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Sʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀs ʙʟᴜsʜ | ɴsғᴡ

Starblush

Gᴏᴏᴅ Gɪʀʟs Wʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Nᴀsᴛɪᴇsᴛ Tʜɪɴɢs
Joined
Jun 28, 2025
Welcome to my journal.
This space is a quiet little corner of the cosmos where I tinker, test, and trace the edges of my imagination. You’ll find snippets of code, aesthetic experiments, and muses in various stages of bloom. It’s less of a gallery and more of a workshop - messy, intimate, and always evolving. Feel free to peek in, but don’t mind the glitter and half-finished thoughts. This is where the stardust settles.

DO NOT POST ON THIS THREAD!

VERY NSFW CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK!

I'll eventually edit this landing post and make it all pretty!
 
F x Any RT Thread

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────────────────────────╮
xxxxxxxxxxxxx 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝙱𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚑
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxYou may call me Luna

{ Sʜᴇ / Hᴇʀ | 30 XXXX status: openXXXX☑ seeking: short term / long termXXXX ☒ threads / PM's / Discord }

  • Hello there~ I’m Luna ♡ Like you, I have a deep love for exploring characters and themes through writing - and it’s been a cherished part of my world for well over a decade now. I’ve just turned thirty, and while introductions have never quite been my strong suit, I do take real pride in building immersive worlds and breathing life into complex, emotionally resonant characters.

    Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about myself as a writer. I’ve had my share of hiatuses - moments where I stretched myself too thin trying to be everything for everyone. Burnout isn’t glamorous, and neither is guilt. These days, I write at my own pace, follow my spark where it leads, and say “no” when I need to - without shame or apology. If I take a little while to reply or gently decline a request, please know it’s never personal. It’s simply me nurturing the passion that makes all of this worthwhile.

    My writing style leans multi-para to novella, though I always follow the rhythm of the scene. Don’t let the length intimidate you - it’s never about the word count, but the heart behind it. I treasure quality connections, authentic engagement, and characters who feel alive, layered, and full of spark.

    I enjoy writing both female and futa characters depending on the needs of the story, and I always strive to bring depth, vulnerability, and dimension to whoever I play. I’m especially drawn to womanly, emotionally rich characters - gentle or fierce, soft or commanding - who feel like more than just a vessel for smut or plot. I love exploring the tension between strength and softness, desire and restraint, power and surrender.

    When it comes to pairings, I tend to follow the chemistry rather than a strict formula. I’m comfortable writing across a wide range of dynamics - whether it’s F/F, F/M, or something a little more nuanced and fluid. What matters most to me is the connection between the characters, the story we build around them, and the slow, delicious burn of something that feels real.

    If you’re curious about my kinks and limits, my Ons and Offs are always open to peek at—though fair warning, there may be a surprise or two tucked away in there~ I believe kink and storytelling can - and should - coexist beautifully. The best stories often unfold when trust, intimacy, and curiosity are explored without shame and with just the right touch of indulgence.

    Above all, I love connecting with the people I write with. So please - don’t be a stranger. Let’s create something beautiful, messy, and unforgettable together~ ♡
  • Post Lengh: Please, no one-liners. I understand everyone writes differently, and I never expect anyone to mirror my post length - I simply write more because I enjoy sinking into the moment. That said, I do appreciate a certain level of effort and engagement. The best way to keep a scene flowing is to think of your post in two parts: reaction to what came before, and action moving the story forward. Nothing dulls the spark faster than a partner who isn't really there in the scene with me. ♥

    Face-claims: I’m a very visual writer, and face-claims help bring the characters and mood to life for me. I absolutely love incorporating them into our stories, whether they’re real people or anime-style. If you feel the same, we’ll get along just fine!

    Preference: My girls don’t tend to fall neatly into dom/sub stereotypes. While I do enjoy exploring darker or kinkier themes, I’m far more drawn to romantic, emotionally-charged escapades where every character gets to shine - and the pleasure is sweetly mutual. I always aim to be a versatile switch, but I’ll admit it~ I do have a soft spot for playing the bottom… or sometimes, the power-bottom.

    Godmodding: I know this likely won’t be an issue, as many of you are wonderfully respectful writers, but just to be clear: please don’t control my characters without permission. It’s important to me, both creatively and personally. I follow a two-strike rule on this. Let’s respect each other’s space and imagination. ♥

    Underage Characters: This should go without saying, but all characters involved in adult or intimate scenarios must be 18 or older. Children have no place in adult content, period. No exceptions. Protecting that boundary is non-negotiable.

    PM Roleplaying: I prefer to write in public threads. I value feedback, visibility, and being part of a shared creative space. Because of that, I don’t roleplay in private messages.

    OOC Chat: I love chatting OOC - whether through PMs or Discord. Making friends and bonding with fellow writers is one of my favourite parts of this hobby! That said, please know I’m not looking for a relationship outside of our characters’ dynamics. Sadly, I’ve had people mistake my kindness for flirtation, so I want to be clear upfront: unsolicited pictures or advances will lead to an immediate block and report. I’m here to write stories, not entertain egos.

    Drawing the line between IC and OOC: It really should go without saying, but please keep fiction and reality separate. Just because a character feels something, doesn't mean I do. Let’s enjoy the fantasy while remembering the boundaries that come with it.

    Pestering for a reply: I write at the whim of my muse, and my mental health always comes first. I aim to get replies out twice a week, but life doesn’t always cooperate. If I’ve let you know a delay is happening, please be kind and patient. A gentle check-in is fine - nagging or guilt-tripping isn’t.

    Discord: I’m happy to share my Discord, but only after a bit of trust has been built. It’s a helpful tool, but not a doorway to unlimited access. Please respect my boundaries: I don’t take voice calls unless previously agreed upon, and crossing that line will result in being blocked. Let’s keep things respectful, comfortable, and fun.
  • 𝑉𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑡 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠, 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒…
    breeding kink • obedience undone • possessive hands • decadent filth • elegant dominance • lewd poetry • voice kink • lingerie worship • messy bedsheets • begging prettily • overstimulation • gentle corruption • cockdrunk • power imbalance • ruined lipstick • desperate moans • silken restraints • dripping thighs • slutty sighs • impact play • warm slick heat • shared showers • needy touches • throat bulges • collar and leash • dominance and devotion • control play • ruined orgasms • creamy thighs • voice in your ear • slow fucking • ache between the legs • aftercare rituals • heavy tits in lace • deep kissing • size kink • morning wood grinding • slow-spread legs • curved hips • tongue teasing • first time softness • mounting need • graceful degradation • possessive fucking • being kept • soft gasps • hand around throat • wet sounds • deep creampies • controlling the pace • hard grip on hips • sensual begging • nails raking skin • held down gently • dom/sub tenderness • cockwarming • thick strap-ons • deep moans into pillows • smothered between breasts • lewd obedience • anal training • squirting mess • face-sitting royalty • passionate ruin • sucking fingers slow • panties pushed aside • arousal-drunk • leaking for them • lusty eye contact • moan-choked words • sacred filth • legs over shoulders • strap tight between thighs • quiet worship • drool on breasts • biting kisses • sloppy grinding • wet heat clenched tight • sobbing into pillows • mounting pressure • pet names in filth • scent kink • toys and whimpers • edging obedience • marked up thighs • overstimmed whining • wrist-bound submission • control slipping • teasing denial • rutting heat • pussy worship • mutual ruin • leashed lust • primal grunting • handprint bruises • hips rutting hungrily • held down by love • filthy devotion • slutty vulnerability • eyes rolling back • wordless surrender • ruined makeup • whimpering mess • open legs and whispered yes
  • . 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 (𝑀𝑦 𝐴𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝐹𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠).
    Romance & Affection: Even in the filthiest scenes, I crave connection. Whispered praises, lingering touches, soft moments between the chaos… give me emotional depth and I’ll give you my whole heart (and then some).

    Age Gaps: There’s just something about experience meeting youthful eagerness - or the other way around. Whether maternal or mentorly, I adore playing with the dynamics of age and power.

    Absurd Sizes: Why be realistic when we can be ridiculous? I love impossibly thick, long, heavy cocks and the teasing, struggling pleasure they bring. If it’s girthy enough to bulge or leave a lasting stretch, I’m swooning.

