Sixteen contestants, four circuits, ten sponsors, and a competition that's been going on for years. What can go wrong?
Hint: Everything.
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This blog is temporarily inactive, and this masterpost is missing several works. Please visit my AO3 (username is still “sondepoch”) to view a full list of my works!
On a fine spring day, an errant young Wolf wandered away from his pack and, in a sunny forest glade, encountered a Hunter.
"Please don't kill me!" said the Wolf, as the Hunter raised his gun. "I'm not here to hurt you!"
"I don't believe you," replied the Hunter. "Everyone knows that wolves are vile, dangerous creatures. You have claws that rip and tear - how can I possibly trust you?"
"If I pull out my claws," said the Wolf, "will you let me go?"
"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"
One by one, the Wolf pulled out his claws. The Hunter watched with a lazy smirk, and when the Wolf was done, he lowered his gun.
"I believe you now," said the Hunter. "You're free to go."
"Thank you!" said the Wolf, who tottered home on bloody paws and told his pack of the Hunter's benevolence. "It's only clawed wolves that the hunters don't like," he said. "So long as we remove them, we'll never be shot." And though some wolves disagreed with this, the most fearful of them listened, and soon a third of the pack was clawless.
A month went by, and in due course, the young Wolf found himself once more alone in the forest. A twig cracked behind him, and when he turned, there was the Hunter, his shiny gun at the ready.
"Wait!" said the Wolf. "I've got no claws, remember? I'm not dangerous!."
"I'd like to believe you," the Hunter said, "but last week, I heard that a little girl was mauled by something with big, sharp teeth, and your teeth look pretty sharp to me."
"If I pull out my teeth," said the Wolf, "will you let me go?"
"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"
One by one, the Wolf pulled out his teeth. The Hunter watched with silent intent, and when the Wolf was finished, he let his gun droop low.
"I can see you're a well-behaved pup," said the Hunter. "Go, be on your way."
"Thank you!" said the Wolf, and lolloped home, his jaws dripping blood, to tell the pack of the Hunter's caution. "Something with fangs has committed a terrible crime," he said. "So long as we don't look like them, we'll never be mistaken for monsters." And though the eldest wolves exchanged worried looks, the younger ones listened, and soon a third of the pack was toothless, too.
Another month went by, until one day, drinking at his favourite part of the river, the Wolf realised he wasn't alone, and raised his head to see the Hunter walking towards him, his gun once more at the ready.
"This stream is in my territory," the Wolf said, panicked and puzzled. "What are you doing here? I have neither claws nor teeth, and pose no possible threat to you."
"You don't, it's true," said the Hunter, "but many among your pack have both teeth and claws. How am I to trust your good intentions when you associate with such creatures?"
"If I chased away the toothed and clawed members of my pack," said the Wolf, "will you no longer be afraid of me?"
"Of course," said the Hunter. "Why would I lie to you?"
"I'll do it, then," said the Wolf, and when the Hunter gave the nod, he hurried back to his pack, assembled all the obedient wolves, and told them what had to be done. Though some were troubled by the Hunter's presence in their territory, they all agreed it made no sense to have sacrificed their claws and teeth while still associating with those who hadn't - after all, their stance was a principled one, and what good was principle if it wasn't firmly applied? With that, they banded together to chase the other wolves away, and when they were finished, more than a third of the pack was gone.
His task achieved, the Wolf returned to the river, where the Hunter was patiently waiting, and told him the good news.
"It's done!" he said. "The only wolves left are those without claws, or those without teeth, or those without both, like me."
"I'm glad to hear it," said the Hunter. "I hope the others didn't give you too much trouble?"
"Some of them snapped at us, it's true," said the Wolf, "and others swiped at us with their claws. It was frightening; I understand now why you were afraid."
"That's good," said the Hunter, and tipped his hat as he strolled back the way he'd come.
