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yanderenightmare-reblogs · 2 days ago

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final results~

Yandere Seven Deadly Sins

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, gangbang, harsh language, sexual exploitation, bondage, zero holes safe, and more, read at your own risk

♡ FEM reader

Pride is an artist, and you, poor dear, are lucky enough to be his muse.

You’d caught his eye one day simply by coincidence while working your part-time job as a barista.

And though it had been a rather unorthodox request—between balancing school and work and constantly finding yourself both strapped for cash and strapped for time—you’d decided to quit and take him up on his offer—as what he was offering was about twice what you could make at the cafe anyway.

He’s not that much older than you, but he’s old money. And while you're stuck in community college, he goes to an elite art school—which he doesn’t even show up to, 'cause why would he? They can't afford to kick him out anyway, given his father’s donations make up half of their yearly budget.

And so he's free to self-study as much as he wants.

Yeah... he’s a little too used to getting what he wants—exactly how he wants it—without delay. So when you struggle to come to your sessions on time due to having to take the bus to the other side of town, he decides to solve it by buying you a car. And when he doesn’t feel like that’s sufficient enough, he buys you an apartment right above his own studio. And when you try to reject, he only has three concise words for you.

“Don’t be stupid.”

The way he says it leaves very little up for debate. In fact, it leaves you mute each and every time.

It was nice in the beginning—you didn’t protest to anything other than his overpriced gifts. You were flattered and blushy and giddy and more than happy to sit pretty for him for hours at a time while he sketched and sculpted and painted and whatnot. It was essentially nothing in comparison to the luxuries he gave you in return.

But you think, at some point along the way, he must have forgotten that he only owns the artworks he makes of you—not you yourself.

“N-naked?” you stutter, looking at him wide-eyed where he stands in his usual apron—flecked with the proof of your countless sessions. Honestly, it was getting to be a little strange posing for him in a room stuffed with a myriad of sketches, paintings, and statues of yourself. Hadn’t he had enough?

“I can’t capture you correctly when you wear all these rags,” he says—clinically, though with a pinch of impatience just shy of vexation—eyeing you from head to toe, almost with a look of disgust while beholding your clothes, despite being the one who’d bought them. “They obscure everything. So take them off.”

You knew he’d probably had about a hundred models undress for him, and stand here—old, young, men, women—you knew it probably didn’t mean much to him. He probably regarded it the same way he does everything—without even batting an eye. However…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that…” You fiddle with your fingers, standing there, still dressed despite him standing ready at his easel, foot-tapping while waiting for you, already with a stick of charcoal between his fingers.

“Why are you making a fuss? You think I haven’t seen a naked body before?” he jokes, but without humor—no, rather strictness as if you’re wasting very precious time. “This is standard practice—don’t make it anything than what it is.”

There he goes again with those very final words that make you feel all in all kind of silly.

You bite your lip and mull it over before ever-so-begrudgingly uttering a weak little, “Okay…”

You suppose he was right. This is a job, and it’s just nudity—just another shape in the eyes of an artist—it doesn’t mean anything—is what you tell yourself while you undress. Still, you can’t help but feel flush—heart pounding in your chest as you fold your clothes all neatly for some other nervous reason.

“Resume the pose,” he says—almost like a drill sergeant. And you jump into place, timidly rushing over to the chaise where you lie down like before.

This does feel like it would be a better painting, you admit. More reminiscent of Renaissance art and such. Not that you know much about it, but thinking back to field trips through the museum, you seem to remember having seen plenty of portraits of naked ladies lying on pretty but uncomfortable sofas just like this.

He seems very invested, at least. A deep furl between his brows, nearly scowling at you while he works—though you’ve come to learn that it’s just his concentration face.

After a while, he sets his charcoal down and wipes his blackened hands on his apron.

You sit up, asking, “Are you done?” All but ready to leap from your seat to your clothes and finally cover yourself again.

“No, keep still,” he all but reprimands—voice intense as he stalks across the floor over to you with determination written plainly across his face.

You draw back in place as he rests his knee on the chaise and leans forward. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come and correct your pose, but you couldn’t help but flinch this time around, feeling just a bit too exposed.

His hands are warm and overworked, both dry and a bit clammy all at the same time. You didn’t mind much when you wore clothes, but it felt a bit too intimate now as he touched your bare skin. But you bear with it despite that.

Eyes closed, you repeat that same line from before—it doesn’t mean anything, this is standard practice, it doesn’t mean anything.

It works in calming your breath for a moment, but then he grabs your tit.

You gasp, jolting back while stuttering, “Wha–what are you doing?”

And yet, he keeps his steal gaze just as fixed and unfazed as before, sighing at you as if you were overreacting, before stating rather simply, “Getting a better understanding of your body.” He then reaches toward you again, showing no concern for how you shrink away. “It’s easier to replicate when I know it by hand.”

Again, you let his voice silence you, and again, you closed your eyes and let his hands wander—around your chest, up your neck, down your belly, and then—

“Wait! That can’t be necessary—” you blurt out, this time with your arms and hands shooting forth to distance him.

“Oh, trust me—it is.” Again, he pays you no mind, simply bearing over you with his entitled hands roaming whatever place he so wishes and chooses. Only clicking his tongue at you when you squirm, “Don’t fuss.”

You don’t exactly push him away, though you don’t exactly make his pursuit easier for him—lying there beneath his touches, wiggling and whimpering, though not really protesting either as he feels your slit.

Your fingers curl into his arms, gripping his messy shirt streaked with paint and coal—as his fingers run through your lips, teasing your entrance and your clit. He twists his hand around and presses his thumb down on the pearl after it perks for attention, then enters you with his pointer finger—drawing out wetness before promptly feeding you another.

You bite your lip as they curl and spread within you, testing you out while rubbing firm circles into your clit.

Gingerly, your hips return it, starting to move in tune with his ministrations. Thighs trembling, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you start to pant—small moans leaving your lips with every breath, feeling it build within you—a small flame at first, nursed until it fills and all but fights for room within you before finally bursting.

“That’s it—that’s the expression,” he purrs—voice much softer than usual—cupping your face with his other hand, holding you steady while taking in those dopey eyes sparkling with pleasure and those parted lips that never dare speak up—eyeing you like he's the proud owner of a prized possession. “Perfect.”

He hums, sounding pleased, then gets off you shortly after, sauntering back to his easel.

“You can get dressed now. I got what I needed,” he states, picking the stick of charcoal up again, ripping the last sketch off for a fresh sheet before starting anew as if nothing had happened.

And you, still lying there, are left just as mute as usual.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Touya, Hawks, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Baro ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

Wrath is your ex-boyfriend who refuses to get it through his thick skull that the two of you are over.

Any time you talk to another guy, he beats him up—to a fucking pulp, no less.

He’s always been that way, and still, it wasn’t always like this…

You started dating each other when you were young. He was rough around the edges, and you liked that about him—tattoos from his neck down to his ankles—the type your parents would have a heart attack if you ever brought home.

He was going to be a professional fighter, he’d say—mixed martial arts. He had all the rage and zero technique, but still, he’d land some of the best on their ass all through pure strength of will alone.

He was near impossible to train, though—always too wired to be able to take any pointers. And that’s why he needed you. You were his reliever. He’d fuck you like it was his last day on earth, and suddenly he’d be able to do anything. Like an enhancement drug, everything would start moving in slow motion, and he could somehow see all the moves of his opponent before they ever made them.

You admit you liked hearing him preach about it. It made you feel important—made you feel as if half the win, or at least some of it, was yours. And when he started raking in the dough as the champion, winning multiple titles across several tournaments, you were more than happy to be his lucky charm and cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then, you had this awful and sudden feeling of being just that—a tool for his success and nothing else. Sure, he’d give you presents—pretty things he thought suited you well—but you hadn’t gone on a date since his career started, nor had you had a proper sit-down dinner together either. He’d stick to his diet regime, be out training at the gym all day, and you’d be home, going about your own business.

And while you were doing that, you’d think—about the nature of your relationship. And what you found is that all it really entails in the end is him demanding a fuck whenever he needed it—before a tournament, before training, before an interview. And then, after coming to that glum conclusion, you can’t help but feel like nothing more than another one of those items he keeps loose in his gym bag.

And those thoughts only got validated when you tried denying him sex for the first time…

You were just curious, really—curious to see what he’d do. If he’d beg, if he’d plead, if he’d say boo, don’t be that way while down on his hands and knees for you.

But of course... he can’t get anything else but angry.

“If you’re not gonna give me the one thing you're useful for, then what the fuck do I keep you around for?” is what he’d said—no, barked. “You think you’re special? If you’re not gonna put out, I might as well go out and find me someone who will.”

He’d fucked off to some other room with a huff and left you standing there.

And you don’t know, amidst the shell shock and the ache of your heart coming undone... suddenly, you had no idea why you were there or with him or what you were supposed to do—and when you found no answer to any of those questions, it made no sense for you to stay. And so you went to your shared bedroom—or his bedroom, as a matter of fact, which you’d stayed in for the last months—quickly grabbed your things—your things specifically, and not all the other stuff he’d thrown at you—and stuffed it all haphazardly in your bag, then gone out to the entryway to put your shoes on.

That’s when he’d reared his head again with the gall of asking, “Where the fuck are you going?”

He hadn’t had that same raised tone as before. No, this time it was lowered—frayed—with a touch of urgency and unease as if balancing on the edge of a knife—as if he knew he'd done something wrong and was reaping the consequences and yet still hadn't the balls to simply apologize and correct it.

And so, you hadn’t answered him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he’d stated then, coming closer, ready to grab your arm with that hint of alarm in his voice increased. “Hey, I asked you fucking a question—”

That’s when you’d twisted around and slapped him. You’d put all your might into it as well, though you doubt it compared to much of what he’d felt in the ring.

And still, he’d looked at you as if he’d just lost all his titles.

He hadn’t said anything else after that—just stood there with his mouth agape as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you. In fact, you don't think he even dared do so much as take a breath.

You’d gone and crashed at a friend's and rethought your life. There was no way you could ever go back, after all—not after what he’d said. Treating you like a stay-at-home whore. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What an asshole—you'd tried convincing yourself as you cried yourself to sleep…

The days and weeks after were nothing if not fucked up and toxic, to say the least. You’d go out to have a fun time and try to forget about him, but he’d always show up out of the blue to ruin everything—being his usual douche self.

Though… you can’t exactly claim to be any better than him—not after finding yourself in bed with his number-one up-and-coming rival.

Of course, it ends up all over the news—big headlines plastered on every gossip platform pushing your private affairs for all to see—a real media circus if there ever was one.

You end up back in his apartment. To talk, he’d said—a pretense you had a hard time believing in. He’s never been one to talk much. Honestly, you don’t know why you even bothered coming over when he asked. There might even be a chance he’ll kill you. This is how most homicides start, after all.

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes. You look off to the side, waiting for him to speak because fuck knows you have nothing to say.

Meanwhile, he just stares at you—his big, hulking body leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands braided before his face. It’s the type of posture he’ll have when sitting in the corner of the ring—he’s got that same look in his eyes, too, deadset on you.

It makes you a little nervous, actually—maybe he really does plan on killing you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks suddenly.

You almost scoff—almost roll your eyes, but you end up simply returning his dead glare. “Is that really what you asked me here for?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He just keeps staring at you.

You huff out a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I just wondered what it would be like to be fucked like a woman for once and not someone’s toy.”

You don’t know why you decided to take it there when you both know why you’d done it. What other fucking reason would there be other than to get back at him? It’s a stupid question to begin with, and so you give it a stupid answer in return. And you won’t deny it feels fucking good—seeing him like this. Five o’clock shadow, eyebags, and uncut, disheveled hair.

He looks like a wreck, and rightfully so. Fuck knows what a mess you’d been before you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. Funny what the single simple thought of revenge can do for someone so lost.

He scrapes his thumb down his jawline, over his stubble—a deep sigh running through him as he leans back on the couch. Offering no other reaction as he says, “I can sit here and act threatened, but you and I both know he was shit compared to me.”

He throws his arms up against the headrest, chin tipped up. Thinking he can hide it, thinking you can’t see right through him—to how hard he’s fighting to upkeep the poker face.

He’s forgetting who his opponent is.

“I know you, babe—I know your body. And there's no fucking way some shitstain you just met–”

“His dick was bigger,” you interrupt—face blank because two can play that silly game, and you do it better.

He’s shut up for a moment—you can see a vein pulse, but it’s quickly stifled, and he smirks instead, snickering despite his grit teeth, “Sorry, that must'a hurt given how much you cry with me.”

This time, you don’t refrain from scoffing and rolling your eyes, “That's all you have to say? Thought you were a fighter.”

“You want me to get jealous? Is that it?” he accuses then, starting to crack, throwing your scoff back at you, “Tch—should've fucked somebody important then.”

This time, you skip the eye-roll and flat-out laugh instead, “I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll call up your dad-”

That did it—got him out of his seat and everything. “Shut your mouth.” Standing big and hunched, all muscles and fury.

And you react in kind. Glad that you’re finally getting somewhere. “Make me.”

"You're fucking–" He clenched his fist in the air, scrunching his face in frustration, withholding a growl before releasing a heavy sigh instead.

Dropping his arms, shoulders slumping—hanging his head the same way whilst mumbling under his breath, “Fuck this… fuck this entire thing.”

And just as quickly as he’d sprung to his feet, he flopped down on the couch again.

“I don't wanna play games…” He looks up at you—now with the look of a starved and beaten dog. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

He reaches out slowly—big hands cradling your thighs, pulling you towards him gently, and you let him—put off by that strange new look in his eyes.

“You can fuck half the world, and I'd still only want you.”

It’s an odd confession. Unexpected coming from him. You’d anticipated more of a fight, not whatever this is. Looking at you with glossy eyes on the verge of tears. Suddenly, you feel kind of mean, struck with this sense of guilt for having reduced him to such a state.

“Don't take the high road. It doesn't suit you,” you declare, though without much bite.

And he just sighs, “Fuck that, we’re even now.” Pulling you even closer still—into his lap—he makes you straddle him. Forehead to forehead without kissing you yet. “So, are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you really gonna make me beg?”

And though you would kind of like to see what he’d look like on his knees, the sight of him like this was good enough proof that he’d learned his lesson despite it not being an apology.

Besides, he'd been all too right when he’d said the other guy couldn’t fuck you like him.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Uvogin

Sloth is a street urchin.

You volunteer at the homeless shelter and can’t help but feel extra sorry for him. He’s only around your age—so young yet with no future to speak of.

This winter, given it’s going to be an especially harsh one, all volunteers have been asked if they have any spare room they can be so kind as to give to those less fortunate. And though you’re not that well off yourself, you still have an extra room you’ve only been using as storage.

So, unable to look the other way, you decide to clean it out, get a bed, and host him.

You took precautions first, naturally—just to be safe. But, from what you could tell, he’s neither a drug addict nor has any criminal record to speak of. No, he’s just another abandoned kid who'd society had failed.

This is the least you can do to correct its wrongs.

