#jjk shigemo
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
ambafaerie · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The villains don’t want it but they are living through the fans horniest dreams
6K notes · View notes
kqtnap · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
im sooo sick of seeing smut of minors normalized on this app..
There is an unbelievable amount of smut and weird posts about minor characters on here. ( e.g: the students at kyoto/jujustu high, the majority of haikyuu characters, project sekai, my here academia students and SO many more.)
I feel like this shouldnt be a conversation that anyone should have to have because it should be obvious to everyone that it is NOT okay to write smut about CHILDREN.
And ive seen people try to excuse their actions by saying “oh well im younger than them so its okay!!” “theyre just fictional characters it isnt that deep!!”, neither of those things make it okay because they are still MINORS whether you think it’s okay or not.
It isnt that hard to not be a weirdo and some of you guys need to get that through your heads!!! and I dont care if you think im being ‘dramatic’ im just saying what i think is true.
and i’ve noticed its usually a bunch of big creators and they ALWAYS get away with it and everyone eats it up like its normal. As someone with a small following its weird no matter your following.
( P.S my tags are random just to get you’re attention please don’t pay them any mind >_< )
bye bye :P
Tumblr media
760 notes · View notes
juniperarts · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The reason behind that hair grab 🤭
Nanami's actor is Danish. He's equalivalent to Cillian Murphy in personality and temperment.
Nobara's actress is British-Spanish and currently lives in London. She a pretty similar to Nobara in terms of personality but much more chill in temperment.
Shigemo's actor is American. Idk he seems like he grew up in either southern California, the bay area, or Ohio.
This interview is heavily inspired by Robert Downey Jr gushing over Cillian Murphy during their interviews for Oppenheimer.
3K notes · View notes
kinbari14 · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Move, it's my turn
1K notes · View notes
luxites · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
at least someone's having fun in Shibuya
489 notes · View notes
the-chikyuu-times · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
572 notes · View notes
yazzydream · 5 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
―済の目― (End of the Road)
100 notes · View notes
neo--queen--serenity · 1 year ago
Text
manga: Nanami beats up Shigemo, wins
MAPPA: pwp, daddy kink, dom/sub, dirty talk, dubcon, begging
729 notes · View notes
piisuke · 1 year ago
Text
Nanami Kento said I want that twink obliterated
Tumblr media
538 notes · View notes
senjo · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
511 notes · View notes
after-witch · 1 month ago
Text
Horrorfest: The Killer Always Comes Back For One Last Scare [Yandere Haruta Shigemo x Reader]
Title: The Killer Always Comes Back for One Last Scare [Haruta Shigemo x Reader]
Synopsis: You're the last one alive--or so you think.
Horrorfest prompt: When I saw you post wanting to write a Mean Thing for Haruta JJK, my mind immediately jumped to now requesting "reader-chan thinking they killed him and got away, but surprise! His luck technique" in the way slasher films trick you
Word count: 2010
Notes: yandere, reader is female, descriptions of death, gore, groping, sexism, Haruta being Haruta
Tumblr media
The blood–oh, the blood. You’ll never get the blood out of your clothes. They’ll have to be burned.
No–they’d be burned no matter what. Because even if the soaked-in red could be removed and laundered and done away with, you would always see it. You would always smell it. You would always feel it, warm at first and now dry and tacky, damp against your skin. 
Most of it wasn’t even yours, after all.
It was theirs–your colleagues–your friends–
Nao, her body sprawled face-down, neck sporting a boot print; blood soaked through the stab wounds through her chest, her back and the highest part of her thigh. The last was close to her backside, and the killer had laughed about it. “I almost got her cute little ass!”
Kei, killed the simplest. Killed first. Stabbed through the gut. “I’d rather play with you girls alone,” the killer said. He wasn’t lying. Because Shika–
Shika, flat on her back, eyes wide in horror. Her face was a canvas of pain, stab wounds on her cheeks, one of them flayed and flapped open, hanging down her jaw. Her hands–what was left of them, they were stubs of missing fingers now, defense wounds–were splayed upwards. In desperation, in prayer. In growing rigor mortis. 
A glance around you only makes you want to tear at your hair, your skin, to collapse on the ground and die alongside them. Hell, with your blood loss, that might still be an option.
Fuck–This was supposed to be a simple mission. An easy one. The plan was to meet for dinner and drinks afterward. Nao would get too drunk on cocktails and Kei would ask her out again and Shika would slap him and you would laugh and laugh and–it’ll never happen now. Not ever again.
You are the only one left alive. And it’s not fair, really. It’s not right.
