Starting 2024 With A Toji

Kageyama Tobio

What if he opened his mouth like a baby bird when he was hungry before the HPSC trained it out of him

TUMBLR SEXYREMATCH POLL MASTERPOST

I'll update this as the rounds progress.

ROUND ONE:

Lewis Pepper (Mystery Skulls Animated) vs. Professor Venomous (OK KO) WINNER: LEWIS

Guzma (Pokémon) vs. Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls) WINNER: BILL

The Warden (Superjail) vs. Almond Cookie (Cookie Run) WINNER: ALMOND COOKIE

The Once-ler (The Lorax (2012)) vs. Megamind (Megamind) WINNER: MEGAMIND

Sans (Undertale) vs. Junkrat (Overwatch) WINNER: SANS

Tony the Talking Clock (Don't Hug Me I'm Scared) vs. Black Hat (Villainous) WINNER: TONY

King Dice (Cuphead) vs. Raymond (Animal Crossing) WINNER: RAYMOND

Wheatley (Portal 2) vs. Doc Ock (Marvel) WINNER: WHEATLEY

Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa) vs. Dr. Habit (Smile for Me) WINNER: KOMAEDA

Cecil Gershwin Palmer (Welcome to Night Vale) vs. Slenderman (???) WINNER: CECIL

Jack Skellington (the Nightmare Before Christmas) vs. Turbo (Wreck-It Ralph) WINNER: JACK

Ingo (Pokémon) vs. Bruno Madrigal (Encanto) WINNER: INGO

Purple Guy/William Afton (Five Nights at Freddy's) vs. Spamton (Deltarune) WINNER: SPAMTON

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) vs. Loki (Marvel) WINNER: LOKI

Arataka Reigen (Mob Psycho 100) vs. Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice (all versions)) WINNER: REIGEN

Herobrine (Minecraft) vs. Benr(e)y (Half Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware) WINNER: HEROBRINE

ROUND TWO:

NOTE: Starting round 2, I'm ditching the bracket and opting for randomized matchups. The left side will stay on the left and the right will stay on the right, but otherwise it'll be shuffled.

Wheatley (Portal 2) vs. Lewis Pepper (Mystery Skulls Animated)

Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls) vs. Raymond (Animal Crossing)

Tony the Talking Clock (Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared) vs. Almond Cookie (Cookie Run)

Sans (Undertale) vs. Megamind (Megamind)

Loki (Marvel) vs. Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa)

Cecil Gershwin Palmer (Welcome to Night Vale) vs. Herobrine (Minecraft)

Ingo (Pokémon) vs. Jack Skellington (the Nightmare Before Christmas)

Arataka Reigen (Mob Psycho 100) vs. Spamton (Deltarune)

REVIVAL ROUND: The Once-ler (The Lorax (2012)) vs. King Dice (Cuphead)

Aerie (Hawks x Reader)

Summary: You broke up with Hawks because of his insistence on starting a family immediately. But when the young alpha shows up at your house in the middle of your heat, you may need to turn to him for help.

Pairing: Hawks x Reader Rating: E+ Quote: It’ll be the family we always wanted! The one we’ve been trying for! Word: ABO Word Count: 3k Warnings: dubcon, ABO, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, coercion, manipulation, knotting, yandere Note: Oh look, another prompt request that got out of hand. Never would have guessed. This is my first time writing ABO, and I’m pretty pleased with the result! There is a sequel to this called The Nest. Additional Note: My entry into @kazooli​‘s contest!

You whimper as you continue to grind down on the toy, desperate for a release that you can’t quite seem to reach. Your slick runs down your thighs and the dildo that you have plunged into your aching cunt, soaking the bed sheets underneath you. You’re so close, all you need is a little push and then -

A loud whine fills the room as your orgasm is torn from you yet again, the lust burning through your veins only seems to intensify. You know you won’t be able to cum from anything but an alpha, but you can’t help yourself. You feel like you’re burning up from the inside, sweat coating your skin and leaving you feeling sticky and gross.

