The Answer Is Still You.

mimi i'm 100% sure u made me into a thirsty bitch for tsumu, like i'd read the fics and they were good! but idk he just never peaked my interest outside of that but today...idk i saw a post abt baby tsumu on twitter and i immediately thought what it'd be like with me in a mating press and him just going balls deep to make tiny tsumus sjfbdbfjshs breeding kink go brrrr😳

he would fill you up so good too, he’d hold you down and make sure you can feel every inch, sinking into you slow and deep to feel just how good your soft walls hug him tight. you tremble underneath him and dig your nails into his shoulders as he bottoms out, full, massive balls resting against you. 

“that’s my girl, look at that, you took it all,” he breathes, just barely starting to thrust in and out, wanting to savour the way your cunt throbs around him when he’s fully buried inside you. “squeezing me so tight, baby,” atsumu groans, “look at me.”

your eyes flutter open to dark, honeyed eyes, lidded and searching for any signs of hesitation in your expression. “pretty.” 

atsumu starts to pull out slowly, hissing through his teeth and shuddering when he stops halfway through his movement, fingers pressing into the backs of your thighs. “relax, you’re—ahh—can barely move, shit.” 

“s-sorry, tsumu.” your apology comes out slurred as you shoot him a dazed smile. “guess you’re gonna have to stretch me out, then...”

excitement flashes through atsumu’s eyes at the challenge and he pushes your thighs back further, pulling out only to thrust back in sharply. “yeah?” you both moan on the way back in, atsumu repeating the movement over and over until you’re begging, pleading for him to just fuck you already.

“pretty girl wants to get fucked, huh? i’ll do ya one better, baby.” atsumu finds his rhythm and thrusts into you, his slightly curved cock slamming right into your g-spot with every push of his hips. “gonna breed this hungry cunt,” he pants, speeding up, “fill your little womb up with cum and make you a mommy for me, yeah? how’s that sound?”   

kita senpai just the thought of it and im drooling

KITA SENPAI !!!!

"kita senpai always takes good care of me!", you tell your parents at the dinner table, your brother staring at you with suspicious eyes as you talk about his best friend and your new life as a college student. you know he'd never badmouth shinsuke or even dare to think bad of him – why would he?

your kita senpai always treats you and everyone around him with great respect and care; he just wants everyone to feel safe and comfortable since he knows how difficult life as a freshman can be so he tries his best to be as much of a help for you as possible.

he always helps you with your notes, carrying your groceries to your dorm, picking you up and dropping you off at friends' houses, makes sure you're always safe and sound because even though he cares about everyone in his life, you're his favorite kouhai and what kind of senpai would he be if he didn't take extra good care of you?

and it's always your kita senpai who buries his tongue inside of your sopping wet cunt every single morning before sending you off to your lectures because he knows how nervous and anxious you get so early into the day.

and it's that precious senior of yours who shoves your face into the backseat of his car as he spanks your little cunt for a good ten minutes to make sure you cum all over his cock as soon as he slowly pushes himself all the way inside of you.

and of course it's kita senpai who becomes the daddy you beg for whenever you've been trying to finger yourself but haven't managed to cum because nothing feels as good as his touch. calling him with soft little sobs and cries because of how badly you need him to take care of you because he's your precious kita senpai after all- what kind of senior would he be if he just left you hanging like that?

Inertia | Yandere!Childe x GN!Reader

Drabble | Warnings: Toxic relationship, cycle of abuse, mental breakdown, anxiety attack, slight religious themes, not proofread, what is this, childe being a lil’ bit oot, depression, being the only person childe has loved, begging, ok idk what else to put. poot.

What is it?

What is it that made him feel like this?

This unexplainable feeling coursed through his head: dread, like zaps of electricity running beneath his skin, muddying his mind; his ability to utter words gone as if his voice box was stolen. He tries to calm down, inhaling the air that carried your lingering scent, but his thoughts betray him—laughing at his stupidity, at his naivety.

A chuckle escapes his lips. He grips the roots of his hair in frustration, a scream threatening to spill past his throat. You’re not here. You left. You truly left him alone. His brow furrows, his chuckles morphing into a laugh. Of course you would leave; you’re too good for him—a gift from God for the little good deeds he’d done—or perhaps a form of pity for what he’d gone through. For once, he was content with life. He was grateful for what he had, what he could do, and for you.

Though it was short-lived. He supposes God isn’t kind, that maybe he doesn’t deserve happiness—

No,

God doesn’t exist. Who is he kidding? He’d never believed in someone that could save him until he’d met you. Perhaps you are his God. The way you talk, your overflowing curiosity, your subtle smiles, and your hazy, lidded eyes every time you met his gaze—just fuck, just how is he going to live without you?

But why? Why would you do this? Maybe you were being manipulated, he thought. By your own mind, perhaps. You would never leave him. Ever. He knows you well; the person who worried over the smallest wounds over his skin and cared for every little bad happening in his life would NEVER leave him. Perhaps you were kidnapped? He looks around, but what had left of you was an empty, lightless, disheveled room. Void of anything, like the feeling that started to creep into his mind.

“(Y/N)!” He screams, desperate for any signs of you. A little rustle, a hitch of a breath—anything. Please. He couldn’t do this without you, “Please, darling. Please don’t do this to me. Please.”

