind her, filling the air with the smell of the sea, the brine of olives, and the sweet honeyed scent of eucalyptus. “You really do love Greece, don’t you?”
Peter shrugged. “It’s my heritage. How could I not?”
The attendant frowned. “You’d be surprised how many people claim to love something, then forget about it the moment something more convenient comes along.” She sighed. “If you put it into a mythological perspective, that’s basically what happened to Pan. Man stopped caring about the wild. They beat it back, throttled it. What they couldn’t change, they destroyed. What they couldn’t control, they mitigated. Why care about the sanctity of a grove of trees when there are homes to build and mouths to feed?” She sighed. “It must have been a sad death, one spent alone while the wilds were steadily eaten away.”
Peter raised a brow at her. “That’s pretty dark.”
“This coming from the same pantheon that literally cracked a skull open to give birth to a goddess, literally consumed its children, and let's not forget how they chopped up the body parts of another elder deity to give birth to yet another goddess from the frothing sea foam, or throwing a baby off a mountain top because it was deformed.”
Peter winced. “Yeah, that ... was pretty messed up.”
“Greek history always was. Wars, conflicts, intrigue....” She sighed. “And then, in those few rich moments of peace, love. It put out the fires. It set them blazing again.” She brushed one of the statues’ legs. “They knew how to respect love, how to honor it when it spoke. Well, most of the time. Sometimes, love could be cruel. And the gods ... less than charitable.” She shook her head. “But what more can you expect from a legacy of abuse? It can’t have been easy being eaten by their father. Even those who weren’t stained by that act were haughty. And the other gods made sure they learned rather ... harsh lessons as a result.”
“I like to think more of the golden ages. Men earning their way, working for their bread, fighting for fame or honor or glory.” He chuckled. “I guess ... well, I guess I want to be like them.” He motioned to the statues. “Frozen in a time when that peace and love let men grow and shine.” He couldn’t help but smirk. “Imagine me wrestling with Heracles.”
She giggled as he struck a pose. “You wouldn’t last a minute.”
“It’d still be fun to try. To compete, like all these men did.”
“You really do like them, don’t you?”
“No.” He shook his head and flexed his arms all the harder as he turned his head in profile. “I love them.”
The attendant smiled. “Far be it from me to keep you from your lovers, Mister...?”
“Pearson. Peter Pearson.”
The attendant smiled and extended a hand. “Aphrodite.”
“Like the goddess?”
A rich chuckle rolled from her lips. “The very same. Would you say I live up to it?”
Again, the tightness swelled in his crotch. His shirt felt taut. “Defi--” He cleared his throat, then tried again. “Definitely. This time, he sounded a little deeper.”
“And if I asked you to, Peter Pearson, would you be willing to sacrifice that dream, that love, for me?”
Peter’s breath hitched as she ran delicate fingers down his chest. Her eyes swirled like whirlpools, drawing him in. Her face. “I....” Her perfume. “I....” The toss of her head as she pulled the rose clip free. “I....” He groaned as his pants began to creak and those lips drew ever so close.
“Yes or no, Peter Pearson.” Her breath flowed into his dry mouth. Moist. Inviting. “Choose.”
The zipper broke open to reveal the bulge and two lumps that became more and more prominent until the button burst off the waistband of his pants due to his broadening pelvis. His head was awash with lust. He could hardly think. “Uhhhhhhh....”
He fell into those eyes as the world blurred. Strong hard hands seized a proper vantage on padded silken sheets. Lips brushed cheeks as that perfume consumed awareness in favor of passionate union. Grunting and moans on both sides rang in his ears as blood surged with unbridled pleasure. That is, until the higher voice began to deepen. Soft delicate skin swelled into firm unyielding mounds as two sides grappled for dominance. Sweat dripped down both frames as soft sheets and mattress transitioned to a wrestling mat, then to hard-packed earth as dust kicked up between them.
Two voices rang in equal measure, the female and the male, the masculine and the effeminate, the bedroom and the arena. “Choose, Peter Pearson.”
Two visions danced before his eyes. The mindless bliss of pleasure, a veritable ocean that yawned and called playfully as it crashed against the surf. A promise to be adored, to be worshiped, to take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, from whoever he wanted. Women would flock to him. Men would go weak at the knees at the very sight of him, the sensation of his passing as his shadow fell over them. A body so virile, so perfect, that they would pay for his time. Modeling clothes, crushing at the gym. And reveling as he scrambled the others’ concentration in favor of his irresistible charisma, then watching them drain into that familiar want of lust in a vain attempt to satisfy his own appetite.
He would be a walking god, a conqueror, a vessel to strike the mortal heart with desire. A plow to till, an arrow to pierce, drawn and fired to strike whatever target he wanted. A veritable Eros among men spending his days in heady bliss as he spread his blessing throughout the realm.