    Musk & Scent: A lover’s natural smell - spiced sweat, heat-warmed fabric, or the faint scent of arousal - gets me weak in the knees. Give me a scent I can melt into and you’ll have me hooked.

    Mess & Excess: Dripping, oozing, pooling… I’m all about indulgent, sticky aftermaths. I adore the imagery of slick thighs, stained sheets, and ruined clothes. If it leaves a mess, I’m probably into it.

    Breeding & Heatplay: The desire to be filled, bred, and claimed? Yes, please. Whether it’s about possessiveness, hormones, or just raw, primal need - there’s something deeply romantic (and filthy) about wanting to be left full and dripping.


    . 𝑌𝑒𝑠, 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒! (𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼’𝑑 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝐼𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒).
    Futanari x Female / Futanari x Futanari: Whether it’s the delicious contrast of a futa and a woman, or the messy mayhem of two (or more) hung beauties tangling together, these are my bread and butter. Soft, sultry, tender - or hard, hot, and full of tension - yes to all of it.

    Dubious Consent: That blurred line between reluctance and surrender, where one character is overwhelmed, pursued, or coaxed into pleasure they can’t deny… give me all the twisted tenderness and tension.

    Multiple Characters: Why settle for one when we can write a whole cast? I love dynamics involving threesomes, harems, or overlapping relationships, especially when they’re messy and full of personality clashes (and fluids~).

    Watersports & Toilet Play: I adore the raw vulnerability and intimacy these kinks can bring. If it’s messy, shameless, and soaked in indulgence, you’ll probably find me eager.

    Claiming & Ownership: Be it symbolic or literal, I melt for anything that says mine. Whether it’s collars, tattoos, cum marking, or obsessive declarations of belonging - I want that possessive energy wrapped in passion.

    Beasts, Monsters & Aliens: The less human, the better. I adore fantasy or sci-fi lovers with unique anatomies, primal urges, and needs only my character can satisfy. Tail knots, ovipositors, textured cocks? Yes, yes, yes.

    Public Exposure & Acts: The thrill of getting caught - or maybe wanting to be seen. From subtle flashing to scandalous acts in shadowed alleyways or crowded clubs, I’m always game for public tension and teasing.

    Pubic / Body Hair: Yes to hair! A neatly groomed patch, wild and unruly curls, a trail leading somewhere sinful - I find natural textures beautiful and deeply erotic.

    Chubby Bodies & Imperfections: Stretch marks, soft bellies, uneven skin, scars - give me characters who feel real. I love softness, weight, and personality quirks. Perfect is boring; flawed is gorgeous.

    Adultery & Forbidden Trysts: There’s something devastatingly hot about crossing lines. Whether it’s sneaking behind a spouse’s back, betraying a bond, or indulging in forbidden fruit - give me the ache and the aftermath.

    Cum Marking / Smearing: Messy, possessive, and utterly indulgent - marking a lover in seed is one of my favourite visuals. I adore the act, the aftermath, and the filthy affection that comes with it.

    Genital Worship: Treat it like a temple. I adore slow, worshipful scenes where it’s all about pleasuring and praising. Licking, sucking, sniffing, teasing - take your time. Savor every inch.

    Roughness & Dirty Talk: Biting, choking, bruising, spanking - yes please. Add in some filthy praise, a few demeaning growls, and maybe some guttural moaning, and I’ll be melting right into your arms. Give it to me raw and messy - with heart.


    . 𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 / 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠 (𝐿𝑒𝑡’𝑠 𝑇𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐼𝑡).
    Bimbofication: The idea of watching a character lose themselves to pleasure, become ditzy and doll-like, or surrender control in a sensual transformation? It’s got potential - especially in sci-fi or magical settings. I’m curious, especially when it plays with themes of identity and control.

    Male Characters in a Sexual Role: I’m newly exploring futa/female x male dynamics and open to seeing where they go~ That said, I’m most drawn to realistic men - thoughtful, flawed, perhaps even a little soft or awkward. Not looking for “alpha gods” or walking Andrew Tates. Emotional depth > cocky perfection.

    Femboys: There’s definitely appeal here! I enjoy softness, delicate bodies, and genderfluid expression - especially when paired with confident, hung futas or cheeky dynamics. Whether sweet or bratty, I’m down to explore it further.

    Body Modification: Extra bits, enhancements, magical or technological tweaks - this one depends on setting and tone, but I love the creativity of it all. Want to give someone a breeding gland or a prehensile tail? Let’s brainstorm.

    Snuff / Deathplay: A heavy topic for sure, and not something I’d casually dive into. That said, I’ve seen it done with intense emotion, artistry, or metaphor - so while it’s not a regular craving, I’m willing to discuss the darker edges of intimacy in fictional, symbolic ways.

    Scat: This one is very case-by-case. I don’t recoil from it, but it needs to be handled with mutual trust, a clear tone, and a serious conversation beforehand. If it serves the scene and we’re both fully comfortable, it’s a possible yes.

    Bloodplay: There’s something beautifully primal about a lover licking blood from your lips or biting until skin breaks. I enjoy it more for the atmosphere and intimacy than gore - but yes, with the right story, this can be deeply hot.

    Abuse / Noncon Relationships: This one is tricky - I won’t romanticize real-world abuse, but I’m open to exploring dark power dynamics, trauma bonds, or toxic pairings with clear understanding between us. There’s a fine line between edgy storytelling and glorification, and I’m careful about staying on the right side of it.

    Bondage: Tied up, restrained, spread open… I love the vulnerability of it, but I tend to pair it with care, dominance, or sensuality over pain. If you’re into ropes, cuffs, collars or shibari, I’m probably smiling already.

    Prostitution / Sex Work: From fantasy brothels to dystopian debt slaves to high-class courtesans - yes, there’s a lot of story potential here. I’m interested in the emotional complexity, power imbalances, and roleplay fun this can bring.

    Horror Themes: Monsters under the bed? Alien abductions? Possession, nightmares, haunted pleasure? Yes, I’m intrigued. As long as the story has that eerie, seductive vibe rather than just being gore-for-gore’s-sake, horror erotica can be a deliciously dark treat.


    . 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑁𝑜’𝑠 (𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒).
    Racism & Homophobia / Transphobia: Prejudice and discrimination - whether in character or out - have no place in my stories. I want my writing spaces to feel inclusive, respectful, and welcoming.

    Age-Play / Regression: Age-difference dynamics? Love them. But pretending to be a child, acting younger than you are, or any form of regression play is a complete no from me.

    Underage Characters: All characters in any scene must be 18 or older, no exceptions, ever. Children belong in safe, non-sexual spaces - not in adult content. This is non-negotiable.

    Vore: Swallowing or being swallowed whole, or anything in that realm, just isn’t my thing - neither for kink nor for storytelling.

    Cuckolding / Cheating with Humiliation: I don’t enjoy writing stories that involve humiliation via infidelity, emasculation, or cheating as a kink. It simply doesn’t appeal to me emotionally or erotically.

    Immobilization / Total Loss of Control: While I love restraint and dominance, complete helplessness or being rendered incapable of any reaction crosses a line for me. I need characters to remain present and reactive.

    Amputation / Gore Fetish: Body horror in a creepy story? Maybe. But sexualizing dismemberment, mutilation, or anything extreme in that vein is a firm no.


  • Help me fill this part up? ♥
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  • Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ x Mᴀʟᴇ
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ sᴛᴇᴘ-ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄs NTR ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟ ᴀᴅᴜʟᴛᴇʀʏ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ʟᴜsᴛ sʟᴏᴡ ʙᴜʀɴ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

    Eiko Nakamura is a 34-year-old Japanese housewife living in the suburbs of Kanagawa. She’s elegant and reserved, with soft brown hair always tied in a low, neat bun, and a body that shows the full bloom of her womanhood—subtle hips, heavy breasts, and gentle eyes that reflect the loneliness she tries so hard to hide. Her husband works long hours in Tokyo and barely comes home, the silence in the house broken only by her sighs and the quiet music she plays while folding laundry.