And, of course, he falls in love with you for it. Not only do you give him a place of rest—but you make him warm food, give him fresh clothes, do his laundry, draw his bath, watch movies with him every night, and always ask him if he has everything he needs. You even cut his long, shaggy hair for him and give him luxuries such as face-lotion.

You’re a saint, too good for a filthy sinner like him, but he’ll never let you know that... No, your pity feels too nice—taking such good care of him—he’s going to leach off of you and your honeycomb heart for the rest of his life if he can help it.

He doesn't look too bad after he cleans up, and after a few more weeks of eating well and getting enough rest—he stops lurching and starts standing up straight, looking lanky and lean with muscle—at which point you can’t deny he’s even a little hot. You know… in that scrappy sort of way.

You feel weird about it, of course—guilty even. He’s a homeless guy you’re housing—you’d be nothing if not downright evil if you took advantage of him. But after a few weeks of settling in, he starts feeling like more of a normal roommate and not a stranger. And with that familiarity, you both lose the distance and become more lax and loose around each other—wearing less, talking casually, not afraid to brush up against each other, and before you even know it, you find yourself folded in half beneath him on the living room couch.

You don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into—but his cock’s so big he’s pounding the sense right out of you with every thrust.

He’s not even going fast. No, rather slow, actually—taking his time as if savoring it. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure bubbling up inside of you where his strokes hit so heavy, resting deep within, so fulfilling that it all but replaces your better judgment with the sole need to squeeze him with all you've got.

“Mh, you’re pussy’s so nice and warm—I could stay inside you forever.”

You’re so wet it’s ridiculous—like never before—like you’re the one who’s been starved and neglected and not the other way around. Getting your breath all but knocked out of you, getting fucked so utterly full, he’s making you kick your feet and curl your toes in the air, bucking your hips back into him like you’re desperately begging for more.

He’s got your knees hooked over his arms, keeping you neatly pressed under him. “You’re so good to me—so, so sweet, you must be the sweetest girl in the whole entire world. My guardian angel.”

All you’re able to do is babble and moan in return—misty- and cross-eyed with your dewy face cradled in his hands.

You just hold onto his wrists while he speaks fondly against your lips, “You saved me when no one else even bothered looking. Let me return the favor—give this pretty pussy all the thanks it deserves.”

When he re-angles and hits you in a different spot, the switch in your lower belly is immediate—making your whole body seize up and shiver, breath shuddering in your throat, followed swiftly by a pulse migrating from your core all throughout your body, tasting oversweet on your tongue enough to make you drool.

He locks lips with yours, slurping your spit up sloppily and keeping himself fully sleaved as you peak—feeling your wet, gummy walls tighten and flutter, rippling along his length like a rush of kisses.

Then, right before it fully dies down, he picks up the pace again and rekindles it—because fuck knows he’s well-rested and over-due and the farthest thing from done with you just yet.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Togame

Gluttony is a five-star chef.

You start off as a waitress at his restaurant. And yet, he’s the one who developed an appetite—for you and your pleasing smile and that busy-bee swing you have in your hip as you hop around from table to table.

He licks his lips at the sight of you more than he does the food he makes. He even had the uniforms altered in your image—made the skirts shorter and shirts tighter.

He's utterly shameless, but who can blame him? You’re such a little bite-sized treat—he just has to taste you.

And taste you, he most certainly does.

For breakfast and for brunch and lunch and dinner and supper, as well as a midnight snack.

“Your pussy juice is my favorite,” he groans from between your legs.

Fat-muscled chef’s arms, tattooed with all types of silly patches, curled tightly around your thighs, keeping you close despite those times you try and push away when it gets to be a little too much—because fuck knows he doesn’t have the same reservations. Nose and tongue and chin deep in your slit, slurping you down while filling you up with his words, “I want to flavor every meal I make with you.”

You keep a hand over your face, kissing your knuckles, sometimes with a bite—whimpering pitifully, “Gross…”

Of course, you can’t help but cringe when he says things like that. He’s your boss, after all, not a porn actor. Still, you don’t say it with much conviction. It’s just that you get so embarrassed you don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles, still with his face buried. “Don’t be childish.” Words muffled as he doubles down on his efforts of sucking on your clit like a piece of candy.

“I’m not,” you whine. “You're just weird.”

He smacks off of you at that, a refreshing sigh leaving him rugged and raspy, a devilish look in his eyes as if he’s about to eat you for real. “I’m a world-renowned chef—are you implying I don’t know my flavors?”

Everything in your gut coils with anticipation, nearly rumbling with need, while he pulls your lower half up and even closer—face glossy with the way he’d gorged himself already—licking his teeth now as he refocuses on your clit alone.

Flattening his tongue on it while he speaks, sounding like some type of beast, “I’ve tasted everything the world has to offer. And I'm telling you, this pretty little thing between your legs is the best there is.”

You can’t stand looking up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you hide your face with both hands. Mumbling out a weak, “Pervert...”

Again, he snickers, shaking his head as if he’s ripping into flesh when he’s really just got his tongue out—straight motorboating your poor pussy.

When done, he drops you onto the bed again, grinning while replying to your insult, “Can’t argue with that,” before promptly kissing and licking up your belly—with fingers replacing his tongue, pumping you on his knuckles, getting you ready.

He groans when his mouth reaches your chest, lips wrapped around a nipple, “If only these titties had milk. I could feast on you from every position.”

You don’t know if you should giggle or grumble—he’s such a baby—and a spoiled one at that. But really, his fingering is making it difficult to do anything but stammer and try and keep it together, “We talked about this—I’m not taking hormones just to breastfeed you, you weirdo.”

He whines then, “Please—it’s my only wish in the entire world—I need it.”

You struggle to argue, feeling like you’re under siege—an onslaught set out to make you breathless. “Well—” you pant, gritting your teeth and bearing it. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“Oh, I’ll see about that.” He takes it as a challenge, this time really locking his lips around your nipple and suckling—releasing just briefly to say, “I bet if I suck on these babies enough, they’ll give me what I want.”

He keeps his fingers working diligently while at it—used to multitasking—curling and spreading them out within you, pumping you so fast, you barely have the time to beg him to “Stop that—” before you’re already shaking and cumming for what must be the seventh time already.

He laughs breathily, kissing your teat goodbye as he lifts himself up again. Pulling his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips and blithely sucks them off.

“You know I can’t stop, dear. I’m so hungry—I’m ravenous.”

You watch him from over the tips of your fingers. So hot and mortified you think you’re soon to pass out. Breathing heavily behind your hands, muttering, “You’re a glutton—that’s what you are.”

Again, he just cheerfully snickers, bowing down to your halfway-hidden face with a smile. “I hardly see how it’s my fault I can’t get enough of you.”

He spreads your legs again and finds his place between them.

“You’re the one who got me hooked—so you better take responsibility for it.”

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Todo ♡ HQ – Bokuto, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Baro, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Uvogin ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Lust is your boss. He's the owner of the strip club where you work, your pimp when money’s tight, as well as the porndirector of all your lovely little films.

Yeah, you might as well have a tramp stamp of his name on your ass, the way he practically owns you…

He's around ten years older and has basically taught you all about sex from when you were only a fledgling in the industry. You live at his studio above the club since he keeps all your money in a bank account under his name, calling you his little sugarbaby and telling you you’ll get an allowance and that you can get more if and when you ask him nicely and tell him what it’s for.

“Don’t be a brat, baby. You know how I hate it when you're a bad girl,” he says when you raise the topic of moving out, treating it as if you’re a child threatening to run away from home.

“I don’t belong to you. Give me what you owe me.”

Honestly, you have no idea where you got the courage.

But is it courage? Or is it just plain stupidity? Because, though you’re increasingly more terrified as you quickly watch him lose his temper, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. And so, if you knew this is what was going to happen—why the fuck would you put yourself through it?

Must be madness.

“I give you everything, don't I? Food, clothes, a home,” he chastises, bearing over you while you’re down on scuffed knees, holding your wrist in a bruising grip and your face just as fiercely—nearly tearing the skin off your cheeks with the bite of his nails.

“And still, you have the fucking nerve to act like a goddamn bitch.”

You hiccup on sobs, spluttering out a desperate “Please—I’m sorry–”

"You and your entire slut body belong to me, you understand that?"

"Yes-yes—please—I'm sorry! You're right! I belong to you! I'm sorry!"

That seems to calm him just a bit—at least enough to take the bite away from his voice, now cooing at you in an ugly mocking attempt at sweetness, “Yeah, you do every single little thing I ask. ‘Cause if you’re not gonna behave like a good girl, I have no other choice but to treat you like a bad one.”

He lets your audience be rowdier than usual that night, allowing them to slap and grab, then forces you to have an extra rough shoot afterward—with tighter bondage, more toys, bigger guys making use of you like a piece of meat, smacking and choking you as they find out how many cocks your holes can fit, every last one finishing on your face.

Then, when you’re all done and all used up for the day, he brings you upstairs—home, sweet home—where he treats you to some much-unwanted after-care...

You shiver and shake despite the hot water. Sitting in the bathtub, laying back with your spine against his chest, feeling thin like a sheet of paper, all crumbled up and torn—sniffling and sniveling as the after-shock of the day still ricochets through you like wind through a hollow husk.

“The shoot today was rough, huh?” he drawls, washing you with his own hands. Stroking your poor sore cunt despite how it makes you whimper. “Yeah... was it a little too rough for you, hm?”

You don’t do anything in return—but your body language says enough on its own, and he allows it to be your answer.

Sighing heavily, he wraps you up with both arms and squeezes you tighter, chin resting atop your head.

“You know… if you’d just be my good girl, I’d give you a good girl to-do list. Let you stay here all day, do some house chores while I’m gone, make love when I get home, hm? Doesn’t that sound better?”

He traces a welted bruise on the inside of your thigh, one you got from the shoot—roughly the shape of a hand, and a dozen more others layered on top of it. It makes you suck in a hiss.

“But if you’re gonna be a bad girl, then this is what you get.”

He settles into the grove of your neck, purring against your ear. “Are you gonna be my good girl from now on? Hm?”

You bite your lip, breath shuddering while nodding pitifully.

And still, he insists, “Say it so I can hear it.”

The water’s gone cold around you—just like everything else, as you say, “I’ll be a good girl.”

He seems pleased, at least. Nuzzling against your cheek with chin stubble and a smirk, asking, “Yeah? Whose?”

Your voice is small and pathetic, nearly a wince, “Yours.”

He groans then, “That’s right. My good girl.” Lifting his hand from the water, he takes hold of your chin, fingers pressing into those designated sore spots as he angles your face toward him and gives you a heartless kiss before growling against your lips, “And don’t you ever fucking dare forget it again.”

After he’s finished washing you up, he carries you out to bed. It's one you fear much more than the one down in the studio.

Because in this bed, just like every night in this hellhole… he starts teaching every last one of your holes who they belong to.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Reo, Shido, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

Envy is your enemy.

Or, well, no, he’s not your enemy, but you’re most certainly his enemy.

You’re just not aware of it because of what a ditzy and clueless airhead you are.

But fuck, he can’t stand you—you and your fake personality, acting all bubbly and sweet, cheering him on, always telling him to do his best—condescending little bitch acting like everyone’s friend—like he doesn’t see through you right to your rotten core. You don’t fool him—he knows you’re as bad as the rest of them, so just quit pretending like you’re better or something.

You’re under the false impression that the two of you are friends. You just think he has a strange sense of humor, but you laugh politely even when you don’t always get the joke.

Well, maybe it’s not so much politeness, but the fact that you have a big fat hopeless crush on him.

It infuriates him. He throws your niceties back in your face as insults, and you just laugh. How low do you think of him? Honestly? How tall is that high horse of yours that you have your head constantly in the clouds?

Poor you… you just think he’s so cool—always saying what he feels like, not a lame people-pleasing goodie-two-shoes such as yourself. You can’t help but follow him around like a lost puppy all day long. You’re always making sure you sit next to him during lectures—heart almost beating out of your chest, holding back from squealing when your prayers are answered, and the two of you are finally paired for a project together.

It really feels like the universe is on your side, and so you just can’t stop yourself from going the full mile—making chocolates and preparing him a hand-written love letter. You know he’ll think you’re a little silly, that he’ll make fun of you for it—but you can’t expect to get anywhere without putting your heart on the line, can you? For a chance at love, the risk must be worth it!

Yeah, you’re such a hopeless romantic—you feel it as he punches his fist through your ribs when he rips out your poor heart and stomps all over it.

“I fucking get it already! You’re little miss pretty and popular. Would you quit rubbing it in my face, or do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You,” he seethes through grit teeth. “Go pick another one of the hundreds dying to be your partner and leave me the fuck alone!”

You shrink where you stand, shocked doe-eyes rapidly welling up like a flood, lips wobbling as you choke on your words, “Oh… okay… I’m sorry… I just… I–”

“You-you-you what?” he barks at your stuttering. “Spit it out already! What the fuck do you want?”

“I just-I-I just always thought you were amazing. So…”

His face contorts, scrunches up in a grimace different from anger, though not without it, as he spits out, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

But his voice is a little diminished now, with confusion usurping the place of his hate, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts because… what did you actually just say?

“I just, I really like you–” you repeat, hanging your head, only barely able to mumble through the tears blocking your throat. “But I guess I’ve just annoyed you all this time—I’m sorry...”

Only now does he notice you’re trying to hand him something—a flat little box with a pink note attached.

“This is for you, but I understand if you don’t want it.” Unable to look up, you just stretch your arms out until it gently bumps into him.

Baffled, he accepts without thinking.

“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone from now on.” And then you run off, disappearing with a sob that all but shoots him through the chest.

And slowly bleeding out, he remains standing there, eyes glued to where you'd left—mouthing the word what…

What did you just say?

Like? Him?

Did he mishear you, or did you just confess?

No way—that can’t be it, right?

But what the fuck is this heart-shaped letter, then?

"What the fuck did I just do?"

You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out all night the next day—your usual bubbly personality reduced to a ghost in a shell, walking the hallways like a zombie, slowly and without purpose, eyes on the ground—letting everyone bump into you.

You don't even so much as bat an eye when someone runs straight over you, fully knocking all your books and folders onto the floor.

You just get on your knees and start recollecting them.

A newfound hate flares up within him at the sight. “Hey, you!" He stomps over. "Watch where the fuck you’re going next time, dipshit.”

You look up at the sound of his voice—flinching before you notice it’s not directed at you.

No, rather, he’s got a boy up against the lockers, lifted by his collar onto the tip of his toes. Face only a few inches from his, glaring at him harsher than he’d glared at you yesterday.

“Now apologize to the girl before I punch your ugly face in.”

You stare at the altercation with large eyes, only able to blink as the boy who’d bumped into you starts spluttering on the verge of tears, “I–I’m sorry–I didn’t see you! Sorry!”

You don’t answer. Shocked and speechless, you remain on the floor in confusion, asking yourself why’s he doing this? Didn’t he cuss you out yesterday, or was it all a bad dream like you'd hoped?

He throws the boy on his way, then gets on his knees down alongside you—proceeding to help you gather your things.

