#R18+

[rexsterss]

My Codex Flash Exchange gift for @stargateinmybasement! They’re helping each other out 😌

Full image on AO3 (18+)

[wuahae]

svt cucking party on husbandhoshi dot tumblr dot com……

[sweet-evie]

On the NSFW side of things...

If Satoru Gojo is 6 foot 7 inches, that dick is AT LEAST 7-8 inches long (and proportionally girthy).

And I'm speaking for myself (as someone who only reaches the top of this man's arm), that's painful.... 🤣 COMPLETELY UNMANAGEABLE, DON'T AT ME!

Still my dream ride though. 😝😭

[lemonverbena777]

Really loving this angsty (explicit) IwaOi fic

[laikabu]

[yuki119]

gaara...i have no prompt for him just gaara. my childhood love

[aislinceivun]

Day 7: Protecting the other entry for radiostaticweek over on twt bonus art here loose follow-up comic here

[luv4fushi]

cw: nsfw. fem!reader & afab!reader minors dni (block my nsfw tag) ageless blogs dni

thinking about 20-year-old megumi who looks so much like his dad that of course the boy has girls staring at him everywhere he goes. he’s got the same brownish green eyes as his dad, the same dark hair, and the same face—and it doesn’t help that his stoic personality is like a flame to a swarm of moths. he’s tall, well-built from his years of training, and essentially a carbon copy of toji—maybe a little bit of gojo, too, because he’d been raised by the eccentric white-haired sorcerer.

“you look so much like your dad,” gojo says every chance he gets. he shivers and then scowls st the memory of toji.

everyone else claims he looks like gojo—only because he’s so pretty that it makes sense to be compared to the man who had raised him and not the sorcerer killer.

but what everyone doesn’t know is that megumi isn’t a carbon copy of toji or gojo. he’s got one thing that sets him apart physically and it’s his hands.

megumi’s hands are gorgeous. his fingers are long and a little thin. they’re a bit veiny too, which makes you drool even though you hate to admit it. he’s got piano hands and you shamelessly stare at them whenever he taps his fingers on surfaces. his cuticles are always moisturized and his nails are trimmed—he claims it’s because his shadows need to be accurate in order for him to summon them, but you know he’s just secretly into self care.

he lets you paint his fingernails black, admiring the way your tongue sticks out in concentration as you try to not get any nail polish on his skin.

when he holds your hand, he’s always rubbing patterns into your skin. it’s like he can’t physically touch you without savoring you as much as he can! his hands are everywhere—your hips, your arm, tucked on your lower belly for some odd, perhaps primal reason.

he likes to move you out of the way (you’re usually unaware of your surroundings when he’s with you because he’s just so safe to be around!) by gently pulling you to his chest with his smooth fingertips, his hand being large enough to nearly cover your entire side.

when you cry, he brushes underneath your eyes with his thumb, wiping off your salty tears before kissing you. his hands are large enough to cup your face and cover it at the same time, which he likes to do when you’re acting a little difficult.

megumi likes to wrap his hands around your neck, not ever squeezing enough to cut any airflow—he just likes the way his fingers look when they’re gripping your smooth skin. he likes trailing his fingertips over each of the possessive bruises that he tends to leave on your sensitive skin. it’s like a reminder to him (and you) that you’re his.

you love the way his hands look when they’re digging into your skin, squeezing your plush thighs as he greedily laps up your release. your cunt spasms at the sight of his fingers wrapped tightly around your thighs. “n-no more! ‘s too much, gumi! can’t—!” he only caresses your skin and forces your legs apart with those pretty hands of his, holding your soft thighs apart. your skin dips around his fingers and the view is so pretty that you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t release all over his face again.

your favorite sight—and his too—is when his long digits are pumping in and out of your cunt. you’re breathless and mewling his name, watching as his fingers break you down into mush. “cum for me, baby, i know you can do it. such a greedy girl sucking my fingers right in, hm?” sometimes he wishes he could see the way his fingers curl inside your body, pressing up against the spots he knows has you shuddering for him. after you finish from his fingers alone, he loves to slowly pull his them out, admiring the glistening slick coating them. “see this, baby? just from my fingers, you sensitive little thing. do you like my hands that much?”

you love megumi’s hands. that’s one thing about him that’s strictly him—you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

[persnickety-doodles]

But Korra's protests die on her tongue as Asami pulls her in for another kiss, and by the time they resurface their tea has long since gone cold.

