Doodles Bc I Have Free Time But I Can't Draw 🙄

being a special grade sorcerer alongside yandere gojo and geto would be nothing short of fucking horrific because they underestimate you even if you might as well be just as strong as them.

they could either pamper you to no end, humiliating you by exaggerating your wins, be it training/sparring or exorcising any curse;

it's as if they don't want your ego to be damaged if you lose. maybe that's the reason why you even got promoted to a special grade; they can't stand to see you being unappreciated. gojo would outright baby you without shame, but geto would be so subtle about it that you'd allow it to happen.

or they could just not believe you're a special grade, won't even let you fight a grade four curse as long as they're physically around, the treatments worsens if you actually earned the rank for yourself. they'd probably pretend they're the reason why you're even considered a sorcerer in the modern jujutsu society.

Ichor

Okay so i got a lot of people begging me to post this anyway, so here it is. Hope you all enjoy it and please comment if you do :)

WARNINGS: vampires, mention of blood, detailed violence, mention of nausea, vampire! Uvogin, vampire! Shalnark, explicit murder, nsfw implications, kidnapping, 2.7k

“Some of us are less… adapted to society, if that makes sense.” He waved his hand in a so-so manner. “The one you’ll be seeing is like that. We’ve arranged measures to keep you safe but I want you to prepare for it.”

Nothing could prepare you for this.

The behemoth snarled through his muzzle, pushing his entire weight against the chains and clawing in your direction. The room was just large enough for you to be out of his reach, if only barely. The iron seemed to hold him for now, but you didn’t trust the chains, primarily because the entire wall seemed to shake whenever the monster put his all into a lunge.

“He has to get used to you! It’ll be fine after a while, don’t worry. He won’t be like this forever.” Did that mean they would let him loose one of these days? When he wasn’t growling and drooling through the leather bindings across his mouth?

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Yandere Analysis: Hisoka Morow

(Warning: some nsfw related content here because…Hisoka..but it’s mainly just implied sexual behavior.)

Hisoka is a very primitive human being, to say the least. His goals, compared to the rest of the cast, are pretty basic. Illumi wants to protect the Zoldyck family and its assets, Gon wants to find his dad, Leorio wants to become a doctor to save lives for no cost, but Hisoka’s drive is…primarily just to fight for pleasure.

It’s a necessity more than a drive. He wants to get stronger and he wants to fight strong opponents. And the reason he wants to do those things is for his own sake of enjoyment. Hisoka isn’t driven by a grand scheme, he just takes things one at a time. In other words, he tends to live in the moment, rather than plan for a greater cause. 

It’s because of this personality that Hisoka will probably never truly fall in love with someone. His main goal is pleasure and he gets pleasure through fighting. 

But he can feel something very close to love. 

Fixation is another driving factor in Hisoka. Obsession, chasing after someone is what Hisoka is best at doing. Hisoka is very whimsical, preferring to do things as he sees fit. It’s very likely that you’ll be his target…just because he wants you to. 

Love letters, stuffed animals, breaking and entering will all be part of Hisoka’s ‘flirtations’. He will terrify you with his bloodlust. He will make you scream and cry with his threats to kill your lived ones. Catching his attention will be hell. 

The worst part about this is, Hisoka knows just how terrifying he can seem. He’s doing these things on purpose. Most likely, it’s to invoke some sort of reaction from you. The scariest moments are when he’s bored and has no one left to fight. He’ll talk about how funny it would be if he killed your co-worker in front of you, or how he could slowly rip you apart, limb from limb (he’ll keep you alive, of course. He wouldn’t want to break his favorite toy). He (probably) wouldn’t do those things, unless you give him a reason to. 

Though quite possessive, Hisoka wouldn’t kidnap you. He’d prefer to keep you at a distance where he could find you, but not too close to interfere with his other activities. But despite this ‘freedom’, you honestly shouldn’t expect any mercy for the people who look a bit too long at you. He’s still a bloodthirsty killer, who can justify any kill with the fact that it relates to you. 

As stated before, Hisoka’s drive comes from pleasure, sexual pleasure. Fighting a strong opponent is honestly all what he needs, up until this point. But after you come into the picture, his tactics will change a bit. Instead of winning a fight, being his release, you will. After every battle, he’ll probably drag you into his room, trembling in pleasure, before fucking you into his mattress. His libido will probably depend on the outcome of his match. If he won (which he always does), expect him to go for hours. 

Hisoka doesn’t really love you, instead it’s the unbridled lust that drives him to keep you by his side. And that’s more than enough for him.

“That’s rude. I’m only a magician.”

Tainted Love

Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Reader (Modern/Mafia Au!)

- Billionaire Gojo brainrot <3 

Right, Gojo Satoru doesn’t believe in love. But you make him happy, so unbearably happy that it scares him how afraid he is to wake up one day and find you gone.