That night, as the remaining wolves lay sleeping, the Hunter and his fellows snuck up on the den and started shooting. The Wolf awoke in terror and confusion to the sound of gunshots and the howls of his dying friends. Desperately, he tried to fight back, but his toothless jaws found no grip on the limbs of the hunters, and his clawless paws left not a dent in their sturdy coats. All too soon, he was knocked to the ground, and as he lay there, panting in fear, the Hunter came and stood over him.
"Why are you doing this?" cried the Wolf. "I did everything you asked!"
The Hunter shrugged. "At the end of the day, a wolf's a wolf. We never could've trusted you."
Horrified, the Wolf asked, "Then why did you have us pull out our claws and remove our teeth and chase away our friends?"
"Because you were strong together," came the reply. "Like this, you're weak."
"But you said you weren't afraid of us!" begged the Wolf.
The Hunter smiled, and sighed, and raised his gun. "Oh, little pup," he said, "this was never about fear. Why would I lie to you?" And before the Wolf could answer, he pulled the trigger.
nothing sexier than that picture with the italian players on top of eachother after the win and the english ones going through the 5 stages of grief in the back
My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.
I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.
My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.
I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.
This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.
If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.
My name is Nadin I’m a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza who are trying to hold on — to hope, to our families, to any piece
I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.
Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.
tags: noncon, tentacles, sex pollen, degradation (use of slut/bitch), humiliation, exhibitionism?, dacryphilia, creampie, overstimulation, pwp, brief mention of death
summary: Having Naoya come to your rescue has its consequences.
a/n: please read the tags before diving in. nao is horrible and mean as always. <3 wrote this in a caffeinated frenzy bc of course i did. dividers by @/adornedwithlight
crossposted to ao3
You’ve pissed someone off. That has to be it. What was the offending act? You’re not too sure. But you know it’s gotten you somewhere you don’t want to be: alone on a mission with Naoya.
The tension is thick, almost palpable with the silence shared between the two of you. He doesn’t seem to be one for small talk, not that you think he’d be a pleasant conversationalist.
Today’s mission takes place in a cave off the shore, a common place for teens and drunk partiers to partake in a test of courage. The water’s calm at this time of night. The only sound that fills your ears is the crunch of sand underneath your shoes and waves gently running onto shore before fizzling away as it recedes. Maybe you’d be one for long walks on the beach if it wasn’t with a special grade one asshole.
“What’s the plan?” you finally ask.
“Plan?” he asks back with a very irritated tone to his voice, as if he’s talking to a child. At this point you’re ready to hunt down whichever shitty higher-up forced you on this mission in the first place.
“Yeah?” you reply back, dumbfounded. Despite all his talents and prestige, you would assume he had something, anything in mind. Maybe you expected too much.
“Kill the curse and go,” he says simply, as if speaking it deems it true. Part of you wonders how many missions and curses does one have to defeat to amass that type of confidence? But then you remember who you’re talking to and come to the conclusion that he’s mostly just a cocky asshole.
“You’re not setting down a veil?”
“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow at you in annoyance. “Why would you need one? It’ll go down in a second anyways.”
Well, you were right about him being unpleasant to talk to. The rest of the walk is silent until you make it to the cave, neither of you particularly enthused to reanimate the conversation. The two of you follow the dark passage, illuminated by a line of suspiciously lit torches. The sound of water along the shore slowly diminishes until it’s replaced with wet drips from the condensation running off the stalactites.
As you make it deeper into the cave it gets warmer, against your expectations.
“Something isn’t right.”
“Yeah, no shit. That’s why we’re here,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.
Your pace slows as you make it further in, carefully taking the time to examine the environment around you. The cave only gets hotter, the scent of something floral lingering in the air. As you take another step, something slick and wet rubs against your leg.
“Zenin,” you whisper, quickly lifting your foot up from the water to confirm nothing is on it, “did you feel that?”
“No,” he scoffs again, as if anything you say has no value to him, “it’s probably some seaweed or something.”
All your senses are on high alert, but Naoya looks as unphased as can be. If anything, he looks annoyed that the cursed spirit hasn’t bothered to come out yet.