Under Me, Over Me, Any Way You’ll Have Me by @korrasamibottles

I’m back with another inspired doodle! ☺️ Enjoy!

[crezz-star]

⚔️👒

Hunger

[slicesofapple]

Ushijima has a surprisingly

kinky streak, such that, at formal events, he likes to surreptitiously stick his hand down Oikawa's pants and finger his ass, all the while keeping up polite conversation.

[phasmophobia-territory]

The Ultimate YANDERE TYPES List | Extensive Graph and List

So I was doing research for my writing and I found a really good Yandere Types chart!

Full sources and links to further reading will be below in the notes!

And before getting into it, remember to read the trigger warnings and content warnings. This is Yandere fiction we’re talking about, so it’s going to get messed up.

Themes + Trigger Warnings + Content Warnings:

Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Unhealthy relationships, Religious themes, themes of sociopathy, themes of mental illness, hallucinations, delusions, hallucinations and delusions due to drugs, mentions of: physical abuse, sexual abuse, brainwashing, murder, suicide, murder-suicide, self-harm, stalking, panic attacks, cannibalism, necrophilia.   

{click to open and zoom in to see the details! I'm so sorry, mobile app users :(}

Broad types. Click them to see more information!

Possessive Type

Shackling Type

"Denpa" Delusional Type

Love and Hate Type

Intoxicated Type

Stalker Type

Sources:

This does not belong to me. I only gave a summary of what I read. ORIGINAL SOURCE LINKED HERE.

It's an English translation of material from an upcoming game called Yandere Town. UNTRANSLATED, ORIGINAL JAPANESE SOURCE LINKED HERE. I do not know when this game is coming out, but darn the details that went into this is crazy! It might help you out if you're writing anything yandere!

(Original translators, I have no problem with taking this down if you don't want me reposting your translation to my blog! ^_^)

♡If you want to see more content like this check out the Writing and Yandere Masterlist and if you want to learn about this blog check out all things sketchprincess02!♡

♡Please consider REBLOGGING and COMMENTING if this helps you!♡

[cimmanonrowl]

AARON HOTCHNER r18+ corner ☁️

Missionary is definitely one of his favourite positions. Not because he’s “basic” but because he gets off to the idea that he’s the one pleasuring you and he can hold you so close while doing so. Even in between earth-shattering orgasms where you could barely open your eyes, you would catch a glimpse of him watching you reach your peak— his eyes full of lust; primal, desperate, and filled with so much adoration.

“Oh, you like that, baby?” He would rasp tauntingly in your ear, his voice gruff and strained from his every movement. He would rest his sweaty forehead against yours and you would see in his eyes how he enjoyed seeing you crumble— his intelligent, independent, extremely capable woman reduced to a mere fucktoy all for his pleasure and carnal need.

Every so often you would feel the palm of his big hand pressing on your stomach, marveling how his cock rammed in and out of your delicate body.

“You feel that, love?” He would moan on your ear. “Fuck. You feel so good. You're the best little thing ever.”

All you can do is whimper and nod, clinging to him like he’s your lifeline, unshed tears threatening to spill at any given moment.

But you’re not the only one drowning in pleasure. Every fiber of Aaron’s sanity and resolution melts in your presence, all he wants to do is fill you with his seeds over, and over, and over again... until he’s sure you’re completely sated and dripping with his cum after.

[syatuoi]

reading old djs made me realize this was kiku back in the day… the og king of fudanshi. the man of yaoi deluluer. he is our god father. alpha.

[envyland]

⋆｡˚୨🥀☀️Baebatos୧˚｡⋆ I love him<3

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚🪽🪽.𖥔 ݁ ˖barbatos my sweet man ♡♡

[driaswrld]

🪷 — THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT. . . UNRELEASED PUBLICATION 01 !

