#And do anything you can take the dog along to. You have got to get canine approval early in the game or it's a bust.

[lonleydweller]

could we get some yandere rdr1 John Marston headcanons perchance? ❤️

🥀Yandere! John Marston hcs (RDR1/High honor)🥀

!Warnings!: spoilers for RDR1, Yandere trope, obsession, stalking, intimidation, violent behavior, mentioned murder, hanging mentioned but it's just a reference to a title of a mission, kidnapping

● A former rugged outlaw, now a family man, well, trying be a family man. Yet just like anyone else in the gang.. the past clings to his clothes like blood. He's come to terms with long ago that he isn't a good man. However the least he can do is try not to be any worse than. For the promise to his family both present and gone.

● Now I'm going to assume in this situation that either Abigail is out of the picture or she agrees with a third in their marriage.. as otherwise an obsession will cause even more of a stir. He swore an oath when he said those vows. The spurs of his boots dug into them. That'd require a entirely seprate set of hcs.

● He's desperate. Willing to take help from a swindling salesman, drunkards, farmers, the damn law, a legendary gunslinger, and corrupt government officials. Just to cross three names off a list for the government. Sure, he'll take help from you too. Why not? That's too out of the question. Bar or shop keep with information? Lawmen? Got something he needs? He'll be in your company for a little while till he has whatever it is he needs from you.

● You don't even need to help him. He sure as hell could have helped you. He's gone out of his way to help Bonnie, a lost wandering man, a woman crying for her lost son, and many other people along his way. Maybe you seemed in a bit of trouble so John decided he had some time to lend a hand. If it's something serious especially, then it wouldn't seem odd when he comes and checks in on you again.

● He manages to appear. You know? At some point you start to swear he has you marked down on a map or something. Although it manages to come off as reasonable. If you're offering aid of course he's gonna appear again. If vice versa, he's just being nice and checking up? What is there to worry? Even if the way he carries himself may be frightening. He hasn't done anything to you has he?

● John's presence no doubt draws eyes towards you. Espically if he's started to make a name for himself in the area. The rugged, serious, scary sounding outlaw from the city folks boat talking to a little local? So often too? Don't be surprised if rumors spread about.

● Soon the cold greetings turn oddly warmer. Like an old friend greeting one another. More jovial. He isn't as withdrawn, maybe he gives you a quick pat on the shoulder, or just stands a little bit closer to you compared to the first encounter. An odd compliment or two.. maybe even an akward attempt to flirt. Although with him it's hard to tell.

● John talks about his family gradually as the time you two spend together goes on. His wife, his son, less closed off then he would with someone else. Obsession growing stronger. He makes subtle comments, one's that seem like he's almost implying you join the family, surely you're just misunderstanding right? That's what he wants. He wants the plausible denialbility until he can gage your reaction.

● He's aware of how it sounds. A married man. Inviting a third into a relationship? A family? In the 1900s no less? Even with Abigail in this situation presumably agreeing.. it's not an easy thing to propose. Let alone to someone that barely knows him. Even when he knows so much about them.

● He seems more eager to jump the gun when defending you. Even witty comments or jokes are meant with sarcastic snap back from him. Easy to shut the other person down. It dosen't matter if it's a friendly jab from someone close to you, he bristles to defend you like a guard dog. He can give plenty of barks, solemn does he bite. When he does it's nasty.

● He's willing to throw a couple punches and break a couple faces off a bar table if someone's talking real filthy about you. They can't talk shit when they're missing they're teeth. Someone really hurting you is where the bark turns lethal. He'll follow behind on their trail before lassoing them, drag them off into the wilderness of the night, come back with blood on his clothes he poorly tried to rinse off in a stream. Don't worry. He was just out hunting. He even has some pelts to prove it.

●Now if it's a situation like Bonnie's hanging where you're actively being attacked or harmed he won't go all stealthy. He's going guns blazing and yelling at the top of his lungs. Each bullet is shoot to kill. Every living thing involved having a big red X on their heads in John's eyes.

● If you question him on any of this behavior he's defensive. He'll admit what he did most of the time if he's done it in front of you. Yeah. Sure, he might have shot that person. So what? They were just being an issue. He got rid of it. Alternatively he might make an excuse they probably got lost or something, they didn't seem too bright anways.

● Now as mentioned before, John's not trigger happy, killing really isn't his first option. Even in a case of jealousy. He know killing someone for flirting ain't gonna earn him no favors. So he'll just nudge them the right direction, that right direction being away from you.

● He'll stand beside you as they talk to you. Constantly make snappy remarks. Nudge himself between you two if he can. That don't work? He can pull them aside and have a little chat. What was said? Just some "friendly" words. He promises.

● As his journey comes to a close he tries to coax you to come with him. Come on. His wife and son would surely love to meet the person who helped assure he could return home. The other people? Nigel? No, no. They didn't help as much as you did. Just come with him. Their little ranch isn't so bad. It'll just be a lil visit.

● If you're in a situation that leaves you as disadvantage he will take advantage of it. He dosen't see it as manipulation. No, no, no. He's just helping. Let him help you back on your feet. Let them help you. There's a room he can spare for you. Uncle's lazy bum dosen't do much. Even if he'd much prefer you in the same bed as his him and Abigail.

● If push comes to shove, he'll lasso you up, he apologizes briefly but what other choice did he have? You wouldn't come with him otherwise and John's not too keen on leaving family behind. Not after Arthur. Not after how long he's had to abandon Jack and Abigail. You're no different. Even if you don't agree.

@adalwolfgang, @helpfandom

[xeversayfishxace]

"That's a major thing I like about our relation. Our constant jokes...you make me laugh so much you know? Shame it took us this long to start getting along. But, glad it happened at all."

They got into the thick of it now, Xever was talking better telling the dog what he needed to get and how to work. It was still a slow process and one that wasn't enjoyable for either of them. Yet, as they went on Xever chose to ask a question that was on his mind.

"I know this is strange to ask, but do you think less of me? Cause of having no legs anymore? I often feel like less of a person because of it. And no don't worry this isn't me guilting you we're passed that. I just meant well, I remember hearing that the turtles created a way to turn us back to how we were. I know that you wish to turn back but..."

It had been some hours now, the legs were being reattached bit by bit and Xever being as he was couldn't help but run his mouth. That aspect of him never changed no matter what form he took.

"I don't trust anything those reptiles make. And besides, when it comes to me my whole body changed into a form unlike what it was before. My legs are gone, even if I turn back do I have any assurance that my legs will come back? No, I don't! Also this is alien stuff, this is scary! I don't want to be subjected to stuff I don't understand ever again! It ruined my life, and as much as life sucks for me now. I still at least can make something of it. If I turned back I would lose all the power and speed I have now. I would be less than I was..."

So with those reasons Xever chose to not chase a cure of himself. There were too many variables when it came to him. So he wasn't willing to take the risk if it meant putting himself into a vulnerable spot once more. So Xever accepted is lot and chose to run with it.

"I wanted you to know that, just so you get why I remain as I am. I know it isn't the same for you. But, really think about what that so called cure could do. Nothing in life is free, and even something that sounds good always comes with a cost. I'm not willing to risk it."

“ … I walked into that one.”

Bradford rolls his eyes but even he has to admit the pun was clever. Back to inspecting the metal legs and the tools around him. He is trying to wrap his head around it and he has vague ideas, but in that moment it was best for Xever to take the lead. His legs, so if anything goes wrong it can’t at least be blamed on him.

“Right.“

He makes a move to grab the tools necessary, only to receive a bonk on the head. A soft growl, but nothing serious.

Once he grabbed the right tools, the wolf started to tighten them. He had to be careful with his large hands. Certainly more difficult to stay precise.

A screw rolls onto the ground.

He snarls in frustration.

“Those screws are … very annoying.“

[heyitslapis]

Even when I thought we had boundary of just friends, she confuses me.

I tell myself to ignore it. That it's just a game for her and that she really is just comfortable with me as a friend.

But we all went out Sunday night (you, me & Sam). You asked us again if Sam & I were still "not a thing." We both told you the truth (for like the 10th time): we're not a thing. There's no sort of situationship or anything like that. We're just friends.

**((also I fucked up one of my tags I meant to say that Alice told buddy boy that I threatened to kill *him* again, not that I threatened to kill her. He sounded really serious when he said "i promise v, im leaps and bounds better than anyone shes had before. I would never hurt her." I said "Oh, im sure. Its because thats who you are Ty. Thats what you and I do. We protect people." I'll be so honest yall i was crossfaded as fuck because i was running iff 3 hours sleep & literally no food almost the whole day leading up to our outing. NOT doing that again jfc))**

[thebiballerina]

Wait… you're telling me there were supposed to be RULES? To where DATES could happen? I… just always assumed dates happened when you asked someone out, and then did an activity with them. I understand restaurants and such are a popular choice, but… aren't you supposed to do things which are enjoyable to the people on the date? Why does anything else matter?

Unless you are actively and intentionally committing crimes on your dates, in which case proper forensic caution does matter. Remember, kids: Sex before marriage is cool. Arrest before marriage is for fools.

i know the 'is mcdonalds a date' questions making its rounds but i feel kind of insane bc thats never even been a metric for me. a date is just when someone says its a date. i went on a date w someone to smoke in a building w a caved in cieling in the rain, shoplifted from a gas station paranoid as hell to get them a soft pretzel and then we chased a rat around. where is your sense of adventure people

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Found this while going through my fanfic files, and i absolutely had to share.

Danny: i want in

Red robin: …what?

Danny: your bat family. I want in.

Red robin, blinking in surprise: i dont know what you think you know about my associates, but we're not-

Danny: dont be obtuse. I know youre the smart one. And i also know that your all one big relatively happy family. I want in.

Red robin: …why?

Danny: because you guys are the first people ive found that are wealthy, intelligent and powerful enough to take on my fruitloop godfather and win AND are decent enough human beings that i can be assured that when all is said and done, my well-being will remain a top priority.

Orphan, appearing out of nowhere: new brother!

Danny: *stares in shock*

Danny: *sudden uncanny grin* well that's one convinced. How do i win over the rest?

Orphan: no need. New brother!

Red robin: *pointed glance of betrayal* fine. Who is your godfather?

Danny: vlad masters. He's a fruitloop.

