❆ ❆ ❆

ᴅᴀʀᴋ | ❶❽ + ʙʟᴏɢ ⓒⓡⓨⓑⓐⓑⓨ 🅼.🅻🅸🆂🆃 .❦.

[sawamooora]

ＮＡＶＩＧＡＴＩＯＮ

ｒｕｌｅｓ

↳ 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙶 𝙸𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝙼𝙾𝚂𝚃 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃

𝚗𝚎𝚠, 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐: @terushimooo

(𝙸 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚋 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎)

ｍ ａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

↳ 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚢𝚞𝚞, 𝙰𝚝𝚕𝚊, 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎, 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚝

ｒｅｃｅｎｔ ｗｏｒｋｓ

𝙵𝚒𝚌𝚜

↳ 𝙱𝙴𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚂 | 𝟻.𝟼𝚔 |𝟷𝟾+

↳ 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

↳ 𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙺 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙸𝙴𝚂 | 𝟿.𝟽𝚔 | 𝟷𝟾+

↳ 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚜 / 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜

↳ 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁 𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙼𝙰

↳ 𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝚝𝚠𝚘

↳ 𝙺𝙸𝙳𝙽𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝙸𝙺𝚈𝚄𝚄 𝙼𝙰𝙵𝙸𝙰, 𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝚄𝚁𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴, 𝙱𝚈 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃 | 𝟺.𝟿𝚔 | 𝟷𝟾+

↳ 𝚔𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

[haazuli]

Birds of a feather (?)

[fraternum-momentum]

i um i um uh umm uhhh uuuum (grim belongs to @hakusins)

[rocorambles]

Coming very temporarily out of hiatus just to say, after watching the new MHA movie, I can confirm ALL the nomus would be on my hear me out cake.

[sawamooora]

This is the least surprising thing I’ve ever read

[sunfortune]

deserved

[barb-l]

[sindri42]

It was bad enough that the boy is literally just stabbing the book with a dagger and dissociating.

[caspercryptid]

I picked this comic up by coincidence a few months ago and I am delighted to inform anyone curious that she wrote him in a torrid love affair with his bodyguard and completely undermined his terrifying reputation and made him a folk hero instead. He was Not Thrilled.

[sawamooora]

[sawamooora]

Sucking the baby powder out of ukais wrinkling pp

Bee, this you???

[sawamooora]

Terushima x Fem!Reader x Daichi

Part one | two

A/n: It’s here, it’s finally here! As usual, I’m late to the party (sorry guys). Curse my procrastination!

Thank you to the mods for inviting me into this server and allowing me to participate in this month’s collab! This time around, the theme is a ‘Yandere Purge’ night.

As per usual, this content, and all the content in this collab contains dark themes. Please HEED ALL THE WARNINGS, stay safe, and enjoy all our talented member’s contributions!

Summary: After seeing you at the Spring High tournament, Terushima became obsessed. With Daichi there to watch over you, you were always kept safe from his greedy grasp. But when Daichi moves away to college, Terushima takes this opportunity to make his move. Terushima thinks you’ll come to him willingly, but after he discovers your ‘betrayal’, he knows he has to act. The Purge is just around the corner. It’s the perfect opportunity to snag you for himself. The only problem is, he can’t do this alone…

W/c: 7.1k

Rating: 18+ / M

T/w: yandere, smut, dubcon/noncon, gaslighting/manipulation, explicit language, reader ‘cheating’ on an unnamed character, mentioned somno, heavy physical abuse

Note: frequent time jumps, POV changes, smut between the asterisks ([****] in case you wanna skip/avoid that…)

Again, PLEASE BE WARY OF THE TAGS, and please, please, please, be safe with your mental state!

All characters are 18+

Read at your discretion

Keep reading

[sawamooora]

Thank you so much for all the love on this post!

[sawamooora]

Manifesting this out into the universe. Dropping this on main so she can see it.

Ezra, please come back

[terushimooo]

you know, my brain really only can think of like. what if the old guys can't get it up? well, we have strapons for that. a pretty young thing sitting in an old man's lap, riding that strap while whispering filthy, humiliating things. idk which coach would like that sort of shit but that's all my brain's got for the moment

PONY

Washijō x F! Reader

W/c: 1.4k

C/w: massive age gap, the elderly, gross old man seggs, strapon, femdom, anal (m), infidelity (since apparently he’s married, smh), ball slapping, degradation (m receiving), very brief mentions of rimming and anal fingering 

A/n: Okay, but the way I instantly accused Roco of sending me this — loool. Thank you, thank you so so much. I have almost never felt more uncomfortable and disgusted, while also feeling incredibly liberated and inspired.

Big shout out to Emi @temptemi​ for making this comeback so epic, and editing this beautiful piece of art.

If there’s one thing Washijō’s known for, it’s his dedication to ideals. It’s his devotion to perfection.

These stringent choices and unrelenting decisions are prominent in his everyday life from the produce he carefully inspects in the markets, to the players he scouts for his teams. Washijō is nothing if not thorough.

So it comes as no surprise when these peculiar and specific standards of excellence also apply to the women he allows into his marital bed.

“C’mon you big baby, you can take it.”

“No, no I— I can’t.” Washijō begins to cry, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks as wrinkled hands grip tightly around the cotton spread of his mattress. 

“It’s too much,” he whines. “Can’t— can’t take anymore, please.”

His sagging eyes turn to meet yours, “please,” he begs, “please no more.”

You grin at his struggling, at the way his frail body writhes beneath your own. A jolt of pleasure slithers up your spine as you watch your lover tremble on his favourite, extra-thick silicone cock. 

When you fail to hear his safe word, the one you agreed on just moments prior, you know he’s lying. You know he’s just a little cock hungry slut desperate for more of your length up his unprepped ass.