You only watch on in wordless bewilderment until he starts muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry I made you cry yesterday.” He stacks all your things in a neat pile next to you while continuing his apology. “And for being an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed to the floor where his hands busily roam around until there was nothing more to retrieve.

He then hesitantly looks up at you—eyes flittering—a little too ashamed to hold your gaze as he says, “Your chocolates were really good.”

That’s when your heart starts fluttering again—as if new life was just breathed in and revived it.

He can see it as well—how you light up like a rekindled candle.

“They were?” you gush, shuffling closer on your knees all excitedly—face brighter than the sun on cloudfree summer day.

It blinds him—nearly stunts him, only able to utter a meager, almost shy, “Yeah.”

He then slings his bag in front of him and pulls something out.

A lunchbox.

“I made you these..." he swallows thickly. "As an apology…”

He’s utterly red—from the tips of his ears to his neck and entire face, even his hands.

“For me?”

“Yeah..." He reaches it over stiffly. “They’re not as good as yours, though...”

You eagerly accept despite his nervousness, popping the lid off where the two of you sit—right there in the middle of the hallway floor, with other students walking around you like water passing two rocks in a stream.

His blush grows ever more intense as you pick one of his crudely made chocolates up, not even examining it before throwing one into your mouth.

It was his first time making anything that required a recipe. And they most certainly did not come out well, but he figured the embarrassment was part of his atonement.

He didn’t actually expect you to try them.

But there you are—lying through your teeth, saying, “I think they’re great!”

He can only scoff out a soft laugh. “Of course you would.”

Turns out, you really are just a nice person after all. You don’t have the heart to be mean at all, do you? Yeah, you don’t even have it in you to feel any of the ugly things he keeps inside. In fact, he bets you don’t even have the means of knowing such ugly things exist.

That must be what he’s envied about you all this time…

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shinso ♡ JJK – virgin Sukuna, Megumi ♡ HQ – Tsukishima ♡ BLLK – Rin, Sae ♡ DS – Genya

Greed is your clingy childhood friend.

He doesn’t want to share you with anyone and gets viscerally jealous each time you hang out with others. It’s as if he feels boils rising beneath his skin, simmering with a violent need to kill anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with—even if it’s just a passerby who accidentally brushes against you.

He can’t stand other people—how they think they can just come along and be your friend when he’s been your friend since you both were in diapers. What? Do they really expect him to share you with them? Just like that? No way. You’re his best friend. They should all go find themselves their own.

Actually, the term best friend doesn’t even really cut it… It’s a little too childish. You’ve both grown out of it. And besides, it never really fully encompassed what the two of you actually are to each other. You’re so much more than just friends, after all. Yeah, what you really are is soulmates. Yeah, that sounds more right. Soulmates.

And the bond between soulmates is like the bond between an addict and their favorite drug. You wouldn’t ask an addict to share his favorite drug, now would you? No. Not unless you’re prepared to either kill or be killed.

But he can’t say he blames them for wanting you, either. Of course, they’d want you—anyone would.

He pities them, actually. And you make it no better for the poor suckers, stringing them all along—acting as if there’s enough of you to go around. Well, there just isn’t. And even if there was, he shouldn't have to share you with anyone.

Yeah, the problem here is you. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that you’re his.

Well… seems like he’ll just have to teach you once and for all, now, doesn’t it?

“What’s… this?” you mumble groggily once you wake, sluggishly tugging your bound wrists—not yet aware of what they are. Your eyes blow wide once you do—voice turning sharply frantic, “What’s happening?”

“We’re having a play date like we used to.” He comes into view just as the panic sets in—and though his face has all the familiarity to be a sign of comfort, his words evoke no such feeling within you.

“Remember? How we used to play house?" he says. "Granted, we're a little older now… so I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

He stands before the bed you’re currently lying tied down on. But he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s something very wrong about all of him. Seeming way too at ease for the situation.

“Instead of making mud pies…” he continues. “I'm gonna fuck you and give you a creampie.”

Your heart lurches up into your throat at his words, and you choke. Your clothes from the day have been removed, leaving you naked. You spot them lying on the floor in a heap while you spastically look around for clues as to “What the fuck’s going on? This isn’t funny–”

“Shut up,” he says—his demeanor still as nonchalant as he climbs on top of you and pushes something past your lips, nudging it deep down in your throat.

Feeling it as it scrapes your tongue, you can tell it’s your lace panties, and you gag—shaking your head, trying to dislodge both it and his fingers, but he holds you steady.

“I have things to say. So, be a good friend and listen.”

You start crying then—brows cinched as you look up at him in terror, full-tremoring now while struggling under his weight and the all-too-intimate way he starts touching you.

“I'm glad you’re still a virgin…” he suddenly says, running his hands down your breasts, catching your nipples between his fingers.

You twist in disgust, halfway convinced you’re having some godawful fucked up dream—that this just can’t be happening—but somehow, at the same time, something deep in your gut that’s been lying there for a while ignored by your kind heart doesn't find it completely without warning, having felt how strange he'd been acting as of late—always looking at you a certain way and saying certain concerning things—certain concerning things he’s saying right now, “I’d kill all those little toy friends of yours if you were ever so stupid to let them have it.”

He glares at you—looking every bit angry, and yet you can’t describe it exactly. Something about that look in his eyes makes him seem like a complete stranger to you. Then he cracks a smile, and it makes it all the worse. Bowing down until his forehead presses clean against yours, noses rubbing against each other.

“But I think you knew. Didn’t you? Knew how it wouldn’t be right. Knew it was mine to take.”

He shuffles backward until he’s separating your thighs instead of straddling your waist. And you croak with an especially full-chested sob as his touches travel further down along with him—with savage goosebumps running rampant across your body once he rubs his thumb crassly over your slit.

“You see?” his breath shudders in his throat—thick with something mortifying that’s bound to ruin you forever. “It’s so happy to see me.”

You whine and scramble, trying to force your thighs shut—but he has the upper hand—keeping you spread with his body while two of his fingers slip through your lips and bully themselves inside.

He pumps them in and out with zero regard to how you recoil—only sneering at the way you worm in disgust, “At least your pussy understands where its loyalties lie.”

It’s not long before his ministrations draw wetness, and he pulls them out—inspecting them in the dim light he’s left on. Rubbing the digits together before putting them in his mouth.

You close your eyes with a whimper while listening to the sickening sounds of him sucking them clean.

He puts both hands around your neck next. He doesn't squeeze hard, but your breath stops nonetheless. Eyes stinging with both spent and still-welling tears.

“I’m upset with you,” he states, brushing his lips over your parted ones, still stuffed and silenced with your own underwear. “But I’ll forgive you if you apologize and swear to me that you meant it when you said we’d be friends forever.”

That look in his eyes—you still can’t explain it. Desperate, desolate, deranged, and enraged—something downright sick.

“But since you can’t talk right now, you’ll have to prove it some other way...”

One of the hands disappears, and you hear the following sounds of a zipper being undone, then the rustling of his pants being shoved down.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll know.”

The room tastes of blood and something rotten as he frees his cock and graces your clit.

“Actions speak louder than words anyway, after all, don’t they? So cum on my cock, and I’ll cum in your pussy, so we can seal our friendship again—just like the time we married each other on the playground.”

He enters you, and you think you might just die in the mix of horror and grief.

And yet you remain perfectly alive—even as he rips through you and splits both you and your heart apart.

“You can think of this as the honeymoon,” he whispers. “Always and forever, happily ever after, never apart.”

♡ BNHA – Deku ♡ JJK – Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tendou ♡ BLLK – Bachira ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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all-with-angel · 2 days ago

Text

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄! •°. *࿐

Summary: How the Yandere JJK Characters kidnap you after you blocked and ran away from them!~ FINALE to this series

Including: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen, Shoko Ieiri, Uraume

Content. Yandere, Dark themes, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Drugging, this is actually terrifying so beware, gn!reader !DARK THEMES!

w.c. 300-700 per character

MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. Masterlist

❥ SATORU GOJO

The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound left in the house. The lights were off, curtains drawn, the TV screen still faintly glowing from earlier, casting eerie shadows along the walls. You sat crouched in the back of your closet, breath caught in your throat, your phone tightly clutched in your trembling hands.

It was dead quiet, save for the heavy drum of your heart in your ears.

You heard the front door open- No, you heard it break three minutes ago. Two minutes ago, you started to hear whistling. An upbeat tune, filling in every corner of your home. Slowly getting louder. Then came his voice, unmistakably bright and sing-song, echoing down the hall like sugar-coated dread.

"Heyyy~ You’re being kinda rude, y'know.” Gojo Satoru called out, footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor. You didn’t breathe. Not as his voice drifted closer. Not as the floor creaked near your bedroom.

“Also, not to be pushy, but…” Gojo’s voice lowered, took on that deceptively lazy tilt that meant he was far too aware. “Why’d you block me, huh? That was really mean. You’re supposed to be nicer to your friends. Or future boyfriend.” He giggled, as if blushing at the thought.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your heartbeat was thunder in your ears. The doorknob to your bedroom rattled, but silence followed.

You were confused, hope crawling deceptively up your spine. Maybe he had left?

Maybe?

That hope was crushed just as quickly. The closet door opened and you didn’t even hear a single footstep. He was smiling, his usual grin but there was something manic behind it. He had his blindfold off, bright blue eyes staring right into your soul. Those cerulean eyes- normally so bright and charming, the same ones you had trusted up until a few hours ago- were dilated and glowing in the dark. “You had your fun playing your games sweetheart,”

His smile grew wider.

“My turn to play.”

❥ SUGURU GETO

The alley stank of copper.

You stood at the edge of it all, frozen beneath a flickering street lamp that buzzed like it, too, was on the verge of collapse. The sky above had long turned black, the stars drowned by storm clouds that hadn’t yet cried. The silence was thick and wrong. The kind of silence that followed a massacre.

There were bodies. Not neatly placed, not respectfully laid out- no, they were torn. Crushed.

Your legs trembled. You couldn’t breathe without tasting iron. You wanted to throw up. You should have thrown up. But you were too paralyzed, heart pounding so hard it hurt. Your fingers twitched at your sides, useless after doing such a small action such as texting Geto.

Curses still lingered, slithering in the shadows like rats with too many teeth, but they peeled away with sudden, eerie reverence. Something stronger had arrived. Something worse. He’s here, he said over text.

Geto Suguru, all calm smiles and slow, unhurried steps, like he hadn’t just orchestrated a massacre in your name. His robes fluttered in the soft breeze. There wasn’t a speck of blood on him.

“Ah,” he said gently, as if greeting a wayward child, “my dear.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. Your knees locked, rooted to the blood-soaked pavement as Geto gently cupped your face with a finger. He frowned, mocking, as if disappointed. “Do you see now?” he asked softly. “This... all of this could’ve been avoided.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he did so.

“You made me do this.”

Tears welled up on your eyelids- Just for a moment, before they all came spilling out. “You poor thing,” Geto cooed at you, bringing his sleeve to help wipe your ever flowing tears. “It’s okay, everyone makes mistakes. I forgive you.” He held your face, hands deceptively warm as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You must’ve been so scared. Don’t worry. It’s over now. I’ll take care of everything.”

You shivered before giving in and curling into him, letting yourself be enveloped in dark robes. “‘m sorry.” You whispered. It wasn’t for him, but for the people dragged into this mess and killed. If he knew that, he didn’t care.

“I know.” He hummed, threading his fingers through your hair. “I’m glad you’ve learned your lesson, my dear.”

❥ NANAMI KENTO

Your head was pounding.

A slow, dull throb pulsed behind your eyes like someone had taken a sledgehammer to your skull and wrapped the aftermath in cotton. You groaned softly, face turned into soft, cool sheets that didn’t feel like your own. You shifted instinctively- but something clinked.

Metal. A sharp sound, cold and wrong, echoed in the otherwise suffocating silence. You froze. Again, you moved- Just slightly, and the noise returned. A dragging sound. Chains.

You blink your eyes open, the world spinning and blurring into one mess before you were able to focus on your surroundings. The room was dim but luxurious, cast in warm amber light. High ceilings, velvet drapes. Hardwood floors covered in imported rugs. Everything looked pristine, untouched. Like something out of a dream.

Your wrist was shackled to the bedpost with a sleek but heavy steel cuff. Another bound your ankle.

Your heart lurched. You tried to get off of the bed, but the restraint at your ankle tugged you back with a soft clink. Panic bloomed in your chest.

As if on cue, a door you barely noticed in the corner of the room opened.

Nanami stepped into the room, dressed in a loose, elegant button-down and black slacks, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. His tie was gone. In his hands, he carried a silver tray with your favorite food—exactly how you liked it. Steam still wafted from the dishes.

He looked at you with such fondness, as if this was just another quiet evening between lovers.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling softly. “I was beginning to worry.”

He walked closer, placing the tray on the nightstand. You shifted back, sheets rustling under you. His voice remained even, calm. Dangerously so. “I know your head must hurt. I tried to be gentle, I’m very sorry.”

You recoiled instinctively as he reached out to brush your hair from your face, but he didn’t seem offended. In fact, he looked saddened.

“I knew you'd panic,” he murmured. “But you have to understand... this was the only way.”

“The only... way?” you rasped, eyes wide.

He nodded, sitting at the edge of the bed like this was perfectly normal. “You weren’t safe out there. You kept insisting on putting yourself in danger—talking to people you shouldn't, wandering off, trusting all the wrong hands.” His hand slid over yours, gently stroking your fingers- You flinched back. “So I made a choice. One that you’ll thank me for. Eventually.” He stayed calm, as if anticipating the reaction and resting his hands on his lap.

You screamed, curses and cries slipping past your lips. The chains rattled at every movement.

“It's alright. We have time. Days, weeks, years.” He smiled again. “You’ll come to see that this is right.”

Your heart hammered. The scent of vanilla was suffocating now. You were trapped. Alone. And he had planned this.

“You’re finally home.”

❥ TOJI FUSHIGURO

The warehouse was a maze of rusted scaffolding and forgotten crates, all shrouded in darkness. Moonlight filtered in through cracks in the boarded windows, carving slivers of silver across the floor. Your breaths came shallow, ragged, and you were sure they were nearly loud enough to echo off the metal walls. You pressed yourself into the narrow gap between two crates, clutching your legs to your chest, trying to make yourself smaller.

You could still hear his voice in your ears. He appeared right in front of you, a monster emerging from the shadows as he chased- cornered you into some dingy warehouse. You didn’t know how you ended up here, all that you know is that he planned this. Every turn you took, every time he sped up to just barely graze you, all planned. A predator hunting its prey.

You pressed a hand over your mouth to stifle the panicked sob threatening to escape. Every creak, every scuttle of rat claws across concrete made your skin crawl. Your ears strained for footsteps—his footsteps. But it was so damn quiet.

A faint tap. The subtle scrape of boots against the ground. Measured. Deliberate. Like he knew you could hear him.

You held your breath.

"Not a bad hiding spot," Toji called, his voice bouncing through the warehouse. You couldn’t tell how far or how close he was. "Took you a while to start learning, huh?" You could hear the grin in his voice.

Then you heard the echo of metal on metal. Loud clangs filling your ears as you could imagine Toji dragging his blade across steel beams.