Another groan. Another spurt of growth below. The better to please and be pleased. The better to obey. The better to sink and slip into the sea of mind-numbing pleasure as he dominated again and again and again.
But ... is it really domination if the one in the bed doesn’t fight back? Would it really be satisfying to simply take from someone who isn’t willing to grapple? Would he even care about himself and his passions anymore, or would this sea of pleasures cast him against the rocks with pounding waves until he was no more, just a slack-jawed beast looking to satisfy his baser urges?
Why choose a neverending hunger when satisfaction can be so much more rewarding? The thrill of conquest. The crowds roaring, cheering at the entertainment that he would provide. Men and women each competing in their own classes, battling, surging, pushing, pinning. And when the fight is over and the victor proclaimed, all are rewarded, all join in that satisfaction of honorable combat, of a battle well-fought. And the victory to be celebrated after with men or women as they saw fit. Bonds forged between competitors deeper than a one-night stand, strong as iron, hard as stone. Glory, and an intimate connection that he would never be able to fathom, should he choose the other path.
The surge, the cliffs, and the seabed awaited below to his left, with the sirens that called for him to join them. The roar of the arena surged on his right, with the great tunnel arching overhead and a light that shone on the other side. His childhood dream made real.
The caress of fingers over Peter’s biceps triggered a muscle spasm that forced them to flex, to rise into titanic mounds that strained against the sleeves of his shirt. His shoes burst open with twin detonations, followed by shredding socks as he gazed sightlessly ahead. He couldn’t see Aphrodite, nor could he feel the strain of his muscle growing with his frame. All he knew were his warring desires seeking to entice him.
He raised a foot. It trembled in the air as the two lives raged in their own manner, calling, crying, demanding. Until he planted his foot firmly and turned.
The dark shadow of the tunnel consumed him, sending a chill over his body as he strode over tightly packed dirt and stone. The surge of the crowd grew louder. And at the end of the passage, a shadowy figure awaited with arms raised in a proud salute. Though he could not see the man’s face, Peter knew to return the gesture, even as the roar of his heartbeat blended with the surge of the arena’s audience. His pant legs grew tighter and tighter, until their seams finally burst open under the force of titanic thighs and swollen calves. His chest heaved larger, heavier, with every breath while his shirt began to draw up his torso and strain against his traps.
“I ... choose....” He blinked slowly as the portal drew closer. His voice sounded different, deeper, grainy, almost clattering, like the tumbling of a rock slide down a gorge.
The brush of lips over his brought him back briefly to stare at Aphrodite. “I know, little lover. I know.” Her smile was sad, but proud as she ran her fingers down his throat and over his torso to trip along every defined abdominal muscle there.
The grating came slowly, as if his vocal cords were having trouble functioning, even as his Adam's apple became more prominent. “What’s ... happening to me?”
“Your wish, little lover.” She smiled. “You came to this gallery every week. And every week, you would pour your hopes, your dreams, your desires, into these sculptures. You brought no burnt offerings or incense, but you carried your devotion, your wishes, your prayers. You returned. You reported. And you offered thanks for your progress with every victory you achieved. If that is not worship, then I don’t know what is. If that is not love, then I would not be here now. This is your temple, and your desires have not gone unheard, nor your offerings unheeded.” She smiled as he dropped his arms and the mounds of his biceps thrust against the expanded lats in his back to prevent from resting properly at his sides. They had not relaxed once, and one could almost hear a faint grinding as they sought that perfect place to rest. “You loved your ancestral homeland. You honored your history, your culture, your people. You longed to join them. And now you will. This, I promise you.”
Another shudder. Another eye-roll of pleasure as the air permeated with her scent. Delicate fingers traced over his shoulders and traps along his neck as the world fell away to return him to the passage as heavier arms and legs were left to lumber forward in his daze, casting up puffs of dirt into the air.
At last, the figure came into view as he neared the end of the tunnel. The curly hair and headband were unmistakable. His toned body was fit and bared for all to see. A smile pulled at his features as he gazed on Peter and welcomed him into the light.
“Welcome, brother,” he greeted.
The arena erupted into uproarious cheers as Peter strode into the sun. Togas, laurels, pins, loin cloths, and other ancient garb as far as the eye could see. A thrill of pleasure erupted from within as his chest thrust forward in pride. His back straightened, and a smile of his own began to creep steadily over his lips. “Brother. I like that....”
“We knew you would.” A hand clapped heavily on Peter’s broad back. There was no pain. He hardly felt a thing. “We’ve been waiting a long time for you to join us in the ring.”