His wife won't be home this weekend, a fact he made you very aware of when he cornered you in the school’s equipment room, when he forced your body up against the brick and ran his filthy hands along your flesh. 

Even worse was when he pressed his lips against yours, his pungent, slimy tongue coming out in sloppy and unpracticed strokes. 

Come over, he teased.

It’ll be fun, he promised. 

And you never doubted him. Not for a second. Not when he pushed the thick dildo discreetly into your bag. And certainly not when he slipped the leather harness out from his grasp and into yours.

You chuckle as the toy he so eagerly gave you slowly slides even further past his tight ring of muscles and into his stretched, torn-up hole.

“Such a shame,” you tease as a wide smirk spans across your lips. You bend over his shaking form, pressing the plush of your body against his ageing skin and running a moist tongue along the shell of his ear.

“I thought you were better than this,” you taunt, hot breath dancing across his skin. “I thought with the way you coach your boys, forcing them to comply with almost inhumane demands, you’d be tougher than this. I didn’t know you’d be so… pathetic.”

Washijō opens his mouth to respond, probably wanting to answer back with resistance. With nothing but bratty incoherence and sugar-laced sarcasm. Instead of a snarky response, all that leaves the coach's mouth is high-pitched, pathetic whines. 

“Damn, baby.” You moan at his squeals, at the waterfall of tears that continue to fall onto the bed as you hump your elder with rough and ruthless thrusts. “I thought you were respected.”

You wrap your fist in his thinning hair, bringing his drooling head up from the dampened sheets.

“Was I wrong to think that?”

Washijō’s beyond words. 

Every answer he gives you is a series of moans and wails, disgusting and pathetic cries. Your face scrunches up in distaste. 

With an audibly irritated sigh, you shove his head back into the bed, his whimpers quickly muffled by the pile of pillows resting beneath his blubbering mouth. A satisfied grin finds its way to your lips at the strangled cries that fill the air. 

Your baby sounds so much better like this, struggling under your touch—just as he should be.

In a moment of empowerment, you reach your hand down, roughly groping and slapping at his tense and aching balls. 

You laugh when he cries, when he tries to curl his body in on itself. His broken pleas to stop mean nothing as you feel his cock throb even harder in your hand, as it leaks against the stained sheets of his bed.

“What would the boys think if they saw you like this? Ass up, hole stretched, cock leaking and hard beneath your flabby body as a young, pretty little bitch railed your ass like a fucking prostitute?”

It takes everything you have not to burst into a fit of laughter at the pathetic whimpers that leave the old man’s lips. You can tell how desperately he wants to prove himself—that he’s not the weak old man you think he is. You know how badly he wants to please you.

But how can he when his tiny, scrawny little dick only gets hard with a finger up his ass? When he only gets stiff with your tongue circling his puckered hole, or you thrusting your cock past this entrance? 

You shake your head to yourself. Washijō will never be able to please you so long as he needs your cock shoved against his prostate.

But that's okay, you think to yourself. He gets you all the connections you need in terms of thick, fat, college boy cocks. You’ll happily fuck this dirty old man in return for the younger, much more fertile protégés he provides. Besides, this makes for one hell of a story at all your sleepovers.

A sick sense of malice spreads through your limbs as you take in the blubbering, desperate form beneath you. Through the high-pitched wails, you can hear him cry out for more, to stop, to go deeper, to pull out. 

Slick builds between your legs as you watch this old man try in vain to regain his focus. 

A loud slap to his jiggling ass brings you both back to the present. 

 Are you going to behave now, coach?” Neither of you miss the venomous lith that drips forms your tongue. “Didn’t you promise you were going to be good? That we were going to have fun?”

“Y-yes, I—”

“Then you can take it, right?”

You don’t wait for his response. You don’t need to. 

The grunts and frantic movement of his sagging body tell you everything you need to know. He’s close. 

Your dirty old man is about to bust his crusty, ashen load all over his rancid and unwashed sheets. He’s about to cum all over the bed where his wife tries feebly to make his limp and tiny dick come to life. 

Almost nothing brings you more pleasure than shoving yourself deeper, burying your cock all the way into his twitching, gaping little asshole. 

Almost.

Just as his screams become hoarse, as his face scrunches up in bliss, and his back arches up utter in euphoria—you stop.

Washijō panics beneath you, hips thrusting in an attempt for any kind of friction, body trembling on the verge of an orgasm, and tears mixing with snot as they stream down in pent-up frustration. But he gets nothing. Nothing except your body pressed tight against his own. Nothing but a thick toy shoved up his throbbing asshole.

“Giddy up,” you tease, laughter bubbling from your mouth and spilling out onto the flustered and embarrassed older man as you stretch upward, as you slap your hand against his wrinkly, bony ass.

“YEEHAW!” You squeal, arms flailing up in the air, body acting out the crude gesture of horseback riding. Not that anyone notices, but you very expertly act out lassoing your horse. 

As you ride your trusty steed, you can't help but admire the age spots sprinkled along his body, comparing them to the spots on an appaloosa* horse. The fact that hair grows from a particularly large mole near the crack of his ass just adds to the fantasy. 

“Annnd canteerrr**!!!!” You cheer. “Faster, FASTER! GOGOGO!”

You expect to have more fun with Washijō, you expect to keep him riled up and desperate beneath you. What you don’t expect is for him to quake uncontrollably, bucking his hips wildly and thrashing around like he’s twenty again.

And you certainly don’t expect the sound that leaves his lips, the repetitive, high-pitched whinnying wheezing past his lips.

Now you really can’t keep it in. You’re in hysterics as you ride him harder, as you pull his hips against yours—as you fuck his ass with your thick, stocky horse cock.

