#tawus

Fandom: Strangers From Hell (TV) / Hell is Other People (webtoon)

Pairing: Seo Moon-jo x Reader, Seo Moon-jo x You

Synopsis: After the accident last year your life turned upside down. Your career came to mean nothing, you lost all your friends, and your marriage was on the verge of falling apart. And the worst thing about all of it? You didn't care. Ever since that day you ceased to live – you merely existed, counting hours, counting days. Unhappy. Numb.

Until one night in a vacant parking lot you witness a gruesome scene and something shifts in you irreversibly. From the moment you met him you knew you could never go back to who you were.

Tags: Moon-jo is his own warning tbh, stockholm syndrome, corruption, sadomasochism, blood and injury, gore, murder, torture, dubcon, violence, prostheses, referred past trauma, car accidents, cannibalism, afab reader, manipulation, nsfw, darkfic

Status: in progress (let's pray in a karaoke room that the updates will be more or less regular)

Your handbag fell from your hand with a dull thud when he and you locked in eye contact all the way across the parking lot. The mannequin of him came to life with a wave of invigoration that visibly rolled from his knees up to his shoulders, which straightened and squared to you. He began walking, each step shortened by his long legs, as he stalked like a leopard towards you, the prey, which was seemingly too petrified to even attempt escape. With each measured step, the distance between you grew infinitesimal while the well-blacks of his eyes grew infinite.

The man came to stand before you and graced you with a once-over from head to toe, before reaching into his pants pocket for a new vial and filling up another syringe – this one just for you. One of his large gloved hands curled around your neck as his other hand brought the tip of the syringe to the side of it. The tip of the needle, hungry to pierce, swelled with liquid Articaine and dripped a single drop of it onto the collar of your blouse – when the man’s assurance in his actions unexpectedly faltered.

Read it here:

• Chapter 1

• Chapter 2

• Chapter 3

• Chapter 4

• Chapter 5

• Chapter 6

• Chapter 7

• Chapter 8

• Chapter 9

The engaging plot, the intentional and thinly veiled derision of the hero-villain dichotomy, the fast-paced action, wholesome comedy, and Murata's god-tier art style:

thank you for the tag as always @femalefemur 🥺🌹

on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter, on the table, on the floor, on the balcony, in the shower, in front of the mirror, semi-public, DA BEACH~, melons, front, back, sideways, legs open, shouting, tight, wet, bondage, gagging, lingerie, a man and his stick, doggy style, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, moaning, hair pulling, scratch marks, hickeys, loud loud, noise complaint, sheets gripping, jaw-dropping, tongue rolling, Twinkie, creamy, gushy, lip locking, pounding, vile, vulgar, name calling, oral, anal, 69, call the ambulance for me, legs tangled, bed soaked, bed dead, chair, chair dead, blow job, mind-blowing, make-outs, hickeys, an absolute beast, salty taste, 10 inches, 3 veins, bulge, woops~ my panties slipped~, whole cake ass bakery, biting, marking, claiming, single parent?, Megumi's half-sibling?, half-siblings?, daddy gonna get milk, your friends don't know what you taste like but I do~, Alexa be a darling and play Fantasize by Ariana Grande.

Oh! And water! LOTS of water

This is the oldest ask in my inbox and it’s about 4 months old 😅 Mokona ayo, you wrote it like you're ready to risk everything, including your happy marriage with Gojo, for a frisky night with Toji 👀 These are mad fertile grounds for Toji scenarios btw, so if y'all vote for one of these, I'll put out a lil drabble on the most voted topic 😌

Toji’s birthday is on 31st December apparently btw, which I consider to be yet another cruel joke by Gege 💀

As for myself, I wanted to write a scene from my Toji longfic idea as a response to this ask. In the conception of the fic idea, I often lamented (and still do) how reduced, sexualised, and simplified Toji is in 99% ‘Toji x Reader’ fics. But then it occurred to me that the goddamn scene I’d chosen to write for him and release to the world first – was chock full of sexual content as well. I was doing the exact same thing that I was trying to address in the Toji/Reader fandom…

I realised it doesn’t always have to be sex with him. So here’s some wholesome beachtime fluff with Toji 💕

Sorry about the delay in answering this. I’ll give my personal pointers and also a more well-rounded resource at the end for the deeper dive

1. Good smut is driven by dialogue, with stakes

Usually for the purpose of turning us on, you gotta have dialogue. Endless descriptions of sexual acts on their own end up becoming dull and nowadays there is SO much smut content out there that if you get bored with one, you can instantly click on a different fic.

Sexual acts come secondary and they’re tied to the primary thread of the tension-filled dialogue between the characters. All the way to the end there’s gotta be dialogue, and the sexual acts are performed almost in the background.

Plus, this is fanfiction, right? We turn to fics to be able to indulge in the attention of our 2D faves. So any dialogue line you write - we will read in the voice of our favourite character and that is what breathes life into that scene.

One of my best smut works is in chapter 6 of Sophisticated (warning: very filthy), but god knows I spent so much time building up the tension between the characters that some readers actually began complaining under the previous chapters, going "When are they gonna fuck already??". When they finally did fuck, 10 out of 10 readers admitted it was worth the wait. Doesn’t mean you gotta write a slowburn longfic to deliver a great smut, but you gotta establish the stakes for either character: what do they have to lose as a result of this lapse of judgement? What does it mean for each of them to let the other fuck them? Don’t be afraid to give your Reader character a personality and preferences - I know a lot of ‘x reader’ authors are afraid to do this, but I do nothing but this.