Red robin: for real? B's been investigating him for years! Tell me everything! *genuinely excited for a new lead*

Danny: well, he's tried to murder my dad and marry my mom, gained his wealth illegally, committed voting fraud to become the mayor of my hometown, has a secret underground lab where he does unethical experiments, and he's abducted me more than a dozen times even before my parents disowned me to make me his evil apprentice or whatever. Now that im homeless, he's literally out to get me. Oh! And he's cloned me too! She's cool though, we're buddies now.

Batman, who just arrived but heard everything over comms: hn. (Translation: who are you?)

Danny: my name is Danny. No last name anymore, but im hoping itll soon be Wayne! *winking suggestively*

Batman: hn? (how much do you know?)

Danny: enough to know that youre a much better alternative to vlad.

Batman: …hn (i dont know anything about you. What if youre a spy for vlad?)

Danny, giving his salesman pitch: i was a teen vigilante in amity park before i had to run away from home for my own safety. Vlad is one of my rogues. I know how to fight and defend myself, how to minimize collateral damage in a fight, and ive gotten really good and escaping kidnapping attempts. Ive also managed to reform and/or make allies out of approximately half of my rogues and can talk down about 30% of all rogue confrontations before they turn into a messy fight. The other things i can bring to the table are: one, i can teach all of you guys proper liminality self care; two, i can probably minimize and possibly cure red hood's anger issues; three, i can get along with stabby robin because i consider fighting a friendly social interaction - he can even stab me and i wont be injured by it; four, i can be your go-to guy for supernatural cases so you no longer have to deal with that sad trenchcoat man; five-

Red robin: *blurting* youre hired.

Batman: hn (i am deeply concerned)

Danny: if youre concerned now, wait until i tell you about the anti ecto control act

Nightwing, who showed up in the middle of the sales pitch: ive never seen anyone crack B's grunt language so quickly

Danny: grunt language? He's just using ghost speak - which will be covered by the liminality self care lessons

Robin, who arrived with batman: what is a liminal?

Danny: all of you, of course! Otherwise you wouldnt need to learn about it, obviously

Robin: and why would we trust you?

Danny: did i mention i have a pet ghost dog?

Robin: …you drive a hard bargain

Danny, fist pumping: yes! That's three!

Nightwing: four, you got me when you could understand B's grunting

Red Hood, arrived with nightwing: five, assuming you arent lying about the pit rage

Danny, hand to his chest: i would never!

Orphan: honesty. Earnest. New brother.

Oracle, over comms: six. The anti ecto acts are legit and im terrified for his safety, assuming he's phantom, who is the vigilante of amity park

Spoiler, arrived with orphan: seven, as long as youre down for a few pranks

Batman: hn (ive been outvoted)

Batman: hnn (i dont wanna hear any jokes about adoption habits when you all forced my hand)

Batman: hn (that said)

Batman: welcome to the family

Duke, the next day: man, i miss out on everything exciting.

Duke, blinded by danny: and who the fuck told bruce he could adopt the fucking sun?!

[goatgoesmbe]

When you're divorced to Price, you're not divorced to the team

Johnny still tried and invite you to everything they're doing, whether it is some kind of celebration or simple hangout.

And you felt rude to deny it, just because you're divorced.. doesn't mean you should stop having mutual friends with your ex-husband right?

Kyle still texted you from time to time, asking if you baked anything today. Making not so subtle hints of him- and the others, missing your baking.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw John walking past the door. You didn't know why, but you did save one cupcake. So as the others were occupied, you snuck away to put it on his desk.

So you visited their base, carrying a box of cupcakes in the rec room as you watched them demolish your work- oh god the cupcake wrap isn't edible Johnny.

And Simon?

Well.. before you were divorced, John used to make him keep an eye on you since he was too busy with work. Being your guard dog when you hang out around the base, or to take care of stuff if you have any trouble at home.

Like right now.

"Simon, i'm so, sorry about this- i already called a plumber and for some reason they canceled last minute, and I just can't wait another day to get it fixed-" You rambled as you watched him look at what's wrong with your washing machine, days worth of laundry piling up near it.

"It's alright" He simply responded. "Don't bother calling them next time, you have me" he added.

Then there's Laswell.

You've always got along so well with her, so it wasn't a surprise when she invited you to a ceremony where she would renew her vow with her wife.

It's been a while since you doll up properly and wear a dress. But you try to not feel self-conscious as you stepped out of your car. You didn't want to give your ex-husband the satisfaction. You wanted to look fine, more than fine, like the divorce didn't affect you.

It was easier said than done with the way you could feel his eyes from across the room as you tried to ignore him and focus on your conversation with Kate and her wife.

Goddamn, can he stop that, he's really making you nervous.

Sighing, you took a sip of a champagne that was served. Maybe the alcohol would help.

...

You woke up with a throbbing headache and turned your head to groan at the fluffy pillow. Fuck, you drank too much.

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked when you saw a figure lying beside you.

John.

John?!

Your head throbbed even more when you sat up too fast. Looking under the blanket, you sighed when you see that you're clothed at least. Even though it wasn't the dress you wore last night.

Sighing, your gaze shifted to the man beside you and took in the scene that was too familiar to you once upon a time.

Against your better judgement, you laid back down. And for some reason, you didn't move away when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist.

Why did you divorce him again?

[shotmrmiller]

Simon doesn't care how he comes. He doesn't care if it's your smaller hand wrapped around his fattened cock, tugging it with a gentle twist, smearing the bead of arousal that's welled up from his slit with your thumb. Doesn't care that he usually fucks his fist roughly after a hard day's work with blood still crusted on his fingernails, hard enough to ache. The way you sit beside him, the soft swell of your breasts pressed against the corded muscle of his arm, murmuring words of praise that have his cheeks alight with a rosy glow—

He doesn't care if you use your mouth (you asked, ofc) your mouth is warm around him, the gummy inside of your cheeks slippery— the constricting back of your throat even more so. He sits still, like a good boy, not bucking his hips up, not pushing your head down to take as much of him as you can.

Doesn't care if you make him fuck your thighs— intercrural, you'd called it. How could he when your soft thighs are so smooth and pliable, enveloping his leaky cock with their warmth? Certainly doesn't mind when he glides his head along your slick folds, occasionally catching your swollen clit, hearing your little sharp intakes of breath.

Simon doesn't care where he comes, either. If it's a hand job, he spurts hot, viscous pleasure onto his pudgy stomach, coating the dark trail of hair below his navel and making a mess of your hand. (If you lick his come off your fingers, he's asking you to grow old with him asap)

If it's a blow job, he'll give you a heads-up with a rumbled, "'m, close, so close—" and that's your cue to either pull away, let him paint your cheeks with his spend, or swallow every single drop. (Or let it drip onto his jeans, none of it matters just don't stop)

He'll slicken your inner thighs with his sticky cum, scoop up some of it with his callused fingers, and slather it over your puffy pussy, using it as lube to rub you to completion.

So, when you casually ask him how he feels about a breeding kink as if you were commenting on the weather, his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. Are you asking him for a kid?

But you don't notice how his pupils dilate a fraction or how the skin around his eyes tightens, the corners forming small creases as you continue. "Because I'd been thinking," a small pause, "to spice things up a little—" before he even gets a word in, you raise your hands up in a calming gesture. "Not like there's anything wrong with what we're doing now."

There's a subtle shake to your hands and the grooves of your palms catch the light. Sweaty. You're nervous. This isn't just about him filling you with his cum. He's already done that before— pressed his tip right into your swollen entrance mere moments before finishing. he lets you gather your thoughts, unsnag the words caught in your throat.

And when you finally steel your nerves and say what you want to say (garble, more like) the shrill ringing in his ears is deafening. "You wan' me to wear a rubber 'nd let you take it off." Had he misheard?

The way your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, gaze lowered to the ground, your fingers twisting and turning, uncertain. So he hadn't. Well. How could he say no? Granted, he doesn't understand it, but for his girl? Anything.

He comes to understand it the very first time it happens.

Rolling on the rubber hadn't been different. nor the way he gently stretched you with one finger, two. The spit he'd used as lube to cause you as little discomfort as possible mingling with your own slick, dripping down his rugged knuckles. He takes his time as always, slipping between your spread thighs, watching your face twist, kiss-swollen lips part as he sinks into your heat. He goes slow, hearing you hiss between your teeth, your blunt nails sinking into his chest. He'll have red, angry welts later alongside his dog tags. Claimed by both duty and his little love. "Marked like property," he'd joked once.

You hadn't found it so funny. (Johnny got it though.)

Even with the very small difference in sensation, you're still the best thing he's ever felt. You take him like you're meant for him and maybe you are, but he smothers that train of thought quickly with a heavy hand lest he finish when the fun's just begun.

He feels you shift, even with his body weight that presses down on you with the gravity of a boulder, and he sinks to the root— like a pebble falling into still waters. Your nails tear skin, draw blood. The biting sting of it sends a shiver that sweeps over his goosepimpled skin, arousal tangling in his spine. He bucks his hips in reflex, hard enough to jolt you upward. The discomfort on your face quickly melts away, the sweetened burn of his thick cock prying your tender walls apart finally bleeding into white-hot pleasure.

Simon thrusts again, this time deliberately. Again. And again. He keeps them shallow, dragging the ribbed edges of the condom along your sensitive nerves, gently trying to coax a lazy orgasm out of you— the ones that always leave you syrupy and warm.

He focuses on you. Swirls your peaked nipples with his thumb, nestles his face in the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning over your heated skin. Simon licks a hot stripe over your fluttering pulse, presses a chaste kiss on it, nips your sensitive skin with a little too much pressure when you squeeze down around him—

Cheeky minx.

He snaps his hips, hard enough to rattle your spine, hard enough to hear the way the oxygen is ripped from your lungs. Simon keeps at it, resolute in getting you to the edge, dragging you with him, taking you over.

And then he hears you slur out a couple of words through your gasps. "C'ndom," you mewl, "the condom, off."

Right. He peels himself off of you. He'd almost forgotten —

You're impatient, pushing him away with your bare feet on his chest until he pulls out with a pop, trembling fingers reaching his twitching cock. The rubber comes off after a moment and while he's distracted by the creamy slick coating it, you're already putting him back in you, and your cunt feels sublime.

Divinity. He feels intoxicated.

The pleasure he felt before feels muted now, in comparison. Dull, almost. You feel hot, almost burning— swallowing him up, wet, so wet. The way your walls flutter around him jumbles his thoughts, tangles his tongue. He grinds down onto you with grit teeth, nostrils flared as he tries to keep the searing coil in his gut from unspooling, but he fears it's a losing battle. Beads of sweat roll down the side of his face as he fucks into your tight cunt with a hunger that borders on desperation.