Peter’s smile widened as he looked down on this competitor. He stood at least a head taller than the man. “You mean it?”
“Of course.” His smile broadened into a cocky grin. “Shall we salute for the crowd?”
Peter required no further prompting. His arms jerked and snapped as they hardened into a mighty flex. His chest thrust forward to show off his defined torso. Excitement throbbed as he took in the erupting cheers of the crowd.
“Why don’t you show off properly?” the ghost of Aphrodite’s voice caused him to snap his neck to the right. Another tingle. Another crack, followed by a reverberating snap as the waistband of his underwear finally gave up the ghost with the remnants of his pants. Just like his brother, Peter’s manhood was on full display for the crowd, as was right in their profession, as was proper for the games.
“You look magnificent, brother.”
“I feel magnificent,” came the reply. “I feel like ... I feel like....”
“Like you belong here?”
Peter nodded as they approached the center of the arena. “Exactly. This is just ... it’s perfect, it’s right, it’s....”
He trailed off at the sight of their opponents. Two more combatants strode with broad grins onto the dirt field. Their faces were unfamiliar, but Peter would never forget the sight of those torsos he had studied for so many years. They embraced as men and competitors both as one of them spoke the words that would forever change the man’s life.
“Welcome home, Petra.”
Petra. The root word of his name. His true name. His true nature. Rock hard, a stone that would never break, never yield. Immortal and immovable. The word flooded his being, washing away the thoughts of the city, of the responsibilities and fears of the modern world. A stone cared not for such things. A stone was simple, with simple needs and desires. And now, in this place, and this time, Peter was long gone and forgotten. Petra had only one focus now, one goal; to grapple his competitor into submission. A smile curved his lips as the dust blew into his hair to lighten it from black to a reddish-brown.
“It’s good to be home,” he replied. The two smirked at one another. And then, as the contest began and their frames met to grapple one with another, the faintest brush tingled and faded from his lips. Petra grinned as he began to fight in earnest. He was living his dream. He had found his home. And he couldn’t be happier.
Back in the museum, Aphrodite smiled as the last color drained from Peter’s lips and eyes to merge into the spreading marble. His last breath had sealed his fate, but it was a fate that he chose, and a curious reversal of the gift she had offered Pygmalion so very long ago. The tattered remains of Peter’s pants and undergarments littered the floor. His arms and face were frozen in a pose of joyful masculinity that would endure for ages to come.
“I promise you,” she whispered. “You will never be separated from your brothers.”
As if he had taken some comfort in this assurance, the last ripples and stains of the new marble statue blossomed into existence, a perfect burnished match colored by the age of time as much as the minerals from which his body was now composed.
A mover in a white jumpsuit strode in and shook his head as he wrapped a tag around the new statue’s wrist to dangle on the edge of its vision. EROS had been sewn into the uniform over the man’s left pectoral, and three arrows jutted through the name to flourish at three angles. He sighed as he pulled back from the statue.
“Such a pity. He’d have made a fine arrow.”
Aphrodite shook her head and smiled as her features continued to shift, even as Eros’ did the same to match that perfect ideal for their kinds unique aspects of love. “It was his choice, my son. And you have many more already flying around the world.”
Eros chuckled. “I suppose that’s true. It took them long enough to acknowledge me again.”
Aphrodite cupped his chin and cheek lovingly. “My darling Eros, love always endures, both yours and mine.”
Eros sighed and his stance loosened under that gentle caress.
“Is everything ready?”
He nodded. “Hermes has already taken care of it. The papers are filed and the system hacked and updated.” He chuckled. “These mortals really did blunder when they called their invention the information superhighway. I don’t think he’s had this much fun in over a millennium.”
Aphrodite chuckled. “He certainly has enough charges to look after now. And the curator?”
“I’ve given him a nudge and the proper alert. He’ll be on his way soon.”
“Excellent.” She smiled as she flexed her fingers and looked back on the statue. “I wonder if I should get back into sculpting,” she thought idly. “I haven’t felt that relaxed in centuries.”
Eros laughed as he extended an arm in invitation. “Then we’ll have to find more mortals seeking a boon, won’t we? You won’t believe the number that actually want to be turned to statues.”
“Is that so?” Aphrodite’s eyes flickered with just a hint of appetite as she seized his arm in hers and they strode toward the wall. “Tell me more.”
“Gladly,” Eros said as they faded through the structure of the building and disappeared.
A few moments later, the clack of leather shoes on the marble floor echoed through the space, until the curator arrived to gape at the newest acquisition. His face shifted from white to splotchy pink to a mottled red and finally to cherry tomato. “Security!” he bellowed into his radio transceiver. “Get me the footage for the last hour in the museum. Some prankster thought it would be funny to deface our latest acquisition. I want to find out who, how, and when, or heads are going to roll!”