The temperature is too much for you to handle, as you take off your jacket to throw it over your shoulder just for a little bit of respite. Sweat starts to bead on your skin as you do your best to keep yourself cool, flicking away the droplets and fanning yourself.
And just a moment later, there’s a bit of pressure on your shoulder before your jacket is whipped off of you.
“Oh, come on,” you groan.
“Why the complaining?” he coos, smiling as he takes in the view of your bare arms and shoulders, “this is the best you’ve looked all night.”
“Pig.”
“Bitch.”
Rolling your eyes, you continue forward, jacketless and irritated. Maybe you let your emotions get the best of you, huffing and aimlessly traveling deeper until you realize you’re alone. The heat is unbearable, pierces through your skin and rushes down to your core at the worst possible moment.
Everything happens all at once, too quickly for you to react in time. Something grabs your legs and holds them tight before spreading them apart. Another slick appendage appears, forcefully pulling at the placket of your blouse until the buttons pop off and the fabric tears apart with a crisp rip. You attempt to break free from its grasp, wrapping every ounce of cursed energy you can muster into your fingertips, only for more slimy tendrils to appear and restrain you.
You’ve lost count of how many tentacles are holding you apart as another creeps up your thigh winding around your flesh like a vine. The end of it pulls on the hem of your skirt, adding more force to it until the fabric tears. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you thrash around to no avail. If anything, all your struggling only helps the appendages grab a better hold of your body, one of them wriggling down to your clothed pussy. It slowly slips under your underwear, and you flinch at the intrusion.
The floral scent from earlier returns, much stronger than before. It fills your lungs until it’s too much, making your head feel light and dizzy. Your skin burns hot with every breath in, a burning want growing in your cunt. Before you know it, your body is acting on its own, desperately rutting your hips into the tentacle’s grip to relieve the growing tension in your core.
“I take back what I said earlier, this is the best you’ve looked all night.” You barely notice Naoya when he finally finds you, looking with amusement in his eyes, a sick grin on his face at your state of undress.
“Oh fuck off,” you’re barely able to get out, and even when you do it doesn’t have nearly as much bite as you want it to. You sound tamed — defanged and declawed.
“Alright then, if that’s what you want.” He casually shrugs and turns on his heel to walk away — and he does. Casually so. The bastard is really about to leave you high and dry.
“No, no! Zenin, get me out of here!” Your voice isn’t something you recognize, morphing into something softer, whinier with every passing moment.
Naoya turns back, steps just a bit closer to you and crosses his arms together. “I will if you ask nicely. Maybe you should start with being a bit more respectful, huh?”
Any dignity you have left is thrown out the window, not that you have much left to begin with. So you drum up the sweetest voice you can muster through gritted teeth, because at least you’ll only have to do it once if you do it right, and plead to the best of your ability, “Zenin-kun, get me out of here, won’t you?”
“Kun? Didn’t think we were friends. I was thinking something more like Zenin-sama,” he sneers with a shit-eating grin, “you can do that, can’t you?”
Salvation is so close, he dangles it in front of you like a carrot for a rabbit. Before you can ask again, something wet pokes and prods at your entrance, earning a drawn out whine from you. You can only watch in horror while Naoya’s eyes sparkle in amusement as the appendage slips into your hole with little resistance.
The curse wriggles unnaturally inside as it fills you up, choked moans escaping you the more access it gains. Your head’s a mess, filled with cotton as you can barely manage to string a thought together. Another appendage reaches for your clit, flicking at the bundle of nerves before the tip opens and clamps onto it. The intensity of it is too much in too little time as you scream and writhe from the sensation.
The moment a tentacle aims for Naoya, he simply touches it using his technique and it freezes. He shakes his hand to get rid of the slick before commenting, “Ugh, gross. Can’t believe you’re letting this thing touch you. Didn’t think you were such a slut.”