He can see, and hear, that it's different for you too. Your keens and mewls are loud, nails scoring trails of red down his back. Simon leans back a bit, enough to let you watch his cock split you open, strings of sticky arousal connecting between you two. When he changes angle, aiming for your (and his) favorite spot with precision, the squeal you let out stiffens his spine.

Simon needs to hear it again. He grabs you by the cheeks, forcing you to look at him with those pretty, glassy eyes that glimmer with tears. Saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of tasting salt. "Like tha'?" The delicate strands of your eyelashes are clumped together with overwhelming sensation.

When you don't answer, he gives your hood a gentle tap, striking right above your clit. "I asked you a question." He grunts when your pussy almost strangles his cock at his gravelly tone. Simon will remember that for later.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, god, just like that." As a reward, he uses his thumb to draw tight little circles over your pearl, fucking you with his full weight behind every thrust. The blissful expression on your features, spit glistening in the corner of your lips, your hand flat, fingers spread wide over your lower belly as if to feel him from the outside— it's enough to almost toss him over that crumbling edge.

But he takes more. Selfish, greedy. Takes what's his with fervor; wholly, unapologetically. "This," he pushes until he can go no more, his tip meeting a firm resistance, "is better than everythin' I've ever had." Maybe it's a stupid thing to say, right here when he's rearranging your guts around to make room for his fat cock, but he's drunk off of you.

There's no thinking clearly with the slick noises echoing in the stuffy room. There's no seeing clearly when his world has narrowed to a single point of contact.

You're squeezing around him like a vise, tight enough that his nerve endings prick with pain. But he keeps going. He takes, he gives, he yearns to watch you unfurl at the edges forever, on his fingertips, on his tongue, his cock but you—

You are both his ecstasy and ruin. He can see it in the way the corners of your pretty mouth curl upward, teasing, eyes glinting with mischief, with the same kind of trouble that ensnared him into your orbit that one lousy night.

"Come in me."

Bloody fucking trouble.

(He wants all of it. The you who'll complain about the hard surface of the kitchen table he'll bend you over. The purple marks he'll pepper on your neck, your collarbone. The you that fights tooth and nail over him eating beans on toast.)

He watches you with half-lidded eyes as his fingers and his cock toss you overboard into the tumultuous sea of euphoria and then— when you're a drooling, limp mess— only then, does he finally surrender, balls drawn up painfully tight,

and fills you to the brim, until there's no more room left in your swollen, greedy pussy. Until it spills from your hole in thick rivulets, until there's no more of him left to give.

(He doesn't do rings. It'll get the both of you killed should he ever get caught. Maybe a tattoo for him and a band for you? Gotta text Price in the morning.) <- oh what barebacking does to a simple man such as he.

this was supposed to have been a 600 word drabble hello. he's clingy and squishy and so sickeningly in his emotions.

[mydarlingclaudia]

lalala I’m not immune to him… butcher Simon and fem!reader

wc : 882

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

sigh. Butcher!Simon Riley.

You're new in town, you need a job, you need to have something to do. Too bad that no one besides the small coffee shop a few minutes away was hiring, you got the job, but they could only offer you time to work in the mornings.

After the first week, one of your coworkers told you about the butcher shop down the street that could really use some help (even though the owner refused to put up a sign in the window or anything of the sort), it really wasn't an awful idea to give it a shot, yeah?

The first thing you notice when you walk into the small shop is that the man behind the counter is huge, like, stereotypical slasher kind of huge with a few scars on his face to really sell the look. He hardly pays you any mind, just a small glance and "What'cha gettin'?" while he wipes his hands on his apron.

You panic, mumble out that a few slices of pepperoni and salami is fine, then watch him work for a few odd moments before you ask him if there's any chance you could get a job there.

He once again just glances at you before handing the meat off to you and telling you to come back the next day at 4:30.

So– you get the job.

Simon–your boss's name, apparently–figured there was no harm in hiring you, you'd be working in the afternoon and cutting meat isn't too difficult. Plus, seeing your face light up when he told you the good news made him feel better.

The whole thing comes almost naturally, you don't mind the clean-up that needs to be done afterwards and you're good with the customers, it certainly makes everything easier for Simon. Another good thing is that he lives right above the shop, so if there's no customers that day, he'll just send you home, he can come downstairs if someone knocks on the door.

He's stopped by the coffee shop a few times, too, he normally makes a comment along the lines of "Busy girl, aye?" or "See you in an hour." but it’s easy to brush off.

It’s only after a couple of months when Simon really starts to talk to you, before it had just been him asking about your day or talking about shipments and customers, but now it’s asking about your favorite movies and if you’ve gone to that nice restaurant just outside of town yet, if you’ve got any plans for the weekend and “Wanna know somethin’ funny?”

Turns out he was in some kind of military, you only found out when he had leaned over the counter when someone was ordering and a pair of dog tags slid out from the front of his shirt. Simon tucked them back under his shirt when the customer left, so you thought it was better not to ask.

Anyway, he keeps getting friendlier with you. Telling you that you could take more of the tips from the tip jar was, going out to get lunch for the both of you and evening bringing you food he made from time to time, offering to walk you home, normal things. What you considered a bit odd was when he’d start helping you adjust your jacket whenever you’d put it on to leave or when he’d bring you actual gifts like earrings and sweaters that he said he didn’t need anymore.

Even though you thought it was strange, you liked it, Simon’s a lot sweeter than he looks.

Watching him work is great, too. You’re in no way complaining that you get to see the muscles underneath his shirt flexing nearly everyday, the doting and pet names he calls you are another added bonus.

Once you’ve been working there for nearly a year, he starts inviting you up to his apartment for dinner and insisting that you should just stay with him when the weather is bad. You just brush it off each time, saying you don’t want to intrude and that a little bit of snow wouldn’t hurt you, but the look in his eyes makes your gut twist and you almost say yes.

If that wasn’t enough for you to want to go home with him, then maybe the soft touches would be. Whenever Simon’s hands were clean, there’d always be a steadying hand on your back or a gentle squeeze to your hip when he passes behind you.

Besides, the time Simon decided the shop was closing early when it was almost time for you to go home for the night had been special, but that’s because he asked you, “Y’doin’ anythin’ tonight?” when you were putting on your jacket.

You never do much of anything at home, so you thought nothing of it when you shook your head and turned to the door, but once again, his big hands found their way to your waist and a kiss was planted to the corner of your eye before you could really process that Simon was ushering you out and walking beside you.

”Then we’re goin’ out tonight, ‘kay? Proper like.” You weren’t going to say no, and his hand that squeezed more made it feel like he was planning on keeping you.

[sai-int]

You keep talking about douchebag Simon, so I keep thinking about douchebag Simon, and now I wanna get back at him. Here's my thoughts:

This time you're actually done with his bullshit. He's taken you to yours, fucked you seven ways to Sunday, and left before you even fell asleep, again. You know you could help, could give him everything he doesn't have, but goddamn, there's only so many times one can offer before the other party makes it clear that they don't want help. Simon doesn't want help.

He's just been dragging you along on a string, and now that you've cut it, you want revenge. Definitely not partially to make him jealous so he would long for you like you have for him. However, Simon hasn't told you anything about family or friends, so it's not like you could just go and fuck his dad, but some basic reconnaissance should get results.

It doesn't take but a few batted eyelashes, payments for drinks, and some bullshit story about a surprise for Simon to get the other regulars at the shitty bar Simon frequents to talk. He comes every so often with friends, each with an odd nickname. However, the one that piques your interest is one that's occasionally referred to as 'Captain". Simon does have the military look about him, with all those scars and the way he carries himself, so you assume that his Captain will be the next best thing to a metaphorical father.

You learn that his name is John Price, a perfectly average name, common in all aspects, and get a description of him, tall, bearded, built bloke. Not so average. You bribe the bartender to call you next time he's in and steal him away for a few moments after. You would wait around at the dive yourself, but you'd rather avoid Simon because you don't want to fall into old habits don't want to see his stupid face.

A few weeks later, you get the call. You look in the mirror to make sure your makeup is good enough and you throw on the best outfit you can given the time constraint. It doesn't take long to get to that bar and you make your way behind the building to meet with John Price and avoid the prying eyes of your ex(?) situationship.

The hard gaze and tense posture of the large man fall once he gets a good look at you. You're not a hostile that somehow got their location. You're just a little bird (regardless of weight or height, you're little to Price). Maybe you have a thing for large men who could kill you with one finger, because this man is certainly doing it for you. "John Price?"

"Tha's me." John is surprised you know his name at all. He certainly would've remembered you if you had met before. You must be a clever little thing.

Now, you are inherently a bleeding heart, and as much as Simon hurt you, you can't bring yourself to bring someone else into this shitty situation blind, so you explain the whole situation with him, hoping that for some reason he will help and not rat on you. The plan of course is to pretend to have a one night stand with the captain then pretend to fall in love and date for a bit. Just long enough to rub it in Simon's face that you bagged his commanding officer.

John seems entirely amused. Normally he wouldn't dream of going behind his mens' backs like this, especially not Simon who's been a loyal dog for years now, but he clearly has something to learn if he's breaking the heart of this sweet, whip-smart bird like he is, and said bird just offered a perfect learning opportunity. John never misses the chance to better his men after all, and if he can keep this bird coming back to his windowsill to sing to him, (As he doesn't want to cage the poor thing, that would be just as cruel as breaking her) then that's all the better.

Anyways that's what my brain said, you can do with this as you please. ^-^

holy shit, i don't even think I could put it better than this, but here's my portrayal!!

cw : none, douchebag!simon, simon's a brat, but john's a man

you knew this moment would come.

you spent weeks laying the groundwork, learning the ins and outs of simon’s world. the places he haunted, the people he trusted, the patterns of his life. and now, after all the work, after all the nights spent staring at your ceiling, seething over the way he’s used you.

time to make him feel it. really feel it.

because you were done. done letting him take and take and leave you empty—well, not necessarily empty, he's pumped you full of his seed more times than you could count on both hands. you're done waiting for a man who had already made it crystal fucking clear he was never going to let you in.

and what better way to drive the knife than with the one man he actually respects.

john price. his beloved captain. his commanding officer.

you had expected price to shoot you down the second you'd cornered him in the team's usual haunt and suggested your plan, to wave you off like a foolish girl playing a game she couldn’t win. instead, he just leaned back, took a slow sip of his drink, and smirked.