The faintest ghost of laughter reverberated through the museum halls as a flicker passed on the edge of the curator’s vision, then was gone. Hermes continued to laugh as he sped on his way to guide the next soul to the afterlife. “Ah, Aphrodite, I do so love how you push those mortals’ buttons.”
Look me in the face and tell me that a thick asf, black, bookworm fem reader is the next door neighbor of the sexy twitch streamer or cam boy Shinsou, who wants nothing more than to make you his and have you screaming his name doesn’t sound hot! I dare you 🗿 She’s so shy and sweet and Shinsou just wants to know how loud she can be after the two get to know each other more
Omg that’s so hot 🤤 if y’all can’t tell, I love men secretly pining and lusting after unknowing female readers. ESPECIALLY if they are shy, nerdy, and or curvy/thicc girls. So Inhad fun with this
Girl Next Door (Shinsou x Black Reader)
Quirkless AU
(Art by: @raikiriart)
Shinsou kept his blinds opened when he gamed. He always joked with his viewers that it was for the natural lighting.
“Y’all know the sun really brings out the purple in my eyes.” He’d smirk, and that was that.
They didn’t need to know the real reason he kept them open. His violet eyes flitted towards the window again as he mindlessly navigated the game. That’s when he saw you walking into the complex.
“Uhh, alright guys, I think that’s about it for today. I’ll be back on tonight for our midnight stream,” his eyes flicked over to the window again. You were checking the mailbox. Perfect. “Until next time, later guys.”
Shinsou quickly shut off his computer and threw on a pair of shoes before rushing down the stairs.
“Hey there bookworm.” Shinsou grinned as he approached you.
As soon as you turned and flashed him your little brace face smile, he felt an arrow pierce his heart. God you were adorable. With your colorful braces and glasses and pretty chocolate dimples.
“Hey yourself, e-boy.” You replied.
“Get anything interesting?” Shinsou nodded at your stack of mail as he opened his own mailbox.
“A new book.”
“Of course,” he shot you a smirk.
“Of course,” you giggled.
“Well, hey, that’s what makes you my little book worm.” He teased.
You glanced away your shy little dimpled smile making his heart flutter.
“Well, I better get upstairs,” you said, “I have studying to do.”
“Alright then,” Shinsou’s heart sank a bit at the thought of losing time with you. “Mind if I walk up with you?”
“Sure!”
Shinsou let you lead the way.
You two were neighbors and had come to be good friends; often walking up to your apartments together. So you thought nothing of it when he took up space behind you. Not even feeling the predatory gaze on your ass.
Shinsou’s friendly face fell into an almost hungry gaze as you strutted in front of him. There was something about your cute face juxtaposed with your stacked curves that drove him crazy. Your round ass bounced with every step as you led the way up the stairs. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his joggers and stroked the bulge growing in his pants as your ass wiggled.
Stop being such a creep man.
He chastised himself as you bounced up the stairs, but fuck he couldn’t help it.
All he could imagine was how loud he could make your soft little voice scream for him while he pounded into your thick ass from the back or watched your bouncy tits jiggle in his face.
“Hey, y/n,” Shinsou piped up before he could stop himself.
“Yeah?” You cocked your head.
Cutie.
“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and order take out. We can just watch a movie or somethin’..or not! I don’t want you to think I’m tryna Netflix and chill or something!” Even though he totally was.
You felt your face burn. In all the time you and Shinsou had been neighbors, you had always had a crush on him, but never knew how to express it. You honestly never expected anything more than friendly mailbox banter; so getting invited to his house was a pleasant surprise to say the least.
“O-oh, um—Sure!”
“Really? Ahh, I have to stream tonight at midnight, but how bout eight?”
Your cheeks burned as you nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Alright, I now have an hour to make this place look presentable.” Shinsou gazed around his messy bachelor pad.
He managed to make his place decent and changed from his joggers into jeans and a t-shirt. He even combed his messy purple locks a bit. He wanted to look good for you guys’ first hang out session. After all, he couldn’t believe you had actually agreed to hang out with him. Shinsou had been crushing on you for months, but he didn’t think he was actually good enough for you. You were smart and studious and hard working and he was pretty sure you only viewed him as a lazy gamer guy.
That was why he had to impress you. This was his first shot to make a real impression and maybe score a real date with you.
He wondered how you would wear your hair and makeup. If he’d finally get to see those curves of yours hugged in a dress. He groaned aloud, thinking about running his fingers over your body.
“Fuck...” he muttered, feeling his dick flex at the thought of your thick chocolate body writhing under his.
Shinsou stroked himself through his jeans growing harder as his thoughts about you ran wild.