As you watch him tightening against your length, you can’t help but get one final jab in.

“You gotta go faster if you wanna cum, pony.”

GLOSSARY:

* Appaloosa: A horse breed best known for his/her/their spots. 

** Canter: A very fast gait/speed of a horse

Disclaimer: this, and this whole fic, is meant to be a joke... and Emi enabled me! <3

[bontenten]

LEE IM JUST AHHAHHAF KLWEJ WELCOME BACK. Going MIA together and returning to this hell around the same time, I’m so excited I’m so happy. THIS IS SO GOOD ALFKJWE I HAD SO MUCH FUN <3 <3 

[rocorambles]

Proving A Point

Pairing: Toji x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Degradation, Murder, Violence, Gore, Borderline Necro??? But not really??? Listen...there is a dead body and things are done in very very close proximity to that dead body so take that as you will.

Summary: You make the mistake of accusing Toji of being jealous of sorcerers and he proves that he has nothing to be envious of.

Steady...Steady…

You wince as your stomach grumbles in complaint, hunger eating away at your patience and concentration. But you steel your nerves, stubbornly shaking your head and willing away the pangs in your abdomen as you focus on your surroundings, eyeing the cameras and employees, waiting for the right moment…

Skittish eyes. Rustling. Quick movements.

You tamper the pep in your step, hiding the glee in your face as you casually stroll outside of the sliding doors, leaving the grocery store and its shoppers in your wake, baggy sweatshirt much less roomy as you walk away. Your fingers itch to immediately grab the banana tucked inside your bra, but you know better.

Patience is a virtue. Out of sight, out of mind. And you wait, fighting every urge to run far away and dig into your stolen loot, sighing in giddy relief when you finally turn the corner, blocks away from the scene of the crime.

It’s almost animalistic how you practically rip off your hoodie, letting your precious cargo of fruits, bread, and chips fall to the ground. You plop on the ground, hand wrapping around the banana still tucked in the fabric around your chest, but you freeze at the sound of amused chuckling.

Your fight and flight instincts war inside of you, teeth baring, body back on its feet as you gauge your intruder. But your heart drops in your stomach when you take in the large muscular figure, the feral scarred grin leering at you from down the alley.

Years alone and left to fend for yourself have made your survival instincts strong and you know just from a brief glance that you don’t stand a chance against the man slowly meandering towards you. You’re no stranger to using your body for protection, money, just another night under a warm roof and you can only surmise that’s what he wants, that he’s just another predator in search of hapless prey. So you brace yourself, willing your body to relax as it trembles, letting it go limp as he draws near.

But you open your eyes in shock, looking warily on as he plucks the banana still nestled in your bra and peels it open, holding the opened end to your lips.

“Don’t let me interrupt your meal.”

You gape, eyes flickering between the yellow fruit and the amused face of the man in front of you. Back and forth, back and forth.

“If you’re not going to eat it, maybe I’ll have it. I’m getting kind of hungry anyway-”

“What is this? Some kind of weird foreplay?!”

Hunger makes your tongue sharper than you intend as you angrily chomp on the soft fruit before he can pull it away from you, your hands ripping the rest of the banana from his grasp as you quickly shove the rest in your mouth, uncaring of how ridiculous you look. So what if you look like an oversized furious chipmunk, cheeks bulging as you rapidly chew, scowl set in place? You’d be damned if you let someone else take your hard-earned food, even if he does look capable of choking you with his bare hands, and your eyes linger a little too long on the ways his shoulders and biceps bulge in his tight black shirt.

But his next words have you snapping back to attention, nervousness curling inside of you.

“I saw your little stunt back there. Not bad. How long have you been stealing to provide for yourself?”

You immediately deny his words, feigning ignorance, beads of cold sweat trailing down the side of your face the longer he just impassively stares at you as you continue stuttering.

Had you misjudged him? Was he some kind of undercover cop?

“What if I told you I could keep you off the streets, find jobs that would pay enough money to put a roof over your head, keep your stomach full?”

Your head snaps up, hope fluttering inside of you, your voice coming out more desperate and shaky than you wish.

“You won’t turn me in?”

The man snorts, bending down to pick up the rest of your meager belongings and food, not even looking back to see if you’re following as he begins to walk away, arms laden with your possessions, silently commanding you to follow him. And like a duckling imprinting on its parent, you instinctively trail after him without a single question about where you’re going, what jobs he’s talking about, or who he is. But as you exit the narrow alleyway and get ready to merge with the bustling street, he pauses, turning around to gaze at you as he answers one of those questions.

“I’m Toji. No last name. Just Toji.”

Neither of you dwell too much on what exactly brought the two of you together, what had Toji curiously watching as you skillfully and efficiently stole your next few meals and deciding to tuck you under his wing, what had you eagerly following after the man like a lost puppy. The harsh conditions and day-to-day survival of your lives don’t give either of you the luxury of wallowing in loneliness or the warmth that builds in your chests the more time you spend together.

But on nights after a successful job, bellies full of food and alcohol, bodies lazing on a cushy hotel bed where you splurge and rest for the night, neither of you fight the way your limbs naturally entangle, the way your lips meet in the dark, the way it feels so damn right to be together.

You learn about sorcerers and curses, shuddering when you become aware of an entire world that surrounds you. Toji laughs when he gifts you a pair of glasses that helps you see the evil around you and you scream, jumping in his readily outstretched arms, clinging onto him in fright.

Toji learns that aggressive shows of confrontation and brute force aren’t always the best answer (even if they are the most fun option) and he follows your lead, letting you quietly sneak around, swift hands dexterously picking locks, easily plucking and pocketing stolen goods. It’s your turn to laugh when he pouts at not being able to use his blade, strong arms crossed in front of his chest as he impatiently waits for you to finish your task.

