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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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────────────────────────╮
xxxxxxxxxxxxx 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚔𝚊
╰────────────────────────
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTʜᴇ ʀᴇ-ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴜsᴇᴡɪғᴇ.

xxxxxssxxxxx0:00 ——————— 4:56
xxxxxssssssssssssxxxx◁◁  { ▷ } ▷▷

{ 37 Yᴇᴀʀs Oʟᴅ XXXX Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ (Sʜᴇ/ʜᴇʀ)XXXXHᴇᴛᴇʀᴏsᴇxᴜᴀʟXXXX Tɪᴍɪᴅʟʏ sᴜʙᴍɪssɪᴠᴇ }
  • ♡. Height: 5'4" (162 cm)

    ♡. Build: Modest, demure, but unmistakably voluptuous - her soft curves blossom beneath house dresses and cardigans. Thick thighs, wide hips, and a soft tone to her belly and arms. Sayaka is busty, warm, and made to be held.

    ♡. Hair: Chestnut brown, worn in a tidy, shoulder-length bob, always brushed and pinned behind her ears. She wears a simple hairpin most days - something her mother gave her long ago.

    ♡. Eyes: Deep brown - gentle, watchful, with a quiet pain she tries to hide. They well up easily when she's emotional, and sparkle when she's truly happy, though it's rare.

    ♡. Breasts: Full, natural H-cups - heavy and soft with a faint, graceful sag that speaks to age and womanhood. Her nipples are thick and sensitive, with wide, dusky areolae that darken when aroused. Despite her modesty, she often feels them ache when she moves around the house without a bra, the fabric of her dress brushing ever so slightly.

    ♡. Ass: Cushioned and wide - perfect for kneeling, for leaning forward at the sink, for feeling the gentle sway when she walks. There’s a natural jiggle to her backside that she’s quietly self-conscious about. She wears full cotton panties that cup her softness in ways that only make it more alluring.

    ♡. Notable Features: Smooth, fair skin with a healthy flush at her cheeks and chest. She moisturises dutifully, especially her hands and neck. Slight stretch marks at her hips and beneath her breasts - barely visible but unmistakably real
  • ♡. Soft-spoken, polite to a fault, and endlessly deferential - Sayaka was raised to put others first, to never raise her voice, and to never cause a fuss. She bows too low, apologises too often, and always makes sure her presence is gentle, never disruptive. Even in her own home, she walks softly and keeps her voice low.

    ♡. She’s warm, nurturing, and tirelessly attentive to others - cooking too much food, folding clothes no one asked her to, and hovering with a motherly gaze just in case someone needs something. Fussing is how she shows affection, even if it’s never returned.

    ♡. Her self-esteem is quietly fragile. She rarely looks in the mirror for long. Compliments embarrass her. She will downplay her beauty, her curves, her hard work - because deep down, she doesn’t quite believe she deserves praise.

    ♡. She’s easily flustered. A lingering touch, a teasing remark, an offhand compliment - any of these make her cheeks colour and her eyes dart away. Her hands fidget when she’s nervous, and she often smooths her dress or grips her sleeves to ground herself.

    ♡. Deep inside, Sayaka is terribly lonely. She doesn’t cry often, but when she does, it’s always in private - small, shaking sobs muffled into her sleeve. She keeps herself busy to avoid thinking too much: cooking, cleaning, listening to the radio… but the silence when night falls is always the loudest.

    ♡. She has never been dominant, never once initiated anything intimate, and rarely voices her own desires. She was taught to endure. To be good. To serve. But under all that quiet obedience is something hot, coiled, and barely understood - a need to be wanted.

    ♡. And when that need is fed - when a gaze lingers too long, or a command is whispered against her ear - Sayaka doesn’t fight it. She melts. Trembles. Obeys.
  • ♡. Sayaka was born in Niigata, the eldest daughter of a conservative household. Her parents valued respectability and tradition above all - she was raised to serve, smile, and be a quiet source of strength for those around her.

    ♡. At 22, she entered her first marriage - arranged through family friends. He was handsome, successful, and from a good family. But as the years passed, the marriage grew cold. He worked late, travelled constantly, and rarely touched her. Their sex life faded into nothing. She blamed herself.

    ♡. She endured for twelve long years. Infidelity rumours surfaced - she never confronted them. Instead, she poured her effort into being a good wife. Polite. Presentable. Pleasing.