I can’t act like this when she’s around. I’ll scare her off for sure.
Ok. He had twenty minutes. He could just rub one out, right? That way when you got there he wouldn’t be thinking about throwing you on the kitchen table and deep dicking you until you were a groaning mess.
You knocked at Shinsou’s front door. You stepped back and bounced on your toes a bit.
When he opened the door, you felt your heart quicken. He looked so handsome. You weren’t used to seeing him in jeans and you could see how well sculpted his chest was through his shirt.
“Hey, bookworm.” He smiled.
“Hi, you.” You replied.
“Come on in.”
As soon as Shinsou ushered you inside you were intrigued by all the cool super hero posters and pictures of friends on the family.
“DC guy, huh?” You smirked at him as you observed his DC posters.
“For the most part,” Shinsou replied, coming up to your side. “I like the world building more in DC; feels a bit more real to me than Marvel. I don’t know why, but I have to admit I like Marvel’s villains more.”
“Hmm. I’m the opposite.”
Shinsou’s brow quirked as he grinned down at you.
“Oh yeah?”
You nod, shrugging. “I just think marvel has cooler, more powerful heroes and I like the world building in marvel. But I think DC has cooler villains and I like the grimmer grittier vibe.”
“Hmmm, let me find out my bookworm is a comic buff.”
Your heart fluttered again at the possessive nickname, but you mask it with a grin. “Try me.”
By the time the pizza arrives you and Shinsou are deep in your conversation about movies, comics, books, and your favorite shows.
Shinsou proudly shows you his custom PC and set up and swells with pride at how you gush over his build.
He loves hearing about your studies and theories and you guys bounce ideas off of each other for hours.
Before you both know it, it’s eleven o’clock.
“I’m so sorry, Shin. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”
“Trust me, y/n, if it wasn’t for that alarm I wouldn’t have even noticed the time. This has been really fun.”
The grin that lit up your face made your dark eyes sparkle and Shinsou desperately wanted to kiss you.
“Yeah. It was fun. I’m really glad we did this.”
“Yeah, totally. We should...do it again sometime. Maybe we can go out for dinner next weekend?” He offered, carefully.
You glanced away, sweetly, composing yourself before meeting his eyes again with a shy nod.
“I’d like that a lot.”
“Cool,” Shinsou grinned, scratching the back of his neck as a blush burned on his cheeks. Guess I’ll hop over next door and pick you up huh?” He chuckled.
“Sure.” You giggled back. “Well...night, Shin, have fun on your stream.”
“Night, y/n.” He smiled back.
As soon as you were out the door, Shinsou wanted to whoop and holler. Holy shit! He couldn’t believe he’d finally did it! Not only did he ask you to hang out, he scored an actual date with you!
Not only that, he finally got to know you beyond just a few words, and you were totally cool!
Knowing how cool and interesting you are coupled with your sweet, shy nature just made you more attractive to him.
He couldn’t help being even more turned on. You were like the perfect girl. Shy and sweet and nerdy and cool and Thicc as fuck.
He couldn’t wait to get to know you better in more ways than one...
He felt himself stirring once again and sighed, palming himself through his jeans.
“Dammit,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. “I’ve really gotta stop working myself up over you, bookworm.”
Alright. He had an hour. He could take care of his ‘little problem’ before he started his stream. He would be thinking of you riding his face the whole time.
Over 1k, fuck yeah! My prompt word is sleep. Because sleepy and peaceful Sterek is very important to me.
“Sleep” for my 1k prompt event!
“Sleep bad,” Stiles insists, stumbling on his feet and clumsily yanking at his tie. “Sex good!”
“Sleep good, too,” Derek counters, shoving Stiles gently back onto the hotel bed and kneeling to strip his shoes, dress pants and socks off. Well, at least they’re on the same page about getting naked.
But when Stiles finally struggles out of his shirt and makes a grab for Derek’s boxers, he is rudely diverted by the covers being tugged up around him, and then Derek is tucking them both in.
“It’s been a long day,” he coaxes. “We’re both exhausted. It’s okay, let’s just sleep.”
Stiles pouts. “No-o, we can’t! I had plans! Was gonna be-” he has to break off to yawn. The sheets and puffy white mountains of comforter feel warm and nice… really nice, like… clouds or something… only, no. None of that! He forces his eyes back open, because he can almost feel Derek’s ‘I was right’ smirk. “Epic! It was - is going to be epic.”
“Hmm,” Derek says incredulously. “I don’t know about you, but I am not up for epic anything right now.”
Stiles sighs. “This is why they tell you to fuck beforehand, isn’t it?”
“Which we did,” Derek reminds him wryly, clicking the lights off.