But despite the months you spend together, you never get used to the crimson stains he returns with, eyes always averted and looking anywhere else when he deals a final blow. He knows if you had a choice, you’d always opt out of joining him on these specific types of requests. He knows it’s selfish to force you along, to make excuses as to why he needs you by his side as his sword guts yet another sorcerer. He knows he should feel some shame for the way you dry heave and vomit the contents of your guts at the sight of the countless corpses he forces you to look upon.

Yet all he feels is annoyance laced with guilt and fury at the pity in your eyes, the softness in your gaze as you watch him slay another individual who just happened to be born with cursed energy, the gentleness with which you handle the fallen bodies. Maybe that’s why he keeps on dragging you with him assassination after assassination, gloating about his new moniker “Socerer Killer” in front of you despite your clear discomfort towards the title.

But maybe the unspoken punishment is too soft for you, too subtle. And Toji scowls when you begin to question him and his motives, angrily growling right back at you when you raise your voice as you argue with him about his drive to kill every sorcerer he crosses paths with.

You plead and beg for him to reconsider. Sorcerers are humans after all, just with special abilities.

Toji wonders if you’d still think that if you met anyone else from the Zenin clan and both of you back down, your arms wrapping around him in an attempt to soothe and comfort as you see his mind and eyes glaze over in painful reminiscing.

It’s during one of these sessions that you utter the lines that end up being your downfall.

“Toji, do you think that maybe all your hate towards sorcerers is just jealousy? Are you jealous that you weren’t born with cursed energy like they were? Because if that’s what it is, there’s nothing to be jealous about-”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Harsh language and cursing are all things you’ve come to expect from Toji. But what has you paralyzed with fear and a desperate need to make things right is the pure animosity and seething rage in his voice.

You whimper as a large hand reaches to grip your face, squishing your cheeks painfully, forcing you to lock eyes with fierce emerald orbs.

“I’m not jealous.”

He abruptly lets go of you with that sentence, turning his back on you, slamming the door in his wake. And you know you should be grateful that this is the extent of his lashing out. Yet somehow your heart aches more in his absence and you almost long for more of his heated words, even a spiteful strike as the days drag on without his presence.

It’s embarrassing how much you miss him, how accustomed you’ve grown to him being around. But you can’t help the way you scramble and flail in your rush to greet him as he finally enters your bedroom almost an entire week later. And he snorts when he easily catches you as you stumble and topple into his arms, tightly flinging your arms around him and holding him in silence, nuzzling and inhaling his scent as you bury your head in his chest.

You don’t miss the way a large hand gently rests on your head, the way he lets himself bask in your embrace. But all is not forgiven or forgotten and you warily listen as he barks at you to get ready, telling you he has another job for the both of you, grimacing when a razor sharp grin cuts across his face when he tells you it’ll be a messy one.

If there’s one positive attribute about Toji, it’s that he’s a man of his word. Your stomach churns, nausea swirling inside of you as he uses his bare fists to seemingly break every bone in the target’s body, unnecessarily cruel as he drags out the sorcerer’s death. The victim’s agonized screams fill the air and you clamp your hands over your ears, wishing you were anywhere but here, hesitantly stepping towards the exit, but stopping at Toji’s curt command for you to stay put.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh finally stops and you let out a shaky breath, tentatively lowering your arms as you turn back to face Toji, waiting for his exit plan. But your eyes widen when you see the sorcerer’s chest still rising and falling, still hanging to life by a fraying thread. And realization weighs down on your shoulders like a ton of bricks when Toji beckons you over, pulling your reluctant body until your back is pressed against his chest.

He places the hilt of his sword in your hands before gripping your hips, holding you still as his thumbs languidly rub lazy circles through the fabric of your pants. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watches the tremble of your arms as you vigorously shake your head side to side, eyes dizzyingly flitting between the half-dead sorcerer laying at your feet and the sharp point of the weapon your holding.

“Toji, I don’t- I can’t-”

“Kill him or be punished. Pick your poison.”

You know there’ll be hell to pay if you don’t follow through and every ounce of self-preservation screams at you to put your own well-being above the pitiful stranger on the ground. But when you lock eyes and see the fear and pain, see him as just another human like yourself, you know you’ll never be able to forgive yourself if you deal the final blow, know that his death will haunt you, curse you, for the rest of your life.

You’re terrified as you begin to loosen your grip, getting ready to let the object clatter to the ground, knowing full well Toji will be livid. But before you can fully release the sword, strong hands wraps around yours, forcing you to hold the blade once more, and you scream as Toji guides your hands, forcing you to cut through flesh, muscle, skin, and bone, the body parting like butter beneath the overwhelming force. Hot crimson splatters decorate the both of you and all you smell and taste is metallic copper.

All you’re cognizant of is the dimming light in the sorcerer’s eyes, the way your hands are still holding onto the weapon buried in your victim’s guts.

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

You don’t know anything except the need to flee, to separate yourself as far from the crime scene as possible. And your legs jerk back to life, only to give out on you as you’re forced to the ground, body unable to do much against Toji’s brute strength as he forces you on all fours on top of the still warm corpse, your limbs encasing the figure, eyes unable to look anywhere but straight down on those vacant eyes.

“Take a close look, sweetheart. Still think I’m jealous of a pathetic meat sack like that? Still think I care about having cursed energy? His special little powers didn’t help him much, did they?”

Toji’s laughter rings in your ears as your shaky arms struggle to hold your bodyweight up, trying to create as much distance between your torso and the hardening corpse beneath you, your eyes clenching shut, trying to block out the gruesome scene. You’re so focused on your predicament that you barely register calloused hands pulling down your pants and underwear, leaving your most intimate parts on display.