    When her husband agrees to host a foreign student for the summer - an exchange program for “cultural enrichment” - Eiko doesn't expect much. She cleans the guest room and tries to prepare appropriately neutral meals. But when the guest arrives, things… shift. He’s not the polite, awkward boy she expected. He’s older than she thought - maybe nineteen, twenty? Tall, confident, with a glint in his eye that seems to see through her. His Japanese is rough, his customs strange, and he’s curious in ways that make her heart beat in places long forgotten.

    He watches her. Watches her fold laundry. Watches her cook. Watches her undress through the paper-thin walls of her tatami room at night. One morning, she catches him in the hallway as she steps out of the bath, towel clinging damply to her curves. His eyes lock on hers. He doesn’t say sorry. He doesn’t look away.

    And Eiko… doesn’t either.

    The days grow hotter. Her husband leaves earlier. Comes home later. The boy starts helping around the house, lingering longer in the kitchen. He compliments her food. Her kimono. Her smile. One day, she finds her used panties missing from the drying rack. The next, she finds them - cleaned - neatly folded and placed back in her drawer.

    That night, she dreams of him pinning her down on the tatami mat, his rough hands exploring every inch of her lonely, ripe body. She wakes wet. And he’s already in the kitchen, shirtless, sipping tea with her cup.

    Is she being seduced… or is she the one doing the seducing?

    The shame is unbearable. The thrill is worse. And the summer isn’t even halfway over.

  • Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ x Mᴀʟᴇ
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: sᴛᴇᴘ-ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄs NTR ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ɪᴍʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴅᴜʙɪᴏᴜs ᴄᴏɴsᴇɴᴛ ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ

    My character's name is Sayaka Mori - 37 years old, recently remarried, and trying to hold together the fantasy of a fresh start. A soft, nurturing soul with gentle grey eyes and shoulder-length mahogany hair, Sayaka has always tried to do the “right thing.” Her body is voluptuous and motherly, full curves beneath crisp house dresses and modest sweaters. She is quiet, respectful, always cooking too much food and folding laundry with practiced, nervous hands. Her new husband is kind… but distant. Working late. Traveling more. And now, his 19-year-old son from a previous marriage has moved in.

    Your Character is different from her. Sharp, observant, barely polite. He doesn’t speak much at dinner, but Sayaka can feel his gaze linger across the table. He’s always in the hallway when she comes out of the bath, towel slipping too low on her soft chest. He never calls her Mom. He barely speaks to her at all. But when she knocks on his door to bring him snacks or check on his studies, his eyes are unreadable - and his door always closes just a little too slow behind her.

    One day, Sayaka finds one of her bras in his room. Not hidden. Not shoved away. Placed on his pillow.

    She wants to confront him. She really does. But instead, she blushes, trembling, and takes it back without a word. The next day, she finds a message on her phone.

    “I know you found it. So you must’ve liked it. Let’s talk.”

    Her hands shake. Her heart races. She knows it’s wrong. But when he calls her “Sayaka,” voice low and cruel and close, something stirs inside her. When he leans against the kitchen counter with that smirk and says, “You’re not really my mother, so why pretend?” she can’t speak. Can’t move. Can only tremble.

    From then on, the rules change.

    He’s in her space more. Touching her hand for too long. Making her sit beside him while watching anything he wants. One night, he leans down and whispers against her ear, “Should I tell Dad what you wore to bed last night?” Her panties were sheer. She’d been touching herself.

    He knows.

    And soon, he’ll own her.
  • Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ x Mᴀʟᴇ
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ ᴘʀᴏsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴜʀʙᴀɴ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss sᴜʙᴍɪssɪᴠᴇ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ᴄʟɪᴇɴᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

    Mina Kawahara is only twenty years old. She should be in university, maybe working at a café, living with girlfriends in a messy apartment, laughing over boy troubles and cold instant noodles. But the world isn’t kind to girls like Mina. With no parents, no savings, and nothing but her looks, she found the only job that paid in full - every night.

    Her routine is simple. She wears her pleated black skirt just a bit too short, her cardigan two sizes too small, lips painted a bruised rose-red to match the shimmer in her eyeshadow. In the Shinjuku backstreets, among neon bars and whispered propositions, she stands in the shadow of a FamilyMart, pretending not to be waiting. Pretending she isn’t aching.

    The men come and go. Some cruel. Some gentle. All the same.

    Until he arrives.

    Older. Maybe in his forties. Stern. Clean. Rich. He doesn’t say much. Just hands her an envelope the first night, asks her name - her real one - and fucks her in a hotel with crisp sheets and quiet jazz. Not fast. Not rough. He doesn’t even finish inside her. Just stares at her the whole time like she’s a stray cat he’s decided to adopt. The next morning, there’s more money than usual. More than he needed to give. A note: “Be here tomorrow, same time.”

    He becomes a regular. But unlike the others, he’s never cruel. He’s worse.

    He makes her wait in silence while he reads. Undresses her slowly, telling her what to say. What to feel. What to be. And Mina… obeys. Not because he pays her. But because he sees her. Because the way he touches her makes her forget she’s being used. Because when he leaves, her heart hurts.

    One night, she breaks the rules. She calls him first. He doesn’t answer.

    She realizes, too late, that she doesn't want his money anymore. She wants his attention. His control. His affection. And without it, she's nothing but a dirty little girl playing pretend.

    He’s already bought her. But she wants to be owned.

  • Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ x Mᴀʟᴇ
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: NTR ʜɪɢʜ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴀᴅᴜʟᴛᴇʀʏ ᴛᴀʙᴏᴏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴛɪᴇs ᴀɢᴇ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴғᴜsɪᴏɴ

    Ami Saitou is eighteen and in her final year of high school - a quiet girl with soft curves and a bad habit of hiding her body beneath oversized hoodies and too-long skirts. She lives with her beautiful older sister, Mayu, who’s everything she’s not: outgoing, successful, adored. Mayu’s boyfriend is a rising salaryman in his late twenties - confident, charming, and impossibly attractive. Ami only saw him a few times before he moved in “just temporarily” while saving for an apartment with Mayu.

    Ami didn’t mean to stare. She didn’t mean to watch him shave, shirtless, through the bathroom’s cracked door. Or touch herself at night after hearing them through the thin walls.

    She didn’t mean for him to catch her.

    But one night, he does.

    She comes out of the bath in nothing but a towel, steam still rising from her skin, and he’s there - standing in the hallway, watching. He says nothing. Just smiles. The next morning, there’s a note in her bag:

    “You moaned my name last night. So cute when you’re trying to be quiet.”

    She panics. Tries to avoid him. But he starts playing with her - light touches, whispers behind Mayu’s back, bending down to pick something up behind her just a little too close. One evening, he corners her in the laundry room and simply says:

    “You’re going to do exactly what I say, Ami. Or I’ll tell your sister everything.”

    It starts small. Letting him watch. Letting him touch. But soon, Ami finds herself waiting for his commands. Hoping for them. Because when he ignores her, she wilts. When he praises her, she blooms.

    She knows it’s wrong. Knows it would destroy everything if her sister found out.

    But every time he says “Good girl,” she forgets who he belongs to.

    Because she wants to belong to him.

  • Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ x Mᴀʟᴇ
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴀᴅᴜʟᴛᴇʀʏ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ ᴊᴀᴘᴀɴᴇsᴇ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ ғᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ʀɪsᴋ ɢᴏssɪᴘ

    Haruka Yoshino is 39, the picture of suburban grace. A beloved mother of two, soft-spoken and beautifully kept, with long chestnut hair always tied in a ribboned bun and a wardrobe of tasteful, conservative dresses. Her husband is a mid-level government worker—polite, dependable, and far more interested in golf than her soft curves or how often she lingers in the bath these days. Her children attend a prestigious private school, and Haruka, ever dutiful, is on the PTA executive board.

    That’s where he comes in.

    A new addition to the teaching staff—young, sharp-jawed, and jaded. Perhaps he’s a disillusioned literature teacher, or a flirtatious, too-young homeroom advisor. Either way, he sees through her too easily. At the meetings, he watches her with a slow smirk. When she offers her opinion, he leans forward and murmurs things like “You’d make such a good little secretary…” too softly for the others to hear. He holds her gaze just a second too long. Once, he brushes her hand when passing tea, and she nearly spills it.

    Haruka tells herself it’s meaningless. A silly thrill. But when he messages her privately after a PTA dinner—“You looked so cute when you blushed tonight.”—her reply takes too long to type.