“Well, yeah,” Stiles admits. “But I wouldn’t-” he muffles another yawn- “wouldn’t mind a second round.” He rubs up against Derek’s side, crotch first, and it’s supposed to be hot and sexy… but from Derek’s chuckle, it reads more as adorable, puppy-puddle cuddling.
“How about tomorrow before the brunch?” Derek offers. He noses into the side of Stiles’ neck, scenting him. God, Stiles loves it when he does that, the hint of instinctual possessiveness that he’s more often so careful to hide.
Not that Stiles doesn’t love that too, how he’s usually so thoughtful and thorough, like when he goes down on Stiles and seems to catalog each reaction for future use, looking up through his dark lashes to make eye contact as he does that one thing with his lips…
“Nooowww,” Stiles whines, wriggling against Derek’s thigh. “It’s bad luck if we don’t! You have werewolf stamina, you can do the work. I’ll just lay here and enjoy. We can put a pillow under my hips or something.”
“Ah yes, you make it sound so appealing,” Derek says, but he strokes Stiles’ side as if he’s considering.
“Haha, jokes on you,” Stiles says, letting his heavy eyelids droop closed as he enjoys the lazy contact. “Sex with me is always appealing. Or is bed death already setting in?”
“Don’t think a lack of passion is gonna be our problem,” Derek says into Stiles ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down Stiles spine even before he nips his earlobe. Stiles’ breath catches, and he turns into Derek’s mouth for a sloppy, awkwardly angled kiss.
And then, just as he’s getting into it, he’s manhandled onto his side and his back is snugged firmly against Derek’s tummy and chest.
“Sleep,” Derek insists again.
“Fine,” Stiles says, or tries to. It comes out as another huge yawn. His limbs feel pleasantly heavy from all the dancing, his head muzzy with the buzz from all the champagne toasts.
“Wake you up with a blowjob tomorrow,” Derek offers, sounding moments from dozing off himself.
“Yeah,” Stiles sighs happily, rubbing his face into the downy pillow. Sleep, actually, good after all. He threads his fingers through Derek’s to pull his arm tighter around his chest, and the last thing he notices as he sinks into dreams is the unfamiliar feeling of their new rings pressing into each other.
Am I the only one who cares about her? Perhaps. Will I love her more to make the difference? Absolutely. Praise be Cosmo
Bleeding Hearts
Part 16
Taglist: @silverhowe @happycupcakeenthusiast @vampire-hunter @simpforavillain @dumb-fawkin-bitch @mushroomlover13 @kimqueenofhell @vane28282 @namor-is-the-way @daaiissyyyyy @anyzandy @pturnersblog @cherrychupachup @blossom618 @bxnnywriting @neteyamsbulletwound @fabulousarminsimp @proper-idiocy @esposadomd @txmbstone @whoreforquaritch
Miles p.o.v.
Who the fuck is she?
It’s been a question on my mind since I found out that Nina Rodriguez and Ninat’ia share the exact same DNA profile. I see Nina in her smile, I see Nina in the way she gets angry with me - I see Nina in her heartbreak and in her tears.
Is she Nina?
It made my head throb just thinking about it. Because of course not - she’s Na’vi and was born as the sister of Mrs. Sully. She’s different.
She’s fucking blue for Christs sake.
"I do not care what happens to me, but I will kill you. I will not stop until your blood is on my hands.”
And when the Na’vi make promises, they keep them. It is like a blood oath to them, and even then, the humans will break it if it means they can survive or atleast live another day to be selfish.
Even if she smiles at me now or even if she laughs at my ears, she will kill me. She will stand before me with her own knife and slit my throat. She will watch me die if it means Pandora is safe.
Because at the end of the day, I am her captor.
And she is not Nina.
“You good, Colonel?” Wainfleet asked, stopping by my room.
“Yeah, ju-”
“Hope that crazy bitch didn’t do anything to you out there.”
I wanted to strangle him. Why? Because in my heart, all I could see was him killing Nina.
She’s not Nina.
She’s not fucking Nina.
I had to make sure that it was drilled into my skull.
“Nah, she’s just a little kitty. Even had to shock her as a reminder,” I waved the remote in my hand, smiling at Lyle and horrified that such a thing even crossed my mind.
“Have a goodnight, Colonel,” He patted the side of the entrance, giving me a nod before leaving and I wanted to throw the remote against the wall. Stomp on it - just to make sure that I didn’t have to see that look of helplessness in her eyes again.
What I was unaware of was how troubled Ninat’ia was herself.
Did I just ignore the signs because of what she had previously told me? Maybe, or I just thought I had to be crazy that she would even consider doing anything with me.
I wandered out of my room, the only thing illuminating me being my own body and the small gadgets. No light illuminated from either cell. My ears twitched at the sound of Spider snoring, and I smiled softly.