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The Spring Bird Survival Guide

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(So many of you have asked for a part two of my rutting Hawks fic. I gave in! I have no idea how this holds up compared to the first, but I hope you enjoy!)

Read Part 1 if you haven’t! This takes place directly after those events!

Words: 10k (WHOOPS)

Warnings: None, except for an absurd amount of scene transitions that hopefully don’t get too confusing.

———————————————–

Tuesday

The chorus of songbirds can be heard right outside of Hawks’s window, their small shapes dashing past and making the peeking sunlight flicker across the bedroom. It sounds like it’s gonna be a beautiful day. He’d be elated, if he wasn’t feeling so ill already.

The fever and itch were coming back, like a hot rash that he couldn’t scratch because it was inside of him. He was really hoping to never feel such a hellish sensation ever again.

He slowly peeled the thick sheets off, making sure not to disturb his bedmate as he sat up. There’s no way the quirk’s effects were returning, is there? Last night, the feeling had only gotten weaker with every passing hour. Now it has returned, not in full force, but once again difficult to ignore. He peered over his shoulder to check on his guest.

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I’m so excited for all the new things you’ll be writing :D if you’re cool with it, could you write hawks with a broken darling and him just providing comfort? I’d imagine that when it comes down to it, hawks wouldn’t be all too happy about having his darling become a shell of who they used to be. I feel like he’d just hold darling and pray with all his heart that he’ll fix the problem.

Title: Sunday Regret [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: He didn’t meant to do it. And now he’ll do what it takes 

Word Count: 1312

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of violence

 If he wasn’t in the middle of cooking, he’d probably carry you into the dining room for a change of pace. But he doesn’t want to burn it, lest you get scared at the sound of the smoke detector. 

You haven’t moved from your spot on the sofa in hours. If it weren’t for him, you’d probably still be in bed, tucked on your side, alternating between staring at the wall and burying your face in a tear-stained pillow. 

But it’s not good for you to lay in bed all day, so he carefully picked you up and carried you into the living room after a while. He even left your walker next to you, though you’ve never bothered using it.

You don’t bother doing much of anything, anymore.

At least the living room had more stimulation for you than the bedroom. He worried when you spent hours in there, staring at a blank wall. In the living room, there were books or decor to look at, or he could turn on the TV or play some music, if you wanted. Not that you would say what you wanted, because you haven’t spoken properly in… he doesn’t want to think how long. You’ve made noises. Grunts of assent or disagreement. Sighs. Whimpers, sometimes, at night, when you think he might be sleeping.

He didn’t mean to break you down like this. Truly. How was he supposed to know--know what would happen, and know his own strength. You probably don’t believe him, which hurts (you’re supposed to love him, after all) but he didn’t actually mean to break your leg. You were trying to run, and you made it outside and tripped--all your own fault--and when he’d grabbed your leg as you tried to scurry away, he’d gripped your calf and then.

Crunching. Your screams, no, they were more like wails, primal sounds that made his gut curl. He’s not proud of the way he slapped a hand over your mouth, then, pulling you inside with no delicacy, only hurried fear that someone heard you and might come snooping.

And maybe he shouldn’t have screamed at you after dropping you unceremoniously on the bedroom floor, maybe he should have offered you painkillers right away instead of jabbing a finger in your face and telling you that you could just-deal-with-it.

Maybe if he’d treated you tenderly from the moment of the break, you wouldn’t have become so depressed and downtrodden. The next day, stuffed with painkillers and leg wrapped (courtesy of a favor--no questions, no answers) you simply… stopped existing. You wouldn’t talk, barely nodding or shaking your head at his requests. You stopped bathing yourself--getting to gently bathe you in the tub himself is one perk of all this, he thinks, though he’d never say it out loud. You barely eat, and when you do, he usually needs to feed you.

He’s threatened you with a feeding tube and you didn’t even flinch; he doesn’t want to go that route, but he can always call in a favor. You sleep erratically, sometimes all day, sometimes all night; you stare ahead of you for hours, tears leaking onto whatever pillow is tucked underneath your head. All of his attempts to get you on a sleeping schedule failed, so he stopped trying. You probably needed more sleep to let your broken leg heal, anyway.