But Toji’s never been a fan of being ignored, especially by you, and you wail as he suddenly shoves his cock inside of your dry and unprepared hole, the pain and force of his thrust throwing you off balance and fat tears stream down your face as your body falls on the lifeless form beneath you.

Fear, pain, and disgust coil and slither inside of you as you futilely flail and try to lift yourself off the body beneath you, loud sobs escaping past your lips as your face is squished against a much colder visage, your tears and saliva mixing with the congealed blood on the sorcerer’s face. But every time you try to push yourself up, Toji rams into you from behind, and you instinctively tip forward, trying to escape, trying to pull away from him, only to further trap yourself against the corpse.

“God, you’re such a fucking crybaby. He’s dead, get over it. Look. There’s nothing to be so upset about.”

A new wave of salty tears trail down your face as Toji uses one hand to pin you down, forcing your lips to connect with colder, stiffer ones in a mockery of a kiss. He pauses his relentless thrusts to boisterously laugh as you fight against his hold in renewed vigor, fueled by your disbelief and terror.

“Alright, I guess that’s enough punishment for you. Don’t want you to die from shock. Let me make it all better.”

If you thought the ocean of negativity you had been drowning in before was bad, this is worse. So much worse. And a disgust so thick, so potent, so irreversible washes over you, seeping into every part of you, as pleasure begins to flicker and grow deep inside of you. Toji knows every inch of your body inside and out, and it’s pathetic how quickly your pleas for him to stop become lewd moans and wanton sounds as his fingers rub and play with hardening nipples and clit, as he angles his cock at just the perfect degree that has you seeing stars, as his teeth possessively bite down in the junction of your neck.

You don’t want to feel good, not like this, not here, not sprawled on top of a man you had just killed in cold blood. But it’s hard to think of anything else other than the arousal and lust fogging over your morality, over your humanity as Toji turns you into a well-trained mindless slut desperate for him, for pleasure. And he smiles victoriously as you stop resisting, letting your body mold against the corpse beneath you, uncaring of how absolutely sinful and depraved you look as you moan and drool like a bitch in heat, writhing shamelessly against the body underneath you.

He knows the image is going to be seared into his mind for life, fap material for years to come, and his hips stutter, his tempo fluctuating as his balls tighten, his thrusts becoming even more feral and desperate as he chases his end. And when you cum first, convulsing and milking him of all his seed, pushed over the edge by the brutality of his pace, he spills thick white spurts deep inside of you, grunting in satisfaction as he slams balls deep into you one last time.

It’s amusing how you’ve seemingly had a complete change of heart, looking almost at home and at peace as you continue laying on the motionless sorcerer, body twitching and eyes rolled back in your head as you laze in post-coital bliss. His softening and spent cock twitches in interest again as a sticky trail begins to trickle out your used cunt, mixing with the blood of the broken body beneath you. And it takes all his willpower to refrain from having you, tasting you all over again.

You’re still on the clock after all and there’s payment to be collected.

But as he coldly barks at you to get up and tidy yourself up as best as you can, smug satisfaction swells inside of him as he watches you exhaustedly pull your panties and pants back up above your ass, a dazed pleasured look on your face as you quickly make your way to him, tucking yourself closely to his side and leaning into his body heat.

You always were a clingy and needy thing after an orgasm. But he can’t bring himself to mind, sneering as he tosses one last backwards glance at the dead sorcerer you’re leaving behind before finally settling into a self-satisfied smile as he pulls you in closer.

Cursed energy and all...no sorcerer could ever make you feel as good as him.

[sawamooora]

omg are you making a new blog and leaving this one🥺😭?! that would be so heartbreaking, i love your stories so much!! but i totally understand if that’s the case, and hope i could find you again! :)

Sksbsjsnsks!! Thank you so much for your kind words!! This genuinely made my day!

But I actually already have it up and running!! It’s @.terushimooo!!!

This blog here is kind of just my archive of old work — and also where I reblog! It has the biggest following between the two and I want all of my friend’s works to reach the most amount of people!!

[sawamooora]

pls pls pls!!! if you haven’t already written a milk and cookies pt 2 i am beggingggg for it 😫 if you have a lot on your hands or simply don’t feel like it i completely understand i don’t wanna rush anything but oh my god would i die for it like i read pt 1 months ago and i be rereading just so i don’t forget the buildup if pt 2 comes out

Omg, this ask is so sweet!! Tysm!!Bewjndisnsjsbsk!

I really, truly — I’m so sorry for all the things I’ve started and never finished.

I really do plan on making part 2’s for all the things I started, and this series is definitely at the top of the list!!

Sadly, I’m a chronic procrastinator and I’ve started way too many things... I don’t have a time frame for when it’ll be out... but just know that it will be... eventually!

[seijorhi]

Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader 

TW Blood, gore, angst, um… toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants. 

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

Keep reading

[terushimooo]

Rainwater + kuroo!!

Fndndnjfkn!! Thank you so much for your ask!

I don’t really know anything about Kuroo, so I consulted the experts, Roco and Rhi! I hope you like it!

C/w: soft yandere, orgasm denial, oral (receiving), f!reader

Although he’ll never admit it, Kuroo’s favourite sound is the gentle clicks of a controller. It’s the soft hums of frustration as you fail yet another level of your game, and the sporadic taps of your keyboard as you desperately try to redeem yourself. Even the subtle shifting of your weight across his premium leather chair has the dark-haired man beaming with a crooked smile.

There’s something so nostalgic about these sounds. Something so reminiscent of his past. Closing his eyes, Kuroo can almost remember the feeling of simpler days, of happiness, of the faux blonde he still calls family.

The only thing that makes the sound even better is the gentle moans that slip from your lips, the pathetic pleas you make when he spreads your legs.