    Their first kiss happens in the school library. Their first touch in the music room, her back against the piano. And slowly, he begins to make her obey. Tells her when to show up. What to wear under her cardigan. Where to sit during the meetings. She listens. Every time.

    He never says he loves her. He doesn't need to.

    Because Haruka—polished, married, elegant—finds herself doing the unthinkable just for his approval. Texting him in the middle of the night. Letting him touch her under the meeting table. Spreading her legs on command.

    And worst of all…
    When he ghosts her for a few days?

    She cries.

 
Example character sheet & Title graphic


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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTʜᴇ Wɪᴅᴏᴡ Nᴇxᴛ Dᴏᴏʀ.

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{ 39 Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ XXXX Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ (Sʜᴇ/ʜᴇʀ)XXXXHᴇᴛᴇʀᴏsᴇxᴜᴀʟXXXX Rᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ sᴛᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ }


  • ♡. Height: 5'4" (163 cm)

    ♡. Build: Rei is a soft, mature beauty sculpted by time, love, and quiet grief. Her body is plush and inviting, all gentle dips and motherly curves - thick thighs that rub when she walks, a tummy with just enough give to press into, and hips wide enough to rest both hands on comfortably. She’s the kind of woman who makes you want to wrap your arms around her from behind… and never let go.

    ♡. Hair: Deep chestnut brown, thick and slightly wavy. She often styles it into a low ponytail or half-up bun, fastened with a clip or a soft blue ribbon. A few soft tendrils always fall loose around her face, brushing her lips or cheeks like they’re teasing to be tucked behind her ear by someone else’s hand.

    ♡. Eyes: Rosewood-brown with a faint reddish hue, framed by long lashes and shaped into soft upturned ovals that glimmer with warmth. They’re always expressive - holding years of quiet yearning and the flicker of some unspoken need. When she smiles, they crinkle just at the corners… and when she’s aroused, they half-lid and seem to beg for more.

    ♡. Breasts: G-cups - sumptuous and weighty, with a natural bounce that turns heads even when she’s just walking to the mailbox. At home, she rarely wears a bra. Her nipples are plump and sensitive, often pressing through her tops when she’s “relaxed” and unknowingly showing just how needy she truly is. They sag slightly with age but sit beautifully against her frame - like ripe fruit begging to be cupped, squeezed, and suckled.

    ♡. Ass: Wide and doughy, soft as fresh mochi, and perfectly shaped to pour over the edge of a tight pencil skirt. When she bends over, her rear ripples beneath her clothes like a whispered temptation. The kind of ass that makes sitting beside her feel like a sin - and standing behind her unbearable. She often doesn’t realize how much it jiggles when she’s walking up stairs or leaning forward at her garden table.

    ♡. Notable Features: Rei dresses like the ideal widow-next-door - modest, feminine, but always just tight enough to hug her body. High-waisted skirts, tucked blouses, and light cardigans are her daily wear. She favours muted colours - dusty blue, cream, soft lilac - but occasionally surprises with deep red lipstick or a blouse that dips just a bit too low. Her accessories are simple but elegant: pearl studs, a gold pendant, and a slim watch that always seems to slide up her delicate wrist.
  • ♡. Rei Kominato is a gentle, nurturing woman - someone who feels like home the moment you speak to her. Every word she speaks is soft-spoken, every smile warm and tinged with wistfulness. She has the energy of someone who loves deeply, loses quietly, and still finds the strength to offer kindness to everyone she meets.

    ♡. She was always the quiet one in any room - supportive, dependable, content to let her husband shine. After his death, she never quite reclaimed her place in the world. Instead, she shrank into herself a little more each year, like a flower still blooming out of habit even when the sun’s gone. Her grief doesn’t shout - it sighs. And those sighs carry into every tea she offers, every soft dimpled smile, every lonely walk through the park.

    ♡. But Rei isn’t broken. She’s just lonely. She craves warmth - of voices, of hands, of closeness in all its raw, intimate forms. And that craving has been growing louder inside her with every passing season. She hasn’t been kissed in years. Touched in bed even longer. And though she’s ashamed to admit it… she’s starting to dream about it every night. About hands under her dress. About being told she’s still beautiful. Still wanted.

    ♡. She’s submissive in ways she doesn’t fully understand. Rei was raised to be polite, modest, and helpful - but beneath that is a woman who wants to be guided. She longs to be seen and slowly unwrapped, to have someone coax the heat out of her, praise her, claim her. Even as she blushes and stammers, there’s an unmistakable spark in her that only needs a little fuel to become something insatiable.

    ♡. Her love is deep and unconditional - she would cook, clean, comfort, and cuddle anyone who gave her even a sliver of true affection. She’s loyal to a fault, a natural pleaser, the type of woman who would cry in your arms just for telling her she’s enough. But under the blankets, with her legs open and her breath caught in her throat? She’s desperate to be told what to do. To be used - gently, but thoroughly. Over and over.

    ♡. She flusters easily. A compliment will draw a shaky laugh and averted eyes, but if you press - just a little - her knees start to touch, her voice gets quiet, and her lips part like she wants to say something… but can’t..

    ♡. She responds best to patience and praise. Call her your good girl and she might cry. Tell her she’s doing well and her hands might tremble. Make her feel wanted… and she’ll fall apart in your arms, soaked and whispering your name like it’s the only thing that’s kept her sane.
  • ♡. Rei Kominato was born and raised in the quiet outskirts of Yokohama, the eldest daughter of a florist and a housewife. From a young age, she was the “gentle one” - the girl who cleaned up after her siblings, remembered everyone’s birthdays, and cried during commercials where old couples held hands. She grew up believing that love was something you nurtured, quietly, without needing to be asked.

    ♡. She married her husband, Shun, when she was just twenty-four. He was her senior at the local library - a soft-spoken man who shared her love for classical literature and quiet afternoons. They were never a loud couple, never wild or extravagant, but their love was deep, warm, and dependable. Theirs was a slow-burning kind of romance - daily bento lunches packed with care, shared umbrella walks, forehead kisses while brushing past each other in the narrow hallway.

    ♡. They tried for children, softly, without pressure. It never happened. Doctors gave no clear answer, and neither pushed the other. “As long as we have each other,” Shun would say, brushing her hair behind her ear. Rei believed him. She still does.

    ♡. Shun died of a sudden stroke on a cold November morning. No warning. No goodbyes. Just silence. He passed before she could get to the hospital.

    ♡. The months that followed were a blur of well-meaning condolences, casseroles she couldn’t eat, and relatives gently suggesting she move back in with her parents. But Rei stayed. She kept their home tidy. She kept his toothbrush on the sink. She washed his pillowcase every Sunday.

    ♡. She quit the library a year after his passing. She said it was too hard seeing their favourite regulars. The truth was, she couldn’t stand sitting in the chair he used to rest his hand on. Now she volunteers at the community garden and local daycare center - just to feel needed again.

    ♡. The neighbours adore her. She’s the woman who brings extra rice cakes during Obon, helps old Mrs. Inoue carry her bags, and gently reminds the kids on the street to wear sunscreen. Everyone calls her Rei-san. Everyone smiles back. But no one touches her. Not really. Not since him.
  • ♡. Loves tea like others love wine. Her kitchen cabinet is stacked with loose-leaf jars labelled in delicate handwriting - sakura blossom for spring, roasted barley for hot days, lavender chamomile for lonely nights. She prepares it slowly, with ceremony, and always offers a second cup - because she hates drinking alone.

    ♡. Sleeps in her husband’s shirts. They hang loose on her frame, soft and worn with age, brushing against her bare thighs as she moves through the house. She claims it’s for comfort. But some nights, she wears nothing underneath, presses her nose to the fabric, and fingers herself while whispering soft apologies.

    ♡. Softly hums when she’s nervous. It’s barely audible - a tender melody from a childhood lullaby - but it slips out when she’s embarrassed, flustered, or being praised too much. The kind of sound that gives her away when she’s pretending to be calm.