Warnings: Yandere themes, mentions of gore/violence & guns, ‘NSFW’, ‘smut’, dark themes (slight mentions of past abuse, suicide & cheating), extreme possessive/obsessive behaviour

—–

The first time you meet him, he tries to buy the last strawberry sliced cake that you were both eyeing for triple its price. 

“Hey, I saw that first.” A youthful voice, clear and bright.

The wooden tongs, hovering carefully over the cake freezes. It nearly slips out of your fingers when a hard body jostles against your elbow and you blink in surprise at the force before righting yourself in mild annoyance. 

Silently, you turned to face the culprit. A dark blue baseball cap and a pair of dark tinted sunglasses perched on the elegant bridge of his nose that shields his gaze. He’s absurdly tall, enough so that you had to crane your neck up in order to look properly at his face. You swear you catch a hint of silver that gleams teasingly underneath the shadows of his cap. 

You blink again and he clicks his tongue. “Are you going to take it?” 

“Would you take it if I didn’t?” You said slowly, pondering your next words. Curious eyes flicker over his outfit, he’s dorned in black from head to toe, leaving only a silver of his collarbones peeking out the collar. 

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Mahito x darling

WC: 1.7k

TW: NSFW, noncon, f!reader, psychological torture, Mahito in and of himself

Mahito is so scary because you're the only one who sees him. 

You can't tell your friends, you can't call the cops, you can't even discuss it with your therapist for fear of being committed. 

You're all alone with him – half the time convinced you’re going insane.

He doesn't even need to kidnap you. Why would he? He likes your cozy apartment. To see you in your natural habitat with all your personal trinkets. Your books, your decorations, the contents of your fridge, your makeup, your clothes, not to mention the soft warmth of your bed…

Sure, his sewer has its charm, but you probably wouldn’t like it there very much. Not that it would stop him, but he’s sure you’d be boring if all you did was stay cooped up there all day. 

This is much more interesting. To be there when you come home from work, having trifled through all your belongings, dragged everything out – made a mess like a new puppy would. To watch you try to cling to your sanity, going about life, trying to live it normally even when he’s right there on your sofa wanting to dish about how much you loath your pissy boss or that loud neighbor and what fun it might be to kill them.

You brush him off as intrusive thoughts – a manifestation within your mind. That’s the only explanation that allows you to keep your wits with you.

But it’s become hard to bring anyone home. Even though others can't see him, he’ll walk about your friends and the odd date and comment on all the things they do, ridiculing them when they say something cheesy, feigning puking before giving it away with a snicker, then asking you why you bother hanging out with them at all. And you wonder if that’s what you really think… why else would a figment of your imagination say something like that?

No. You decide. He doesn’t represent your thoughts. He’s just… a roommate who knows no boundaries. 

Funny enough, you don’t really recognize that he’s any dangerous before you’re getting dressed after a shower, opening a drawer on your dresser you rarely look in – only to find it overfilled with dozens of tiny shrunken heads.

You scurry back on the floor with your hand clasped over your mouth until your back meets your bed – skin crawling. There’s no air left in your lungs from the shock to produce any such thing as a scream – so instead, you start heaving – then crying.

“Oh – I was wondering when you’d find them!” A cheer is heard from your bedroom threshold.

Your eyes pan to look at him – or it. Mahito, with a big grin on his face – clapping as though impressed by your performance.

“Wh-what – what is this?” You splutter, trying not to throw up – casting shifty glances over at the lump that had fallen to the floor – its face twisted with agony, unrecognizable, but you think you still knew… “What have you done?”

It doesn’t smell of rot, but something else – like unwashed clothing – sweat and piss and shit – you don’t understand how you hadn’t smelled it before. You don’t understand how you hadn’t heard it before – the moaning, though only in hoarse weak voices, still there, in a chorus, crying in pain.

“I’ve been studying them.” He says – casually, padding across the floor before bending down to pick the one up.

He looked at it with disappointment, throwing it up and catching it like one would a baseball – then clicked his tongue. 

“But I must say you’ve got boring taste… I don’t feel like I learned much of use from any of them at all.” 

He drops it to the floor in a fleshy splat, and you cringed anew – wanting to crawl away, wanting to get out, to call the police – maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to be committed – maybe there was something genuinely wrong with you…

Mahito doesn't share your concerns, though. He’s got his mind on other things. 

“I think I’ll learn better through practice.”

You don’t realize what he’s talking about before you’re being lifted up on the bed and then pushed down against it.

His lean but muscular frame has you dwarfed as he crawls after you – caging you between his arms and legs.

“I wouldn’t mind the floor, but I’m sure you’d prefer the bed. That’s how you humans usually like it, right?” He smiles – as though he’s doing you a favor. 

He’s taken off his usual tunic – showcasing a pale grey chest patchworked together in crude stitches – and you don’t really understand why you’d ever conjure something that looked like it. So human, yet still… so not. 