"You remember when I told you I liked the chase?" he said, somewhere to your left now. "Still true. But you running off like that… breaking the lock on our door? Kinda hurt my feelings, y’know."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your lungs burned. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until black spots danced at the edges of your vision. Quietly, carefully, you inhaled through your nose.

CLANG.

A crate slammed to the floor just a few rows down and you flinched violently. The sound rang through the warehouse like a death knell. Wood splintered. Dust filled the air.

He was closer. You still couldn’t see him. The warehouse was quiet for far too long after that. Not a whisper nor the wind reached your ears.

“Gotcha.” His voice. Right behind you.

You screamed, scrambling to your feet—but he was already there, arm wrapping around your middle like a vice, yanking you back. Cold steel kissed your throat—not cutting, not yet, just resting there, a silent promise.

He was laughing. Leaning down right beside your ear to whisper, “Don’t move. We don’t want my knife in your throat now do we?” You froze, going limp in his hold save for how you were shaking.

You could hear the grin in his voice and you could only shiver as you felt his arm hold you tighter, cold blade tracing against your neck. “Now, let’s go home. You’re tired, right? I’ll tuck you in. Lock the doors better this time.”

You weren’t going anywhere.

❥ SUKUNA RYOMEN

Sukuna didn’t give out warnings lightly. He already gave his in the form of every glare and threat he threw your way, you knew he wasn’t a safe man. It was stupid of you to think he wasn’t the stalker behind your problems, now, everything was worse.

You were so close.

The terminal lights glowed like a distant promise ahead, the sliding glass doors of the airport practically calling your name. Crowds bustled around you — strangers moving fast, eyes on their luggage, not on the one person trying to escape something far more dangerous than a missed flight.

You left Sukuna’s lair when he was preoccupied, gone to retrieve his fingers. You gave no warning nor sign either. Keeping up the facade of an obedient pet up to the second he left for that mission. You’d planned this. You’d waited until they were out. You’d done everything right.

It didn’t matter. Not to someone like Sukuna.

The floor trembled beneath your feet like the earth itself was exhaling. Something wrong stirred at the edge of your senses, something ancient and furious and intimately familiar. The taxi you were in was flipped, just like every other vehicle in proximity. Your head swam, glass and metal getting thrown around.

You were distantly aware of the sounds of screams, destruction, explosions, as you tried to regain your consciousness. The car was roughly shoved to the side, something digging into your side painfully as you felt warm blood splash onto your face. Beside you, your driver was dead. Cleaved into pieces.

Then, you were ripped from your seat. Your eyes met Crimson. Four crimson eyes glowed like open wounds in the dark, fixed solely on you. You were held up by your collar. “Leaving without saying goodbye?” he asked, voice velvet over steel. “That’s not very polite.” He dropped you to the floor, his eyes never leaving you.

You scrambled backward, palms scraping the concrete, breath heaving.

“You said you’d be good,” like a pet, he growled, taking slow steps towards you, head tilting to the side like you were a curious insect he hadn’t yet decided whether to spare or dissect. “I see now that was a lie.”

His tone was calm — too calm — and that scared you more than screaming ever could. You knew he was angry, judging by the state of your surroundings.

“I gave you everything,” he whispered, taking a slow step forward. “Warmth. Food. Safety. You had the honor of being mine.”

Your breath hitched when he came closer, heart slamming against your ribs. “I’m not yours, I’m not a pet.” you breathed.

“Let’s not pretend you were ever in control of this, pet.” He sneered, and before you knew it, he was crouched in front of you- His claws digging into the sides of your face as he held it in one hand. His eyes were that of a monster, a wolf ready to eat you whole.

You felt blood and tears roll down your face, all as he watched with a dark but unmoving expression. “I would laugh, if I wasn’t still enraged by your audacity to try and escape me.”

He pulled your face closer to his, his other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to draw blood. The pain was nothing compared to the dread in your chest. The fact that solidified itself in your mind now that you could fully see how deranged the curse in front of you was.

The silence that followed would be remembered by the world—because you, after tonight, wouldn’t be remembered at all.

❥ SHOKO IERI

You burst out of the café like it had caught fire behind you, lungs tight, phone gripped in your sweaty palm. Your bag slapped against your side as you stumbled into the dark, nearly empty parking lot. The only sound was your breath- uneven, ragged- and the distant hum of a streetlight buzzing overhead like it was trying to warn you.

You didn’t see anyone in the café. No sign of her. But her text… the timestamp matched the moment you sat down. And that meant she had been watching. She could still be watching.

You hit the key fob three times in a panic. The car lights blinked. You yanked the door open, practically diving into the driver's seat. You jammed the key into the ignition—hands shaking so bad you almost missed it.

The car wouldn’t start. What was the goddamn problem?? Not the engine. That clicked fine. No resistance in the brake. No rumble. Just a soft click. So why—

Then you saw her reflection. In the rearview mirror. A pair of calm, brown eyes. “Hey,” Shoko said softly, her voice a lullaby wrapped in a smile. “Miss me?”

You whipped around, nearly kicking the door open in your scramble to escape. But a hand—gloved, steady—reached forward and caught your shoulder. You felt a sting to your neck, you screamed- but it wasn’t heard. By anyone that wasn’t you or shoko, atleast.

Shoko winced from behind you. “Sorry.” You pulled whatever was stuck in your neck, yanking it out and throwing it on the passenger seat. An empty syringe.

The world quite literally tilted on you seconds after you realized. Shoko’s next words came muffled to your ears. “I hate using chemicals,” she murmured, sighing as she opened the car door.

You could barely register as you felt yourself growing laxer and laxer, practically limp when Shoko hauled you out of the drivers seat and into the backseat. Shoko brushed your hair back from your face. Her touch was tender. Reverent.

You tried to move your mouth, to beg, to scream. Nothing came out but a whimper. She leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. Her lips barely moved. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Don’t worry. You aren’t going anywhere.”

❥ URAUME

The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of garlic and something sweet. You stirred the pot lazily, the soft bubbling of the sauce helping you pretend that everything was fine. Pretend that the feeling of eyes on you ever since you had ran from Uraume didn’t exist, didn’t bother you.

The shadows in your house had gotten longer. Or maybe they were moving. You reached for the knife on the counter with trembling fingers. Don’t look. Just keep cooking. It’s in your head. It has to be. You had checked the place multiple times, everything was locked. It was safe.

It was cold. You shivered, leaving the kitchen to turn the thermostat up. You frowned as it was glitching, breaking right in front of your eyes. Then you heard a click of the stove from the kitchen.

You turned. And there they were. Uraume stood just inside your kitchen, pale as fresh snow, expression as calm as ever as they traced the edge of the pot. They left frost in their wake. You gasped, taking a few steps back as you could feel the temperature drop to freezing.

“Making dinner without me?” Uraume’s voice was level, almost amused. “How cold.”

Their eyes finally glanced up, finally locking with yours. You could barely make out that the soup you were making was frozen solid now. Uraume took a step towards you for every one you took backwards, until you hit the wall. You were frozen in place, their eyes keeping you in place.

You glance towards the knife rack, just a quick dash away.

“I wouldn’t,” they said, tilting their head. “You’re shaking. You’d just embarrass yourself.” The entire knife rack was frozen before you could even blink. A blur of white, cold fingers wrapped around your neck.

Warm breath escaped you in a silent scream, silenced by Uraume’s glare. You could feel the danger, the threat in front of you.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Uraume started, their voice level, just enough to hide the raging storm. “About how you’re always so careful. So distant. Like you’re afraid of me.”

“Stop,” you croaked, but your words felt weak in your throat. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Uraume said, voice almost thoughtful as if answering a basic question from a toddler “I just want to keep you. To have you all to myself.”

“Why?” You pleaded.

They didn’t answer that. A chill ran up your spine at the long silence. Uraume gripped your throat tighter, ice and bruises starting to bloom on your neck.

“It doesn’t matter.” They finally answered, just above a murmur. You were confused at the tinge of pink on their cheeks as they looked away for once. The hell?

That confusion ended just as quickly as it came, as dark spots started to appear in your vision. Uraume, as if sensing the sudden change, looked right back at you. There was a ghost of a smile on their lips, empty.

“You’re better off with me. It’s okay,” They almost cooed, “I'll keep you forever.”

A.N. I do not condone any of this behavior!! This terrified ME while I was writing I'll be fr- if this is cringe then i apologize

Taglist: @catladythoughts @tojifushiguroszaddyzar

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exquisink · 7 days ago

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Contrary to popular belief, it’s Geto who’s the desperate one between the two of you. It’s why he can’t stand to see you too secure. It’s not because he’s ungrateful that you trust him. It’s because he needs you to rely on him every waking moment of your life.

He keeps you needy for him because he’s needier.

He keeps you clinging to him all the time because he’s clingier.

He doesn’t need you to match his freak. Not necessarily! He just wants to be able to smother you with all of the affection, all of the love, all of everything he has because no one else should have the luxury of making you feel wanted, cherished, spoiled, needed, desired, loved.

He hates even entertaining the idea of competition so he weeds them out and eliminates them before you even comprehend what’s happening. You can’t imagine that your sweet, sweet Suguru is capable of such heinous deeds like leaving behind a dismembered student scattered across your campus because he got a little too close to you. He’s almost got himself caught once, a splattering of blood left behind on his cheek when he waits for you to return home with a homemade dinner he preps himself. Even keeping that bronze ring of his victim as a keepsake, and. you comment on the speck of blood on his cheek before complimenting his new accessory.

”Oh, I had to kill a bug that landed on me while I was cooking and I just didn’t bother to swipe it off,” he explains in a smooth voice, and you don’t question him while doing that very thing with a damp paper towel. He’s not telling a whole lie. That man is a pest—may as well be written off as an insect, right? “I guess I get too into the zone, don’t I?”

”It’s admirable,” you admit as your lips twitch into a fond smile that knocks the wind out of his lungs each time. He loves being responsible for that smile. “But there should be no room for imperfection on a face like yours, Sugu.”

He hums, as his eyes roll upward. “Are you insinuating that I’m flawless?”

”I thought this had been established!” You reply, in mock surprise. He kisses into your palm before leaning in to steal a kiss to your lips.

”You’re too good for an ego like mine, baby,” he purrs, “Did you miss me?”

”Way too much,” you sigh, “I only put up with work because the only thing keeping me going is coming back to you.”

“You make me feel so whole,” he replies, as his eyes soften. “Finish your dinner before it gets cold. I made your favorite.”

You shake your head. “Whatever you say, Sugu.”

What you don’t know won’t kill you. He can never kill you. But he will kill everyone else who takes your attention away from him. He glances at the bronze ring on his finger, can’t help wondering if you probably recognize it.

Ah well. Even if you do suspect him, it just gives him the greenlight to keep you from the rest of the world so you don’t end up squealing about his little side quests.

#suguru geto x you #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #jjk geto #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #erixtales #geto x you

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animeyanderelover · 2 days ago

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Anon: Sleeping Hc’s with Dazai, Jouno, Tetchou, Inumaki and Toji and Sukuna?

Dazai (click here) and Sukuna (click here) have already been done in previous requests.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, isolation, abduction

Tags: @leveyani @shumidehiro @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Sleeping with a Yandere

Jouno Saigiku

♦️As a Hunting Dog Jouno has no time for such simple pleasures such as sleep. Years of his work have essentially trained him to survive on less rest than the average person, hence why he has smaller of a need of it. Dangerous missions and lots of work with people he doesn't always consider to be pleasant have claimed a huge chunk of his schedule, meaning that his time with you is limited. Whether that comes to your relief or not is of no importance in this scenario though Jouno would never be opposed to make you uncomfortable with his presence. As you are nevertheless his lover, your life shapes out to be very different than before you met him. Placed under special security and isolated from the public for your supposed safety, your life follows a schedule that it didn't have in the past. A lot of nights you go to bed by yourself as Jouno is busy with something else. Secretly Jouno himself isn't entirely comfortable with laying with you at the start either. It demands a level of vulnerability that he isn't willing to show to you as he views emotions as a weakness. That doesn't stop him from watching you whilst you are asleep though- a strangely endearing sight every time.

♦️Watching you is for a long time more comfortable to him. After all he is still in control in such situations, a feeling he fears he will give up if he were to sleep with you. Jouno wants you to admit to him that you want to sleep with him because then he wouldn't have to voice out such stupid needs himself. Yet it is likely that you are glad with the current arrangement, angering him only in the process. Jouno finds a way though for you to approach him and ask him, all to save his face somehow. Everything is far from comfortable though. As he is of sensitive hearing, every little noise is noticed even in his slwwp and if you are the source of it you are made the victim of his criticism. If you are unable to fall asleep but still pretend to, he will know immediately by the pattern of your heartbeat and your breath. Capable of surviving by only very few hours of sleep, Jouno himself hardly finds himself tired when he lays down. He just lays awake for hours even if you are already asleep. It's always a strange situation as he doesn't know what to do then besides listening to the sounds of you. He has the decency to let you rest though. You are weaker than him. You need sleep more than he does.

Suehiro Tetchou

🌸Tetchou shares a lot of similar problems. As a Hunting Dog expectations are constantly on his shoulders. The government constantly needs him for something. His own sense of justice doesn't allow him to just sit still either. The time he gets to spend with you is as a result obviously limited as well. He bemourns this fact greatly though and always does his best to make it up to you after he has been absent for a longer period of time. In love yet inexperienced, Tetchou is almost adorable in his cluelessness. He excels in protecting you but a good chunk of the relationship and how affection is handled he makes dependant on you. The aspect of sharing a bed makes him somewhat bashful though as this is a prospect that he actually wants to take a bit slower. Unless you are of the clingy kind and are fine with it from a very early stage. Having gone through an excessive training to be a part of the Hunting Dogs, his body requires less sleep as well. Initially that is a tiny reason for doubt within Tetchou's mind. Once both of you are huddled under one blanket though he discovers that your presence has a soothing effect that is enough for him to doze off.

🌸He is known for his strength even under other Hunting Dogs and that is obvious for you when he is asleep just as much. Tetchou usually always keeps at least one arm wrapped around your body. It starts as loose when he is still awake but the moment he dozes off, that grip tightens. Subconsciously he is always wired to protect you so the tightening of his hold is one such sign. It has never gotten to the point where you were in pain but it has certainly made it a tad bit uncomfortable for you at times, especially if you wish to turn around or need to use the bathroom. Interestingly enough Tetchou is a light sleeper though you initially assume otherwise. In hindsight you shouldn't be surprised though. After all he has been trained to always be on alert. In one moment he snores away and in the next he is up with one suspicious noise. It isn't uncommon that he wakes up multipe times a night because he has sensed something, staying awake until he is sure that it is nothing that could endanger you. As he doesn't get to spend as much time with you as he would like, Tetchou is clingy in the mornings whenever he has time. It's a hard fight, trying to wriggle free from the strong hold of his arms.