"he needs a lesson," he’d said, amused. "and you need a bit of fun."

john was impressed, to say the least. you managed to not only pin down when he was going to be at the pub, but also put a name to a face? clever girl, you are. gorgeous one too, and that wasn't lost on him.

which is how you find yourself here, pressed close to john price in the same exact pub, not 3 days later, looking like you belong at his side.

simon had wandered into the pub a while ago, but he had just sat at the bar, not noticing the pair cuddled up in a booth in the far corner of the bar. eventually, though, his eyes wander. bored, in his head probably. then they bulge as they land on his captain and his bird. his big, tender paws are all over you. he makes you laugh, a sound that makes simon's heart twist in a way he tried to ignore. he wipes the stray drops of your drink from your lip with the pad of his thumb.

the weight of simon's gaze is suffocating, burning a hole straight through you, scorching from across the bar. it should make you falter, should make you hesitate, but you refuse to give him that satisfaction.

instead, you lean in closer to price, one hand resting lightly on his forearm, the motion deliberate and obvious.

price plays his part so well, you'd think he was being genuine.

"hope you don’t mind me stealing your attention for a bit," you murmur, just loud enough for simon to hear, voice dripping with amusement.

price tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with something dangerous as he brushes your hair back. "not at all, love," he says easily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "was starting to think i wouldn’t see you again."

you just coyly smile at price, kneading his thick forearms as if to say 'you're so strong'. "you can see me whenever you want, John, you know i'm yours."

price hums, gaze flicking toward simon before settling back on you. "so," he muses, voice a deep, rolling thing, "you never did answer my question, doll."

you blink up at him, lips parting slightly. "what question?"

he smirks.

"this one,"

then he leans in, close, slow, one hand settling high on your thigh as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

not a full kiss. just a taste. just tender enough to get your stomach fluttering.

and that’s when you hear it.

the screech of simon’s chair against the hardwood. the slam of his glass onto the bar counter.

then, low and guttural. he's seething.

"the fuck do y'think your doin?"

the tension in the room shifts, like a current crackling through the air. you feel the heat of simon’s anger, the barely-contained rage simmering just beneath his skin.

but you don’t turn, you occupy yourself with your drink, letting price answer first.

"something wrong, mate?" he asks, tilting his head, voice the perfect picture of calm

simon clears his throat, hand waving awkwardly as he tries to find the words. "that's my girl."

price just lifts a brow. "thought you weren’t interested, riley."

simon scoffs, low and sharp. "you tell me, captain," the title drips from his lips like venom. "didn’t think y'were in the business of pickin’ up my fuckin’ scraps."

you don’t flinch. you don’t even blink. you just exhale, slow and measured, before turning your head to meet his glare

"funny," you say, tilting your chin up. "didn’t realize you thought so highly of yourself"

simon’s nostrils flare. his eyes flick to price’s hand still resting on your thigh, his fingers twitch like he’s dying to rip it away

"y'slummin' it, cap?" simon mutters, but there’s a crack in his voice, a tightness to it, something that tells you this is getting to him.

price just hums, completely unbothered as he throws his arm around you. "nah," he says, tucking you into his side and planting a kiss to your temple. "just doin’ what you couldn’t,"

simon goes still.

"or wouldn't."

his fingers curl into fists, his jaw tics, and for the first time since you met him, he doesn’t have anything to say.

the silence stretches. you watch his chest rise and fall, the way his eyes flick between you and price like he’s trying to make sense of this, like he’s looking for the part where it’s just a game.

you see the moment he begins to believe it isn't, the way his shoulders tense, the way his lips part just slightly before they press into a tight, thin line

and then, just as you knew he would, he breaks. he turns on his heel, returning to the bar and downing his drink.

price exhales beside you, slow and knowing, before finishing off his drink.

"well," he mutters, "that was easier than i thought"

you hum, tipping your own glass back before setting it down with a soft clink

"you were right," you murmur, stretching, letting price’s arm fall from your shoulders to rest against the small of your back. "he’s not gonna forget this."

price lets out a low chuckle, and it feels like honey dripping down your spine. he presses his palm just a little firmer against you as he leans down, voice dropping just for you.

"no," he agrees, smirking. "especially not when he realizes i’m keepin’ you."

your breath catches slightly, just for a second, but price notices, his smirk turning softer, more certain

"didn’t think you were mine to take," he continues, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw, "but now?" he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuck, sweetheart. i’d be a fool to let you slip away now."

and when he takes your hand and leads you out of the bar, the weight of simon’s absence is nothing compared to the warmth of price’s touch.

douchebag!simon mlist

[ruruumin]

“ah, you got into another fight? really, rin?” carefully wiping the blood from his nose, you shake your head in disappointment, “you can’t be doing this. it’s a bad habit.” 

this invokes a scoff from him, “shit for brains had it coming though.” was shit for brains a new nickname for shidou? this man never ceases to impress you with his genius. 

sighing, you pat the side of rin’s cheek with a cotton swab, soaking up the rest of the blood. you suppose it was wishful thinking that the two of them could get along just for one game. you had even asked him to play nicely this time around. shidou was kind enough to at least reassure you that he won’t do anything (unless a certain someone makes the first move), but trying to convince rin was like talking to a rock sometimes. 

every time the ball flies out of someones foot, these guys are the first to scramble for it. it’s definitely a dog-eat-dog world out there. 

“what are you going to do when he cracks your nose and it heals sideways? you’ll lose your pretty looks.” 

“so what? i’ll still be able to play football.” 

“yeah well your lover over here sure doesn’t appreciate you coming home with a busted nose and bruised forehead.” flicking the top of his head, he roll his eyes, your words going in one ear and out the other rather quickly, “if you come home from another fight looking this bad, you’ll end up sleeping on the couch until your face heals.”

“…and don’t even ask for kisses.” 

now that catches his attention.

the next time he comes home, his face certainly wasn’t bruised but his knuckles have long turned purple and blue. it seems like he took your threat quite seriously. promising not to kiss him was definitely the final straw that broke the camel’s back for him. he adores any sort of attention he can get from you and would rather die than have shidou out of all people take that away from him. even if he is the one at fault for starting majority of the fights.

[majinbangus]

I’m now obsessed with dog!Simon, thank you for the nourishment for my enclosure. I shall now go feral /pos

i'm so glad you like the concept <3 》 18+

"I'm sorry... what?"

You stare blankly at Soap. He stares back, a tad reprimanding. Ghost hovers behind him, naked and expectant, raptorial smirk on his face. They've both blocked you in the bathroom.

Soap crosses his arms, looking a little disappointed in you. "When I got you your dog, I thought it was implied that you take care of him. That includes bathing him."

"But he's not really—"

"He can take care of himself most days, but he's still yours to take care of, sweetheart. He'll need at least one bath once a week. If you can't do that, we can't keep him."

There's a part of you that thinks that may be for the best—if that happens, maybe you can talk Soap into getting you an actual dog—but when you look over Soap's shoulder to eyeball Ghost, you can't help but feel a slight pang at the thought of losing him. Or perhaps that's just the thought of disappointing Soap and Ghost, and going back on the compromise. Whatever the reason, you can't bring yourself to get rid of him. He's here now, might as well keep him, right?

"I'll... take care of him." You finally say after a minute of contemplating, and Soap's face breaks out with a proud grin.

"I'll leave you to it then."

Without much else to say, Soap walks out of the bathroom, leaving you alone with Ghost. You shuffle nervously between your feet. "Uh, you can stay there. I'm gonna warm up the water for you."

He doesn't say anything as he watches you. Doesn't say anything at all, even when the water is ready and the tub is full, or when you stiffly guide him into the bath, stripping down to your underthings so you don't get your clothes wet. You sit on the tub's edge, cupping water into your hand and start rubbing along his shoulders and neck, and that's when he makes a small noise, groaning at the gentle touch of your fingers.

"That feels good, pet. Think I like it when you clean me."

"Anytime." The word is out before you can stop it. You start massaging your fingers into his scalp, getting his hair wet. "I mean, you know, I'll take care of you whenever you need it."

"And if I need this every night?"

Your fingers play with his hair and you stubbornly refuse to meet his gaze. You know he's looking at you. Daring you to look him in the eyes. To challenge him. You don't, instead—

"Then I'll give you this every night."

You roll over and show him your belly.

In your peripheral, you see him smirk. Faster than you can react, his hand darts out to grab your wrist. You don't try to fight it as he pulls your hand under the water, brushing your knuckles against the apex of his legs. There's a twitch as he wraps your fingers it. You slowly start to pump your hand and he gifts you with a deep groan.

"Don't I have an attentive master?" Ghost praises and you gulp, but fasten your pace.

Soap said it was your responsibility to take care of him, so that's exactly what you'll do.

-

When you've finally cleaned and dried both yourself and Ghost, you both wander back to the living room where Soap awaits, watching a movie. You go and join him, pecking his cheek when you sit down.

"Come, Ghost." You pat the spot next to you, and he obeys, pulling you into his lap once he gets on the couch. His hands wander shamelessly, catching Soap's attention.

"Good bath?" Soap asks knowingly, chuckling at your dazed expression.

"Uh-huh."

He chuckles at your simple reply and shifts to pat your head. "That's a good girl."

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma

content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public

It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.

He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.

[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”

CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.

He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.

“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”

Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.

He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.

[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”

FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.

He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.

“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”

It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.

While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.

“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”

The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.

When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.

“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”

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[noveauskull]

Her Highness And Her Gem [NSFW]

characters: rafayel x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, spoilers for Rafayel's "wander in wonder" card, fingering, oral (f! receiving), reverse cowgirl, doggy style, prone bone, praising (m! receiving), no protection (piv), cocky princess reader, dominant reader, Lemurian Rafayel, porn with P L O T

-----

"What's going on? Why is everyone gathered in her Highness's throne room?"

"Didn't you hear? Messengers from every corner of the land brought these so-called "gifts" for her highness"

"Gifts?"

"It's to alleviate her boredom, apparently..."

You continued to listen to the unnecessary chattering of the maids surrounding the room, holding back from rolling your eyes at how ridiculous the entire situation was.

This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't escaped the palace for the 10th time this month.

It can't be helped. Your boredom was going to kill you before your age did, what's so wrong with wanting to see the outside world once in a while?

You were getting tired of every offer given by other Kingdoms and Empires through men. It was starting to get old by how they all carried good looks but no talent in bed, even a few aphrodisiacs couldn't satisfy you.

You weren't the best princess out there. Rebellious, cruel and salacious. Those were the words often used by others to describe you, most people expect a princess to be on their best behaviour, kind-hearted and pure, but you couldn't care less about such unimportant things.