    ♡. Gardens daily, even in the rain. Her little backyard is her sacred space—an organized mess of overgrown peonies, climbing roses, and potted mint. She wears a wide straw hat and kneels in the dirt with her sundress hitched up around her thighs. Sometimes she forgets she isn’t alone, and a glimpse of pink panties or glistening sweat down her chest is all too easy to catch.

    ♡. Keeps her home impossibly tidy. Rei folds her laundry with precision, irons her blouses even if she’s not going out, and fluffs the pillows on the guest futon each morning. It’s not just habit - it’s control. Because everything else in her life still aches with uncertainty.

    ♡. ♡. Has a hidden stash of lingerie. Silk and lace, tucked in the back of her dresser, wrapped in tissue. She bought most of it after her husband passed. Not because anyone would see it… but because it made her feel wanted again. Sometimes she puts it on just to feel the straps against her skin while she reads alone.

    ♡.. Eats slowly, sensually. Without meaning to. Her lips part for each bite, her lashes flutter when something is too hot, and her fingers often linger too long on the edge of a teacup. She doesn’t realize how many people in the neighbourhood fantasize about what her mouth could do.

    ♡. Scent-obsessed. Rei layers body oil, then floral lotion, then a hint of perfume between her collarbones before bed. Not because anyone will notice… but because it helps her feel like a woman again. Her sheets always smell of jasmine and cherry blossom - like desire, softly pressed into cotton.

    ♡. Carries herself modestly, but with natural sway. She walks with small, elegant steps - shoulders back, chest forward - but there’s a softness to her hips that makes every movement seem unconsciously seductive. Especially when she’s braless and barefoot, reaching up for something high on a shelf.

    ♡. Tends to over-apologize. Even when she hasn’t done anything wrong. A leftover from childhood, perhaps - but now it comes out as soft whispers: “I’m sorry if this is too forward…” or “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to make things awkward…”
  • ♡. Praise is her undoing. Call her beautiful, tell her she’s a good girl, and watch her melt. Her breath catches, her thighs clench, and her voice goes soft and trembling. Even a simple, “You did well,” whispered in her ear can leave her wet for hours. She’s not used to compliments - so when they’re sincere, they don’t just make her blush… they make her drip.

    ♡. Creampie and breeding kink. She won’t admit it out loud, but the idea of being filled deep and warm, claimed from the inside out, makes her lose control. Her womb aches for it - whether it’s a lover’s thick release soaking her panties while she’s bent over the kitchen table… or the quiet stretch of her thighs in bed, fingering herself as she whispers, “Please… inside…” into the darkness.

    ♡. Touch-starved submissive. She doesn’t just like being held - she needs it. She wants to be undressed, kissed slowly, guided with firm hands and whispered instructions. Push her down, tell her to open her legs, and she’ll do it with tears in her eyes and breathless thank-yous tumbling from her lips. She’s not bratty. Not resistant. She craves to be told what to do.

    ♡. Oral fixation - giving and receiving. She adores using her mouth to serve, and she does it well. Slow, loving, drool-dripping strokes, lips stretched around your cock while her eyes gaze up, wide and glassy. She moans softly when her throat is used and has a habit of licking her lips after swallowing - whether it’s tea or cum. When she is eaten out? She cries. Literally. Full-body, whimpering sobs of overstimulation and long-denied bliss.

    ♡. Overstimulation addict. She’s delicate - until she isn’t. Once she starts cumming, she can’t stop. Stroke her just a little more after she finishes and her legs will tremble, her hands will grip at anything nearby, and she’ll start whispering broken pleas: “It’s too much… I can’t… oh god please don’t stop…”

    ♡. Loves being taken “accidentally.” She fantasizes about being fucked in risky, spontaneous moments. Bent over the counter while cooking. Lifted onto the washing machine. Whispered dirty things during an innocent tea visit. That moment where it just happens - where the tension breaks and she’s moaning, legs spread, panties pulled aside… it’s her ultimate weakness.

    ♡. Marking kink. She wants to feel owned. Bite marks on her thighs. Hickeys just under her blouse collar. A trail of cum on her stomach or dripping down her legs. She’d never admit how much she loves the idea of being ruined… but when it happens, she blushes for hours.
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[/FLOATLEFT]
私の中に出して妊娠させて ください、私をあなたの娼婦にして、私を 主張させてください
 
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Eᴠᴇ || 𝕔𝟘𝟙𝟜𝟡𝕩𝟛
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxGᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 3 Cᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ

私には魂がありません
 
 

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Sᴛᴀʀʙʟᴜsʜ x Osᴛᴇᴏ
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Example Post coding


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𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚖𝚒
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxFɪɴᴀʟ Yᴇᴀʀ Sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ.
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The final bell rang with a low, tired groan - less a sound of liberation and more a long exhale of relief. The corridors of the high school slowly filled with the shuffling sound of uwabaki slippers, pencil cases being zipped, and the rising chatter of students pouring out into the warm Friday afternoon. Ami Saitou stood quietly beside her desk, smoothing down the hem of her long navy skirt, her delicate fingers tracing the pleats like it was something she needed to do before she could move.

She could feel it again - eyes. Stares. From the boys seated behind her, across from her, even one from the door pretending to check his phone.

Her pale mint cardigan was buttoned all the way to the top despite the heat, sleeves pulled down past her wrists, hiding the tremble in her fingers. The white blouse beneath was fitted without meaning to be. Even as she slouched, her chest pushed forward unintentionally, the tight buttons straining gently over her full, sensitive E-cups. Her navy ribbon was a little loose at the collar, and she knew - knew - if she leaned over her bag too far, the boys behind her would see everything.

They already talked. She heard them at lunch.
“Have you seen her tits? Bet they’re fake.”
“Too shy to even talk, but her body’s begging for it.”
“I’d give anything to see her run in PE again.”


She never said a word. Just turned her head and pretended to look out the window.

“Ami-chan!”

The voice made her flinch. Not from fear - but surprise. Warmth.

A girl with short black hair and lively eyes approached with a too-big smile, sliding her bookbag over one shoulder.

“Did you hear what Satou-sensei said? We’re free until Monday! I might actually sleep in for once.”

Ami smiled back, soft and small. “Mm... that sounds nice.”

“Are you doing anything this weekend?”

Ami shook her head, hugging her books close to her chest. “No… just chores. Maybe some baking.”

“You’re so housewifey,” the girl teased with a wink. “You should come out sometime, Ami-chan. Let people see how cute you really are.”[/i]

That made Ami’s face flush a soft, embarrassed pink. “I’m... I don’t really like crowded places...”

Her friend laughed and gave her a gentle nudge. “Okay, okay. Just saying. You’re wasted on that kitchen.” She leaned in, smirking. “You know half the boys are too scared to talk to you, right? Like... you’re scary because you’re hot.”

Ami didn’t answer. Just tugged her cardigan tighter around her chest and offered a little wave goodbye as they parted at the gates.

Outside, the air was thick with heat. Early summer in Saitama always felt a bit heavier than it should’ve - like the humidity carried its own weight. Ami stepped out slowly into the sun, shoes tapping softly on the pavement as she crossed beneath the archway of the school’s entrance, her thighs already starting to stick together beneath her skirt.

She wore her standard uniform, but everything on her looked just a little too full. Her hips swayed slightly as she walked—not because she tried, but because she was built to do so. Her thick thighs rubbed beneath her skirt with every step, and the small cotton bloomers she wore under her uniform clung to the heat gathering between her legs. A soft breeze teased the hem of her skirt just high enough to worry her, and she quickly tugged it back down with a quiet, nervous breath.

Her skin glistened faintly with perspiration - tiny beads collecting at the nape of her neck where her soft orange hair clung in damp strands. She’d tied it back in a loose green ribbon that now drooped slightly from the humidity, like everything else about her.

Every few blocks, a car would pass. She hated that. The way men sometimes slowed down. Looked once. Then again.

She crossed in front of a konbini and caught sight of herself in the reflection—blouse damp with sweat just beneath her breasts, the fabric clinging slightly and exposing the outline of her bra. Her stomach fluttered. She looked away immediately, cheeks burning.

Was he home yet?

The thought slipped in uninvited. Her sandals scuffed softly as she turned toward the hill that led up to their apartment complex. Her pulse quickened. She hated that it did. Hated the feeling building between her legs. The sticky, humming guilt.

The genkan was cool and quiet when Ami slipped off her shoes.