Inumaki Toge

🗣️Inumaki is shockingly lax for someone with an obsession though that always comes to your advantage. Cool with almost everything and very patient to top it all, he is able to adjust to your own preferences. If you prefer to take things slower and one at a time, he will follow your example. If you are someone who is more affectionate and for that does everything quicker, he will mimic you as good as he can. There is no pressure that you feel when with Toge and that helps the relationship a lot. He never forces you to do anything, much less by using his ability. The aspect of sleeping in the same bed is something he has always treated in a very comfortable and relaxed manner even if some of his friends have been teasing him about it here and there. After all laying together is nothing that is unfamiliar for him. The both of you have done it plenty of times before. The only thing that would be different would be the location. At night both of you usually communicate a lot, whether through phones when both of you are separated or by using a sign language that both of you have come up with when both of you are together. It has never been awkward before. Toge always makes sure it doesn't.

🗣️He isn't someone who is glaringly clingy. Neither during the day nor the night. Still, he expresses himself through subtle touches he he isn't able to talk to you normally like every other person does. One thing that Inumaki tends to do when both of you lay together is that he draws lazy patterns over your arms or stomach. Often you end up mimicking him, also drawing shapes across his chest and arms. It feels intimate in its own ways as both of you don't say a word and are just in your own bubble. If there is no reason to be stressed, he sleeps mostly very well. He is very silent as well, the only sound that usually comes from his form at night is that of soft breaths. When he wakes up, he remains silent all to ensure that he doesn't stir you from your sleep just because he has woken up. One thing that Inumaki hates is the thought of a stressful morning though. Morning assemblies have been a great source of stress even during his years as a student so he has taken a preference for taking things slower when the sun appears on the sky. If you are stressed in the early morning hours that automatically affects his own day as well. So he is very focused on making sure that the start in the day is taken nice and slow.

Fushiguro Toji

🪱Life with Toji is quite a strange one. Forced to share an apartment with him yet still able to walk around freely, you are never really sure if your life is truly a free one or if you are a bird locked in an invisible cage. Confidence can go a long way though as he has told you very openly that he will kill people if you do something stupid, hence why you have kept in line so far. He can do whatever he wants and in return he allows you lots of freedom as well. Toji doesn't ask for permission. Never. So you end up from a very early point on sharing a bed with him. Initially that is always a very uncomfortable experience. Hygiene hasn't necessarily been a strong suit of his since the death of his wife so he reeks. Properly reeks. The stench of blood, sweat and a nauseating mixture of the fast food that he has consumed throughout the day clings to his clothes and his skin and that has made it impossible for you to sleep with him without feeling sick. Initially you believe that is only going to mock you-which he does- but surprisingly enough he takes your wellbeing to heart and showers before he goes to bed. It makes things a bit more bearable now that he smells fresh.

🪱Still, Toji is impossible at times. He has no concept of shame and that has led you to flee the bedroom more than just once. A package made out of only muscles, his body temperature is very warm. A blanket is almost overkill whenever he is in bed as his body alone produces enough warmth to keep you comfortable throughout the night. At summer that obviously means that you are dying in bed when his body is smothering yours. Without the air conditioning or the fan you wouldn't survive those months. However, because he is naturally very warm that means that Toji is never fully clothed when he goes to bed. Seeing him only in sweatpants is bad, the few times he actually walked into the bedroom naked with still damp hair is much worse. Simultanously a light yet heavy sleeper and it is because his higher senses somehow can filter out when something is dangerous or not. Never lets go of you in his sleep and you consider fighting of a constrictor snake to be easier than wriggling free of his hold whilst he snores away. The fact that he sleeps best when he can smell and feel you is somewhat endearing though. Even if that means he wakes up seconds after you have left bed and drags you back.

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kekewrites · 5 days ago

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How to make a baby 101

Tw. dubcon, dark content, virginity loss, breeding kink, creampie, size difference, a lil age gap (2-4 years), sex education gone wrong, cunningless, coercion, nicknames, creampie, overstimulation, corruption, reader is ignorant and innocent (sheltered, kinda went a bit mute at the snusnu part), nerdy to cocky (character)

***

Step 1: Ask your childhood friend to help you study for your exam.

"Hmm? How to make a baby?" His eyes widen a little, a small flicker of something in his eyes as you ask him about reproduction system or along that line.

"Well," he said slowly, his voice still composed but with a hint of surprise, "that's not quite how it works." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Making a baby is a bit more...complicated than that."

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, you listened attentively as he explained the mechanics of reproduction, his deep voice a low rumble. The bedroom lamp cast a warm glow over the scattered textbooks and printouts, illuminating your curious expression.

"Okay, so the male produces sperm, which are essentially cells with a tail..." He paused, realizing how bizarre that sounded. He pressed on. "Right. And the female ovulates an egg once a month. When the egg is fertilized by the sperm, it starts dividing and..." He flipped to a diagram showing the developing fetus week by week.

Your brow furrowed, your finger tracing the arc of a tiny spine. "But... how does the sperm get inside the egg?" you asked, genuinely puzzled.

He cleared his throat, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his neck despite the coolness of the room. He'd been dreading this part. "Uh... well, that happens through... sexual intercourse."

You blinked at him, "What's that mean?"

Fuck. Think, choose your words carefully.

"It means... when a man and a woman... um... physically join... their genitals..." His face felt like it was on fire.

You tilted your head, studying him with frank curiosity. "You mean like... when you put your penis in a girl's vagina?"

Direct, to the point, no nonsense. Just like her.

He blinked. Twice. Thrice. "Y-yes. Exactly like that," he managed to croak out.

"And the penis is like a big, FAT sperm," you said, matter-of-factly. "So the sperm comes out of there and swims up to the egg when the girl ovulates, and then they meet and the egg gets fertilized."

He stared at you, momentarily lost for words. "Er... yes. More or less," he agreed weakly.

Jesus fucking christ.

"But... why do you think the penis has to go inside the vagina to do that? Why can't the sperm just swim through the girl's belly button or something?" You asked, genuinely puzzled.

Because it fucking feels incredible, that's why. Among other reasons.

"W-well, because..." He took a deep breath. "The male... releases the sperm directly into the female's reproductive tract... to increase the chances of fertilizing the egg," he said, trying to keep his voice level.

God, could he sound more like a robot?

You nodded slowly, considering this. "Oh. Okay. So... the penis goes inside the vagina, and then the sperm comes out and swims up to the egg. That's how a baby gets made."

You're oversimplifying it, but... yes. Basically.

"That's right," He confirmed, feeling like a fraud. He'd failed to mention the vast majority of the process – the hormones, the emotions, the raw, animalistic need that drove humans to couple.

At least until she's old enough to understand... and maybe hate me for it.

Looking down at the diagrams strewn across the bedspread, frowning slightly. "I still don't really get why the penis has to be inside the vagina though..." she mused. "Is that like... really important?"

Fuck me, it's not just important, it's essential. Indispensable. Irresistible.

And I really need to stop thinking about this before I embarrass myself.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even. "It's... yes. It's very important. For biological reasons," he said shortly.

Like the fact that a man loses his goddamn mind with lust when he's buried inside a woman's tight, wet heat. Fuck.

"Oh. Okay..." You said slowly. "I guess that makes sense."

Thank fuck for that.

Tapping your chin thoughtfully. "So... the penis gets hard, and then it goes inside the vagina, and then the man ejaculates the sperm, and that's how a baby happens..."

Too fucking right it is. Among other things.

"...and then the egg gets fertilized, and the baby starts growing in the womb..."

He nodded jerkily. "Yes, that's... that's pretty much it," he agreed, feeling like he was standing in the middle of a firing range with a live grenade in his hand.

And I'm the fucking grenade.

"And then the baby comes out and..."

And a man comes so fucking hard he sees stars, buried balls-deep in a woman's clenching, spasming cunt...

You were still talking, but your voice faded into static as a dizzying rush of images flooded his brain. The slick glide of a woman's hot, velvety walls gripping his aching cock like a fist, the filthy slap of skin on skin, the debauched sounds of pleasure spilling from kiss-swollen lips...

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Step 2: Preparing to make a baby.

"So first you need to get comfortable, lie back on the bed." He instructs calmly, his deep voice low and clear. He watches as you reluctantly complies, easing herself onto the edge of the bed.

"Good girl," he praises softly, careful not to let his growing desire bleed into his tone. "Now spread your legs for me, nice and wide. I need to inspect you closely first."

You hesitate a moment before slowly parting your thighs, revealing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze. He feels his cock twitch in anticipation but forces himself to focus.

"Beautiful..." he murmurs, more to himself than to you. He kneels down between your spread legs, bringing his face level with your core. Inhaling deeply, he catches the scent - musky and heady, already tinged with arousal.

"The first step is to get you nice and excited," he explains, his voice still calm despite the building heat between them. "I'm going to start by stimulating your clit. Can you tell me where that is?"

When you glance down uncertainly, "Shh, it's okay. I'll guide you."

He parts the lower lips with his thumbs, exposing the delicate flesh of your inner walls. Your clit peeks out from beneath its hood, already glistening slightly.

"There it is," he murmurs, tracing the swollen nub with the pad of his thumb. "It's this sensitive little button here. When I touch it, you'll feel sparks of pleasure. Don't fight it."

True to his word, he begins to stroke your clit with a feather-light touch, circling and flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves. Almost immediately, you gasp and writhes beneath his ministrations.

"That's it sweetheart," he encourages, his own breathing growing a bit ragged. "Let yourself feel good. Get nice and wet for me..."

His fingers delve deeper, parting your slick folds and seeking the entrance to her channel. "You're already so wet," he groans softly, feeling her silky walls clench around his probing touch. "That's perfect..."

He works his fingers inside, curling them to brush against that spongey spot deep within, as his thumb continues to circle your clit. The dual stimulation has you arching off the bed, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Good girl, just like that," he praises huskily, pumping his fingers steadily in and out of her tight heat. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Getting so nice and ready for me..."

He leans in closer, his warm breath ghosting over your drenched folds. The scent of your desire is intoxicating, making his head swim. Unable to resist, he dips his head and runs his tongue along your slit.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles, his voice vibrating, "I could eat this pretty pussy for hours..."

He seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently. At the same time, he increases the speed and pressure of his fingers pumping into, curling them to ruthlessly stimulate that special spot inside.

You cry out sharply, hips bucking up against his mouth as your pleasure spirals rapidly. He just grips your thighs tighter, holding in place as he continues his relentless assault. Feeling your walls starting to quiver and clench erratically around his plunging fingers.

"That's it, baby," he urges between licks and suckles, his words slightly muffled. "Come for me. I want to feel you come all over my tongue..."

He redoubles his efforts, determined to bring you to the peak of ecstasy. His cock throbs almost painfully in his pants, leaking pre-cum at the thought of burying himself inside.

Crying out, back arching sharply as orgasm crashes over you. Inner muscles clench and spasm around his invading fingers, gushing fluid that he eagerly laps up.

As your spasms slowly subside, his tongue now lapping softly at your sensitive flesh, soothing through the aftershocks. He releases your clit from his lips and places tender kisses along the inner thighs as he slowly withdraws his fingers.

When he finally lifts his head, face is glistening with juices, a look of deep satisfaction on his handsome features. He crawls up your body to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss - letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Mmm, you're exquisite," he murmurs against her mouth when he finally comes up for air. "So responsive and sweet..."

Step 3: This is how a baby is made.

Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazes down at you, naked, flushed form. He can still taste you on his tongue.

"Now, sweetheart, the next step is for me to enter you," he explains, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. "I'll need to guide myself inside your tight little cunt. It might feel a bit intense at first."

His hands skim down your inner thighs, parting them further as he settles himself between them. With one hand, he frees his aching cock from the confines of his pants. It springs forth, thick and hard, the bulbous head already glistening with pre-cum.

Wrapping his fingers around the base, giving himself a few slow pumps as he lines himself up with your entrance. He can feel the slick folds fluttering against the tip of his member as he teases the opening. Biting his lip, he fights the urge to simply slam forward and bury himself to the hilt. He needs to go slow, to let her adjust to his size.

Slowly, he pushes forward, feeling tight walls parting for his girth. He has to grit his teeth at the exquisite sensation. You let out a shaky moan, fingers digging into the sheets below.

"That's it, baby," He grits out. "Take me inside you, feels so fucking good." He bottoms out with a low groan, heavy balls nestling against your ass. He stays still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of being so utterly stuffed full.

Leaning down, he capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing whimpers and moans as he begins to move. He starts with shallow thrusts, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside, before plunging back in to the hilt. Gradually, he increases his pace, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he claims her body as his. He savors the taste of your mouth.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, pausing to nip and suck at the racing pulse point. "You feel incredible," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "So tight and perfect, like you were made for me..."

His hand drifts down to your breast, cupping the soft mound possessively. He kneads it with gentle pressure, thumb brushing over the stiff peak of her nipple. Feeling it pebble further beneath his touch, he dips his head to take the hardened nub into his mouth.

You gasp sharply, arching up into him as he suckles the nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh.

"Gonna...fuck...cum inside you," he grunts, feeling his release fast approaching. "Gonna pump you full...make you...mine..."

His strokes become erratic, each driving thrust pushing him closer to the edge. He can feel his cock pulsing and jerking inside her slick sheath, his heavy balls drawing up in anticipation.

"Remember sweetheart," he pants harshly, eyes burning into you. "For me to fill you with my seed...you need to be ready to receive it. Open for me, baby...let me fill you up..."

He reaches down to rub tight circles over throbbing clit, wanting to feel you spasm around him as he finds his release deep inside. The lesson is simple - to make a baby, they both need to let go. Body tenses, muscles coiled taut as a bowstring as he teeters on the brink of ecstasy. With a hoarse shout of your name, he hilts inside one final time and erupts. His cock jerks and pulses, painting the insides white with his hot, thick seed.

"Fuuuuck, yes! Take it baby, take my cum!" eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him. Holding you in place as he empties himself deep inside.

Head thrown back and eyes rolled up as your own climax slams in your core. Milking him for every last drop of his potent release.

They remain locked together, chests heaving and sweat-slicked skin pressed close as they bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"Mmm, you did so well, sweetheart," he murmurs after a long moment, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. "Took every drop like you were made for it."

He leans in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

"That's how you make a baby," he whispers.

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rollinouttahere-writes-misc · 5 days ago

Note

Not sure if this is a request or if you'd be down to just share your thoughts BUT do you have thoughts on poly satoru, suguru, and shoko with a reader? I just think they make such a power thruple, and I also think Yan!shoko would be Soooo good at manipulating the other two to keep a less enthused member of the polycule around

That would certainly make for an interesting, as well as inescapable, polycule lol

Though I'm not sure I agree about Shoko manipulating them. I just don't think she really needs to, you know? Even in an AU where Geto doesn't completely go off the deep end, he's still one minor inconvenience away from snapping and enacting mass monkey murder. If anything, Shoko is going to have to reign him in. Geto's been through so much and seen so many atrocities that convincing himself that this relationship is for your good whether you agree with that sentiment or not is child's play.

Gojo is an extremely difficult person to manipulate, so it's a good thing that he doesn't need it either. Much like Geto, he's seen enough to be able to rationalize that you're better off with them than by yourself.