"Bring them in, quickly" You wasted no time in telling the female messenger, and she nodded before clapping twice as a signal.

As of right now, while your eyes stared into the men walking in the room with attires of different erotic styles, your brain was stuck on finding another way to escape, and where you would visit once you had succeeded.

"Your Highness, have a look. These men are all pleasing to the eye"

Without realizing it, you let out a disappointed and stress-filled sigh. Make the female messenger take it as you are feeling unsatisfied with the line of men in front of you.

You didn't bother clearing up the misunderstanding as you would have preferred them all gone anyway, but then you watched as the female messenger winked at the group. They all suddenly made way for a certain individual.

"Would your highness be open to a handsome Lemurian to stroke the flames of your curiousity?" She said with a proud smile.

Your eyes immediately found a place on the violet-haired man, wearing a gold-adorned outfit that barely did anything to cover his erotic body. The sight was quite a surprise as you never expected to hear the words "Lemurian" along with it.

Without realization, you had a mischievous grin plastered on your face.

Watching how the Lemurian man looked uninterested while maintaining eye contact with you, his hands were tied with thick cuffs to prevent him from trying to escape. Maybe that's why he didn't look too happy.

"Very well, the rest can leave" You waved off the female messenger and her group of men away, signalling the maids to escort them out as you got up from your seat.

You walked down from your throne and stood in front of the Lemurian man, eyeing him closely. His eyes were in a mixed hue of blue, purple and pink, beautiful and unique like how they said Lemurians would be.

Every mole on his face and body was being observed from your lenses, you could tell how nervous he became from having your lecherous gaze on him, you could feel his breath against the top of your head as he avoided making eye contact with you.

Feeling impatient, you used your finger to hook onto the jewellery on his neck, giving him a small tug as you walked him towards your bedroom like you would with a dog on a leash. Surprising him but knowing that following you instead of struggling would do him less trouble.

The entire walk down the corridor towards your room was silent, all you could hear was his bare feet making tiny pitter-patter noises as your heels clicked in a rush, your mind was bent on one thing only this evening.

To tame this Lemurian as your own.

Before you could notice the smirk on your face, you threw the male onto your bed, watching him gasp in shock from the sudden impact, his eyes immediately locking into yours as you had both your hands on the sides of his head, pinning him with nowhere else to look but you.

"I've been waiting for a Lemurian to fall onto my hand for a while now..." You spoke in a hushed voice, laced with a hint of arousal. Whoever put him in this outfit was going to be rewarded handsomely.

"I heard the creatures of the sea possess beautiful voices, won't you entertain me?"

As you asked him the question, you could see him frown before turning his head away from your gaze in an attempt to protest your request. It seems that he was playing hard to get.

"Well, I do like it when they put up a little fight" You let out a wicked laugh, watching his face look nervous once more. Maybe he could tell you were a bit crazy through the look in your eyes.

However, you weren't interested in playing with a toy that wasn't working. So you decided to throw your body down to lie next to the violet-haired male, heaving out a sigh as you stretch your arms. Your actions make the individual beside you flinch and stare at you in confusion.

"If you don't plan on speaking, then you will never be free from this place," You told him, your eyes shut with your arms resting at the back of your head, legs crossed creating a position of an unfeminine and careless manner.

"I was born in this very palace, and I will die here without a single ounce of freedom"

Curious to know if he was listening, you opened your eyes to gaze at him once more, he had already been sat up, facing you with a distrustful look, but still interested in what you had to say.

"If you don't believe me, think about how empty the palace is. How there isn't a single man, and why I need these messengers to find me another man every week" You watched his face soften, and while what you were saying could be true, most of it was to get him to open up to you.

A cruel princess you may be.

You weren't lying when you said you were lonely. But hinting to him that you let the men that came to your chambers off to "save" them was definitely a lie. You just didn't find them entertaining after a week.

"You will be no difference. After a week you can go back to your home, and I will find another man to bring into my chambers"

You switched your position to laying onto your stomach, hand resting under your chin as your other hand went to poke the Lemurian's stomach, tracing his abs.

"...If you agree, speak your name" You didn't bother to look at his face as you had a smile imprinted on your face, finding entertainment in tracing nonexistent patterns on his muscular body.

It took a silence so deep you could hear your own breath, waiting for a reply from the male. But after a few more seconds, you concluded that he just wasn't interested in what you had to offer, so you took your hand off his body, pushing yourself up.

"Rafayel"

You froze, hands resting on the bed as your head snapped to look at the Lemurian's face, you observed the look on his face. He seemed calm and willing this time, seeing him look so obedient had you grinning, your eyes squinting by how big you were smiling as you pushed your face forward to his.

"No takebacks" You pressed your lips into his, feeling him gasp in your mouth, however, he didn't protest, letting you kiss him so rough that you had him lie back down on the bed as your body hovered over his once more.

Right when you were getting into the mood, you pulled away from his lips, clicking your tongue in annoyance while Rafayel panted from how intense your kissing was. Rafayel's hands were right on your belly, the cold hard metal that was holding his hands in place was making you uncomfortable.

"I'll uncuff you. That is if you can promise me you'll be good"

The Lemurian didn't seem responsive, instead, he was just panting restlessly, partly to catch his breath or to regain his composure. Not noticing how lewd his face looked and that the pupils in his eyes turned to slits. You took his silence as an agreement to what you said and brought the cuffs to your face.

It seemed like it didn't need a key to unlock. Instead, it had a switch similar to what bracelets have. You pressed on the poking metal and watched the cuff on his right hand unlock, falling loosely as you did the same with his left.

You carelessly threw the metal cuffs to the ground, not caring what would happen to it. Right when you were going to resume what you've been longing to do for a while, you felt two hands grip your wrists before tossing you onto the bed, switching positions of you and Rafayel.

"Ugh!" You grunted at the impact. Eyes locked in with Rafayel's, which went from an innocent, obedient look to a look that held something similar to that of an untamed dog. Unruly, and incapable of self-control.

Not wanting to back down from simply being pinned down, you smirked at Rafayel. Cocking your head upwards with a scoff, watching the Lemurian's eyes glow in a blue similar to the ocean. Before he could proceed with whatever he was planning on doing, you cut in.

"If you plan to get a strike and run away, it won't end well for you" You warned, making it clear that you weren't phased by him.

"It will start with the entire Empire distraught about what happened to their princess. Then every man and woman alike will go through every end of the world to find the messengers of their respective Empire or Kingdom that sent you to me. War will break out" You felt the grip on your wrists tighten, but you didn't bother to stop.

"And then they will aim for your people. No Lemurian in the sea will be left alive, they will skin your tails, gouge your pretty eyes, rip your scales off, and every bone of yours will be taken care of" Your eyes darkened as you watched Rafayel's face grow angrier.

"Every. Single. One"

You felt him release his grip on one of your hands, lifting up his own to create a ball of fire in an attempt to burn you right on the spot. Your provoking was so intense it had a man of the sea create fire. What a spectacle this man was.

Seeing as how you were in awe, he paused from throwing the fire at you. Waiting to see what else you would do. You happily gave him the expectation he needed.

You slowly sat up to not provoke him any further, before using the hand that was free to touch his right cheek. Thumb brushed over the mole as he stared at you with wide eyes, confused as to what you were doing now.

"Don't worry. Those things can't happen if I'm alive. I'm the princess of the most influential and powerful Empire there is here. Kings and Queens all over the world send me their sons so that they could be on good terms with us" You assured him, caressing his cheek as you would with a lover.

"As long as you're mine, no one will harm you"

Hearing you calmly whisper, Rafayel took a second before extinguishing the fire in his palm, then placing his hand to press against the bed sheets. The blue glow in his eye had also disappeared, which signalled you that he was now approachable.

"...We could even create a treaty between humans and Lemurians" You initiated, gently grabbing his hand and using it to trace it towards your stomach.

"Right...here..."

Pregnancy. You were insisting on having a child with a Lemurian man. You could see the utter shock on Rafayel's face. He looked at you as if you were crazy, but your people don't call you a tyrant for nothing. Because the look on your eyes showed that you had not a drop of humanity in you.

Without noticing it, Rafayel looked at you with pity.

"If I give you what I want, you will set me free" Your ears perked at the voice of the Lemurian man. How nice would his moans be if you had him inside you at this instant.

But he was a whole other species. A race with animalistic features. So you had to play it slow and steady. Luring in the snake before cutting off its fangs.

"Of course"

Now the one who was pushing their lips onto the other was Rafayel. You gladly let him take the initiative, since usually you would have to do all the work, so it would be nice to have a change of pace in things.

His style of kissing was similar to that of a lover. He didn't let his nervousness or hesitance show in his actions. Instead, he was determined, hungry even. Yet so gentle and experienced. Perhaps he's done it before with other women.

If that's the case, then it saves you the trouble of having to teach another man from scratch.

You guided his hand that was on your stomach lower to where your expensively embroidered pants were. Using his big, veiny hand to rub onto your lower region. Making him open his eyes and look down when he felt how warm and wet you were.

Without asking, he slipped his hand into your pants, feeling your pussy bare, covered completely in your juices making it easier for him to play with it.

You felt his fingers tease around your hole, rubbing up and down to gather your slick lubricant for his fingers before sticking them inside easily. Making you let out a moan that released you off your starvation to be touched, you removed your lips from his to give yourself better access to moan.

"A-Ah yes! Just like that" You gripped his wrist harder, guiding him to press all the right spots. Suddenly feeling the need to make a joke at the same time.

"Mmph! How lucky the other ladies are to have a piece of you before me, huh?" You let out a messy laugh, letting out another moan when you felt him press a particular spot harder.

"Stop talking" He warned, however seeing him frown at you made you want to coo at how innocent he looked, like a child that had his candy stolen from him.

"Then make me" You wrapped your hand around his neck and pressed his lips against yours for the third time.

You relish in the taste of his soft lips on yours, part of you wishes he would use those lips and work on your body instead of his hands, but you don't want to rush art in its process.

While you had your hole thrust in and out by Rafayel's fingers, you used your free hands to brush onto his body, feeling every bump of his perfectly sculpted abs on your fingers, if you weren't so preoccupied with his fingers inside, you would have smirked at how you could feel him lose composure from a simple touch.

Soon enough you felt like his fingers weren't enough for you. So you decided to take back the initiative and grab him by his arms, promptly pushing him onto the bed and crawling up to move your hips forward, your pants lowering down in the process.