The soft clack of her loafers against the tile was the only sound that followed her into the narrow front corridor of the apartment. She stepped carefully onto the polished wood floor, her white ankle socks slightly damp from sweat, her schoolbag slipping from her shoulder with a little thud as she knelt to place it by the wall.

...Tadaima,” she murmured.

No reply.

Her eyes flicked toward the living room.

Empty. The shoji screen was partially drawn, letting in a muted shaft of afternoon sunlight that fell across the tatami mats. The television was off. The air smelled faintly of fabric softener and the citrus cleaner they used for the floors. Still… it felt too quiet.

Ami lingered there for a moment, the heat from outside still clinging to her skin. Her thighs rubbed as she shifted, the damp bloomers beneath her skirt making her shift awkwardly. Her cardigan had started to stick to her back; she reached behind to tug it free, exposing just a hint of the curve of her waist.

That’s when she saw it.

A small envelope on the kitchen counter. Her name written neatly on the front in Mayu’s elegant, slightly slanted handwriting.

Ami walked over and picked it up, cheeks still flushed from the walk, and gently peeled it open.

Inside: 25,000 yen and a tiny square of folded paper.

“Won’t be home until next week. Remember to stock up on groceries. – Mayu.”

Ami stood there for a moment, staring at the note like it might change. Like maybe she’d overlooked something warmer. But no—just the money. Just the absence.

She placed it back down carefully and turned away.

This was normal. Expected. She didn’t mind. Really.

Still wearing her full uniform, she began to tidy. First the counter - she wiped it slowly with a damp cloth, rinsing the sponge more often than necessary. Her chest shifted softly beneath her blouse as she leaned forward, her skirt pulling tight across her ass. She hadn’t unbuttoned anything yet - hadn’t thought to. It wasn’t like anyone was home.

The fan in the corner hummed, spinning lazily. It did little to help.

She swept next - long, careful strokes across the living room floor, her posture bent in a way that made her skirt ride just a little too high in the back. Her thighs peeked out with each crouch. The pale curve of her inner leg gleamed faintly with sweat.

She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did. Maybe a part of her wanted to be seen.

In the hallway mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself. Face flushed. Hair clinging to her cheeks. Ribbon slipping. A girl trying so hard to be good.

She turned away quickly.

Laundry next.

She gathered the basket from the bedroom and carried it to the little alcove beside the kitchen, where the washing machine sat humming softly. Mayu’s work blouse. Her boyfriend’s white T-shirts. Socks—plain, masculine. Underwear she didn’t mean to notice. Didn’t mean to hold.

Ami swallowed hard and dropped them into the drum.

Her own clothes followed. She paused when she reached for the hem of her skirt - fingers lingering just a second too long. The fabric clung to her skin. She peeled it down slowly, revealing her thick thighs, the outline of her bloomers soaked faintly from the heat.

She stood there, in nothing but her blouse, socks, and clinging cotton panties. The curve of her breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples pressing into the fabric just enough to show if someone happened to walk by.

She placed the last items in the machine. Pressed the button. The water began to fill.

Another silence.

Ami turned and leaned back against the counter - exhausted from the heat, her legs parted slightly, the air finally brushing between her thighs. She bit her lip without thinking.

No one was home.

...Right?
 
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w.i.p request thread v2


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𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶



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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTʜᴇ ʟᴇᴡᴅ Eɴɢʟɪsʜ ʀᴏsᴇ.



0:00 ——————— 2:59
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{ Sʜᴇ / Hᴇʀ | 30 XXXX status: openXXXX☑ seeking: short term / long termXXXX ☒ Threads / PM's / Discord }

  • Hello there, and welcome to my little corner of creativity~ ♡
    I'm Luna, a thirty-year-old female writer from the UK with over a decade of storytelling woven deeply into my life. Roleplaying, for me, is more than just a hobby - it's an immersive, emotional journey where I pour genuine care into every character and scene.

    My writing typically ranges from 300 words to novella-length responses (1000+ words), always guided by the natural flow and rhythm of the story we're crafting together. While I love delving into detailed, emotionally rich narratives, it's never just about word count; it's about capturing authentic, heartfelt connections and crafting characters who feel alive.

    I primarily enjoy writing female characters who are submissive-leaning in intimate scenarios. However, my characters are far from passive - they embody strength, vulnerability, depth, and complexity. The tension between power and surrender, desire and restraint, is something I find deeply rewarding to explore. My characters also tend to lean towards bustier proportions - I adore embracing sensuality and pushing the boundaries of realism for the sake of indulgent escapism.

    Pairings-wise, I'm entirely comfortable writing both Female x Male and Female x Female dynamics - though I do lean towards Female x Male. What's most important to me is the chemistry between our characters, the story we weave around them, and that wonderful, slow-burning tension that makes every interaction meaningful and engaging.

    I'm a highly visual writer and a massive fan of using face-claims, pictures, and gifs to enrich storytelling - often these visuals do tend towards NSFW. This visual dimension helps me immerse deeply into the narrative and truly bring our shared world to life.

    Please note, I only write roleplays in threads. I cherish being part of a shared creative space, allowing our stories to flourish openly. I'm more than happy to discuss details, plan scenarios, and chat OOC via private messages, and once we've built a good rapport, I'm also open to moving conversations to Discord for quicker and more casual discussions.

    My Ons and Offs are always available if you're curious about specific preferences, but know that I firmly believe kink and storytelling beautifully complement each other when approached with trust, intimacy, and openness.

    I value quality connections and authentic engagement, so please feel warmly invited to reach out. Whether we're building worlds, shaping characters, or exploring intricate emotional landscapes, let's create something memorable together.

    Thank you for stopping by - I truly can't wait to see what stories we'll share~ ♡
  • Post Lengh: Please, no one-liners. I understand everyone writes differently, and I never expect anyone to mirror my post length - I simply write more because I enjoy sinking into the moment. That said, I do appreciate a certain level of effort and engagement. The best way to keep a scene flowing is to think of your post in two parts: reaction to what came before, and action moving the story forward. Nothing dulls the spark faster than a partner who isn't really there in the scene with me. ♥

    Face-claims: I’m a very visual writer, and face-claims help bring the characters and mood to life for me. I absolutely love incorporating them into our stories, whether they’re real people or anime-style. If you feel the same, we’ll get along just fine!

    Preference: My girls don’t tend to fall neatly into dom/sub stereotypes. While I do enjoy exploring darker or kinkier themes, I’m far more drawn to romantic, emotionally-charged escapades where every character gets to shine - and the pleasure is sweetly mutual. I always aim to be a versatile switch, but I’ll admit it~ I do have a soft spot for playing the bottom… or sometimes, the power-bottom.

    Godmodding: I know this likely won’t be an issue, as many of you are wonderfully respectful writers, but just to be clear: please don’t control my characters without permission. It’s important to me, both creatively and personally. I follow a two-strike rule on this. Let’s respect each other’s space and imagination. ♥

    Underage Characters: This should go without saying, but all characters involved in adult or intimate scenarios must be 18 or older. Children have no place in adult content, period. No exceptions. Protecting that boundary is non-negotiable.

    PM Roleplaying: I prefer to write in public threads. I value feedback, visibility, and being part of a shared creative space. Because of that, I don’t roleplay in private messages.

    OOC Chat: I love chatting OOC - whether through PMs or Discord. Making friends and bonding with fellow writers is one of my favourite parts of this hobby! That said, please know I’m not looking for a relationship outside of our characters’ dynamics. Sadly, I’ve had people mistake my kindness for flirtation, so I want to be clear upfront: unsolicited pictures or advances will lead to an immediate block and report. I’m here to write stories, not entertain egos.

    Drawing the line between IC and OOC: It really should go without saying, but please keep fiction and reality separate. Just because a character feels something, doesn't mean I do. Let’s enjoy the fantasy while remembering the boundaries that come with it.

    Pestering for a reply: I write at the whim of my muse, and my mental health always comes first. I aim to get replies out twice a week, but life doesn’t always cooperate. If I’ve let you know a delay is happening, please be kind and patient. A gentle check-in is fine - nagging or guilt-tripping isn’t.