It’s humiliating seeing him watch from a distance, the cursed spirit not even bothering to go for him again and instead focusing its assault on you. It’s all brand new to you, the feeling of being so stuffed, having your clit sucked on so aggressively. All of this leads to something feverish building in your core, one you don’t want to acknowledge, especially in front of the likes of Naoya.
“N-Naoya, please just kill the damn thing,” you mutter between labored breaths, hoping he’ll finally bother to fulfill your request.
“First name basis now are we? Maybe if you add the -sama to the end of that I’ll consider it.”
You try, you really do, but the moment the words dance on your tongue all you can let out is a choked moan. Speaking gets harder by the moment, your body overwhelmed by being fucked by the cursed spirit, its appendages wrapping around your tits and teasingly flicking at your nipples.
“Better hurry. Damned thing might just fuck you to death for all I know,” he scoffs.
You can only imagine how pitiful you look. Drool leaking from your mouth as the cursed spirit treats you like its plaything, tentacles roughly squirming about and pulsating in and out of your pussy. And despite it all, something molten grows in your core, begging to be released.
It takes every ounce of willpower you have to get the words out.
“N-Naoya-sama, please help me.” It’s the most pathetic you’ve ever sounded, tears running down your face, voice hushed and laced with desperation.
“Now was that so hard?” he coos, pouting at the end of his question just to rub it in your face.
“Please, please, please,” you plead, and you’re not sure what for – for him to save you or for that coil in your stomach to finally snap.
“You’re a lot cuter when you know your place, you know that?”
You take your eyes off Naoya for a moment and you lose track of him. It only takes a minute for him to make quick work of the cursed spirit. While you can’t see him, you can feel the impact of his blows through the creature. Appendages disappear one by one as you slowly regain control of your own body.
Whether Naoya purposefully saves the tendril sucking your clit for last, you can’t definitively say, but you wouldn't be surprised either. Curses spill from your lips as you can’t hold yourself back any longer, the tension in your body finally snapping with an all-consuming intensity. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, like you’ve lost all control of your body – legs quivering and walls fluttering around nothing. You barely recognize the moans that fall from your lips. When the last tentacle finally disappears, you nearly topple over yourself from the release of its grip.
Any considerate human being would offer something to make you half decent, but it’s Naoya, so the first words to leave his mouth are less than kind to say the least.
“What kinda sorcerer are you? Gettin’ off to a cursed spirit. Disgusting,” he teases.
“Fuck you,” you spit back, just a bit of your fight restored in you.
“I bet that’s what you want, huh?” he asks, taking a step towards you to encroach on your personal space.
“Back off, Zenin. I’m fucking tired of your shit.” You attempt to recollect yourself and stand, only for your legs to give out on you. Everything feels gelatinous and wobbly, the muscles in your legs, the thoughts running through your head, the breaths shakily expelling from your lungs.
“Really? Is that why you got yourself all fucked out for me?” Naoya squats down to look at you with a smirk that has your blood boiling.
"What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? You’re the one that got off to this shit,” he sounds incredulous, as if you’re the one being audacious right now. His expression morphs into something darker as he takes in the sight of you – eyes leering up and down, tracing every curve of your body. “Bet you still need more.”
It’s the last thing you want, especially at the hands of someone like him. But you don’t get the chance to think about it further, rough arms wrapping around you in an instant, his hand digging into your thighs and kneading the flesh.
“Get off of me!” you yell, attempting to thrash about but Naoya’s hold on you is steady.
“Why? I’m being nice,” he grunts while wrangling you in, “just trying to help out an ungrateful bitch like yourself.”
The heat of his body against yours burns, and you realize that maybe the soon to be heir isn’t as infallible as you think he is. He’s only human after all. That being said, he’s still the last person you want to be in this situation with, and even without the addition of whatever substance the curse excreted in the air, you wouldn’t put it past the bastard to get hard from watching you suffer.
The sound of fabric shifting fills your ears, something hot and hard pressing against the small of your back, before the sensation disappears for a second. When it reappears, it’s a lot lower than before, his cock slipping between your wet folds in a way that makes you bite your lips back. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, attempting to break out of his hold again.