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, this author has stumbled upon a shockingly salacious tale in the dark corridors of the gojo palace... 2.3k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader smut!! pure smut not tied into main plot, only an alternate of current storyline. fem reader, cunnilingus, creampie, yk the gist guys (also my first full smut piece 😵‍💫) for all the prince toru girlies who got their hearts SHATTERED </3

🪷 taglist : @yunymphs @prttyangelz @jaerang @rayahayumi @kurosaaki @ayanominitrash @lordbugs @xxemmarldxx @ltadoriyuujl @gods-landing @sabrinexx @aphroditisxc @sweeteaas @nikitopia @konekobby @loafgeto @/hanatoru

series mlist. prev. chapter

CHAPTER TWO (B) . . .˚ ༘ *

GRAPE FLAVORED : LACE EDITION.

Satoru dips his head in a swift motion, his mouth planting a ghost of a kiss to the corner of your lips, and his dimples deepen when your head moves forward to chase his taste, something you’ve never had but crave with every inch of your being.

“Satoru.” You whisper, desperate. He hates himself for wanting this so bad.

He doesn't make you wait long as he presses his lips to yours, it's rough, hungry — he sighs into your mouth, shoulders drooping like he’s finally found what he's been searching for all his life on your tongue.

He’s kissed you before, on the cheek, side of your neck, corner of your mouth — tasted the salty tears of your youth, licked his lips and drank in the remnants of your flavored lipgloss.

He was too young then, too foolish, too afraid to want more.

Satoru’s tongue slips past your parted lips, teeth on wet pink muscle and a shiver runs down his spine when he tastes you, truly tastes you for the first time.

Grape flavored and starving.

A guttural groan leaves his throat when you reach a hand out to tug at the front of his pants to pull him closer. The crowned prince’s knees buckle, digging deeper into the floor beneath him.

Do you even know all the ways a woman can be seduced?

“There's so much I could teach you,” his arms hook under your knees the moment your tongue tangles with his, free hand shifting the skirts of your dress and searching like a man on a treasure hunt. “So much you could learn, pretty.”

“Teach me,” you plead, lips wet and chest already heaving.

Satoru murmurs a sound of disapproval against your neck, his tongue sucking the skin at the collar of your throat. “Not yet, have’ta give you a gift of my own first.”

( so he is jealous then ? )

Your thighs shiver when his cold hands snake under your dress, your arms looping around his neck to tug him closer to your body.

“Why do they put you in so many layers— s-shit.” His complaints falter when his palm cups the lace adorning your heat.

Satoru Gojo isn't a pious man, but this must be a gift from God.

“You're too fucking good.” Satoru groans, scooting back on his knees to hike up the layers of your dress.

He has to see the color of your panties. Has to see the lace design he knows is strewn across your pretty pussy— because you're a lace girl, never silk, Suguru doesn't know you, hasn't known you the way Satoru has.

It's vulgar.

“Satoru, waitwait—!” Falls on deaf ears, because he’s already hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your lacy panties, pulling the fabric to stretch, playing with it as your folds slick up, a wet patch forming.

He toys with the edges of the lace, pulls and pulls until he lets it snap back against your front, his breathing going ragged with each sharp inhale you take.

He likes playing with you like this.

“Look at that.” Satoru pulls your panties to the side, your cunt clenching around nothing. “Pretty girl ‘s crying for me. . .” He spreads your folds with his index and middle, his cock straining against his pants, begging for relief.

“Don't just look at it like that— you're odd!”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, rubbing his thumb over your pulsing clit, flicking the bud teasingly. “Don't break my heart, princess.”

There's an undertone to his words as he sinks two fingers into your weeping whole, pumping against spots you couldn't reach with your own.

Satoru bullies his fingers into you, searching endlessly for something he thinks he’ll never find.

tell me no one’s touched you like this, tell me it's only me, tell me it’s not him—

Your hips rise to rock against his fingers and he stifles a laugh, almost bitterly. He knows better, but you're as better as the best gets.

“Hold this f’me, yeah?” Before you can question it, the skirts of your dress are bunched into your lap as Satoru’s head dips between your thighs.

“Fuck—” your mouth goes agape as his tongue licks a fat stripe up your folds, his fingers scissoring and stretching you open in time with his licks, tongue flattening and curling and flattening and curling. “How do you even—”

how many girls have you kissed like this?