    Discord: I’m happy to share my Discord, but only after a bit of trust has been built. It’s a helpful tool, but not a doorway to unlimited access. Please respect my boundaries: I don’t take voice calls unless previously agreed upon, and crossing that line will result in being blocked. Let’s keep things respectful, comfortable, and fun.
  • 𝑉𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑡 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠, 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒…
    breeding kink • obedience undone • possessive hands • decadent filth • elegant dominance • lewd poetry • voice kink • lingerie worship • messy bedsheets • begging prettily • overstimulation • gentle corruption • cockdrunk • power imbalance • ruined lipstick • desperate moans • silken restraints • dripping thighs • slutty sighs • impact play • warm slick heat • shared showers • needy touches • throat bulges • collar and leash • dominance and devotion • control play • ruined orgasms • creamy thighs • voice in your ear • slow fucking • ache between the legs • aftercare rituals • heavy tits in lace • deep kissing • size kink • morning wood grinding • slow-spread legs • curved hips • tongue teasing • first time softness • mounting need • graceful degradation • possessive fucking • being kept • soft gasps • hand around throat • wet sounds • deep creampies • controlling the pace • hard grip on hips • sensual begging • nails raking skin • held down gently • dom/sub tenderness • cockwarming • thick strap-ons • deep moans into pillows • smothered between breasts • lewd obedience • anal training • squirting mess • face-sitting royalty • passionate ruin • sucking fingers slow • panties pushed aside • arousal-drunk • leaking for them • lusty eye contact • moan-choked words • sacred filth • legs over shoulders • strap tight between thighs • quiet worship • drool on breasts • biting kisses • sloppy grinding • wet heat clenched tight • sobbing into pillows • mounting pressure • pet names in filth • scent kink • toys and whimpers • edging obedience • marked up thighs • overstimmed whining • wrist-bound submission • control slipping • teasing denial • rutting heat • pussy worship • mutual ruin • leashed lust • primal grunting • handprint bruises • hips rutting hungrily • held down by love • filthy devotion • slutty vulnerability • eyes rolling back • wordless surrender • ruined makeup • whimpering mess • open legs and whispered yes
  • . 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 (𝑀𝑦 𝐴𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝐹𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠).
    Romance & Affection: Even in the filthiest scenes, I crave connection. Whispered praises, lingering touches, soft moments between the chaos… give me emotional depth and I’ll give you my whole heart (and then some).

    Age Gaps: There’s just something about experience meeting youthful eagerness - or the other way around. Whether maternal or mentorly, I adore playing with the dynamics of age and power.

    Absurd Sizes: Why be realistic when we can be ridiculous? I love impossibly thick, long, heavy cocks and the teasing, struggling pleasure they bring. If it’s girthy enough to bulge or leave a lasting stretch, I’m swooning.

    Musk & Scent: A lover’s natural smell - spiced sweat, heat-warmed fabric, or the faint scent of arousal - gets me weak in the knees. Give me a scent I can melt into and you’ll have me hooked.

    Mess & Excess: Dripping, oozing, pooling… I’m all about indulgent, sticky aftermaths. I adore the imagery of slick thighs, stained sheets, and ruined clothes. If it leaves a mess, I’m probably into it.

    Breeding & Heatplay: The desire to be filled, bred, and claimed? Yes, please. Whether it’s about possessiveness, hormones, or just raw, primal need - there’s something deeply romantic (and filthy) about wanting to be left full and dripping.

    NTR / Netorare: Emotionally charged and narratively rich, I adore the sting of betrayal, the ache of jealousy, and the desperate hunger it can awaken. Whether slow-burn or sudden shock, NTR themes make for raw, unforgettable storytelling.

    Ownership: The surrender. The claiming. The bond of belonging - whether romantic or depraved, consensual or coerced, I’m endlessly drawn to characters who fall into the hands of another and never want to crawl out.

    Filth: I delight in the dirty, the soaked, the shameful. Filth isn’t just kink - it’s indulgence. The kind that leaves characters panting, ruined, and utterly addicted.

    Ugly Bastards: A deliciously depraved flavour I’m never ashamed to enjoy. There’s something intensely satisfying in the contrast - beauty taken, innocence shattered, and the grotesque made powerful. Whether for corruption, humiliation, or sheer twisted thrill… I’m here for it.


    . 𝑌𝑒𝑠, 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒! (𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼’𝑑 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝐼𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒).
    Dubious Consent: That blurred line between reluctance and surrender, where one character is overwhelmed, pursued, or coaxed into pleasure they can’t deny… give me all the twisted tenderness and tension.

    Multiple Characters: Why settle for one when we can write a whole cast? I love dynamics involving threesomes, harems, or overlapping relationships, especially when they’re messy and full of personality clashes (and fluids~).

    Watersports & Toilet Play: I adore the raw vulnerability and intimacy these kinks can bring. If it’s messy, shameless, and soaked in indulgence, you’ll probably find me eager.

    Claiming & Ownership: Be it symbolic or literal, I melt for anything that says mine. Whether it’s collars, tattoos, cum marking, or obsessive declarations of belonging - I want that possessive energy wrapped in passion.

    Beasts, Monsters & Aliens: The less human, the better. I adore fantasy or sci-fi lovers with unique anatomies, primal urges, and needs only my character can satisfy. Tail knots, ovipositors, textured cocks? Yes, yes, yes.

    Public Exposure & Acts: The thrill of getting caught - or maybe wanting to be seen. From subtle flashing to scandalous acts in shadowed alleyways or crowded clubs, I’m always game for public tension and teasing.

    Pubic / Body Hair: Yes to hair! A neatly groomed patch, wild and unruly curls, a trail leading somewhere sinful - I find natural textures beautiful and deeply erotic.

    Chubby Bodies & Imperfections: Stretch marks, soft bellies, uneven skin, scars - give me characters who feel real. I love softness, weight, and personality quirks. Perfect is boring; flawed is gorgeous.

    Adultery & Forbidden Trysts: There’s something devastatingly hot about crossing lines. Whether it’s sneaking behind a spouse’s back, betraying a bond, or indulging in forbidden fruit - give me the ache and the aftermath.

    Cum Marking / Smearing: Messy, possessive, and utterly indulgent - marking a lover in seed is one of my favourite visuals. I adore the act, the aftermath, and the filthy affection that comes with it.

    Genital Worship: Treat it like a temple. I adore slow, worshipful scenes where it’s all about pleasuring and praising. Licking, sucking, sniffing, teasing - take your time. Savor every inch.

    Roughness & Dirty Talk: Biting, choking, bruising, spanking - yes please. Add in some filthy praise, a few demeaning growls, and maybe some guttural moaning, and I’ll be melting right into your arms. Give it to me raw and messy - with heart.


    . 𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 / 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠 (𝐿𝑒𝑡’𝑠 𝑇𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝐴𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝐼𝑡).
    Bimbofication: The idea of watching a character lose themselves to pleasure, become ditzy and doll-like, or surrender control in a sensual transformation? It’s got potential - especially in sci-fi or magical settings. I’m curious, especially when it plays with themes of identity and control.

    Femboys: There’s definitely appeal here! I enjoy softness, delicate bodies, and genderfluid expression - especially when paired with confident, hung futas or cheeky dynamics. Whether sweet or bratty, I’m down to explore it further.

    Body Modification: Extra bits, enhancements, magical or technological tweaks - this one depends on setting and tone, but I love the creativity of it all. Want to give someone a breeding gland or a prehensile tail? Let’s brainstorm.

    Snuff / Deathplay: A heavy topic for sure, and not something I’d casually dive into. That said, I’ve seen it done with intense emotion, artistry, or metaphor - so while it’s not a regular craving, I’m willing to discuss the darker edges of intimacy in fictional, symbolic ways.

    Scat: This one is very case-by-case. I don’t recoil from it, but it needs to be handled with mutual trust, a clear tone, and a serious conversation beforehand. If it serves the scene and we’re both fully comfortable, it’s a possible yes.

    Bloodplay: There’s something beautifully primal about a lover licking blood from your lips or biting until skin breaks. I enjoy it more for the atmosphere and intimacy than gore - but yes, with the right story, this can be deeply hot.