2. Good smut has to turn me on as I write it

This is lowkey TMI but it is what it is. I tend to write my smut scenes in one sitting, or two if it’s a really long one. I make sure to sit down to write it at a time I know I won’t be interrupted, so that I can catch the horny flow and ride it to the very end. I don’t think about how my sentences turn out, I just keep writing and writing it as filthy as it gets. Editing the text on a later day will fix it all up.

Onanism beforehand is forbidden btw. If you do, post-nut clarity will set in and you won’t be in the right mind for writing smut.

3. Good smut is built around MY kinks

Say, if you chose to take on a commission or a request, in that case you might be forced to write someone else’s kink – and even in that case, it won’t come out quite as genuine if you don’t at least try to embody their kink. But in general when you’re writing fics, centre your smut scenarios around your OWN kinks. That way they will come out most authentic. Don’t try to cater to everyone; you’ll never be able to. Whatever your favourite way of doing the nasty is, write it that way and I guarantee you there will be readers out there who share your preferences and those will be the ones who appreciate your work.

4. You can be inspired by well written smut, but please, for the love of enjoyment and author integrity, don’t copy – it shows.

Sorry, this isn’t directed towards you, but I’ve had experience related to this where someone copied my smut scene almost word for word and I was just like…bruh. In any case, because there is already so much smut content both here and AO3, people are just looking for something new, something unorthodox, something that doesn’t use the same cookie-cutter smut sentences, scenarios, and terms. So the more original your scene is, the better! Don't be afraid to get extra filthy with your descriptions or dialogue lines, venture out of those bounds you read in other smut fics.

No Cure || Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: You're a doctor. A curse user. A woman with cursed powers, who operates in the shadows outside of Jujutsu Tech's jurisdiction. You've hidden yourself well over the years as a family doctor working in a tiny clinic in countryside Japan.

But the day you decided to exorcise one of Gojo Satoru's targets was the day you sealed your fate.

The bloodhound himself is onto your scent now and he won't stop until he finds you.

Tags: action, enemies to lovers, light angst, fluff, plot-rich, training/fighting kink, explicit, dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, hard fucking, edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, praise kink, breeding kink, spanking, plus size reader, black reader, reader of color, possessive and protective gojo

Word Count: 37.5k (in 11 chapters)

Commissioned by @unadulterated13, thank you for letting my creativity flourish! ❤️

His chest breathed, his muscles twitched, expanded and contracted, and you watched, barely breathing.

“I could kill you,” he admitted, and you smelled his skin too close to you, fresh like the apex of a snowy mountain; his heart beating so near you could stab it, or just as equally fall prey to its ravenous rhythm. “But I don’t want to,” he said.

You trailed your gaze from his heart to his face. There, in the limpid waters of his eyes swam sincerity. He didn’t shy away from your visual inquisition. He continued to stare down. Meaning every word, every intention. And you got once again convinced: a man of his strength had no need for games.

“But if you want to save your pride," he continued, his other hand lifting between your heated bodies to just above your swollen breasts. “Then, I’ll do you a favour and try to kill you.”

Read it here:

• Chapter 1

• Chapter 2

• Chapter 3

• Chapter 4

• Chapter 5

• Chapter 6

• Chapter 7

• Chapter 8

• Chapter 9

• Chapter 10

Prompt: "Alone and defiant to the end, the rest of your comrades have already fallen."

For @someweirdoreblogger

First he took your eyes.

You didn’t know whether if it was out of mercy that he slit a gash across them with his sharp purple claws as soon as you launched your attack, instead of harming you anywhere else. You wondered if it was out of mercy that he blinded you to all the red that was around you – the red that was spurting in fountains from the severed heads, arms, legs and torsos of your fellow sorcerers, your comrades; the red that was pooling underneath your feet – new and old, of all those slain and being slayed; the red that coated his four huge hands as he tore your team members apart, and the red that clung to his canines when he deemed biting off a limb more riveting than just tearing it off; the red of his freakishly four eyes that had swirled and focused on you – dismissive and refusing to graze any of the ones he was dismembering.

But it wasn’t mercy. Not when you could still hear their wails, the spurts of their blood, the tearings of their flesh, ligament from ligament, meat from bone. And worst of all – when you could still hear the sound of their regret. You wheezed while listening to that sound expressed in their final cries: regret for having picked the wrong path in their lives – the path that led them to the King of Curses and to the lifeless mush they were now beneath his titanic feet.

The sounds stopped, save for one: the steady breathing of the feral beast himself. Followed by the sinister spiral of his laughter, starting from the hadal depths of his body in a deep vibrating rumble, before climbing to the mocking resonance – abuse – of sound, which borrowed from the screeching and demonic cries of the banshees – until at last he erupted in an earthquake of open-mouthed howl that shook the ground, shook the cave, shook the bones within your body.

In primal terror you inched a step back but stopped abruptly, having felt that your sole stepped on something wet and crunchy. Hideo’s ribcage? Misaki senpai’s face? Kenji’s thorax? Aina’s skull with her brain still inside? Could have been any one of them, you knew, with bile climbing your oesophagus.

Sukuna stepped toward you, reverberating the rock beneath your feet.

It wasn’t out of mercy, you realised once again, that he took your eyes. Because you could still feel the red sloshing at your feet. You could still sense the red of those eyes on you. You could feel the red unsated hunger in them still.

“Stop!” you had but the sense to command – plead, really – when his claw’s sharp tip alighted on your clavicle and traced up your neck. On his hot breath that fanned your face you smelled the metal of the blood of your vanquished pals.

He has no right! No fucking right!!

Brave words they were, dignified sentiments. But none of them could leave your lips in any other form than wet, mangled cries – desperate and pathetic.