If Shoko is going to be manipulating anyone, it's going to be you. She's very good at it, saying things in a way that makes it sound like she's on your side, all while layering on enough fears and guilt to paralyze you in the relationship.

Oh, you want to leave after Geto starts losing his way? She sighs and says she understands, it is kinda scary... but he's really struggling. Couldn't you at least be there for him as a friend?

You want to leave now that he's more stable? Well, it was nice of you to stick around for so long, she "quietly" mutters to herself that she hopes this doesn't make him relapse.

By the time all of the kids get involved, you're completely locked down. Mimiko and Nanako have been through so much, surely you don't want to risk doing anything that might upset them further. Then there's Megumi and Tsumiki who just finally got a taste of a somewhat normal and stable home life. Do you really want to shake their new foundation by leaving?

You end up getting relegated to being a stay at home parent. Geto and Gojo are obviously far too powerful to be doing such a thing, and Shoko's reverse cursed technique is too valuable for her to not be on the field. You wouldn't mind staying home, would you? It's just for a little bit it's not

You might as well get comfy. You aren't going anywhere.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #shoko ieri x reader #this is truly the most high risk yandere relationship #youre locked down tighter than fort knox

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the-grimm-writer · 10 months ago

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Thinking about obsessive boyfriends <33

You know something's a lil off about him, but you always try to push it down because he's the best boyfriend you've ever had.

He showers you with gifts, praises you, and listens to your struggles without judgment. Some might say you two have the best relationship.

So, of course you don't realize when people suddenly start withdrawing from you. How their eyes widen in fear when they see your man because you're the only one who doesn't see how dangerous he truly is.

You think it's cute when he gets jealous. When you talk to your friends and he snakes his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as he waits for you to pay attention to him again.

And when he gets you alone and tilts your chin back, telling you how you're his and he'll never let anyone take you away from him.

Of course there's times you start seeing the signs something's not quiet right, but one kiss and all your worries seem to melt away.

Your boyfriend would never harm you. But the same can't be said about anyone else.

JJK: Geto, Gojo, Yuta, Choso, Nanami, Megumi, Toge

TR: Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu, Angry, Ran, Rindou, Kakucho, Kisaki, Kazutora

MHA: Izuku, Mirio, Keigo, Shoto, Kirishima, Shinsou

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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tw - non/con, manipulation, mentions of breeding, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's ecstatic the day his owner, Suguru, brings you home. He's the pinnacle of a spoiled pet, constantly showered in toys and treats and affection, but his owner's a busy man, and he tends to sulk when left home alone. He's had other companions before, another leopard hybrid who nearly killed him before being released back into the wild and a black panther who somehow proved to be a worse influence on Satoru than Satoru was on her, but you're supposed to be more permanent solution, another hosuepet to keep him company when Suguru can't. You're a sweet little housecat, all wide-eyes and raised ears, but still, Suguru wouldn't be surprised if you're begging to go back to the shelter less than an hour after meeting your new roommate.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who falls in love with you immediately. Suguru practically has to keep him in a chokehold while you explore your new home, eventually curling up on your new bed. Satoru's on top of you as soon as he gets loose, purring obnoxiously while he runs his bristled tongue over your cheek. Suguru's half-convinced that your first day's going to end with bloody claws and bandages, but you only nuzzle into his chest and knead at the blankets underneath you. Satoru's a difficult cat to put up with, and Suguru's relieved that you, at least, find him tolerable.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's absolutely massive compared to you. The tips of your pointed ears barely reach his collarbones, and your wrist is only as thick as his fluffy tail. His favorite hobby quickly becomes carrying you from room to room despite your softly mewled protests, and he's not happy unless he's pressed against you as closely as possible. He used to force himself into Suguru's lap whenever possible, but now, he's unbearable unless you're sitting pretty in his. He doesn't even complain when you lose your temper and dig your little fangs (barely half the size of his - a poor imitation of a real predator's) into his arm, just grinning as he tugs at your ears and pinches your cheeks. He's not exactly a wild animal, but he's still at the top of his food chain. You're not quite a mouse, but you might as well be, compared to him.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's calling you his mate after less than a full month. You don't know what it means, often parroting it back as more of a question than a term of endearment, and Suguru just brushes it off as Satoru being deliberately irritating. He keeps it up, though. even after you start refusing to respond to it.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who starts introducing you to new "games". You know you don't stand a chance against him, but somehow, he always manages to goad you into roughhousing, into squirming as he pins you under his full weight. He likes to dangle things above your head, to see how long it takes your instincts to get the best of you before your chest is pressed against his and you're pouting so adorably as you jump and bat at his hand. Sometimes, when you fall asleep mid-grooming session, he'll let his mouth wander lower than it should, and you'll wake up to his tongue lapping over your chest, his face buried between your thighs in a way that leaves you teary-eyed and warm. You've tried to tell Suguru, but you always get embarrassed and end up mumbling something as vague as 'Satoru's being mean to me, again.' In the end, Satoru only ever gets a slap on the wrist and a new reason to tease you, next time Suguru turns his back.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who fucks you whenever Suguru isn't home. He planned on waiting for your first heat (delayed by your shelter suppressants and the stress of a new home), and he knows he's not supposed to, but he just can't get enough of having your smaller body curled up underneath his, your tail thrashing from side to side as he lazily rolls his hips against yours. You tend to whine, at first, to go on and on about how weird it feels and how much it hurts, but as soon he gets his cock inside of you, all those complaints tend to go away. It's almost funny, how easily your stupid little kitty mind gets all hazy and cockdrunk. He always loves you, but he loves you most when you're drooling and purring for his cum, begging him to breed you properly between hitched moans.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's not even mad when Suguru catches him bouncing your half-conscious, fucked-out body on his cock. He wants to be the best possible mate for you, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't willing to show you off <3

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #hybrid au #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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snail-day · 3 days ago

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TW: Yandere content, Captivity, Power imbalance, Toxic/Absuive Relationship Dynamics, Sukuna threatening to kill/eat you (what's new there)

---

Yandere!True Form Sukuna who keeps swearing he’s going to eat you every time you piss him off. You, his concubine, the little war prize, nothing more than a pretty piece of meat that's meant to warm his bed and submit when called. That’s what he tells himself, at least. That’s what he told you when he first claimed you.

And yet… lately, he’s been summoning you just for the baths.

No words or commands. Just the soft lap of water as he settles you between his four arms, two stretched lazily along the edge of the tub, and the other two wrapped firmly around you, caging you against his broad chest. Your head tucked beneath his chin as he sinks further into the warmth, like he’s trying to soak you into his skin.

Sukuna insists he doesn’t do attachments. Growls it into your neck whenever you breathe too easily around him. Warns you that the second you betray him, he won’t hesitate to rip your spine out through your throat.

Still, each night, he chains your ankle to the bedpost with a promise on his tongue: that this is only temporary. That your whiny little voice, your insolent mouth and soft mortal body, will all be dust the moment he tires of you.

And yet he never does.

Because somehow, you get under his skin in ways he can’t explain. Like when you bite him, actually bite him, when you’re mad. (You've drawn blood and broken flesh far too many times) Or when you glare up at him with your lip trembling and tears pricking at your lashes during one of your infamous tantrums. Or worse, when you smack his ass after a bath and he snarls that he’ll cut your hands off and you just giggle and say, “Please do. I’d be honored to never have to touch you again.”

The audacity.

The nerve.

The addicting, dangerous charm of it all.

Sukuna, who claims he doesn’t care, who scoffs at the idea of softness, finds himself dreaming of you anyway. Dreaming of your limp, exhausted body curled into his. Dreaming of the echo of your laughter in the hollows of his chest.

And when he wakes, he stares at the chain biting into your ankle and wonders, how long until you slip away anyway?

Maybe…the chain won’t be enough.

Maybe he’ll have to break you in other unsavory ways. Stitch himself into your bones. Leave no part of untouched. Because a monster like him doesn’t fall in love. But whatever this is? It’s getting far too close.

#I'm not really a sukuna girly (he's still hot so id smash)#But I've been thinking about him as a yandere lately and I think he'd be lowkey disgusted at whatever this new feeling is #Like he wants you there with him but doesn't want to show he loves you #I do think though sukuna doesn't love soft and sweet girlies #He likes a baddie that fights back because what's the fun in breaking something so easy?#yandere jujutsu kaisen #Yandere #yandere sukuna #Yandere sukuna x reader

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yanderenightmare · 1 month ago

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Yandere Days of the Week

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, drugging, alcohol/poisoning, vomiting/forced/emeto, abuse of power, plotting murder, waterboarding-ish, squirting, implied bottle-fucking

♡ FEM reader

♡ INSPO: this by the lovely @yanderedrabbles

Monday is your strict boss.

He’s always breathing down your neck around the office, checking if you come in on time, laying into you when you’re anything but perfectly on the dot—not even allowing you to get settled into your cubicle before dumping a workload onto your desk on top of the one you already have, coming back with a fresh one right after lunch again.

You know you’re probably just being sensitive, but you feel as though he singles you out. Barking at you to redo things, even after you’d gone through the extra measure of running it by a coworker who’d given you the thumbs up. You don’t know, it sort of feels as if he has it out for you.

Being yelled at is already bad enough, not to mention how he’ll demand you work late to make up for the slack. And yet, that’s not even the worst part!

No, the absolute worst part is that he’ll insist on staying behind, too—to supervise you.

It’s utterly nerve-wracking. ‘Cause he isn’t only your boss, he’s also sort of… well… really hot. Always dressed sharply in a tailored pin-striped suit and those sharp-tipped newly-polished shoes—hair slick with a fresh barbershop cut and a chiseled face to match.

He smells good, too. And it all just makes it extra awkward for you. Especially when you stay late together, alone. He’ll remove his tie and jacket, then button up his collar and roll up his sleeves—flexing those burly arms of his and that fat wristwatch that’s worth more than your entire life savings.

That neat hair of his will start to fall apart as the late hours take their toll, getting disheveled and only sexier for it—and the way he’ll drag his ring-clad fingers through it with a groan, looking at you with such a fierce glare, you actually have to calm your breath and suppress the urge to rub your thighs together.

But although his voice is definitely something you could dream about, you could do without it when he talks down to you, always admonishing you, grumbling about what a poor employee you are, how you only give him more work to do, how he should be compensated for it.

You’re certain he’s going to fire you soon.

And it turns out soon is even sooner than you’d thought or hoped.

This is it, you think, once he calls you into his office. He’s finally going to do it. You’re going to have to find a new job now—without a good recommendation to help you out, no less. Knowing him and how much he despises you, he’ll probably give you a really poor review on top of it all—he might even call around to make sure no one ever hires you again.

You’re almost about to cry.

“You’re about the worst employee I’ve ever had,” he states, sitting behind his desk with you standing before him, twiddling your fingers while looking sorrowfully down at your heels, hoping he’d have enough mercy to at least make it quick. “But since firing people is fucking impossible nowadays, I’m just gonna haf’to relocate you somewhere else you won’t be damn useless.”

You look up at that. Tears held back in surprise.

Wait, so… he’s not firing you?

He sighs, looking through your employee files, making the changes, “And given it’s the only job open right now, starting today, you’ll be my new personal assistant.”

Gathering everything, he brandishes the documents with his signature, then looks up at you while sliding the pen and papers over.

“Think you can handle that?”

Stunned, you only briefly think about how you’re overqualified to be a personal assistant, but at the same time, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care, blinded with relief that you hadn’t been sacked.

You just nod your head all prettily, signing just as quickly while vowing, “I’ll try my best, sir.”

He becomes significantly nicer after that—always praising you for a job well done and giving you pretty gifts on top of your paycheck, which, funny enough, is nearly double what it used to be, all the while telling you how lost he’d be without you there keeping his life together.

You can’t help but let it all go to your head, completely forgetting that you had bigger plans than being an assistant.

He brings you everywhere he goes now. Out of the building on business meetings, out of the country on business trips. Expensive dinners, fancy hotel rooms, big yachts and galas. You can’t complain—too busy picking your jaw up from the floor—too busy to notice his leer and how he plans to keep you by his side for the rest of his life—too busy to understand that when he stays work late, he doesn’t mean doing paperwork.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Toji, Higuruma, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Chrollo

Tuesday is your old classmate who just moved in across the hall.

It’s a funny coincidence, you both agree, as neither of you lives in your hometown anymore—what a small world, huh?

You’ll meet each other in the mornings when you both set out for work and small talk on your way down the stairs, then up the stairs when coming home again. It’s impressive how often it happens.

He’s always asking for the two of you to catch up—always inviting you over for dinner to talk about old times and what you’ve gotten up to since.

You never know what to say… You don’t feel like the two of you were all that close during school, so you’ve turned him down each time, hoping if you ask him for a rain check enough times, he’ll eventually just forget.

But after coming home, tired after a grueling Monday and an even harder Tuesday, on top of realizing you didn’t have anything stocked up in the fridge, you end up agreeing to his home-cooked meal when he offers in favor of ordering takeout.

He lights up at once, “Great!”

It’s a bit of an overreaction, you think. But hey, he just moved here—maybe he hasn’t made any friends yet. It’s not easy being in a new place—he’s probably dying for some company.

Shoot, now you feel a little bad for not having agreed earlier. You remember how it had been yourself when all you ever did was go to work every day—not knowing what else to get up to in the city. Maybe you could give him a hand, tell him about a few places—just to help him get on his feet.

“Yeah, just let me shower and change, and I’ll come over,” you say, unlocking your apartment.

“Sure thing! See you soon!” he cheers, watching you go with a big beaming smile on his face, only turning around to unlock his own place when you’d closed your door.

He’s a little strange, you can’t help but think—or maybe he’s just that eager. Thinking about it, you don’t remember much about him from college. Honestly, he’s one of those faces that just sort of end up blending into the background. He never made any impact in class or at any parties or other gatherings. You don’t know, he was always rather quiet. You don’t remember him having any friends either.

But whatever, people change, and he seems nice enough—maybe he was just more concerned with his average. Fucks knows you weren’t.

You shower quickly, not bothering to wash your hair or put on anything too nice. It’s only a Tuesday, after all—it should be casual. A bralette, boxers, baggy T-shirt, shorts, and slippers later, and you pop out the door and knock on his.

He’s quick to answer. “Hey! Come in, come in—it’s almost done!”

“Cool, thanks,” you say. “Smells good.”

He ushers you to take a seat at the tiny kitchen table he has. Similar to yours, actually—these apartments aren’t all that big. Still, his place is poorly furnished. But then again, he only moved in a little while ago, so you won’t judge.

He rushes over with dinner shortly. Spaghetti, meatballs, and red sauce. A classic. You’re not complaining. However, you could have done without the candles and moody lighting. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect from a corny date, but you decide to ignore it.

“Wine?” he offers despite it being only Tuesday.

You know you probably shouldn’t, but the start of the week has been hard, and you honestly wouldn’t mind the good night's sleep that follows a few glasses of red or anything that would make the affair go over a little more smoothly.

“Sure, why not.”

And yet, it’s still a little awkward. You don’t know what to talk about—you just end up droning on about work, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Then you remember what you’d thought about earlier and start talking about some of the places and things he should check out now that he lives here. You try asking him about his work and why he decided to move here, but he doesn’t seem very interested in talking about himself.