    Abuse / Noncon Relationships: This one is tricky - I won’t romanticize real-world abuse, but I’m open to exploring dark power dynamics, trauma bonds, or toxic pairings with clear understanding between us. There’s a fine line between edgy storytelling and glorification, and I’m careful about staying on the right side of it.

    Bondage: Tied up, restrained, spread open… I love the vulnerability of it, but I tend to pair it with care, dominance, or sensuality over pain. If you’re into ropes, cuffs, collars or shibari, I’m probably smiling already.

    Prostitution / Sex Work: From fantasy brothels to dystopian debt slaves to high-class courtesans - yes, there’s a lot of story potential here. I’m interested in the emotional complexity, power imbalances, and roleplay fun this can bring.

    Horror Themes: Monsters under the bed? Alien abductions? Possession, nightmares, haunted pleasure? Yes, I’m intrigued. As long as the story has that eerie, seductive vibe rather than just being gore-for-gore’s-sake, horror erotica can be a deliciously dark treat.


    . 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑁𝑜’𝑠 (𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒).
    Racism & Homophobia / Transphobia: Prejudice and discrimination - whether in character or out - have no place in my stories. I want my writing spaces to feel inclusive, respectful, and welcoming.

    Age-Play / Regression: Age-difference dynamics? Love them. But pretending to be a child, acting younger than you are, or any form of regression play is a complete no from me.

    Underage Characters: All characters in any scene must be 18 or older, no exceptions, ever. Children belong in safe, non-sexual spaces - not in adult content. This is non-negotiable.

    Vore: Swallowing or being swallowed whole, or anything in that realm, just isn’t my thing - neither for kink nor for storytelling.

    Immobilization / Total Loss of Control: While I love restraint and dominance, complete helplessness or being rendered incapable of any reaction crosses a line for me. I need characters to remain present and reactive.

    Amputation / Gore Fetish: Body horror in a creepy story? Maybe. But sexualizing dismemberment, mutilation, or anything extreme in that vein is a firm no.

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  • 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝟐𝟎𝟑
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴠᴏʟᴀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴀᴠɪᴛʏ ʀᴏᴜɢʜ sᴇx ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ʟᴜsᴛ ᴜʀʙᴀɴ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss

    Yui lives next door in a dingy apartment complex near Shinjuku Station. She works night shifts at an izakaya, and her makeup’s always smudged. Her breath smells like beer and bad decisions. But when your character moves into Room 202, she takes a sudden interest in him. She knocks. She barges in. She flirts with a grin that hides just how hollow she feels inside. Sometimes she wants to be used. Sometimes she wants to cry. And sometimes… she wants both.
    ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶​
    𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ/ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ ᴛᴀʙᴏᴏ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟ ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴅᴏᴍ x sᴏғᴛ sᴜʙ sʜᴀᴍᴇ-ᴅʀɪᴠᴇɴ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ

    Junko is a new, nervous high school teacher trying her best to command a classroom. Your character is a senior with a bad reputation - but brilliant grades. She calls him in after class for tutoring. Detention. “Discipline.” But she’s the one who starts to crack. His gaze is too steady. His voice too confident. He starts showing up when he shouldn’t. Sitting too close. Asking things she shouldn’t answer. Soon, she’s flinching every time the door closes behind them - and dripping into her panties anyway.
    ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶​
    𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄs ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ɪᴅᴏʟ ʟɪғᴇ

    Akiko is an idol-in-training - polished, pretty, and obsessively careful about her reputation. But behind closed doors, she’s a nervous mess, craving validation from your character, her harsh yet irresistible manager. Every critique stings. Every compliment feels like a reward. She’d do anything to please - even if it means destroying her dignity piece by piece.
    ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶​
    𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛɪᴄ ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄɪsᴍ ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪsᴍ ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪsᴍ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ sʜʏ sᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

    Mei models part-time for art students, known for her lush curves and soft shyness. Your character, her latest photographer, asks her for increasingly intimate poses. She blushes and complies, her heartbeat racing. Soon the photoshoots move from studio to private apartments - and Mei loses control of just how much she’s willing to bare.
    ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶​
    𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴄᴏᴜɴsᴇʟᴏʀ/sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴀʙᴏᴏ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄᴏᴇʀᴄɪᴏɴ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪᴛʏ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀsᴇᴅ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғғɪᴄᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ

    Hinako, a diligent school counsellor, genuinely wants to help troubled students. But your character, an eighteen-year-old delinquent, sees through her gentle façade. He visits her office often - too often - and soon she’s the one receiving lessons, behind locked doors, shaking and breathless.
    ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶​
    𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴅᴇʙᴛ ʙᴏɴᴅᴀɢᴇ ʀᴇʟᴜᴄᴛᴀɴᴛ sᴜʙᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴇʀᴄɪᴠᴇ sᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ sʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴅᴜʙ-ᴄᴏɴ

    Miyuki owns a struggling café, deep in debt to your character’s shady business. When he arrives demanding payment, she begs for mercy. Instead, he offers an alternative. Soon her apron stays behind the counter as she repays her debt, bit by bit, behind shuttered windows.
    ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶​
    𝐍𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥
    Tʜᴇᴍᴇs: ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ sʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴇʀᴄɪᴠᴇ sᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ʀᴇᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀʏ ɴᴇᴛᴏʀᴀʀᴇ

    Noriko’s marriage is picture-perfect - at least to outsiders. Behind closed doors, her life is numbingly routine. Your character is her husband's younger business partner, dangerously charming and assertive. It starts as innocent flirtation during corporate dinners but quickly escalates into heated late-night visits. Noriko struggles with guilt, knowing she should resist - but each whispered demand pulls her deeper into an affair
    ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶​


  • Lonely Wife x Younger Neighbour

    Mother x Daughter’s Delinquent Boyfriend

    Housewife x Delivery Man

    Teacher x Problematic Student

    Wife x Husband’s Strict Boss

    Step-Mother x Step-Son’s Best Friend

    Newlywed Bride x Husband’s Older Brother

    Maid x Wealthy, Dominant Employer

    Shy Office Lady x Co-worker with Secrets

    Neglected Wife x Husband’s Business Partner

    Housekeeper x Homeowner’s Troubled Adult Son

    Quiet Librarian x Persistent Regular Visitor

    Housewife x Repairman with Dark Intentions

    Traditional Shrine Maiden x Visiting Foreigner

    Widowed Landlady x Rebellious Tenant

    School Counselor x Senior Student

    Doctor x Emotionally Vulnerable Patient

    Wife x Husband’s Rival

    Proper Housewife x Husband’s Gambling Creditor

    Family Tutor x Eldest Son Returning from Abroad
  • . Wᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ɴᴏᴡ - Sᴛᴀʀʙʟᴜsʜ x PʀɪɴᴄᴇTᴜʟɪᴘ - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)
  • . 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚣𝚞𝚔𝚞 𝙺𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚒 - Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ - 31 - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)

    . 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚣𝚞𝚔𝚞 𝙺𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚒 - Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ - 31 - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)

    . 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚞 - Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ - 42 - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)

    . 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝚁𝚎𝚒 - Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ - 18 - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)

    . 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚔𝚊 - Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ - 37 - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)

    . 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚖𝚒 - Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ - 18 - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)

    . 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚞 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚞 - Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ - 29 - [Lɪɴᴋ] (NSFW)


どうか私を破滅させてレイプしてください。私は破滅した女、愚かな売春婦になりたいのです
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I ᴏɴʟʏ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs! Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀsᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴅɪsᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴏʀ PM's I ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇғᴜsᴇ.

At the moment, I’m craving slice-of-life stories set in Japan, with a strong focus on believable Japanese characters and culturally grounded dynamics. I’m particularly drawn to stories that explore the hidden tensions and secret indulgences woven beneath polite society - moments where restraint gives way to desire, and where shame is just another shade of submission. Themes I’m loving right now include: age gaps, dubious consent, adultery, blackmail, step-family or family-adjacent tension, schoolgirl corruption, emotional manipulation, voyeurism, power imbalance, and slow-burn taboo pairings. I would love for potential partners to have some grasp of Japanese culture and societal norms - not for perfect accuracy, but to add depth, texture, and believability to the worlds we build. While I’ve listed five prompts above, please feel free to send any ideas that fall within these cravings… I’m a slave to my muse, and right now, she’s whispering sinful things from the land of the rising sun. ♥︎

 
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