Your words mean nothing when Kuroo drags his fingers along your folds, when he slides your dampened panties down your thighs and into the pocket of his slacks.

“Just play the game,” he tells you, tongue lapping up and down the length of your slit, fingers digging themselves deep into the plush of your thighs.

His favourite sound is you struggling to focus, desperate to complete the level and reach your next save point. All you want is to give your partner your full attention, but Kuroo insists the game is more important.

He loves when you cry out, when you beg him for more—when you're just on the edge of your high. But most of all, he loves to tear that away from you. Kuroo loves to rip his touch from your body, to pull his fingers from your cunt and leave you blubbering out at the lack of stimulation.

He promises he’ll take care of you, you just have to prove you love him. You just have to show him how much you care.

Don’t you know how much he’s spent on you? Don’t you understand the value of money? Of how much your little gaming setup cost?

You should. You’re his, and you owe him for life.

“Just finish your game,” he teases. “Just one more level, then you’ll be rewarded.”

And so you do, or at least you try to. Your eyes are brimming with tears of frustration, lips quivering with desperation. But your lover doesn’t care about your comfort. And he wont start to care either. Not until you do as you're told, not until you show your appreciation.

If you were to ask him, Kuroo would say his favourite sound… is of home.

Send me a prompt!

If you don’t want to see these posts, block #🍃.asks

[ratzooki]

WARNINGS : suggestive content, prohero au, bully!reader, mother’s day, mentions of breeding, language.

“Hey, Izuku.” You’re giggling, shutting the door to his office with your foot, hands clasped very, very suspiciously—in his own opinion—behind your back. Izuku lowers the frame of his glasses to the tip of his nose, brows furrowing in unfiltered frustration. Only because it’s you and he’s busy.

Actually, truly, really fucking—

“Busy?” You ask.

He sighs, lets his pen fall from his grasp as you trot slowly (might he add: suspiciously) around his desk, leaning your form, well-exposed in your skintight hero suit, against the expensive mahogany.

“You know I am." He groans, much too exasperatedly for your pleasure. “Now, is this important? Do you need something? I have to finish up this report by—”

“It’s Mother’s Day, you know.”

You bring the abandoned pen to your face, closely inspecting the worry-formed bites on the latter end, taking a nibble out of it yourself.

Izuku pries his gaze away from you—your lips mostly, plump and clamped effortlessly, suggestively, around the cap he had in his mouth just moments ago. Instead, he drops his focus to the jagged tear of flesh beside his thumb.

“I’m aware,” he waits for whatever point you have, but it doesn’t come, “Sent my mom a bouquet of flowers this morning.”

“Really?” The awe in your tone has him glancing up; suspicious.

“Yes?”

“Hm.” You glance at the door, back to him, at the clock perched on his desk, back to him. “Well, what about me?”

Here it is. Whatever awful, absurd, workplace-inappropriate quip you've cooked up in that twisted head of yours. However, just like every other time, he finds himself slipping into your trap because he’s the boss. Your boss. Izuku doesn’t scold you unless you cause an actual issue, and even when you do, he’s reluctant. Doesn’t even know why, to be honest.

“What about you?”

You click your tongue, sinister grin sizzling on your cheeks as you push up from your spot, point and press his pen into his sturdy chest.

“No flowers for me?”

Izuku knows you don’t have any kids—if anything, he’s gathered that you might have a slight aversion to them, actually, much too alike his rival and best friend. But even if you did, it's not as if he gifts every childbearing employee of his agency a bouquet of flowers. Therefore.. what exactly are you on about?

You jab the pen into his sternum with more force as you quirk a brow, clear your throat, repeat yourself, “I asked you a question, Izuku.”

He won’t fall for your tricks again. He really doesn’t have the time.

“You shouldn’t refer to your su-superiors so informally. I’m busy, so if you could please leave..” He trails off, scooting his chair back as a signal for you to take your leave, but you have him gaping in shock in the next moment when you collapse onto his lap.

Your knees pinch at his waist as you plant yourself down, firmly, suspiciously—No, this is far past suspicious behavior. This is a violation!

But then you’re whining Izuku.. with that familiar, teasing pout across your face while you latch your hands onto the back of his neck, press your chest into his, bat your lashes up at him.

"You're not really this dense, are you? How are you the boss if you don't understand this?"

He should shove you off, march you out the door, write you up—something. Really, he should do anything but frustrate himself over your idiotic challenge. He's not dense, you're absolutely crazed, mad. Nothing you say ever makes sense.

But the combination of your expertly feigned innocence and belittling words has him scratching at his head, biting your bait.

"You want.. flowers?" He winces at the fact that he’s entertaining whatever the fuck this is. You shake your head no.

"You don't want flowers?" You frown, lean in close, close enough that he notices the smudged eyeliner along your waterline, the freshly showered scent of your shampoo, that new perfume of yours invading his brain.

“I want something you want.” Your hands slide around the column of his throat, teasing his jaw, collarbones, shoulders, unsatisfied until he gives you a shiver. You press your nose into his neck.

Izuku feels his spine tingling with the way you violate each and every one of his senses, mouth full of cotton, paralyzed.

“Something I want?”

“Mm, yeah. Something we want.” Your nails scratch at his chest, streaking down until your touch ghosts over his terribly well-formed obliques, your hips shifting closer, closer, ‘til Izuku’s painfully aware of the heat radiating from your core.

He swallows.

“Uh..”

You arch into him, eyes half-lidded, that dreamy look in your eyes that he’s only seen in his—

“Izuku?” He nods embarrassingly fast in response, palms itching to hold you, to touch you. Fuck.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Izuku, I want you to give me a..” You trail off, tucking your head beneath his chin, breath hot and heavy, his too.