After finishing, it isn’t long before you feel drowsy. You blame it on the wine at first—starting to think it was time you thank him for the hospitality and excuse yourself. But as soon as you get up, you’re already falling over.

No worries, though. He’s been waiting and ready to catch you for a while.

“It took you some time to agree to come—I was afraid you’d never say yes, but I’m glad you finally did… I was about to take other drastic measures…”

You’re so sleepy it’s suddenly impossible to grasp what he’s saying—as well as have any sort of grasp on the situation while you’re being carried bridal style away from the living room, through a door into a very dark room.

“I bet you don’t remember me that well, huh?” he continues as he lays you down on something soft, something that swallows your body in a way you can’t really decide if it feels nice or not.

He keeps talking while you try to figure it out, “Hm, that’s fine. I remember you very well.”

You connect one and two associations and come to conclude the thing beneath you is a bed. It ripples and dips with the added weight once your neighbor crawls over you. Your body doesn’t yet recognize being alarmed, but something behind the fuzz that’s taken over your mind still has enough common sense to make you feel as if something’s not right.

“I just had to follow after you, you know?” he keeps rambling, but you’re only barely able to listen. “I just needed some time to save up the money and all, but I was right behind you. And made sure I’d get this apartment right next to yours.”

He looks at your pretty face—all spaced out—stroking your cheek all slow and delicately.

He sighs, “Heh, I know they say that if you love someone, you should let them go—but I just couldn’t find it in me.”

His hand travels further down—eyes following the trail. Down, down, down, until reaching the hem of your shirt.

“I had a crush on you since day one, you know?” he confesses while pulling your tee up over your bra, exposing your pretty chest to him. He licks his lips, breath shuddering, and yet he keeps preaching despite it, “All three years. I wanted to tell you, but you were always surrounded by those pesky friends of yours. It was impossible to catch you alone.”

He feels your skin with a gentle touch as if in reverence. Still, now that you’re getting used to the effects of whatever it is he’s drugged you with, you’re lucid enough to feel the treacherous hard-on he has rubbing against you.

“Unlike me…” He stills for a moment, and something dark takes over. “I was always alone.”

Beyond uncomfortable, beyond alarmed, you’re fully terrified now. You want to scream, but you can’t find the strength to move, even just a finger. Completely limb, and yet not numb, but sensitive to all his awful touches.

“But that’s all in the past.” He smiles. “Now that I finally have you all to myself.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Tenko ♡ JJK – Yuuta ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

Wednesday is the cheerful clerk who works at your local grocery store.

You like doing your grocery shopping on Hump day. It only makes sense, after all—you’ve made it through the first half of the week and deserve to spoil yourself a little!

He’s only just a bit older than you and yet still plays the older and wiser card—all in good fun, though, making a few comments about your lifestyle, jokingly telling you that “Candies are strictly for the weekend, you know?” A brow quirked while looking at you slyly.

And you’ll return his banter, giggling while saying, “A little fun never killed no one.”

It’s an innocent flirt the two of you share—neither of you really expects anything in return. He’s just a really friendly guy—always coming over to help you in the store. Tall as he is, he reaches the top shelf, barely needing to stretch his arm. Sometimes, he’ll even take a look at your shopping list and help you gather everything, bag your items, and then carry them out to your car as if the two of you are the people around and the store isn’t filled with dozens of other shoppers in bigger need of his assistance.

He mostly only sees you on Wednesday, but he knows your entire life story and your day-to-day schedule the way the two of you end up talking. Usually, people would be wary of sharing things with strangers, but you trust him with so much exactly because he is a stranger—treating him no different from a confidant. No one knows you as intimately as him. He knows all your little habits—from what you eat on a daily basis to what brand of soap you use, even what type of tampons and pads you like.

He doesn’t appreciate you eating things outside of the groceries the two of you pick together. He fucking hates it, actually—it makes it feel like you’re cheating on him. Every time you eat out, order in, go to a bar or cafe, even a fucking candy store is like a stab to his back and heart all at the same time. It drives him crazy—he might just burn all those places down to the ground.

But he never lets any of that show when you’re in the store. It’s not your fault after all that there are so many temptations out in the world. You just need a little help saying no.

You don’t have to worry though. After he becomes your boyfriend, he’ll be that help for you.

Yeah, all you have to do is stay home and he’ll make sure you get what you need. He won’t let you indulge as much as you do now, of course, but he won’t be too strict either, so don’t fret.

He’ll make sure you get all the right nutrients to lead a long, happy, healthy life—get your body ripe and ready to start a family.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Yukimiya, Aiku ♡ WB – Suo, Umemiya, Togame

Thursday is your is your random-ass friend who’ll drop by unannounced. It’s never anything crazy, though—no, just a fun hang-out to get a little headstart on the weekend. He’ll bring a joint or maybe some gummies—he likes to keep you guessing. And the two of you will watch cartoons or shitty reality TV, play a round or a dozen of Mario Cart or the like—giggling over each other’s commentary.

He’s chill, laidback, a fan of both comfortable silences and making good conversation. A really good friend.

Yeah, a really good friend who likes sticking his tongue down your throat when you’re knocked out from all the laced drugs he keeps passing you.

“God, you’re so clueless,” he moans when bearing over your passed-out body where you lie all comfortably oblivious on the couch. “Just a naive cutie pie who’s gonna get her gullible little pussy used.”

You make him so hard—you have no idea how he licks your face and kisses your eyelids. Drunk of the power he has over you and feeling all but unhinged because of it.

He feels your limp tongue with his fingers, playing with it while grinding against your thigh. Breaths thick with lust—eyes half-mast, getting overstimulated by all the nasty things he’s going to do to you and how you will never ever find out about any of it.

“You know I fuck you raw every time I come over? That’s right, every single time,” he laughs and shudders in delight, whispering the truth into your ear despite knowing you’re in no state to hear it.

“Mh, I use this body like my own personal sex doll. There’s not a spot left I haven’t touched.” He tugs down your top and takes both your tits in his hand, squeezing them as if they belong to him because, in his mind, in these special precious moments he shares with you, there’s not a part of you that doesn’t belong to him and there’s not a part of you he can’t do whatever he wishes with.

And so, he sucks and licks your pretty tits too and keeps raving, “You’re all mine, every single part of you—I own it all.”

He pulls up your skirt and strokes your cunt through your panties, sliding his fingertip through the slit as if he’s teasing you even though you’re going to stay just as unresponsive no matter what. But in his mind, he imagines it wants him—that your pussy desperately craves him without you knowing—that it’s a secret the two of them share with each other and that they're somehow in cahoots on keeping you oblivious.

“You’re always so tight and wet—it takes everything in me not to cum inside, but we wouldn’t want you figuring things out and ruining our fun, now would we?” he rambles, finally sliding your panties to the side so that he could slip his digits within, pumping you sweetly while you sleep oh-so-soundly and blissfully unaware, getting you good and ready to take his cock in the next minute.

“Yeah, it’s gonna stay our fun little secret forever.”

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Karasu, Shido ♡ WB – Togame

Friday is the bartender at your go-to club.

He’s seen you in every state of drunkenness possible—from tipsy, plastered, sloppily drunk to flat-out shit-faced. You’re a bit of an alcoholic, you know that? Once you start, you can’t seem to stop yourself. If someone puts a drink in front of your face, you dont even think before grabbing it—all laughs and zero critical thinking.

Of course, the way he overserves you, you’re bound to get fucked up.

“Wanna go home…”

He holds your drowsy body against his chest, keeping you upright.

“My shift’s done, and my place is right above here, so you don’t gotta worry,” he says, soothing you as you cling to his side, utterly unable to stand on your own two feet, flinching at the flashing strobe lights and wincing from the blaring party music—feeling as if there’s a seismic eight earthquake raging on inside your poor head.

“Where’ my friends?” your words are so slurred, they’re barely audible.

But he hears you, chuckling before cooing at you, “Let’s get you someplace comfortable, and then we’ll contact your friends, okay? Sound good?”

You burble a few incoherent sounds before uttering out a weak, “Okay…”

“Alright then, baby, don’t worry, I got you,” he purrs in return, getting a better grip around your body as he leads you out of the club, into the elevator, and up to his flat.

“I feel sick…” you mumble, whimpering.

And he coos, “I know, baby, it’s okay, I’ll help you.”

He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on your knees in front of the toilet. You don’t think much of it when he lifts up your little party dress and tugs it off over your head—feeling as if he’s just making you comfortable. Yeah, he's just taking care of you.

“Let’s empty that system of trash, yeah?”

He gets down on his own knees just behind you, cradling you as he gathers your hair back with both hands—gripping it a little too tightly in a single fist before being just as rough, sticking two of his thick digits deep into the back of your throat.

You immediately gag and throw up.

And he hums, sounding pleased while praising you, “That’s a good girl—get it all out.”

He doesn’t pull his digits out despite you struggling, trying to wrench away—no, he just uses his bigger body to keep you pressed and hunched over the toilet bowl while finger-fucking the back of your throat—smiling sadistically while at it.

“Come on now, baby, I know you got more in there. Let it out.”

He keeps you there for half an hour, making you dry gag and spit, mascara streaming down your pretty face as he feels your smaller body convulse under his weight. Fuck, it’s enough to make his cock pre.

“Good girl,” he purrs, petting your hair and placing a kiss on your temple, all while you shudder and sniffle. “Let’s get you washed up, hm?”

He reclaims his harsh grip on your hair, just as tightfisted, using it to make you crawl across the tiles until reaching the tub. He takes his place behind you—trapping you between his legs, thighs, and crotch, keeping you locked against the porcelain edge while he fetches the showerhead and immediately sprays your face with the cold at full force.

“Open up, baby, let’s wash your mouth out.”

You yelp, whining, but he finds your protesting more amusing. Finding your nose with his other hand, he pinches it shut. Making you gape and gasp for breath through the water stream.

But he doesn’t leave it at that. No. The shower head is about the same size as your fist and proving to be just small enough to allow him to force it into your mouth—all but waterboarding you.

He has to chuckle at your fussing—you’re so weak he barely has to put in any effort keeping you in place—he nearly busts in his pants feeling it. But the best part is how when he lets go of your nose, the water starts coming up and out your nostrils.

He let’s go before you drown, of course. Snuff isn’t on the menu tonight. He’s been stalking you for far too long—he can’t just waste it with foreplay.

You collapse on the floor, shivering and coughing—head a spinning mess, still wasted, riddled with shock yet stifled by exhaustion to do anything but lie there, trembling against the wet tiles.

“No, no, no, baby, you can't fall asleep yet. The party’s still far from over,” he admonishes, giving your cheek a few small slaps before grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up. “Yeah, come here—I’m far from finished with you...”

He carries you out of the bathroom and drops you on his bed.

“God, you’re fucking dumb,” he grabs your face, pinching your lips while giving it an ugly kiss. “Did your mommy never tell you not to go home with strangers, huh?”

Leaving you there, he goes off to find your purse.

“Let’s let your friends know you’re home safe, hm.”

You try getting up while he’s gone, crawling around in the bedsheet like a worm, but not managing to get anywhere.

He watches you and scoffs while typing up a message, hitting send to your most recent group chat. It only takes a minute before all the dumb bitches you call friends send hearts in return, saying how fun tonight was.

They have no idea what they’re missing out on.

He saunters back to you. Enjoying every second of watching you squirm. Thank fuck for alcohol, and god bless dumb party girls.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” He grins while grabbing your ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “You’re not going anywhere, baby—you’re staying right here with me where I can have my fun with you.”

His hands go up and down your soft skin, thinking of all the pretty marks he’s going to leave on you before curling his fingers around your slutty string panties.

The lace is all wet from his earlier actions as he tugs it down your thighs and legs, tossing it over his shoulder before spreading your legs and pulling you even closer.

“Aw, you got your pussy all clean-shaven for me?” he awes with a smirk, “What a good girl you are.”

He’d planned on having a bit more fun with you before giving in to his urges, but seeing your pretty little cunt so ready to be fucked, he couldn't be asked to wait any longer, needing to fuck you like he’d been wanting to ever since he first spotted you in the club so many TGIFs ago.

“You sure like to party, don’t you?” he rasps while buckling up his belt and zipping himself down, letting his pants drop before grabbing his painfully hard cock. “Always at the club shaking this pretty little ass of yours—just a dumb party animal, huh?” He just knows your little cunt’s going to squeeze him tight like a trap—he isn’t even going to give you a finger test before bullying himself inside.

“Yeah, you like having fun—you havin’ fun now, babe?” he bows down, biting your cheek while putting his head to your entrance, pressing inside despite the resistance.

He was right—you are fucking tight, taking his cock just the way he thought you would.

“Fucking slut,” he groans as he starts thrusting, hugging your thighs tight. “Begging to get gangbanged out on that fucking dance floor—dancin’ like a fucking stripper for free and for all to see.”

Fuck, how he’s going to ruin you—give you a necklace of hickies all around your throat as he fucks you into a mess, then press a beer bottle inside you once he’s done—keep his cum in you all night long.

“You deserve to be used. And I’m gonna use yah for all you’re worth.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Karasu, Shido, Aiku ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Kaji, Togame

Saturday is a gym-bro. There isn’t a day he doesn’t go. Yep, not even Saturday.

You try to go as often as you can muster. But no, you don’t go every day, especially during the weekend—and that gives him a good reason to come up to when you do—teasing you about how he missed you last time. Acting all smug and cocky when asking you what bad habits you got up to on Friday that made you skip out.

He makes you feel sheepish standing next to him as he all but bullies you for being an itty-bitty weakling.

He’s not exactly being fair. It’s not as if you’re especially weak compared to everyone else. It’s just that absolutely everyone’s an itty-bitty weakling standing next to him. The guy’s pure muscle and taller than most of the equipment, for crying out loud!

One time, he’d demonstrated his strength by daring you to hang from his bicep. And sure enough, he could lift you like you were nothing. Using you like a dumbbell—which is what he’ll sometimes call you.

You’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. It’s flattering, but honestly, you think guys like him are a bit too much. His leg has the same girth as your thigh, and so does his neck—not to mention how you think he has enough strength in his hand alone to pulverize your skull in one simple squeeze.

Besides, he’s way too full of himself. You get being proud about health and fitness, but holy shit, does he never shut up? He’s always bragging about how much he benches and how many reps he does every day—and on top of everything, he seems to always be watching and studying you, commenting about your form, and mansplaining how you can get better.

He gets on your nerves.

But then again, the guy does seem to know what he’s talking about. And after several weeks of neither seeing nor feeling much results, you finally decide to let him help you out.

And he does. Taking you through all the motions, from warm-ups to really pushing yourself, and now, the cool-down stretches.

Though… you can’t exactly say there’s much cooling down involved in the way he has you full-feverish, sweating more than you did during the actual workout. In the locker room, suspended against his swole chest with his arms locked around your thighs, folding you clean in half, fingers locked behind your neck as he bounces you on his thick length. And fuck, even his fucking dick is riddled with muscles and veins—feeling as if he’s fucking you with an arm the way he’s stretching you out and punching your guts to mush.