Satoru mumbles something against your clit that you don't hear, but it vibrates through your core as his tongue slips into your hole, eagerly fucking you and sucking up your juices.

Now this is a royal scandal.

“Tastes just as sweet as I knew it would,” he moans, grinding his hips against the foot of the sofa, using his other arm to push against your knee, spreading you wider for better access. “Would go to war for this pussy, baby.”

Your head spins.

You knew of Satoru's. . . appetites as a Prince.

But experiencing it firsthand? Every lap of his tongue at your entrance, every stretch of his fingers has you seeing stars.

“‘Toru—! mmph, too much,” Your hips buck against his mouth, your head falling back against the window.

The night air doesn't help cool your skin with how hot your entire body feels.

“Too much?” Satoru repeats, mockingly. His cheeks hollow as he curls his fingers, pressing against that spongy spot that has your hips quivering, lips suckling your bundle of nerves. “C’mon, you cryin?”

“M’ not— not crying. . .” You sob, thighs squeezing around his head. He slides his fingers out of you, using both hands to hike your legs over his shoulders. “So good, it's so good.”

You feel him grin against your cunt as he dives back in, his tongue and fingers tag teaming between abusing your clit in harsh circles and thrusting into your drooling hole.

He’s getting off to the praise, his hips pressed firm against the sofa as he whines against you, your ankles crossed between his shoulder blades, heels digging into his back. “Can't get enough of you.”

“Please, wan’ta cum—” Tears escape the corner of your eyes, your thighs trembling and walls convulsing around his fingers. “Gonna cum— mhm, stopstop—!”

Satoru groans against your cunt when your back arches and your hips drive against his face like a woman possessed, his nose brushing your clit just right as your high hits you hard.

“I’ll replace these.” Satoru rasps, pulling away from you with a soft squelch.

“Replace? What do you—” You can't see the expression on his face with how his head’s hidden under your dress, but your heart pounds in your chest when his fingers wrap around one of your ankles in a soft caress.

The realization hits you then, as the liquid cools and fabric sticks to the inside of your thigh.

He’s talking about your panties.

“Lace is so pretty on you,” he murmurs, fiddling with the buttons of his pants, careless to his haphazard movements as his cock springs free, curved at an angle and beading with precum at the tip. “You don't know what you do to me, I swear.”

Lace.

Like the glove you gifted him your favor with.

Your face floods with heat when he flips the rest of your dress up, your gaze never leaving his hardened cock, the way it looks so angry at you.

It comes to you then as he looks up at you, snowy hair matted, nose to chin glistening with your slick and eyes hung low.

Prince Satoru, your childhood bestfriend, just ate you out.

And he's about to fuck you.

Satoru grasps both your ankles, letting his grip trail down to your thighs as he rises to his feet.

“You're a lady. A Princess— fuck,” Your hand reaches down to wrap your fist around his hot length, and it jolts to your touch.

You deserve better, he wants to say. Better than having your legs spread open for him in a dark corridor.

“Forgive me.” Satoru pushes your thighs down to meet your chest, effectively folding your body in half for him.

i'm sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry — i love you, i’m jealous.

And you whine, your arousal dripping down your thighs, still not fully recovered from your first high. “I'm gonna fuck you like anything but a lady.” His hot length bucks forward through your fist to bump against your folds and you bite your lip at the sensation.

He’s painfully hard and spilling precum, slipping back and forth across your pussy lips.

“Let me in, princess, please, I need you.” You pump his length in a few languid strokes and he shudders as you guide his cock to prod at your entrance. “I’ll fucking die if I don't—”

With bated breath and barely any restraint, Satoru rocks his hips forward, his tip sinking between your puffy folds and popping in.

“Pretty girl.” He moans, pushing forward until he's buried to the hilt, his cock curving to prod against your insides, deep.

“Satoru—” You gasp, your walls clenching at the penetration and his brows dip as he leans over your body, kissing the side of your neck. “I know, baby. . . fuck, squeezing me so tight—”

“C-can't help it,” you whimper as he rolls his hips forward, slow at first, so you feel every inch of him filling you up, like you were hollow before this.