“Give you a..?”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

Fuck. He feels his entire body throbbing, pulsating—so desperate. Why can’t you just say it? Fuck. His hips jerk forward just the slightest bit, to which you notice, and mewl a soft breath in reply. His eyes snap shut.

“C-Come on, just say it,” he pants into your hair, a timid hand rising to cup the back of your head. Anymore than that, and he might just cream his pants. You’re too much.

And over what?

“Izuku,” you cling to his arms, feel his biceps tense up at your touch as he tightens his hold on your head. “Want you to give me a baby, want you to m-make me a mother.”

“Fuck!” He hisses, rolling his hips into you once, shit, not even two times, before he feels his briefs soaking with cum. Completely untouched.

“You really want that from me?” It comes out as a whine, nasal, a plea of hope as his hand smoothes down your neck, the curve of your spine, dipping into your waist.

But then your shoulders give in, soft breaths, quick and airy chopping up the air. What—You’re..

You’re laughing?

You pull away, a hand slapped over your mouth to conceal your obnoxious laughter, corners of your eyes beading with tears. Tears?

“What?”

You choke up at his confusion, the way his cheeks burn brilliantly red, the fact that there’s a dark stain against the tight material of his hero suit, sweat pearling at his temples.

“What?” You repeat, mocking him as you let your grin show, poking a finger into his chest again, still beating faster than a hummingbirds, “You seriously fell for that? You really are dense, aren’t you?”

His ears feel like they’ll melt away with the way they burn in shame. You—You really..

With one final chuckle, you hop off his lap, staring down plainly at his lap, the wet patch, his shaky hands.

“Well..” You roll your eyes, swivel and make your way back around his desk, flicking his pen in his direction.

“If that’s something you’re actually interested in, you might wanna start with some flowers.”

He blinks, expression fallen, flat, blank, watching you sway your hips towards the door. You pause when his chair creaks, shifting with his sudden movement.

“Wait!”

You glance back at him, already smiling again.

“What kind of flowers?”

DO NOT RECOMMEND ANY OF MY WORKS ON TIKTOK.

[anime-nymph]

i would like a dickhead hinata please <3

How bout dickhead msby? Hinata is the main dickhead but this gave me the push I needed to write Meian.

Somehow this ended up 1.5k I’m not sure what happened but here we are

Tw: cheating (mutual- revenge sex), alcohol consumption (sex under influence), leaked nudes (dubious consent only bc of alcohol), implied group sex

"Move Meian." You grit your teeth angrily when the giant bastard levels a smirk at you, not budging from where he leaned against the closed door blocking your path.

"You really don't want to go in there princess, trust me."

"I said move." You swat his drink out of his hand, red solo cup splattering against the carpet, and he huffs angrily. It was a petty move sure, but you were pissed. Your boyfriend had been acting strange ever since he came back from Argentina and enough was enough; you'd ignored the signs for too long, blindly hoping you were being insecure and overreacting.

But your friend had sent you a snap of Hinata disappearing into this room with a woman in tow. Catching him in the act was the only reason you were at this godforsaken party.

"Fine." He scoffs, pushing off the door. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

You shove past him, throwing the door open.

Shock. Denial. Pain. Resentment. Anger.

The part that really made you ache was that Hinata didn't even look up, eyes closed blissfully as the other woman sucks on his throat while rolling her hips. Her whines and his groans filled your ears like the world's worst song track.

You're not entirely sure how long you stood there but finally, wordlessly, you turn around and stalk out of the room.

"Find what you were looking for?" Meian drawled, for some reason still hanging around outside, though he somehow had already had replaced his drink with a bottle of vodka. He drank straight from it as he studied your face.

You stare at him, without any heat this time as you struggle to contain the flow of numbness creeping through what felt like every pore of your body. You don't respond to the obvious rhetoric.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "So what're you gonna do now?"

What were you going to do? Your boyfriend was at this party getting his dick wet with the first whore to throw herself at him, and your gut was telling you this wasn't the first time. The more you thought about it, the faster your blood seemed to boil. You don't want to feel any of it anymore.

You snatch the bottle from his hand, and take a long pull from it, the liquid burning your throat and making your face twist up.

"First I'm going to get drunk." The look on Meian's face was amused, but he didn't stop you when you brought the bottle to your lips again. After swallowing, you tip your head back to look up at him, "And then you're going to fuck me."

"Oh?" Meian chuckles, not entirely taking you seriously when he takes the bottle back from you and has some more himself. Then he pauses as he takes in your expression, and sighs, dark eyes taking on a new look of interest.

The dark haired man towers over you and your back bumps against the wall as he steps into your space. Meian leans close and his breath, sweetened with alcohol, breezes over your face as he murmurs lowly to you, the deep timbre of his voice raising goosebumps across your skin.

"Listen princess. If you're looking for someone to talk you out of this, then you're talking to the wrong guy. I won't be the one to tell you that you're upset, that you aren't thinking straight, or to go home and sleep it off. You got me?"

You swallow, hardening your resolve. "Yes."

Meian smirks, finishing off the bottle. "Then let's go get you something to drink."

His hand dwarfs yours as he pulls you downstairs, back into the thick of the party. The music was loud, the people were loud. Cheers shook your eardrums as cup after cup was pushed into your hands until your head swam and your world spun. Only then did you let Meian take you to an empty guest room.

The door was kicked shut behind him as the large man picked you up, both of you laughing drunkenly as you pawed at each other's bodies, tearing off each other's clothes, teeth knocking as you kissed sloppily. Neither of you were very coordinated at the moment, Meian had matched you drink for drink and then some.