Now his eyes were facing your soaking wet pussy, slightly throbbing from the loss of his slender fingers inside you. Rafayel stared at the leaking hole for a few seconds before averting his eyes to look up at you. To which you greeted his lost look with a large grin, nothing but pure arousal in your face.

"Go on"

You egged the Lemurian man on, he didn't seem to hesitate when his eyes went back to looking down at your pussy, and then he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, licking up the juices that were spilling out of you, neglecting your swollen clit so far.

A satisfied moan escapes your lips. The same lips that you had praised for being so soft and lewd were now suckling and licking up all your pussy had to offer, like he was cleaning up all the marks left by the other men you had slept with.

"Y-Yes...Good boy..." You bit your lower lip, running your fingers through his violet-coloured hair to guide his lips further to the perfect spots of your pussy. His nose slightly brushed against your clit.

It seemed that the tiny praise you gave to the Lemurian made him more excited than you thought because right when you praised him, you felt two large hands grope your asscheeks, pulling you forward to Rafayel's mouth, his lips latching onto your neglected clit at the same time.

You couldn't help but let out a noise of shock and pleasure, the sudden warmth and aggression in his tongue caught you off guard as all you could do was hold onto the headboard of the bed and have your legs twitch from every continuous lick he was giving to your pussy.

With the pace he had, it didn't take long before you felt yourself slowly inching closer to your orgasm. You couldn't even let out a noise to indicate that you were close because of how needy you were, it was like finally having a gulp of water after spending days in a desert.

"A-Argh- Fuck!" You groaned.

Like an instinct, you pushed his face closer to your pussy as if it weren't already close enough. Probably having his teeth touch your skin but you couldn't tell, you were too busy using Rafayel's face like how you would use a pillow at night.

You were so busy riding out your own release that you didn't even notice how the Lemurian man's eyes rolled back from the sudden pressure of his face being used for your own satisfaction, the arousing smell of your juices wouldn't go wasted as he would attempt to gulp down every single drop. Seriously, where did he learn to do all this?

Without care, you threw his head back onto the pillow before cupping his face and bombarding it with kisses, aiming from his cheek to his neck, planting kiss marks from your lipstick and leaving a few hickeys behind. Tarnishing his clean body with your bite marks.

"So gorgeous.." Another praise left your mouth.

Once you were proud of the work you left on his body, you pulled off your pants completely. Making sure Rafayel's eyes never left yours as you did so, throwing them away somewhere at the corner of the room before you pulled down the navy blue embroidered pants he had on as well, before turning your back on him and rubbing your wet cunt all over his rock hard cock.

"Little Lemuria's quite excited, huh?" You teased, watching his dazed expression never change. He was definitely out of it.

You made sure all the saliva and juices on your pussy coated his dick completely, you could tell he was getting impatient from how his leg would hold itself back from hiking up each time you rubbed your soft cunt onto his shaft, but you weren't looking forward in rushing such a valuable moment.

When you felt like you got his cock wet enough, you held his dick with your palm, feeling your own cum slipping through your fingers as you slowly pushed it inside of you, letting out a large sigh of relief when you finally got to feel something large and veiny as his cock.

Without wasting another second you moved your hips back and forth, letting his cock hit you from every spot you had inside, and also giving him a good view of your ass as you continued to tease him with the way you rocked your hips.

Right when you made him believe you were just going to rock on his dick, you lifted your hips up and slammed yourself down, earning a loud moan from both you and him. The sudden action shocked Rafayel to the point his hands reached up to grab your waist while you continued to ram his dick deep inside you.

"Mmph! Yes! Right there!"

The pace you created from simply hopping up and down his dick became too intense that Rafayel couldn't keep up anymore. His eyes would fail to gain focus once you brought him closer to his release through the teasing you did earlier. Not hiding the moans that followed the closer you got to your orgasm.

"U-Ugh! A-Almost!"

You clenched your pussy while letting out a loud moan, the impact he had on your hole was far stronger than your impact on his dick since you clearly cared about reaching your own orgasm first. To which you did a few seconds before Rafayel could cum as well.

While you were trying to keep yourself up after completely raw dogging yourself onto his cock, you let out a gasp when you felt your body being pushed forward, your arms being held behind your back as you felt a harsh thrust snap to hips and a deep press inside your cervix.

A loud guttural moan left your mouth as you were forced into a position where the Lemurian man had his way with you, you couldn't see his face, but you could tell by the way he was holding back his growls that he was chasing after the orgasm you denied him from achieving.

You wanted to tell him to slow down, but you couldn't as all your energy was lost from the first two orgasms you had, all you could do was moan desperately while you continued to feel Rafayel's cock gushing in and out of your hole that twitched uncontrollably.

Thanks to you being sensitive, the clamps your pussy made on Rafayel's dick made him reach his high quicker than anticipated. He gives his few final thrusts by pushing your hips so far that your stomach and face are now pressing onto the sheets, you are about to reach your third orgasm.

You hear Rafayel moan in relief as he completely filled your hole up with his cum. Feeling the warm substance gush out of your hole and run down your legs as you came on his dick once more. Eyes roll to the back of your head, leading to nothing but pitch blackness on your sight.

When you two were finally satisfied, all you could hear was the heavy breathing that came out from both your mouths. You couldn't move your body anymore, all you could do was lie on the bed with your ass facing Rafayel, you might as well sleep at that moment.

And sleep you did.

The last thing you felt was the warm embrace of the Lemurian man, you didn't expect him to be so gentlemanly, taking care of you while you were unconscious. He would make it harder for you to let him go.

But to your surprise, he was already gone the moment you woke up.

At first, you were frantic. Threatening to kill everyone in the palace if they didn't tell you his whereabouts, but it seemed that the little fish was quite sneaky, as everyone reported to have never seen him.

Eventually, you gave up. The only one time you finally found something interesting and exhilarating in your mundane life sat right at your palm, and you let it get away.

Moving on was easy, but your body no longer wanted to feel the touch of another man. Every day the maids and messengers would present you with a line of gorgeous men, but you barely even spared a glance, the only thing imprinted in your brain was that god darned Lemurian.

A week would have already passed since then. And you would find yourself laying on the same bed he was on with you, bored out of your mind.

"Stupid Lemurian. Bewitching me" You cursed, tossing a grape at the wall, watching it bounce off and fall onto the floor.

You were bent on revenge. If you ever see him again, you are going to turn him into your slave, that is for sure.

"I hope I won't be turned into seafood if I let your highness come with me"

Immediately, you sat up in shock. Not noticing you had almost crushed the grape in your hand when you heard a familiar voice. Your head snapped to look at your bedroom window, and there stood a familiar man with violent-coloured hair and purple-hued eyes.

"You..." You muttered. Eyes frantically observing his new look. He had a gorgeous attire of blues, and his skin was covered in these symbolic marks.

You watched him have a serious look on his face, arms crossed as he eyed the grape you had in your hand. Curious about what you were so determined to throw at your walls.

"That's wasting food, princess" Compared to the man he was before, he sounded more cocky and mighty. Almost like a king.

You tried to find the words to retort at him. But all you could do was gaze at him in awe, the beauty he held must have increased tenfold from this past week, so this was what he would truly look like in Lemuria.

Snapping yourself out of the daze you were in, you stood up and ran towards him, finger-pointing at his chest as you furrowed your eyebrows and faced him.

"You bewitched me! And to add on, you had the gall to leave me after bedding me! You sly fish!" You yelled, finger poking a hole into his chest as he let out a chuckle.

"Oh! Funny is it?" You spat, watching his eyes trace itself to grab your arm that was poking him, you still had the grape in your hand.

Rafayel slowly kissed your arm, then brought his face to your hand. Where he took the grape in his lips and ate it whole, chewing the fruit inside his mouth and gulping it in front of you, then planting a kiss onto your hand.

The entire gesture left you speechless. Now you were definitely convinced that this man was trying to bewitch you. Your mind circled in thoughts on how dare he touch you so casually that you didn't notice how red your face was.

"Come with me, princess" He offered, eyes staring into yours.

"..." You didn't question him. Because you knew fully well that you would do wonders to leave the place. But you knew you couldn't, especially when you've done so countless of times.

"I can't. They'll find me and kill you. It's not worth the risk" You reasoned, eyes darkening with disappointment in your own words.

"I'd like to see them try and kill the God of Tides" He laughed at your words, to which you frowned in confusion.

"What does the God of Tides have anything to do with you?" Not realizing how stupid your question sounded, you watched as Rafayel looked at you with an arched eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

"...No way" Your eyes widened before moving your head up and down to take a good look at his attire once more.

Rafayel wasn't just some Lemurian lost on land. He was a Sea God.

"Goodness," You blurted out, watching Rafayel laugh at your reaction, to which you responded by blushing in embarrassment.

"Does this change things for us now?" He asked in between his laughs, to which you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I suppose"

You felt his arm wrap around your waist, bringing you close to him as you gasped, surprised by his bold gesture. When you looked up at him he had a fulfilling smile on his face.

Next thing you knew waves of water surrounded the two of you, maybe this time you could truly escape this boring place for good.

"Hey, Rafayel. Why did you come back for me?"

"Well, a lonely princess asked me to let her conceive my child. The kinder option would be to show her where I grew up, wouldn't it?"

"...Yeah..."

-

"Did you hear? The princess has escaped the palace once more"

"That's nothing new, is it?"

"Oh, but it is. I heard this time she escaped with a lover!"

"A lover?! That tyrant?!"

"Whoever that gentleman is, he must be crazy to elope with her"

"You said it"

-----

A/N: so like... clearly a lot of themes were running through my mind. maybe this isn't concubine! rafayel as promised BUT THE THEME IS THERE SO EAT YOUR FOOD LIKE THE GOOD CHILDREN YOU ARE (picky eaters are not welcomed, says the picky eater herself)

anyways incubus! rafayel is next, probably in a week or two who knows. after this, I will work on some zayne or xavier oneshots as well :)

OH AND CAN I SAY I WANNA OPEN COMMISSIONS SO BAD???? like maybe not for my art, but definitely for my writing. only when i hit 1k followers will I do that though so stay tuned!

here are the outfits mentioned in the oneshot for better imagination 💪✨️

[fangdokja]

You were born with the most overpowered ability in existence. You just don’t care.

♡ Yandere! Superpowers AU x Fem. Reader. Golden Hero, DILF! CEO, Host Club! King, Mortal Enemy

♡ Word Count. 1,931

Your life peaked at birth.