Your colleagues–your friends, after years of working together–weren’t any stronger than you. They weren’t any weaker, either. You were the reconnaissance team. Trained in basic combat so you might hold your own until actual help arrives, but your techniques were defensive, strategic. 
It was always the next wave of sorcerers who were meant to do the real fighting, while your team got the information, relayed it to just the right people, then got the fuck out of there. And today? Today, you did get the information, and you did relay it to just the right people. 
But just as you were planning to make your swift and necessary exit, everything went to shit. The single curse user that you were meant to be tailing (a weaker man, you’d noted; his sword held his hand for him, of all things) turned out to be two. And the second had a technique that hid him from your sight until just the right moment, unleashing a barrier that kept you contained–an ambush. 
The second curse user didn’t even bother coming inside, and there was a brief sense of relief that rippled through your team. You could deal with one low level curse user. This other man, blonde and thin and wearing a stupid outfit and a stupider grin, could surely be fended off until help arrived.
Or so you thought.
He’d grinned widely before counting the lot of you with his sword in hand–
“One, two, three… four.” 
His gaze lingered on Nao, on Shika. And then on you. Longer than the others? Maybe. It was hard to tell, then and especially now, with the adrenaline. And the blood loss.
Speaking of–
You grunt and rip off a piece of your tattered suit, then another, and another. You’ll have to wrap your wounds yourself, now that you’re–now that you’re alone. Help will arrive soon, and since the curse user is finally dead, and the barrier is gone (perhaps his second simply gave up, when he died?) all you have to do is survive until someone comes to help you.
Which should be any minute now, surely.
They will come before you finish wrapping your wounds, even; there’s a hope you cling to, while you carefully gauge which of your injuries is most at risk for killing you. Probably the stab wound in your side. It went in deep. It hurt–it still hurts–and blood is still seeping out. There’s a strange sort of pain with this wound. Something that almost tingles. Perhaps he hit an organ. Or an artery. Or both. 
The cuts on your arms and legs, no, that’s superficial. Meaningless. You don’t bother with them, instead going for the deeper wound, wrapping it with as many pieces as you can. Blood seeps through, despite the efforts. But that's all you can do. 
A pained sigh, more of a whine, escapes your lips as you lean against the old fountain in the center of the square. On the off chance that the second curse user came back, sitting here was an awful idea. But you were tired. You were dying. And sitting here gave you the best chance at rescue.
It also gave you the best sight of the curses that had seeped their way out of your body, that of your friends as they died. They were nothing much. Bitter, scared things. Whining and whimpering, much like you were doing; much like the rest of them did as they died.
But it would be over soon. You could go home. Call your parents and tell them you love them, consider how to pick up the pieces, and maybe in time you–
“You’re still here! I’m so happy!”
The warmth of slowly bleeding out is cut through with ice that runs up and down your weary limbs, stopping at your chest to make sure your heart begins to race so hard that the pain of it has you leaping to your aching feet.
“You…” The words come out of your lips without energy. It’s impossible. You’re dreaming. No: you’re dead. That must be it. Dead and this is what you hallucinate as your brain fires off all those lovely synapses. 
But it’s not a dream, and you’re dead. Not yet.
The curse user is standing in front of you, looking almost cheerful. His sword is back in his hand–back to holding his hand–and the wound that should have killed him, the ragged slicing of his neck that you managed with a broken pane of glass, is healed up. The only sign of it are dried rivulets of blood covering his neck and chest.
He glances down at it, following your gaze.
“Weird, huh? I’m just really lucky, you know!” When he looks back up, his eyes are wild. But not with anger, as you might expect. No–his eyes shimmer with glee.
There’s only one thing your brain can think to say to him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
His eyes widen. His lips get thin. He seems to be thinking seriously, perhaps for the first time in his whole damn life. And then, his face begins to shake–a little at first. His lips twitch into a smile. Then he throws back his head and laughs. Loud, giddy. It hurts your ears and you long to cover them up.
“I like to have fun,” he says, taking a step closer. 
Your eyes dart here and there, but where is there to run? You’re exhausted. Bleeding profusely. You wouldn’t make it around the corner.
When your pathetic gaze makes it back to him, he grins wider.
“And I really like weak things. You’re a weak thing, aren’t you?” He licks his lips as his eyes travel up and down your weakened, bleeding body. “All women are.”
There’s a retort somewhere in you; some indignity that might flare up and have you glaring, spitting at him, all defiance and swollen anger. But that retort has been stabbed out of you, chased out of you as your legs twisted and turned within the barrier. 
The retort is blubbering in the blood seeping out from underneath your torn suit bandages. 
“Aw,” he coos. “See? You can’t even speak.” He makes an awful noise, a gleeful little moan. “I want to hear you scream again, though.” His gaze flicks at Nao and Shika. “They made wonderful noises as they died. So pitiful.” His voice cracks at the last word, like a boy in puberty. 