“I didn’t know what size you’d want – they were all so different – but I think bigger is better, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t register before you feel the weight of it on your stomach. 

Fat and warm, ridged with veins and hard against you. 

Looking down, feeling the situation settle on your skin like the raw cold – you realize, though you don’t understand it – Mahito isn’t just some imaginary friend. 

Whatever he is – he’s no such thing as a friend at all.

Your chest flares. “Mahito, no – ”

Your hands fly to try and push him off, but they’re easily caught. His fingers stretch inhumanly like playdough, using only one hand to reign in both wrists, pinning them to the pillow above you.

“No? Still too small?” He asks, as though your uproar had been a cry for more – his voice in a playful lilt. “I can make it bigger if you like~”

You squirm when the thing between your thighs grows an inch – swelling up into something fatter than your wrist – weighty and twitching atop you. 

It alone churns your guts, but the sight of his face gleaming so innocently makes it all so much worse. 

You whimper as he drags a rude finger through your folds – bluntly poking at your hole.

“You’re supposed to be wet, no?” He posed, keen eyes watching your face grimace in discomfort – drilling his digit inside you despite it. 

When knuckle-deep, he curled it, nail scraping into the gummy of your tender walls – making your whole body twist with an ache, shaking your head while sinking your teeth into your lip.

“Stop-” You croaked pitifully, still trying to wring your wrists free – but the hand keeping them jailed had hardened into something that was no longer skin.

He just yawned at your struggle. “So noisy...” Bored while looking down at you and the ugly way your lips curled at his crude fingering – but then his eyes widened. “Wait – oh! I get it now! So, this is what kissing is for…”

He didn’t give you much time to turn away before his mouth locked on yours – more in an attempt to swallow than to kiss, feeding you his tongue – which felt so much longer than it should be – winding through you until it licked your gag-reflex and made you choke.

You tensed in response, clenching the finger prodding you – and he took it as an invitation to squeeze another in – making you squeal out a sob in his mouth. 

But though it was a cruel ministration, it was enough to tickle the instinct – dragging wet out from within you, bathing the digits that now slid with greater ease in and out.

“See~ I told you I’d learn better through practice...” He mumbled against your lips – having felt the change – also noticing the quiet that befell you… looking so cute beneath him. 

He chuckled – the taste of your kiss still warm and wet on his lips.

“That really did shut you up, hm~ you humans are so funny.”

That thing resting heavily on your belly does a little jump, and you flinch with it. Left panting after being throat-fucked by a tongue – you’re really only able to shake your head as he slips the beastly thing down between your thighs – its fat head licking your clit on its way until kissing your entrance.

Two fingers haven't done you any justice – nothing could – to prep you for something of that size.

“I think this is correct…” He muses, nudging himself against the slim coin-sized hole – looking a little confused while he did so – though not exactly unsure of himself… more as though it was the whole procedure in and of itself that was at fault and not him. He was just following instructions, after all.

Sucking his teeth at the tautness, he continued to press the tip through you. 

A whine was ripped from your chest as it arched off the bed – thighs quaking on each side of his hips, kept spread despite wanting to force themselves shut.

“It’s better if you relax.” He offered then, though without much sympathy. Sounding almost jaded – as though you were keeping him waiting. 

But then a thumb pressed down on your clit, forcing another jolt to rush through you. 

“Women like to be touched here, right?” He rubbed crass circles into it – worse than amateurishly – rough patterns that bore no real intention of making you feel good. 

Then his mouth slid from your mouth, down your neck – only to sink teeth in your tit.

“And here~” He giggled while nomming your nipple, rolling the little nib between his teeth before flicking over it with his tongue again and again, sucking on it harshly.

None of it made you relax like he’d suggested. Either way, he continued to sink his length one thick chub at a time as fast as your hole allowed. And soon enough, he reached your end before your hole could reach his. But that was no issue…

The hand on your clit, cupped your mound instead – and beneath it, where warmth pooled, you felt inner things alter – change, rearrange, allowing the giant member inside you to sink deeper even though you knew there couldn’t possibly be any deeper to go.

“Wow~ look at that…” He awed when his pelvis smushed against your mound – kneading into your clit as he pressed a curious hand down on the bulge he was making in your belly.

Strings of drool stuck from his lips to your chest – and a sick look pooled in his eyes.

Thicker and thicker breaths left him. He swallowed thickly. Barely blinking.

“I think I get it now…” His voice had shed its humorous tone, now sounding soft with something you didn’t want to have the attention of. “It’s like our souls are playing together…” 

His hand stroked your stomach – like he was petting something.

“Feels good.”

Outfit swaps!  🌈🐌 and a bonus tiny Weather

phantom troupe

These two would play just for fun 🦑

why is it that when something happens its always you three