He tries to be understanding, because in a way, this is his fault. If he’d been a better boyfriend, you wouldn’t have tried to run from him, and he wouldn’t have broken your leg. (He often reminds himself, that if you hadn’t run away, he never would have needed to grab your leg--but what good does it do to point out that it’s partly your fault, too?)

Besides, he knows that you need lots of forgiveness right now. You’re hurting.  You’re sad. But it’s hard. It’s hard. And he doesn’t blame you, not really, but he wishes he had someone to talk to about his problems. He misses you. He misses watching TV together. He even misses the arguments, in a way. At least you were talking. At least you were feeling something other than the sadness that kept tracks of tears on your cheeks all day.

Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference in the end. Maybe you would have done this regardless.  It’s not important. What is important--and he knows this in his heart--is that the regrets it, all of it, and he’ll never do it again. And he’s going to make sure you get better by being the best damn boyfriend there is.

“Lunchtime, babe,” he says, quickly scooping together two bowls of rice, some veggies, wanting to keep things light on your stomach. It’s easier to feed you when the vegetables are soft--he worries less about you not chewing properly, at least--so they’re a bit overcooked, mushy in the bowl.

You don’t respond. But it’s okay. He doesn’t expect you to. If anything, this entire ordeal has taught him a lot about considering your needs. He wasn’t exactly a great boyfriend before all this. He got a bit too selfish, making you sit on his lap, getting annoyed if you cried while he made you try on lingerie. Now, though? It’s all about you.

So if he has to miss an interview because you broke down sobbing in the tub and need to be held for a while, so be it. If his new couch gets food stains because you don’t want to get up and he feeds you right from the comfort of the sofa, so be it.

Whatever it takes--he’ll do it.

When he cranes his neck back into the living room, the sight makes his feathers rustle. You’re standing, leaning on the walker he’d left behind, arms trembling from the effort. You got up! It’s the most you’ve done on your own in a long time. A grin instinctively breaks out and he can’t stop himself from practically running up to you, eyes bright, smile brighter.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, practically breathless from the change. “Do you--shit, this is great, do you want to do something? What do you need? Want to take a walk on the balcony or--”

He pauses when he sees your mouth moving, sees you looking at him with sad, puppy-dog eyes. It’s a tentative gesture, and he’s reminded of an infant, staring at their parents and trying to force through words through unpracticed lips.

“I--I--I…”

He rises up on his toes in anticipation. Moving on your own and talking, all in one day? Maybe this is your breakthrough, maybe this is it, maybe he’s pulled you across that threshold back into health. Back into you.

But you don’t--can’t--finish whatever it was you wanted to say. You huff instead, sighing in defeat, face falling and thick tears dribbling down your splotchy cheeks as you give up entirely.

You burst into short, pitiful sobs, arms shaking violently as your grip on the walker weakens, as your physical strength seems to drop.

He doesn’t wait, and immediately swoops you up in his arms, cradling you as he sits on the sofa, careful of your leg as he tucks you into his lap. You don’t resist as he pushes your head towards his rest, letting it rest there as he rubs your back, stroking softly.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

It makes you cry harder, leaning your face into his shoulder like you do the pillows on the bed. Which is good, isn’t it? You’re getting it out. And when is the last time you let him hold you like this without struggling, legs and arms kicking, nails scratching?

So he won’t deny that he enjoys this moment, enjoys getting to comfort you in the way he’s always wanted to; in the way that you’ve always, especially right now, needed.

It might take a long time to get you back to yourself. But he’ll be here, every step of the way, waiting for you to come out on the other side.

Title: Pluck [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Title: Pluck [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: You tried to run–no, fly–away. And Hawks is going to make sure you never try that again.