At this, your body does finally try to run away. It has to; you can’t just stand here and die, no matter how tired you are. So your gaze hovers to the left before your bled-out mind decides it’s the best direction to go, carrying your weakened, jelly-like legs a few steps. 
A stupid thing to do, but since when were primal instincts always smart? 
“Oh!” He croons, just in time for your knees to buckle, for your body to hit the pavement hard. 
His footsteps sound too loud against the ground as he approaches you. You’re about to die. He’ll either kill you quick or slow but either way, you’re dead. 
Well, you think. At least I won’t have to live with survivor’s guilt. But mom-dad-sis-friends-neighbors-my-dog–growing-up-on-a-quiet-street-the-time-I-fell-down-at-the-playground-my-first-kiss-and–
All bittersweetness, all those momentary flashes of your life before your dying eyes are replaced with blinding hot pain searing through your ass. His sword–
“Bull’s-eye!” The laughter from behind you is too giddy for the blood-stained scenery. “Ah, should I try your tits next? Women always squeal when I…”
Whatever he says next is lost when the world gets topsy-turvy. The pain in your side and ass and body sears hot as you’re turned around by the curse user. You’re too weak and he’s not exactly strong–if only the second team had gotten here–but he’s strong enough to manhandle you, to hold you up by your wrists and fling you back to the ground so that you land on your back.
He straddles you, pressing his knees into your open wound. You scream–it must be you screaming, everyone else is dead–and he rolls his eyes backward lewdly. 
You hear the sword clatter to the ground and there’s almost relief in you, before you feel his hands roughly groping your breasts. It hurts. Not because he’s particularly rough, though it’s entirely possible; but because your entire body hurts. 
And maybe because, despite the knowledge of your imminent death and the gaping wounds on your body, you can still feel shame. 
“These are so cute,” he murmurs, voice half-laughing. “I wonder if I could cut them clean off.” His eyes glance towards his sword just as you whimper.
A pitiful sound. A small sound. A sound that attracts this vulture-like predator as readily as any mouse in the desert.
He leans forward, cooing softly. “You don’t want that?” 
You shouldn’t. It wouldn’t matter. It’s not going to change anything. But you can’t help it; fear of even more pain wins out.
“Please don’t,” you croak. “Please.”
The sigh that escapes his lips is practically sinful. 
And then–worse than death–you can see an awful thought blossom behind his eyes.
 “You know, I’ve been thinking–” He leans in close, breath hot and stale on your face. Spittle flies onto your cheek. “Since you’re so weak… and since you’re really the prettiest one… I might just keep you alive…”  
His tongue sneaks out like a worm and licks a trail up your cheek, catching tears and blood in one go. Your body jerks all too feebly, a blow to your dignity and primal desire to get the fuck away from him. 
You don’t want to die. But do you want to live, when this is the alternative?
He doesn’t care to find out your answer; instead, he licks another trail down your face, dragging blood–some yours, some not–into your mouth. You sputter, and he bites your bottom lip when you try to jerk your head away.
You whimper again–soft, pitiful, trapped. 
He only grins, and you can hear the sharp slice of the sword dragging against the pavement as it finds its way back into his hands. 
“It’s like you were made for me, right? Poor thing.” 
146 notes · View notes
bobby-apples · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Haruta and Nanami cooking for my fic
266 notes · View notes
kqtnap · 2 months ago
Note
Hi, 🌹
I hope you are well.
I am writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for help.
My family is in a very dangerous situation due to the war that has destroyed everything we own, and I have launched a GoFundMe campaign to save them.
I would like you to help us and share the link on social media,
from the bottom of my heart I would like to thank you in advance for all your support and kindness.🙏
PLEASE HELP THIS FAMILY !!!
Tumblr media
anything will help even if it is just a small donation to them, and if you cannot donate please reblog, share and spread this message.
to donate to them their gofundme is !!!
https://gofund.me/66214924
please share this if you can to help these innocent people, its the least we can do considering their lives are in jeopardy every single day without a break and most of us do nothing on our phones all day and actually have a chance to enjoy life, BUT THEY DONT because they are in danger almost all day, every single day.
and again if you cant donate REBLOG, SHARE, AND SPREAD THIS MESSAGE to literally anyone you can and on literally any social media platform you can literally save someones life and by doing this.
90 notes · View notes
quehecke · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
top 10 useless twinks i love and hate
68 notes · View notes
kinbari14 · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
837 notes · View notes
404-mort · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Yoo whos dat?
Twitter | Instagram
121 notes · View notes