Satoru lets out a sharp whine, almost girlish when he picks up the pace, fucking himself into you with deep slams, one hand leaving your thigh to tug at the front of your dress, using it as grip to fuck you rougher.

It's desperate.

“Hear that?” He whispers against your skin, each pump of his hips has his balls slapping against your ass in loud wet smacks, your cunt squelching around his cock, all sensitive and gushing for him, just like he imagined.

“We're kissing down there, pretty.” He chuckles breathily.

You’d scold him but you chuckle between a moan, his hips jerking forward harshly at how your pussy squeezes him in just from that. “I-it’s so hot—”

“Sucking me in— so needy,” he grunts, slipping his other hand between you to roll your sensitive bud under his thumb. “So loud and filthy, knew you wanted this as much as I did, baby. Wanted me to fuck you like this for so long, hm?”

“Satoru!” Your back arches off the sofa as you bite back a sob, your hips rocking to meet each of his thrusts. “Wanted it— wanted you so bad.”

“Who’s making you feel so good, huh?” Satoru pants, pressing his weight down onto your body, caging you under him as his thrusts become borderline feral, the top of your dress beginning to rip from the strength of his grip. “Say it, shit, say it—”

tell me it's me and not him. tell me only i can make you feel this good.

“Y-you,” you choke out, your lungs burning as you try to catch your breath.

Satoru slows his thrusts to a grind, unsatisfied with your answer, fucking you shallow and drawing it out, his tip pressing against your sweet spots making you see white.

“Princess,” he grunts in warning, applying more pressure to your clit, your body writhing beneath him. “Don't tell me that pretty little head ‘s all fuzzy now.”

“‘Toru, please—” Your palms push at Satoru’s chest, nails digging into his shirt, the coil in your core wound tight and teetering at the edge, but he won't push it past the edge. Not yet. “It's you, my Prince— ‘s you, Satoru!”

Your Prince.

You barely get the last syllable out before he’s bullying his cock into you in harsh strokes, the sweet plap plap plap of his body against yours is drowned out by all the things he whispers in your ear, only me, nobody else, you’re mine, gonna fuck you full so you won't forget.

“Wanna cum, ‘toru,” you cry and he bites down on your shoulder, as he exchanges his grip on your thighs for your your hips, pulling you onto him as he fucks into you with reckless abandon, sweat collecting at his brow.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?” Satoru presses his mouth against yours in a disoriented kiss, moaning into your mouth as your walls convulse around him, his cock twitching and swelling inside you. “Cum all over my cock baby, make your Prince a mess.”

Your hips move on their own, your body flushing with pleasure and the coil inside your belly snapping, giving way to your second high.

Your legs wrap around Satoru’s waist, pulling him impossibly deeper into you while you climax, his own breathing going short.

“T-tight, fuck, gonna make me cum—” Satoru lets go of your hips and reaches for your hands, interlacing them with his above your head, his thrusts growing sloppy as he gets closer.

“Look at me, yeah, look at me when you make me cum. Look at what you do to me, pretty.”

Satoru pushes his body flush against yours as his cock twitches, his hips stuttering and nose pressed against yours, mouth open with a loud moan when he unloads, spilling himself inside you in thick spurts.

He hugs you close to his body with a few soft thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you with broken whines, his body slumped atop yours as he rides out the rest of your highs, the air cooling and settling.

“Think I got carried away,” Satoru whispers, pressing gentle kisses across your face, and a chaste one to your lips as he catches his breath, cheeks flushed pink.

“You think?” You pant, biting back a laugh, to which he buries his face in your neck. “We need to go—”

“Don't feel like it,” he mumbles, nuzzling close to you, and your eyes flit to the window, taking in the stars.

You bring a hand up to card through his hair, and he sighs at the feeling.

“But, the ball—” You try to protest, but he cuts you off by squeezing you close to him, impossibly close. “And the grape juice—”

“I’ll replace the dress too.” Satoru whispers. “Nothing else matters— just a little longer.”

You feel him smile into your neck and you roll your eyes, laying your head back with an exasperated sigh of your own.

“Just a little longer, then.”