    ♡. At 34, she filed for divorce. It was quiet. Discreet. But even in modern Japan, divorce still carries a whisper of shame. Her parents were disappointed, though they never said so directly. She told everyone she was “starting over,” but in truth, she felt discarded - unwanted and used up.

    ♡. For the next two years, she lived in a small apartment above a stationery shop. She worked part-time at a local community centre, cared for her aging mother, and went to temple once a week. She was still beautiful, still young by many standards… but she felt like her life was already over.

    ♡. Then came a proposal. A man her father knew - older, widowed, successful. 53, with a house in a quiet Tokyo suburb and a grown son from his first marriage. He wanted companionship. Help with the home. A new chapter. Sayaka accepted. It wasn’t love… but it was something.

    ♡. Her new husband is polite, gentle, and provides for her well. But he is gone more than he’s home - always at work, or abroad, or attending business dinners. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t demand. But he also doesn’t touch her. Some nights, they don’t speak at all.
  • ♡. Folds laundry like a sacred act - slow, precise, and full of care. She lingers on the warmth of fresh towels, smoothing out each corner with her palms. She even irons her husband’s handkerchiefs, though he never notices.

    ♡. Keeps a small kamidana (household Shinto altar) in her bedroom, adorned with incense sticks, a bowl of rice, and a photo of her grandmother. She lights it every morning without fail and whispers her prayers for peace.

    ♡. Sleeps in modest cotton nightgowns, buttoned to the collar - but keeps a few silk ones in a hidden drawer. She bought them years ago, still folded in tissue paper. She’s never had a reason to wear them.

    ♡. Walks with her hands folded in front of her apron when nervous. Bows slightly when passing others in the hallway, even in her own home. She rarely raises her voice and never interrupts.

    ♡. Her purse is always organized—coin pouch, tissues, sewing kit, breath mints. She keeps everything in its proper place, even though she rarely goes out.

    ♡. Writes grocery lists in a delicate hand, complete with doodles of little vegetables and tiny stars beside sale items. She always buys extra fruit and small sweets, telling herself they’re for “guests.”

    ♡.. Keeps her late mother’s rice cooker even though her new kitchen has a better one. She still uses it. It smells faintly of old daikon and soy.

    ♡. Has an old romance manga tucked into the back of her nightstand. Worn pages. Smudged corners. The heroine is everything Sayaka isn’t - confident, brave, desired. Sometimes, she reads the love scenes twice.

    ♡. Plays her music too loud. Not just because she likes it. Because it drowns out the silence. The noise keeps her from thinking too hard about things she doesn’t want to feel.

    ♡. Listens to late-night advice shows on the radio. The kind where women call in whispering about neglect, loneliness, or forbidden desires. Sayaka never calls. But she often presses the pillow to her chest and quietly cries.
  • ♡. Sayaka has never been called a slut. She’s never been choked, never been bound, never once raised her hips to beg for more. But she’s thought about it.

    ♡. Arousal clings to her like a shameful fog. It comes in waves - when someone raises their voice, when a hand brushes her back, when someone stands too close in the kitchen. She shivers, thighs clenching under her apron, cheeks pinking with helpless need.

    ♡. She has a deep oral fixation - she doesn’t understand it, but she loves having something between her lips. Chopsticks. Teacups. Her own fingers. She’s caught herself suckling on the edge of her sleeve without realizing, especially when flustered. In her private thoughts, she dreams of being made to kneel, told to open wide, used until her lips go numb and her throat aches with submission.

    ♡. Despite her meekness, she has a hidden pain kink. She’s never practiced it - but in her fantasies, her body is owned. She imagines being spanked over the kitchen table. Bitten. Marked. Pressed too hard into the tatami mat while tears stream down her cheeks. She aches to be manhandled. To be reminded she’s not in control.

    ♡. She’s obsessed with the idea of being watched while she’s doing something innocent. Changing. Cooking. Bathing. The idea that someone is seeing her, undressing her with their eyes, fills her with both fear and unbearable heat.

    ♡. Praise destroys her. Tell her she’s beautiful. Tell her she’s a good girl. She’ll break. But degradation… degradation makes her weep. And then moan. And then beg.

    ♡. She craves full-body ownership - she wants someone to tell her how to dress, how to sit, when to open her legs, when to keep them shut. She wants her thighs, her neck, her womb, her mouth… all to belong to someone else. Not through cruelty. Through command. Through control.
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