You took pleasure and comfort in the fact that Meian felt nothing like your boy- your ex-boyfriend. He was so warm, he moved slowly and sensually, and the why became quickly apparent as the middle blocker dug in a drawer of the nightstand. "This is Atsumu's place I know it's here." He slurs. Being drunk would never stop him from knowing he needs it.

He finally locates the bottle of lube and you give him a look. He laughs, "Trust me princess, you'll be grateful for it."

Oh yeah you were. When Meian was finally seated deep and snug in your warm walls, you felt as if you'd been hollowed out. And when he finally started to move, you couldn't stop the tears from falling at just how incredibly full you felt.

"Fuck, Shoyo's a dumbass. You've got such a tight little cunt." Meian growls, almost struggling to draw his hips back with how tightly you were squeezing his girth.

You were pretty sure any cunt would be tight to this absolute monster of a cock, but all thoughts quickly disappeared as fumbling fingers came down and starting rubbing circles around your engorged clit. You come undone instantly, his girth was already pressing on every sensitive point you had, squealing as you coated his thighs in your slick.

Your mind is wondrously blank, between the alcohol coursing your veins and the rush of endorphins you're unable to focus on anything except the mind-numbing pleasure of Meian carving out your insides. You don't even hear the middle blocker's phone ring, don't hear him answer, don't hear him slurring about "what an amazing pussy you're missing out on Shoyo".

He puts it on speaker and drops the phone to the bed so he can press both hands under your thighs, pushing them to your chest.

What you do hear is the sloppy squelch of his cock driving in and out of your sopping pussy, drenched with lube and cum. You do hear his hips slapping against your thighs, his ragged voice when he groans at you. "Who's fucking you so good y/n? Come on tell me."

"Shūgo! Oh fuck!" You moan loudly as the new angle has him slamming against your cervix with each thrust."

"Y/n? What the fuck Meian, what's going on?"

"Your girl found out, man. And she's pissed- fuck!" Meian growls as you clench down hard around his length when you realize what's happening.

"Not his girl." You slur sharply. "'M not anyone's girl." You scrabble blindly for the phone, whining as Meian delivers a particular brutal thrust that draws you closer to another earth shaking orgasm. Your hand closes around the device, pulling it closer to your face. "You're a cheating bastard Shoyo, how's it taste?"

You hang up and Meian's body shakes with laughter, "That'ta girl."

You flush at the pride warming his voice, sharing a grin with him that crumbles into something obscene as he picks up the pace. "F-fuck! Shūgo, more more! 'M gonna cum again."

"You're hot as hell when you're mad, shit you're gonna make me cum. You're on the pill right?"

You nod furiously, fingernails digging little crescents into his shoulders as you feel your own high approaching. Little groans burst from Meian's mouth amidst his pants, the little 'hahs' coming faster and louder with each thrust signaling how close he was to cumming. The sound was like sin personified, making your stomach muscles clench and tremble as your walls spasmed around his cock, clamping down on it as you cum. Your orgasm triggers his and Meian buries himself balls deep in your fluttering cunt, groaning as he empties his balls into you.

Between the alcohol and your post-coital bliss, it takes a moment for you to register the sound of his camera.

You lift your head to see Meian training his phone camera on your now gaping pussy, his cum already sliding down your pussy lips and dripping onto the bed. "What're you doing?" You mumble.

"Wanna really stick it to him?" Meian grins, turning the phone so you can see.

Your eyes widen as you see the message he's typed out, looking up at him to gauge whether or not he's serious.

"Its up to you princess."

Your head spins but you vaguely recognize that you're nodding, an embarrassed, sheepish grin curling your lips.

Meian chortles and hits send. Almost immediately his phone goes off with a series of notifications. “Seems like everyone’s down.”

MSBY GC

MS: Everyone’s welcome except Shoyo, by y/n’s invitation. (1 image attached)

BK: Holy Shit, is this for real???

MA: What room? I’m coming.

MA: That’s my fucking bed isn’t it.?

SK: You’re all disgusting.

SK: Save her mouth for me.

HS: You’re all assholes.

Meian narrows his eyes at the last text.

MS: You brought it on yourself man. Don’t get caught next time.

HS: 🖕

This was long enough that i felt the taglist was applicable <3

Taglist:  @lxvelylevi @cuillen @chaotic-fangirl-blog @kageyamakock @shadowkunoichi @ochakoakabane @sgwrscrsh @softandsweetbts @midnightsun30 @sigynelisa @arixtsukki @ukaisprincesss @softyamas @darlingg77 @ivybunbun  @cinnlikestowrite @marin-e-westward @aizawasass @alina2000 @briidge @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @kairilight662 @unfazedrose @starboychanyeol @planetofthebarbz @anejuuuuoy @bokutowo @cinnlikestowrite2 @elixhirs @emogril @satorisaur @ems1des @laura-marie-16 @zbops @clawsbox @keiiichan

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[terushimooo]

NECTAROUS

Extremely pleasing to the taste; sweet and fragrant

Aran x F! Reader

Summary: Some secrets are better kept under tight locks, while others… Others are better hidden in the basement.

T/w: pseudo inc*st (stepdad), dubcon/noncon, yandere, infidelity, monsterf*cking, implied noncon drugging, implied sugar daddy, and at the end, nomu Aran, piss and piss consumption (by nomu Aran), breath play, blood, beaks (incl. for Roco)

A/n: The cursed crossover you never knew you wanted. For my love, my clitcheese connoisseur, and my daddy Bee @nectarous​. Happy belated birthday you heathen (derogatory). I really don’t know anything about nomu’s, but in this Au, they can talk… (plz don’t bully me). Thank you so much to @rocorambles​ and @temptemi​ for editing this. Ily!!

There’s something off about your stepdad; something not quite right with the towering figure you’re forced to call family.

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