You swallow the bile that had risen to your throat. It’s pitiful that you’re a slave to his words, and that he’s a wreck without you. You watch as the ginger’s shoulder droop, a silent, choked plea leaving his form; the strong fatui warrior no longer existing, leaving a lonely shell only you recognize.

Do you love him?

The question hangs at the back of your mind. He needs you. But Childe doesn’t have the healthiest mind, and you know that better than anyone. Is it worth it to go through that suffering—to have him do whatever he thinks fit so he could ‘protect’ you—to have no control over your life? All of that, just to hold him in your hands? To calm him down, retelling the same words,

“I’m here, Ajax. I’m here. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Everything is fine.”

And you return yourself to the same cycle.

“(Y/n)?” He sniffs. Doe, teary cerulean eyes stare at you—they glimmer with hope, before a strong pair of arms hugs your form, “Don’t… don’t do this to me. I’ll.. go mad. I’ll go mad.”

But you already are, you silently repeat, you already are. You stroke the ginger’s head tenderly. It’s a cycle you can’t escape; a tunnel with no end.

A/N: Yes, i’m sorry for not posting lately. i am,, currently facing finals and all i can remember is thermodynamics formula (help). HOWEVER! i do have a lot of drafts so.. i’ll spoil you soon? 

if you’re curious, i do have a yandere childe series draft. i’ll publish it later <3

behind closed doors | vi. best seat in the house

a/n: the weather is fucking hot which made writing this so difficult D; regardless and as usual, i hope you all enjoy kuroo being a little tease!! hehe

warning: smut (starts under the cut); face-sitting; overstimulation; 69

your relationship with kuroo was fun, with playful banter and laughter always echoing off the walls of your shared apartment. pillow fights and tickle wars were a frequent occurrence, as were lazy weekends lounging on the couch while binging shows. and that was exactly what you were doing at the moment, much to kuroo’s dismay.

“babe, let me watch my drama!” you whined, flinching away from him as he poked your side repeatedly.

“you’ve been watching the whole day! you know all that screen time isn’t good for you,” he lectured, shuffling closer to you. his hands brushed over your sides, bubbling laughter in your throat as you tried to swat them away. but kuroo’s hands were bigger and stronger, easily resisting as he continued to tickle you and procure stifled chuckles out of you. until finally—

“kuroo! you know what, you’re gonna regret this!” having had enough, you ripped your attention away from the riveting climax of your drama unto your boyfriend, immediately tackling him down. his back hit the couch as you straddled his chest, trying to find all his sensitive spots.

“is this what you wanted? i’m going to tickle you until you can’t breathe so i can finally watch in peace,” you huffed, kuroo laughing more at how cute you were rather than from your attempts to tickle him back. his hands easily wrapped over your wrists, restraining you while you squirmed above him. amused and a little aroused from all your spunk, his eyes wandered down your figure. he glossed over the outline of your breasts unconstrained by a bra and your noticeable lack of shorts under his oversized shirt, but his attention was fixated on your burgundy lace panties.

flicking his eyes back up to meet yours, he clicked his tongue to get your attention. “you think i wouldn’t notice your little lace secret, kitten?”  

the growl in his voice kindled a fire that swept through your insides as you closed your legs. but kuroo’s hand was quick to move, grasping and pushing your thigh back to give him more access to you. “…all my underwear are still in the wash so— k-kuroo!”

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— 𝕤𝕒𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕖

1.1k words | smut | sex under the influence, alcohol, porn without plot, creampie, minor daddy kink because i said so, one (1) french word | akaashi keiji 

“those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.” ― william blake, the marriage of heaven and hell

a.n. shorter than usual. i blacked out when i wrote this; pls be gentle. 

“kaashi-“ you murmur as his drunken lips graze yours, “kaashi, we shouldn’t.”

the party around you is still in full swing. purple and blue lights glow dimly in the crowded living room as the patterns on the walls slip and slide out of focus. akaashi swears he isn’t that drunk- swears that it’s just because of the lights and the music and the taste of your lips on his that he’s rendered into a puddle of lust coated desire, desperate for every ounce of your touch.

“my room,” he breathes lowly, drawing you into another heated kiss, “i wanna ravish you, pretty girl.”

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𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙳

rhi, this is for you ♡ remember when you said mafia seijoh and i said i’d write it?? but then i got super distracted with other fics and never did the thing? weLL I FINALLY FINISHED IT. she’s cut up into two parts bc i didn’t want to make it too long but part 2 should be up soon for @yanderexbabydoll​ & massive, big fat ty to @xplosiveboy​ 

.wordc. 3k+ tw mafia!big 4, noncon, sexual harassment, yandere, coercion

horrid pt 2

It was written somewhere in your favorite library, on a vacant page of the grimy literature textbook stuffed between two shelves maybe, you read it just once. Back then you didn’t care much for the radical, unwilling to trust the faith of someone destroying what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Long, curved words littering the white; claiming full of hate that the poison our mind makes is the most powerful decay, that humans are the most horrid of creatures. 

Back then you’d closed the book, sliding it back into place and tucking the knowledge far back into your mind, unwilling to use such a straight-set line of thinking on a world which had given you life, gifted you virtue and loudness. So terrifying; but splendid. You had swallowed, light and unwavering in the knowledge that you were still capable of processing, and giving kindness. You had settled above the cold of those words, thinking them sickly and rotten.

But you didn’t forget, the fire of them on the curve of the page. Or rather, you couldn’t.

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Tired

Jamie Varon