For request: Anonymous said:  had a thought and I’d love to hear your input! So like keigo or chisaki with like a darling with a winged quirk and then having to pluck and clip your wings so their little bird doesn’t try flying away on them. Btw can I I just say your writing is super super good and characterization is just *chefs kiss* like every piece of your writing I’m like

Word count: 1000ish

Notes: Yandere, violence

It’s that time again. Which is exactly why you’ve placed yourself in between the couch and Keigo. A very unassuming Keigo. A Keigo who is standing, hands splayed, looking all shrugs and smiles. 

You know, and Keigo knows, that he could easily reach you. He could push the couch aside. He could leap over it, fly over it, and reach you in an instant. But that doesn’t stop you from taking refuge behind it, face set in a petulant frown, wings curled protectively around you.

“Sweetie,” Keigo says, and it’s charming, or would be charming, if you weren’t his captive. “I don’t know why you’re throwing a fit about this. You know what day it is. I put it on our calendar." 

He gestures vaguely towards the kitchen, where you know there’s a large calendar tacked up on the wall, edged by taped-up photos of you and Keigo before everything went to shit. Before he kept you locked up, caged, figuratively–well, figuratively most of the time.

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Ad Experimentum

Yandere Dr. Ratio x Reader

Veritas catches you reading one of your dirty books.

Warnings: Implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, NSFW scenes being read aloud, Dr. Ratio being a dick as always

Within the confines of Veritas’s home, you feel like a mouse in a maze, reduced to a caged animal, always under scrutiny and experimentation.

Escape is impossible. Dr. Ratio has ensured that you’re never out of his reach, even though he acts as if you are the burden and he didn’t kidnap you and imprison you in his home. Sometimes you wonder why he even keeps you; surely he has better things to do than to quip at your inadequacy or lack of genius. But alas, the pretentious prick seems keen on pushing every one of your buttons to see how you tick. You might even call it intimacy if he wasn’t so clinical and judgmental about it all.

Because physical escape is impossible, you’ve turned to escaping within the confines of your own mind.

Books provided the perfect retreat. You’ve since abandoned any non-fiction to focus on fantasy, to worlds that effortlessly whisk you away. Novels that depict true, romantic love, not the twisted ownership you’ve grown used to. Like you’re some pet to be controlled and prodded at, like Pavlov’s dog, waiting and drooling for its master’s hand at the ring of a bell.

So, in your hopes to feel something real, you’ve started to delve into stories that are a bit…spicier.

With the latest read in your hand, your eyes skim hungrily over the pages as the tension between the protagonists builds. The lovers begin to undress each other, the one spreading his partner’s pussy as she grinds into his hand—

Veritas effortlessly plucks the book from your hands, earning a cry of protest. You try to snatch it back, but, with the help of his towering height, he dangles it just out of reach. “What in the heavens is this?”

The way he holds the book between his thumb and pointer finger, as if merely touching it would taint his self-proclaimed perfect set of knowledge, was almost comedic. You would laugh if he wasn’t such a condescending asshole.

Instead, you scowl. “Give it back.”

He merely hums and turns the novel in his hands, inspecting the cover. Licking his thumb, he flips to your bookmarked page and begins reading aloud. “My hand caressed her core as I speared her with two, thick fingers. She moaned and arched into my palm in response, causing my cock to twitch in anticipation. God, I wanted to taste her arousal. Her pussy was perfect, so wet and tight and ready for me to claim, to fuck.”

Embarrassment rages across your cheeks like a burn. You fling yourself at him, pounding your fists against his chest when he lifts the book out of your reach easily. “Stop, just stop.”

Amused, Dr. Ratio continues to narrate the scene in painstaking detail. “I lowered my head, letting my tongue swirl around her clit and rendering her voice to nothing but pitiful mewls. She tasted like heaven, like my own personal feast. I buried my tongue in her, then, and held her hips as she bucked into my mouth, begging for release—”

“I will do anything,” you beg, face in your palms, “just please stop.”

Finally, mercifully, Veritas closes the book and lowers it down enough for you to snatch it back. You cradle it against your chest, heart pounding and palms sweaty with a chaotic blend of shame, anger, and relief that it was over.