“Stop fucking moving,” he grumbles as he pokes and prods at your wet hole.
“I will when you get off me,” you quip back. His grip around you tightens and your body seizes for a moment. It’s humiliating how easy it is for Naoya to push himself into you with little resistance, all wet and prepped from the cursed spirit that had its way with you. Even worse that you moan when you feel him bottom out.
“Stop, stop, stop-” you cry, but you’re back to sounding whinier, melting and falling victim to whatever drug the spirit pumped into your lungs.
“Should tell your pussy to stop sucking me in then,” he jeers, punctuating the end of his sentence with a deep thrust that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
It shouldn’t feel this good, but there’s that undeniable tension building in your stomach as he ruts into you like an animal. The sound of skin-to-skin slapping echoes throughout the cave, only broken up by your whimpers and choked cries. Every drag of his cock against your plush walls adds to your pleasure, even though you want to deny it so badly. It all builds to a head when Naoya finds that spot that has you louder than before, unable to control the volume of your voice. He’s mean, bullies it relentlessly like it’s target practice.
Every ounce of holding back goes out the window as you cum and gush all over his cock, crying as ecstasy runs its course through your body. All of your nerves burn white hot, your muscles painfully tight as Naoya fucks you through it, even with your walls constricting and squeezing around him.
“Shit, you’re into this, aren’t you?” he growls into your ear, the warmth of his breath making you wince.
“N-no, I’m not,” you reply back, voice warbly and shaky much like your conviction. You sound nowhere close to convincing.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he laughs and you swear you can hear the smile on his face.
There’s no time to recover from your previous orgasm, Naoya doesn’t give you that privilege. Your body simply tightens up again even more than before, your muscles a taut knot waiting for the threads to snap from the tension.
“S-Stop ‘s too much,” you beg, the pleasure from before slowly building into a dull burn as Naoya pushes himself deeper into you.
He seems to take offense to your comment, pressing your face onto the cold slab of stone as a means of silencing any kind of protest.
“Should be thanking me, letting you cum on a real cock,” he spits, and the mention of cumming makes your walls clench around him. The way your body reacts to his words makes it feel like it isn’t yours, as if a stranger has taken control and turned the dial for rational thought to zero.
“Cumming again? Can feel you getting tight on me,” he teases, making the extra effort to push into you deeper until you can feel his tip kissing your cervix.
“No, no, I can’t,” you cry, and you really believe it, with how worn out your body feels, how he breaks it down more with every passing moment.
“Bet you can,” he groans before slamming into you harder and faster than before.
With his rugged pace it doesn’t take long for that tension to finally snap. When it finally does, your body trembles uncontrollably as that sweet warm pleasure bursts in your core. Your climax makes its way through you like a dying star – explosive, intense, and far too short-lived.
Even still, Naoya doesn’t relent, frying out your nerves and sending you straight into overstimulation. Pain floods in soon after, building on top of itself until it’s too much to ignore. You can’t stop yourself from sobbing and panting, choking on your tears as you desperately wish for him to finish already. The cries only get louder as the pain intensifies, throbbing in your walls with each pass of his cock.
To your surprise, he turns your head to face him, if only to drink in your pitiful expression. The way he looks at you with crazed lust in his eyes as he slams his hips into yours just makes the tears fall faster, serving as another reminder that he’s the last person you want to be with. You don’t want to think about how he cums soon after – not that you have to – as your head blanks out when he buries himself to the hilt before painting your insides with hot, sticky ropes of white.
Naoya takes a moment to savor the sensation of having himself balls deep inside you before finally pulling out, and you wince when your pussy continues to convulse around nothing.
You just need a moment. Some time to recollect your thoughts. And for once, Naoya gives you what you want, though you know it’s not on purpose. Casually gathers himself and leaves you there.
When you’re finally alone and lucid enough to string together a coherent thought, there’s only one thing running through your head – you hope the higher ups don’t send you on mission with him again.