That was it. That was your highlight. The moment you inhaled oxygen for the first time, your existence had reached its pinnacle. Everything afterward was a downward spiral of pure, unfiltered misery.

You were born into a world where everyone had a “Talent.” Superpowers. Gifts. Whatever. Some people could shoot fire from their hands. Some could turn their skin to steel. Some could regenerate even after being vaporized into atoms (cheating, in your humble opinion). And you? Well. Everyone thought you were born without a Talent. A poor, unfortunate soul—so talentless, so pathetic, so powerless, so utterly beneath them.

They were right about one thing: You are beneath them. Because you keep your head down and ignore them. Because you have mastered the ancient technique known as not giving a single shit about anyone or anything.

Your real Talent?

You can steal abilities. Copy them. Keep them. Take them permanently if you feel like it. You are, technically, the most powerful being to have ever existed.

But, you see, that sounds like a lot of effort.

So, instead, you ignore everyone, stay in your room, and play video games. You’ve never even used your ability. You don’t want to. You just want to write fanfiction, consume an unhealthy amount of energy drinks, and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist.

Unfortunately, the world refuses to pretend you don’t exist.

────────────

You’re not sure which part of your life is the most miserable—the fact that you were born into a world where everyone gets a unique, flashy ability that makes them feel special, or the fact that everyone has collectively agreed that you are the single most useless human being in existence.

Well, “useless” is relative. It’s just that you don’t give a single damn about anything. You don’t want to be a hero, you don’t want to fight crime, and you sure as hell don’t want to interact with people.

Unfortunately, the world has other plans.

Your entire childhood has been a tragic comedy of errors. Born without a visible ability, everyone—your classmates, your teachers, even your next-door neighbor’s dog—assumed you were just some talentless loser doomed to live a pathetic existence. That assumption made you the perfect target for bullying. Your classmates threw your lunch in the trash. Teachers ignored you. Some particularly ambitious kids attempted full-blown assassination attempts, only for you to dodge them on pure instinct. And all this time, you just went along with it, because honestly? You didn’t care. It’s not like they could do anything to you.

Your life should have been an isekai.

Seriously. The way you’ve suffered? Classic protagonist material. You’ve been bullied, underestimated, and laughed at for years. In a world where Talents were everything, being perceived as powerless was a death sentence. If this were a shounen manga, this would be the part where you trained under a waterfall and came back stronger.

But, nah. You just stopped trying.

What was the point?

Besides, the world had heroes. Annoying, loud, self-righteous heroes who wouldn’t shut up about justice.

———

Then, one day, you got hit by a truck.

Not in an “isekai reincarnation” kind of way, but in an “oh wow, I should be dead” kind of way. The truck, which had been barreling down the street at full speed, collided with your frail, bullied-kid body. The driver screamed. Bystanders screamed. You... blinked in mild annoyance and got up like nothing happened.

It was in that moment that your guardian, the only man in the world who knows the truth, realized just how overpowered you really are. He’s the only reason you haven’t been kidnapped by the government yet. He legally adopted you, locked down any medical records that could expose your unnatural resilience, and made sure no one figured out that you can obliterate entire city blocks with a single thought. All in all, he’s a pretty chill dude. If it weren’t for him, you’d probably be strapped to an operating table somewhere while scientists poked at your brain.

But despite his best efforts, the world still found a way to ruin your life.

Enter the heroes.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who you hate the most.

Loud. Enthusiastic. An unbearable optimist with a voice that makes your ears bleed. He is everything you despise in a person. He bursts into rooms like an anime protagonist, calls you “young one” like he’s in some ancient martial arts flick, and has the audacity to believe in you. Disgusting.

You try to avoid him, but he’s persistent. He sees your dead eyes, your unwillingness to engage, and instead of taking the hint like a normal person, he takes it as a challenge. He’s convinced that if he just tries hard enough, he can turn you into a bright and shining hero like him. You, meanwhile, are just trying to figure out the best way to fake your own death to escape this nightmare.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who talks like he's in a motivational TED Talk at all times. Who believes in justice, honor, and the power of a bright smile, which is why he’s utterly convinced you need to be "saved."

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who refuses to accept your blatant apathy. "Young one! The world is a battlefield, but I will stand as your shield!" Shut up, dude, you’re just making this worse.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who sees you, a human embodiment of existential nihilism, and immediately appoints himself as your personal savior. Whether you like it or not. (You don’t.)

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who mistakes your complete lack of reaction to being saved from a villain as ‘unshakable bravery’ and not ‘I-don’t-care-please-just-let-me-die-in-peace’ energy.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who just knows—knows in his noble, justice-infused bones—that beneath your deadpan stare and monotone voice lies a tragic, misunderstood soul in need of his relentless, overbearing affection.

♡ Yandere! Golden Hero who loves justice but, apparently, loves you more, considering how he starts bending laws and morals just to keep you within his reach.

———

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who is your guardian.

The only person you can tolerate. He’s rich, powerful, and the reason you haven’t been dissected like a lab rat. He acts like he doesn’t care, but he keeps a closer eye on you than you’d like to admit. If you even so much as get a scratch, there’s a 99% chance he’s already arranged for the person responsible to disappear. Permanently.

You don’t question it. He buys you the latest gaming consoles and lets you rot in your room. You consider this a fair trade.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who is the only person you can tolerate, which is a strong word because you technically live under his roof.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who took one look at you, with your permanent sleep-deprived expression and social battery of a Nokia phone, and said, “Hah. Useless.” Then took you home anyway.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who is the only person in the world who knows your true power. Who laughs whenever you get bullied because, in his words, “Hah! You actually let them put their hands on you?” He tilts his head, amused. “Didn’t feel like turning them into dust today?”

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who has trained you to be the world’s greatest heiress-slash-assassin-slash-overpowered-abomination without you even realizing it. (One day, you accidentally dodge a sniper bullet mid-yawn, and the realization hits you.)

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who only has one rule: Don’t. Get. Involved. He’s not having another board meeting ruined by some melodramatic hero crying about morality.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who absolutely spoils you rotten—not in a ‘sugar daddy’ way, but in a ‘you-will-never-be-independent-or-escape-my-influence’ way.

♡ Yandere! DILF! CEO who casually destroys entire corporate empires just because someone looked at you wrong. (You don’t even notice until you see an international news report about a Fortune 500 company vanishing overnight.)

———

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who is too persistent.

Somehow, you’ve also attracted the attention of the most insufferable social butterfly to ever exist. He is charming, manipulative, and refuses to leave you alone. Every time you turn around, he’s there, draping himself over your personal space and saying things like “Oh, darling, why do you insist on being such a recluse? I could show you a whole new world.”

You would rather eat glass.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who is every high school girl’s dream and your personal nightmare. Who runs a host club not because he needs money, but because he loves being adored.

“Hi, I’m—”

“I don’t care.”

His eye twitched. That wasn’t the script. That wasn’t how people reacted to him. He had perfected the art of being irresistible.

And yet, here you were.

Reading fanfiction.

In the middle of class.

With your laptop propped up on the desk, an entire paragraph of explicit smut visible to anyone who glanced over.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who considers you his greatest challenge. A girl who gives zero reaction? Who doesn’t blush, stutter, or even acknowledge his existence? Unacceptable.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who makes it his life mission to make you crack, not realizing that your version of cracking is fantasizing about various ways to disappear from society.

♡ Yandere! Host Club! King who has tried everything—roses, grand declarations, staged rescues. You just stare at him like he’s an interesting but ultimately disappointing lab experiment.

———

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who you think is the only one with common sense.

The only person who treats you like a normal human being, which is to say, like absolute garbage. He calls you names, makes fun of your nonexistent social life, and has absolutely no idea that you could snap your fingers and reduce him to atoms. Honestly, you respect that.

He’s your ultimate enemy, but he’s the only one who hasn’t tried to “fix” you, and that makes him the least annoying person in your life.

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who’s been bullying you since day one, mostly because he doesn’t understand how someone as useless as you keeps effortlessly avoiding his attacks.

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who is the only one who doesn’t see you as ‘a tragic soul in need of saving’ or ‘an intriguing enigma.’ No, he sees you as the most infuriating human to ever exist, and he needs to do something about it.

He wasn’t technically a bully.

He just found you irritating.

You were slow, never reacted properly, had this vacant expression like nothing in the world could surprise or amuse you. You didn’t fear him. Didn’t respect him. Didn’t even bother acknowledging his existence unless he was actively standing in front of you.

So yeah, he might’ve knocked your books out of your hands a few times. Might’ve tripped you in the hall. Might’ve thrown your lunch away when you weren’t looking.

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who, through sheer force of hate and obsession, spirals into the most unhinged, self-destructive form of love possible. (The kind that looks like ‘I’ll ruin anyone who touches you, but I’ll also break my own bones trying to keep you away from other people.’)

♡ Yandere! Mortal Enemy who goes from throwing insults to throwing hands with anyone who dares disrespect his punching bag.

———

What you did know?

This was hell. Absolute, inescapable hell.

And the worst part?

None of them were going to let you leave.

And you? You just want them all to leave you the hell alone so you can finish writing your fanfiction in peace.

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♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

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♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Pet Pastimes.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Dub/Con, Hybrid AU, Snow Leopard!Gojo, Puppy!Reader, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Reader Is Very Oblivious, and Manipulation.

“And you’re sure this is going to help?”

Satoru had been agitated when Suguru first brought you home – all dolled up in your collar, ecstatic to be led along the very same leash he always strained against. You were more obedient than most of the unruly mutts he knew, always happy enough to sit patiently and wait for your next command, but it would take more than a few weeks of passable behavior to convince Satoru dogs were anything but hyper and messy and so loud, he could hear their mindless barking from a mile away. The fact that you were supposedly here to ‘help’ him (Suguru called you a “service animal”, said most captive-born exotic hybrids had more domestic companions, but Satoru didn’t think you deserved such a pretentious title) didn’t make anything better. Satoru didn’t need help. What he needed was Suguru’s attention, but if he couldn’t have that, he’d settle for yours.