“This is what you indulge in while I’m working? Though you are hardly an intellectual exception, I believed you to be above this brain-rotting nonsense, (Y/n).”

In spite of your embarrassment, you boldly meet his golden eyes. “And what do you care? I enjoy it, and it’s not meant for you. Go stick your nose in a dictionary for all I care.”

“At least I’d be learning something,” he sneers in return, looking down his nose at you. He sniffs, tilting his chin up. “What do those books have that I can’t offer you?”

You still, observing his features. Now that the fun of teasing you has worn off, his eyes flare with loathing. With a jolt, you realize it is not aimed at you but at…the book?

Wordlessly, you glance between Dr. Ratio and your novel. Then, a stilted laugh escapes your lips. “Wait.. Are you seriously jealous of a book?”

“Don’t be preposterous,” he scoffs, though you notice his white-knuckled grip against the back of the armchair you were previously lounging in. “I would never stoop so low as to associate myself with that plebeian filth. I simply wanted to ascertain your reaction to it being read aloud.”

You resist the desperate urge to roll your eyes. “Fine, then. Please leave me to my uneducated filth.” You spin around, intent on finding a new place to finish your reading.

“Not so fast.” Veritas is on you quicker than a cobra, large hands gripping both your shoulders. “Perhaps all is not lost. We may yet transform this circumstance into an educational opportunity for you.”

A chill runs down your spine at the heavy touch, and a sudden sense of foreboding warns you to run. You’re all too aware you’re the mouse being fed to the snake in this moment.

Veritas spins you to face him, eyes slowly trailing down your form, as if taking you in with a new perspective. “I believe an experiment is due.”

You go rigid. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re so intent on reading about all those fantasies in your books, let’s go ahead and put them to the test, shall we?”

At his clear implication, you yelp and make a run for it. In that moment Veritas strikes, fisting your hair with one hand and cupping your chin with the other as he presses your body flush against his own. You can already feel his hard desire digging into your back.

“Here’s my hypothesis,” he purrs in your ear. “I predict that by the end of tonight, you too will be begging for my cum, whether you want to or not.”

His theory, as always, was proven to be correct.

Ok so imagine hawks having a SO that has a rabbit quirk and they have this game that basically cat and mouse and if hawks catches them he gets to do what ever he wants with them

Ohohohoooo trust me I’ve imagined this before.

Sometimes Hawks just has to unleash those predator instincts and his cute little prey S/O is perfect for that. He’s a fast and efficient hunter, so if he feels you’re no match for him, he’ll give himself handicaps to keep things challenging.

He might give you a head start and watch you run off, his wings fluttering in excitement. He’ll promise not to use his feathers to catch you, relying on his speed and physical strength. Once you’re in his sights, he flies in like a crimson dart, eager to feel your helpless body beneath his.

Your own instincts instill fear in you. Large sensitive ears are moving back and forth, listening for the faintest sound. He could swoop in from above at any minute. You might catch a glimpse of those hungry eyes before your mind is screaming RUN. It’s all so terrifying, but it’s such an adrenaline rush and you can’t get enough of it.

Go ahead and do whatever you can to win, he encourages it. Leap over him when he goes for the dive. Duck into a small space that he can’t reach, or at least you hope he can’t. Once he grabs hold of you, try your best to wrestle out of his grip. He knows he’s not the strongest guy around, but he’s gonna enjoy the thrill of giving it his all in order to keep you down.

If you lose, he might just stay on top of you for a while, licking you and savoring the taste of your fear. But sometimes he’ll want to get rid of his remaining energy through a rough fuck. It turns into a sexfight and you’re both struggling to get the upper hand while his dick is inside of you. You can break free and leave him hanging and frustrated, or you can pin him down and hump the hunter senseless. If you get overpowered, then you’re going to be fucked into a whimpering mess while he gives in to the animal voice inside telling him to DEVOUR his prey in any way possible.

After all is said and done, you help each other tidy up as much as possible, coming down from your feral highs.

“Thanks for the hunt, little bunny.”

they can be nice sometimes