I looked behind me, to where Ninat’ias’ cell is, and heard nothing from it. I squinted, trying to find her body in the darkness, and spotted her sleeping on the floor and curled up into a ball.
I didn’t want to wake either of them, and made my way back to my room. I think I ignored it because it had to be me just being tired as shit, but now I know that my ears did not betray me.
Within the confines of her cell and in the shelter of darkness, my ears twitched at the breathy sound of my own name.
963VERSE NATION PLEEEEASE VOTE 963 IN THIS POLL WE NEED YOU DO IT FOR WOMEN
OMG with your caption of "milkshakes at monstros lounge is about to taste 10x better with Jades secret ingredient" made me have a brain rot.
IMAGEN FXCKING FLOYD DRINK IT AND NOW WANTS IT STRAIGHT FROM THE SOURCE 😭 in that fic you said that we were first passed to Floyd but he was too bothered so we got handed to Jade. So imagen he somehow find out and now wants us in the same position that we are with Jade but with HIM.
Or Azul is also a degenerate so taking a book from Jade we go back to working for him tasting his potions that for some reason also made us lactate..
OR SOME OF OUR FRIENDS SEE/HEAR WHAT GOING ON OR MAYBE WE TELL THEM AND THEY TRY TO "help" US BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH WE WHERE ALREADY MILKED IT STARTED TO FILL UP MORE TO AN UNCOMFORTABLE LEVEL AND THEM BEING OUR BFF AND "totally not weird or have feelings for us" CONVINCE US TO LET THEM HIM. While it's either but them sucking or playing with our nipples with a bowl under to not make a mess 🤞☺️💕
OH AND IMAGEN THEY FIGURE OUT THAT THE REASON THE MILKSHAKES TASTE BETTER IS BECAUSE OF THIS AND OUR BFF STARTS USING THE MILK THEY GOT OUR FOR US FOR THEMSELVES 🤭 now they self proclaimed themself our lil helpers (or milker).
Now we can also have multiple BFF and they all help us at the same time too to get all that fullness out of us 🥰
-Yours truly, the annon that you awakened their lactation kink onces again 👩❤️💋👩
YES YES AAAAAAA OTL
(cw: yandere, brief nsfw mentions, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, lactation, female reader, brief mentions of pregnancy)
Floyd and Azul are so incredibly fake. T-T they only want you when you start producing milk. Most fake fans ever, switching up like that… Floyd complains about how lucky Jade is, and Jade has to tell him that it was Floyd who wanted nothing to do with you in the beginning. He’s merely looking after you as you’re now his contractual obligation, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t attached to you. He’s become rather enthralled. Jade has written the potion recipe down, even perfected it after some more trial and error (which you were more than happy to assist with) and so now he has a potion that’ll have you lactating for at most a full day. <3
Floyd’s too impatient to fill bottles and jars up, so he’ll just pull your shirt open and tug your bra up and take it straight from the source with his greedy mouth. I like to think Jade watches the both of you so fondly, so happy that his favorite people are getting along well even if you’re squirming and telling Floyd to be more gentle, to slow down, to put his teeth away.
Azul goes absolutely insane when he learns of that potion. You can’t tell me he also wouldn’t have the biggest lactation kink ever. It ties in nicely with the breeding kink. Jade has him sample some dishes made from your milk, along with a glass of your milk, and he’s easily able to tell there are notable differences. He asks if this is goat’s milk rather than cow’s and Jade smiles deceptively and says he’ll show Azul who to thank for the delicious ingredients. He brings Azul to you, where you’re currently trying to deal with your swollen, leaky tits while Floyd is doing everything he can to try to steal at least one sip. If only you could see the dollar signs in his eyes… Oh, you’re so marketable! He could definitely capitalize on this.
Now that Azul knows of this, it’s over for you. But before he decides to sell your milk or use it for Mostro Lounge dishes, he wants to touch and squeeze and fondle you. I imagine he just stares at you for the longest time because his brain is short-circuiting trying to remind himself that you aren’t pregnant; this is just the result of magic. You aren’t pregnant or filled with eggs, but you could be. You’re not pregnant. He’s never fucked you before. But what if… Azul milks you once and out of sheer instinct he places his hand over your belly and mumbles something about how he can’t wait to be a father. (pathetic tako delusions…)
Imagine they give you the potion so often that you start to lactate on your own, if only a little. Magic definitely has more of an effect on your body because you can’t use it or sense it like mages can, so it’s definitely possible it might do something to you internally. Imagine being with Ace and Deuce and you leak through your shirt and you’re so embarrassed trying to explain what’s happening and Ace is poking fun as usual, while Deuce is in shock like, “Milk comes from women?!?!?!?! The store-bought milk I drink,,,,,, came from a woman????” Deuce already had a lot of respect for you, but now he is a million times more respectful because it can’t be easy filling all those milk bottles. (Deuce, never change. You are a sweetheart.)