“Oh, I’m sure, puppy.” His fist tightened around the base of his cock. Suguru wasn’t home – just a quick errand, he’d claimed, it should only take a few minutes, as if that was an excuse for leaving his favorite pet and dutiful companion at home – and Satoru barely waited for the apartment door to lock before luring you into the kitchen and telling you to get on your knees while he leaned against the counter, Suguru’s forgotten phone well within reach. Currently, you were kneeling in front of him, your hands balled on your thighs and your gaze almost cross-eyed as you struggled to see what he was holding to your lips. He thought you would’ve had a little more experience, but your first owner must’ve been the sheltering type. Part of him was annoyed that he’d have to pick up the slack and teach you something so basic, but overall, he was pleased to know that it would be a long, long time before you got enough practice in to replace Satoru as Suguru’s favorite playmate. “I’ve just been feeling a little stressed out lately,” he said, drawing it out each word, giving your stupid canine brain time to process what he was saying. “This’ll really help me relax. You wanna help me out, right?”

Automatically, you nodded – your pressed frown instantly replaced with an eager smile. Your ears perked up, your concerns completely forgotten when presented with the chance to do what you’d been trained for. “Please, ‘toru,” you whined, and he fought the urge to cringe at the way Suguru’s nickname sounded coming out of your mouth. “Please let me help!”

It was almost cute, just how desperate you were to make him happy.

Almost.

He forced himself to smile back at you, using one hand to scratch at the base of your ears while the other jerked lazily over his cock. He was already hard, thankfully, and at the added stimulation, the sight of you practically drooling on yourself to get a taste of his cock, he felt himself twitch – thick pearls of arousal beginning to bead at the tip and drip onto your chin. You didn’t seem to care, to notice. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that his was the first cock you’d ever seen. “Can you open your mouth for me? Big n’ wide, just like I showed you.”

Like the trained dog you were, you obeyed immediately – letting your mouth fall open and looking up at him with the same bright, expectant eyes that must’ve won Suguru over, when he first picked you up. His hips wanted to buck forward, to bury him to the hilt in your newly available hole, but he held himself back, told himself he had to ease you into it no matter how little you’d done to earn his oh so generously given kindness. In the end, he settled for swiping his thumb over the flushed tip before resting it gingerly on your splayed-out tongue. It only took a second for you to stiffen, to jerk back. You didn’t cough or sputter, but your mouth snapped shut, your expression taking on a certain unease. Satoru fought the urge to bare his teeth. “Is something wrong, puppy?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” You closed your mouth, looking away. “It tasted weird. It was bitter, n’ stuff.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you still don’t think you can handle this, I can just tell Suguru you decided you’d rather go back to the pound—”

“Please don’t!” Your hands shot to his thighs. “I’ll be good, I promise, and I can’t— I don’t want to go back to the—”

“Then open your mouth.” After a second, you straightened, your lips parting and your jaw going slack. Still, he feigned reluctance, narrowing his eyes into a half-hearted glare as he raked his fingers through your hair and tugged half-heartedly, just hard enough to draw out a strained whimper. “And this time, don’t fuck everything up just because it ‘tastes weird’. If you do that again, I’ll have to tell Suguru you were being a bad dog.”

Your ears drooped, your tail falling slack against the tiled floor. Still, you managed not to jerk back as he slid his cock into your open mouth, slotting his tip against the velvety inside of your cheek. He could see you wince, your shoulders rising as you fought the urge to pull away, but even if you’d tried, the fingers knotted in your hair would’ve kept you rooted to the floor as he rolled his hips and thrust shallowly into the hollow of your cheek. Your tongue was smooth compared to his and wide compared to Suguru’s, and he could tell you were fighting not to move, not to explore the unknown factor trespassing inside of you. With a slight hum, he took pity on you – hazy lust having softened his previous annoyance. “It’s okay, puppy – you can lick, if you want to.” There was a moment of hesitation, then the broad flat against your tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the shape of a prominent vein Suguru tended to favor, too. He shuddered, but told himself it was only out of reflex. You got lucky, that was all. “Mind your teeth. I’m takin’ you back to the shelter myself if you bite down.”

You tried to nod, but gave up quickly. Instead, your acknowledgment came in the form of your tongue curling around his tip, licking at the arousal dripping down his shaft, doing your best to lap at the shaft of his cock despite the awkward angle. Saliva and pre-cum pooled in the corners of your mouth, but you didn’t dare tilt your head back, didn’t dare swallow - keeping your mouth wide open as he drew back just far enough to pull out of your cheek and aim, instead, towards the back of your throat. You flinched, your dull nails scraping against his thighs, but it was easy to drown out the dull spark of pain as your tight throat fluttered and tightened around his cock, as the hand still wrapped around his base fell away in favor of joining its twin on the back of your skull and pulling you flush against his crotch. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from reacting – your body lurching against his legs as you gagged, as you tried to wretch yourself out of his hold, but he was too far gone to so much as consider letting you go. “Stupid mutt,” he mumbled, cupping the back of your skull while you fought not to suffocate on his length. “Don’t even know how to breathe right. Can’t do anything on your own, huh, can you?”

Your only response was a choked inhale, a string of incoherent gibberish half-muffled by his cock. Drool wasn’t the only thing dripping down your face, now – tears were rolling down your cheeks, fat and hot, drawing thick trails through the mess of cum and spit. Your tongue wasn’t moving, anymore, but he didn’t care – your mouth was warm and soft and fuckable enough to make up for your lack of skill. You were beating at his legs, too, your little hands made even smaller when compared to him, and for a second, he could be convinced that you were a little cute. Not cute enough to deserve as much of Suguru’s attention as you got, obviously, but cute.

His cock pulsed against the convulsing walls of your throat, and he cursed under his breath. You let out a pained whine as he drew back, pulling out of you entirely. Without his support, you threatened to buckle over, to collapse into yourself, but he held you up with one hand while the other pumped over his cock too quickly, too roughly not to tip him over the edge. It was all you could do to stare up at him with those big, watery eyes as he let out an airy moan, as he painted thick ropes of white across your messy face, as he left you stained and teary-eyed and covered with his cum.

You blinked once, then twice, but didn’t react, too out of it to complain or cry out or question why his lips quirked up into a small grin, his eyes taking on a dreamy, half-lidded sort of lull. “Good puppy,” he cooed, his heart skipping a beat as he heard your formerly stagnant tail begin to sweep lazily over the tile floor. He reached for Suguru’s phone as he went on, keeping his tone light, delicate. “Can you smile for me, too? A big, wide smile – to show how happy you are that you get to stay with me n’ Suguru.”

It took a second, but eventually, you managed a stilted nod. It was shaky, at first, more of a mangled frown than anything, but with a little love and patience, you found your footing, your lips splitting apart into a wide, beaming smile – as if you were the happiest, most pathetic puppy in the world.

God.

You were fucking adorable.

Your smile barely faltered as the camera shuttered, as Satoru’s hand fell back to your head and pet over your disheveled hair – a treat for his well-behaved mutt. He could feel you melting into his palm, but his eyes were fixed on his picture of your smiling face and, with a few taps of his thumb, Suguru’s shiny new lockscreen.

Maybe, once Suguru got a good look at your pretty face, he’d think twice before deciding to be such a neglectful owner again.

[lavenderprose]

Imagine you're Johanna Hezenkoss and your one goal in life is to Be Right All The Time and you've got this sidekick named Emmrich. He can do the whole corpse whispering thing and he's an objectively pretty skilled necromancer but, of course, YOU are Johanna Hezenkoss. And you decide that you like Emmrich enough to drag him along with you to glory. So you spend a few decades doing that. Only Emmrich is six and a half feet of saccharine poetry and fanatical devotion to the core tenants of the Mourn Watch and YOU, Johanna Hezenkoss, are just counting the moments until you can go Beast Mode in this bitch and show everyone what TRUE NECROMANTIC POWER means. So Emmrich weighs you down a bit but you're a little obsessed with him only because he's like. Real? That's a real dude? Saying that shit? Wild. Totally insane. He's like an annoying chattering dog who keeps all your secrets and makes the biggest saddest eyes at you when you say stuff like, "The world could be exactly what we want it to be. Aren't you MAD. Aren't you ANGRY at what they've taken from you. Don't you want to MAKE THEM SUFFER LIKE YOU'VE SUFFERED--"

Yeah. Whatever.

And then Emmrich betrays you because you're scaring him. SCARING him? After everything you've done for him? You were going to reinvent the world--you were going to put him at the top of it all so NOBODY could step on either of you ever again and now he's all, Oh Johanna, you're scaring me, this isn't what we believe in, you're letting your fear control you, blah blah BLAH he never shuts UP

Fear? FEAR, Volkarin? How fucking rich.

Then some stuff happens. Half lich 125 foot skeleton someone named Elgar'nan, maybe a God, who cares. You get so close--SO CLOSE--and then fucking Emmrich rolls in and this time he takes it ALL. Your power and your mortal life and your last remaining shreds of fucking credibility in this fucking world. And then he doesn't even have the basic fucking decency to say I Told You So. He keeps you on his desk like a tchochke and listens to you scream and spit and even THEN he doesn't do anything.

All the while he has his own sidekick now. Some vapid little thing always batting their eyelashes and paying Volkarin the kind of lip service that always distracted him, made his eyes go soft and his chin quiver. He's still such a weak man. You tell him so. You tell him and tell him and tell him until--

The sidekick disappears. Emmrich's eyes go empty and haunted in a way that makes you wonder what he's done to himself in his heartache and grief.

"Whoever did this to you," you tell him on the worst day, "You can make them pay. You're powerful enough. You defeated me." You being, of course, Johanna Balls of Steel fucking Hezenkoss.

"I just want them back," Emmrich admits. Because he's weak WEAK he's a weak man mewling pitifully in a dark room for his piece of ass while the moon rises red in the fucking sky and a God walks the earth.

"You have the power," you tell him. "When the world takes from you, you take those things back. This is what I've been telling you all these years, Volkarin. For once in your miserable life, LISTEN TO ME."

Finally, finally, Emmrich reacts. He screams. He throws a few books. He kicks his desk. Punches something, probably, because his knuckles start bleeding at some point. You watch it all with barely-contained glee. Anger, yes, fucking finally. You've been waiting your whole goddamn life for this man to realize how fucking ANGRY he is.

"How do I break into the fucking Fade?" He screams. He's not even looking at you. His hair is seven different kinds of fucked. His shirt is unbuttoned to the navel, and he's missing a boot.

"You could start by asking someone who's done it," you say. Emmrich turns, startled for some reason to hear you. Again you say, "Listen to me."

"Oh, Johanna," he sighs. "I've rarely done anything else."

It's not the words 'Thank you' or 'You're right'. It's certainly not lichdom or godhood or a 125 foot tall skeleton. But it's one point for Johanna Hezenkoss.

You'll make up the deficit eventually. Volkarin has a kid, after all.