Ace will want to sample directly from you. He teases you a lot, squeezing your breasts just to watch the wet patches on your shirt become larger and more noticeable. Deuce thinks that the two of them should bring you to someone who can help. Ace supposes that’s fine, but before that he needs a taste. Be a good best friend and let him taste you. There’s nothing weird about it. Best friends help each other out all the time. Ace and Deuce bring you to Trey because he’s responsible and oh-so-wise, and Trey also has this moment where he just stares at you, mouth slightly agape, before he has to clear his throat and quickly act normal and relaxed and calm and level-headed. Did I mention how relaxed he is? You cannot lactate around Trey. He will want to use your milk in the sweets he bakes (Riddle’s strawberry tarts are about to be so delicious), but he’ll also want you against the counter while he fucks you against it, pretending the both of you are married and he’s knocked you up and you’re lactating in preparation of the baby. He’s so not normal about this; he’s so down bad.
The brain cell duo bring you to Housewarden Riddle and he is overcome with so many emotions. Riddle is so flustered and he snaps at Ace and Deuce to cover you while he figures out what to do next. But you know Che’nya’s probably lurking around, and if you happen to be outside and a pair of invisible hands grope you and you’re suppressing moans while milk trails down your tits…… Riddle is fighting a losing battle here. He has never been so,,,, conflicted. So acutely aware of the female form. So immersed in how you sound when Che’nya’s teasing you. Riddle wants you and your milk so bad, but he has to be polite and respectful. He will help you and after the fact he will not think about it again. He will not lie awake at night, staring into the darkness and wondering how it might feel to drink directly from your breasts. For once the Octavinelle trio have done something good, even if this good thing is the byproduct of dubious behavior.
Ruggie learns of this and you know he’s going to want in. Let him have a taste, won’t you? He couldn’t get breakfast because he was running all around for Leona. He’s parched! Likewise, Leona probably hears of it from Ruggie or he catches the gossip from his dorm members and now he’s demanding Ruggie to bring you to him. Leona’s much more composed about the entire thing. He’ll tease you a little with a cocky smirk, asking if you like being in the spotlight like this, if you like his hands on you, if you like being milked and treated like a commodity by some (Octavinelle). Leona actually handles you very gently when he milks you. He respects women and their bodies, so he doesn’t want to hurt you or cause you any discomfort. Sometimes he thinks you’re pregnant (which could also be another reason why he’s oddly sweet to you), but he quickly reminds himself that that wouldn’t be possible because if you were pregnant it would be with his child and his child only. If you point out his behaviors, he’ll gruffly tell you you’re delusional and that he’s not doing this for your sake. It’s just his means of having access to a little snack when Ruggie’s taking forever to bring him his lunch.
Though Malleus can’t sense life within your belly, sometimes he’ll think you really are pregnant when he sees you lactating and he thinks of how pleasing it would be to raise little ones with you. He visits every night, not only to see you and spend time with you, but to help should you be kept awake desperately trying to milk yourself empty. Malleus is also gentle when handling you, his voice so soft and fond when he speaks to you, praising you and calling you all manners of endearments to show you that you should not be self-deprecating or disgusted with yourself. He thinks you are absolutely perfect; this is nothing to be ashamed of, nor does it make you unsightly in any way. He’s probably kissed you while his hands were cupping your breasts. There’s something so intimate in kissing while he’s touching such a special, sacred place. Every day the temptation to sweep you off your feet and away to Briar Valley consumes him. He could build such a happy family with you. Lilia certainly encourages it.
My first try at a slightly spicier radioapple is complete! Happy Sunday, sinners! I had a blast adding in the many tiny details in the environment- for example: at full size, find all the duckies (and Lu's wedding ring, it's hiding too)! After Amir's recent comment, I like to think maybe Al is playing 'Fever' softly for them 💕
Succumb to Temptation - Act 5 - Part 1
Act 1
I was feeling pretty weary about posting this,but,if people are not gonna like it and judge me,the so be it.Anyway,Doofenshmirtz had invented an inator that disintegrates clothing and leaves them in only their underwear.As you can see,he is about to get his ass handed to by female human Perry.
Another female Spideypool.Wendy is self-conscious about her body and thinks that she is no longer beautiful,but,Penelope thinks very differently. Also,nose bleed!
Just a random anime girl with some gore and blood.
new fixation (possible hyperfixation soon) on how sex work is good for neurodivergent people (make your own hours be your own boss) and types of it and stuff along that line