“You holdin’ out, dumbbell?” he mocks, knowing you’re a mess. “Tap out any time, yeah?”

Fuck him, you think—as if you can move your arms in this position—as if you can even speak or make any sound except full-on panting like a bitch and drooling like one too.

One more hit, and you’re spraying—and he insists on fucking you just as hard through it. Straight pounding your wet cunt until he’s sure you’re empty before dropping you back down on your own two feet.

But just because you’ve cum like a shower doesn’t mean he’s done. No, far from it, as he rushes you up against the lockers next and continues where he left off.

The cool metal feels good against your cheek, so good you don’t even mind how he’s pressing you flat and free of air—keeping your neck in a chokehold and your hair in his other fist while fucking into you from behind.

“Trust me, this is way better exercise for someone like you,” he grunts with a grin, feeling you go limp. Your knees shot and your whole body listless, kept up solely by his strength like a puppet on strings.

He rasps out a laugh, “I’ll be your personal trainer, free of charge—just meet me after my reps, and I’ll put you to work and make sure you go home feeling proud.”

Yeah, sure, if you don’t pass out before then.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Kunigami, Shido, Baro, Aiku ♡ DS – Akaza ♡ WB – Togame

Sunday is the religious guy who always comes and knocks on your door to share his faith.

You don’t share his views, but you’d invited him in for lemonade and pastries once.

You don’t know exactly why. You usually just say no thank you and close the door, but that time, well, you’d just finished making cupcakes, and the house smelled like a bakery—it seemed like a waste not to have company.

Sundays were usually so anticlimactic you never really knew what to make of them. But after that, you came to really enjoy spending them baking, always trying out new fun recipes. And before you even knew it, since he always came knocking on your door on Sundays to enlighten you bout God, it quickly became a thing of ritual for you to invite him in.

You’d always thought strictly religious people such as him were more… how do you say… fanatic? Or, at the very least, be somewhat passionate about talking about their God. But he doesn’t seem to be very interested in telling you about that at all. No, he seems much more invested in you and how you’ve been since last time.

Oh well, you think—maybe he’s more accepting of people having different life views and isn’t deadset on changing minds after all. Maybe that was never his agenda—maybe he’s simply a good samaritan going door to door to see if he’s needed or wanted. That is what religion is all about, after all.

Little do you know, though… he’s not really a religious guy at all…

No, he’s actually a serial killer who’d been hunting for his next victim.

He thought you were just perfect, exactly his type—pretty and kind and dumb, just like prey should be. Oh, but then, you became a little too perfect, didn’t you? Inviting him in with such big doe eyes, despite living all alone, feeding him cupcakes, and telling him tales about your life as if he isn’t a total stranger. You might as well be begging him to make you his victim.

But he can’t waste perfection.

And so, instead of abducting you and frolicking in your screams as he cuts you up into a dozen pieces, he abducts you and frolics in your screams as he sucks your pussy into a dozen orgasms.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Tomiyama

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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aajjks · 9 months ago

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Have A Baby By Me (m)

warnings: èxplïcït sèx, rïdïng hïs dïck, báby tràppïng, brèèdïng kínk, cöèrcátïôn, 18+ THÈMÈS, wràp ït bèfórè yôu táp ít, créàmpíe, yándèrè, èxplïcït thèmès, MDNÏ.

note: @looneybleus, I know it’s been so long but I finally got to finish this, forgive me if it’s shitty but I wrote this for you like you wanted 🥹🥹 ALSO SHARE FEEDBACK AND ENJOY! Ignore my mistakes. I’ll edit it later. I got sick. 💀♥️

note: Art by @/nada_ge on twt, this is not mine, cr to owner.

Geto just loves fucking you.

He loves being inside you, fucking you until his dick is aching and you’re full of his load. And now, he hates it when you’re on birth control,

He obviously hates wearing a condom.

And right now? He’s really fucking horny, he cannot stop thinking about fucking you raw, make you bounce on his dick the whole night and breed you like his little doll.

He’s sitting inside your shared bedroom, his shirt off, as he waits for you to finish changing, Geto is throbbing tonight, he will get a baby, he will make sure you get knocked up by him.

Because you’re such a good girl as well, Geto is so in love with you, he wants nothing more than to be with you forever and what is the best way to be with you forever than to have a baby with you?

He is waiting, eagerly. He’s freshly showered, his hair in a lazy bun as he stares at the LED. Even the TV is not interesting enough for him because he’s got some motives. He wants to fulfill tonight.

“Sweetie, where are you?” He suddenly asks, his voice a tad bit loud so you can hear him in the bathroom, he taps his feet on the marble flooring.

“Coming babe.”

He smirks, oh you definitely will be.

He smiles to himself, the thoughts only getting more intense in his mind, his patience is really wearing thin now you need to come here right now.

And it’s like God heard him because there you come all glory in pajamas, your face without any make up, but eyes freeze on you.

You are so beautiful, so pretty and so perfect, the sounds of your steps are enough to take his all of his attention.

“Hi princess.” Geto smiles lazily.

You give him your gorgeous smile, which makes you look 1000 times more pretty, and he pats his lap. “Why don’t you come here hmm?” He speaks in a low tone, his eyes filled with a haze.

A haze you recognize well.

You approach him, Geto wants nothing more than to feel your weight on him, he spreads his legs, “come on pretty girl.” He coos, you are definitely blushing now, as you slyly sit on his lap.

The weight of your ass on him is absolutely delicious, he groans. His arms immediately settling around your waist as he adjusts you.

“Better?” He questions, whispering in your ear like the good caring boyfriend that he is, you nod, and that’s when geto grabs your face and pulls you in for a slow kiss.

His lips move against yours, gently at first, as you register his advance, kidding him back, he enjoys and savors the warmth of your mouth on his.

The kiss only kicks away his sanity, oh he’s so horny. “Mhmm yeah, pretty girl, I really missed you today yknow?” He begins a decent conversation with you, after disconnecting your lips,

You begin talking with him, but all he’s focusing on is being inside you. “Hmm yeah, today wasn’t so eventful, anyways, yn.. let’s focus on the night shall we?” He caresses your face, his fingers tapping your cheek.

“You see? I’m really fuckin needy right now, I’m pretty sure you can feel it.” He winks, hinting at his boner pressing against your ass.

“You look so hot to me right now, please let me fuck you.” He pouts, his tone getting softer yet pleading, but his moves growing bolder, his lips find your neck, as he awaits your response, pressing open mouthed hot kisses against your neck.

He groans again as he takes in your scent, “mhmm fuck.” He moans, his hand sliding inside your shirt, his eyes darken when he realises you’re not wearing a bra.

He starts to tease your naked breast, “oh baby you’re such a naughty girl aren’t you?” His hips start to move, and that’s when you finally mutter a ‘yes’

Geto smiles wide, making you stand up as he immediately kicks his pants off. His muscular thighs soon unveil and throws the pants away.

“Straddle me.” Geto pushes his boxers off soon too, his hard erection painfully obvious, his cock hard and ready. “See that, ‘s all because of you.” He purrs.

“Come on baby ride me.” He takes your wrist and manages to lift you up by your hips, his fingers take off your pajamas and he practically rips your panties off, slamming you down on his cock.

And he cries out in pain, soon replaced by a sound of pleasure as he finds himself inside you, you moan in pain and surprise, “mhm fuck ‘m so sorry baby.”

He’s acting stupid right now.

“Fuck you geto ugh.”

“Yes please fuck me.”

He begs, his grip on your hips tightening as he waits for you to start,

A moan of ecstasy leaves his mouth as you begin to move, “mhmm oh fuck.” He’s always so vocal in the bedroom, he encourages you to go harder, faster.

“Please please please make me cum yn.” He whines, making your hips move faster using his hands to slam you down on his cock.

You moan, matching him as you both give into the pleasure, you settle your hands on his naked shoulders, Geto buries his head in your neck “oh baby mhm yeah please please keep g-going ugh.” He mewls, the feeling your hips slam down on him.

Your thrusts get more aggressive and it makes his eyes roll back. He’s going to cum soon, and inside you.

“Yn oh ngh- mhm.” He wants to kiss you so badly but his mind is frozen, too horny to actually think.

“My ugh- my love you always make me feel so good.” He kisses your neck, his tongue licking all over the skin, his hips bucking up, you keep on riding him.

You’re clenching around him so tightly it’s impossible to last.

“‘M gonna cum.” It’s all he says before he’s exploding inside you, his cum painting your insides white, his orgasm is strong and mind blowing.

The pleasure only intensifies more when he feels you cream all over him as well, you get so quiet during sex, it’s endearing.

His whole body is shaking as he rides the aftershocks, you both a panting mess.

He’s still inside you.

But what’s really got him panting is the knowledge that you’re not on birth control and you didn’t even realize that he just came inside you raw.

Geto smiles, kissing your neck again.

Soon, you’ll be pregnant because he will make sure.

“Oh you’re so good, mhm got me fucked up.” He moans against your neck. “We should continue this hm? This time I’ll be on top okay? I love you.”

Feeling satisfied and accomplished.

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exquisink · 3 months ago

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oh suguru knows you love it deep.

his cock is just the right fit for you. thick enough for your spongy walls to fit so snugly around it while you suck him in needfully. long enough to brush against your g-spot with just the slightest nudge. sometimes he brings out those ribbed condoms you love so much for the extra texture (or the extra torture, pick your poison). sometimes he just lets his cock sit in there for hours while you adjust, sighing contentedly like the perfect little slut you are for him and only him.

"please, deeper," you moan, mouthing at his jaw. he chuckles.

"anything for you," he purrs, tip of his veiny cock brushing against that right spot as he jerks his hips just a bit. it doesn't take him much work to make you feel good. really making you feel good takes no work at all; if it's work then that would mean it's a chore and this is far from that for him. this is practically therapeutic for him. a necessary asset to his daily routine lest he spirals out of control from any of his typical stressors. you calm him. you ground him.

you need this just as much as he does and he's much obliged.

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moechies · 1 year ago

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tw dark content heavy infantilization, smut

boys who baby you so much it's so suffocating </3

･ﾟ✧ boys who wake you up in the morning with soft kisses against your pantie covered cunt, tracing the outline of your squishy lips and drawing hearts on your clit <3

･ﾟ✧ boys who kiss n suck on your tits so gently that it's not enough, slightly warning you with a light squeeze to your wrists when you keep on squirming, 'i know sweet girl, s just a bit more.'

･ﾟ✧ boys who endlessly finger you, telling you that it's because he's prepping you for his overwhelming cock.. when you're borderline begging n begging for him but he just won't give it to you!

･ﾟ✧ and finally, boys who barely slide their thick tip inside your sweet hole, just to get off on only that! he thinks little girls like you aren't made to take such big cocks, n makes you cry for him to push in deeper. but he denies it, saying, ‘you aren't ready baby.. this is for the best..’

౨ৎ mahito, oikawa tooru, tendou satori, nagi seishirou, meguru bachira, ran haitani, draken ryuguji <3

(n more i cannot think rn ahahahwjw bye)

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kekewrites · 3 months ago

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Tw. Insecure/bratty/tsundere reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, obsession, sloppy blowjob, attempted breakup, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, multiple creampies, cunningless, baby trapping, coercion, aftercare

***

Thinking about dating an angelic guy.

You always wonder why, out of all the pretty and influential girls chasing after him, he chose you. It doesn't help how of a unit he is. Your typical perfect guy, popular, rich, and body that's comparable to a Greek God... and his voice— how you love his gentle and warm voice, there's just something about it that hypnotize you.

He always compliments you, shower you with affection, and be an absolute sweetheart. It gets you pissy. You don't know why you're always in a foul mood around him, he's not even doing anything that could trigger you. He takes a breath and you're already fuming. Grumbling profanities that he would laugh at wholeheartedly, like you didn't curse his entire being.

You hate how perfect he is. Hate how much you adore him. Hate how much you love him, and inside your mind you always question if he genuinely loves you. Maybe he's just playing with you? Waiting for the day he'd humiliate you, telling how you're too idiotic to even believe someone like him could ever love you.

That's probably why you're always cautious around him, you don't believe him enough to love an average girl like you.

***

He can't believe he's dating the cutest in the world. Everytime you scowl, show that adorable pout, he just wants to squish your cheeks together and kiss you plenty. Like a little kitty hissing when you sneer curses at him.

It's adorable really.

You'd say you didn't want to go to the movies he chose. Yet, you arrived earlier than expected, wearing a hint of makeup in that cute dress of yours. Makes him want to crush you. You put in the effort, took the time, even gave him the watch he'd been talking about—his favorite.

He really loves you. Really really loves you but why are you acting like he doesn't? He's confused. Hasn't he done enough to show you, tell how much he adores you? It makes him sad. Don't you know how much he's holding back? There's only so much he could take, you know. He could just take you everytime you run that cute foul mouth of you, shove his cock to make you shut up. But he's so patient with you because he loves you.

So don't push him too much, ok? Or else you might not like it when he finally show you his desire.

***

"You're late," you grumble, sending him a glare. Your arms are crossed, and your foot taps impatiently on the ground.

He chuckles, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I arrived just on time, sweetie," he says, stepping closer. "You're just too excited for our date, no?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are warm, sparkling with affection.

You huff in response, but you can feel the corners of your mouth betraying you, tugging into a smile. He notices and takes your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

"You're just so cute, you know? I really wanna crush— ow!" He hiss slightly as you swat his arm. He pouts a little, "You're strong, you're gonna leave a bruise."

You roll your eyes— as if that's gonna happen. Huffing you tug on his hand, "Let's go. I'm starving."

He smiles, looking at your back, "Ok, sweetie~."

Ah, you really are so cute.

He can't wait to fuck you.

***

"Why're you not eating, sweetie? Is the food not to your liking?"

Your appetite was gone the moment that waitress flirted with him, leaving you empty and bitter. This always happen. You're sick of it, sick of being jealous and feeling shitty for not looking like his girlfriend. Are you really worthless by his side? Do people not see you as his companion?

"Sweetie?"

You didn't want to lash out on him so you remained silent. Too bitter to talk. Even the food turned bitter, leaving you more upset.

He's such an idiot. But you're more of an idiot for being triggered by that stupid waitress, too much of a wuss to tell her he's taken, that he's yours. You're the idiot.

"I don't wanna eat anymore," you bitterly muttered, your face covered by the shadows of your hair, hiding that frown you wore he always seems to love on you.

He gets a sick twisted feeling in his guts, watching how jealous you get whenever some worthless wench tries to get his attention. It satisfies his urge, his sick thoughts hidden by his angelic face. You really love him, don't you? His lips curving into a sweet smile, eyes twinkling with desires. If only you know how much he gets off with you being jealous, you'd never doubted your pretty little self.

So… why are you saying such stupid things?

“Let’s break up.”

“Hm?”

“I said…” You take a breath, steadying your voice. “Let’s break up.”

For a moment, his smile wavers. Just a fraction. His right eye twitches ever so slightly, a crack in the carefully crafted mask he wears. But then, like a master of illusions, he recovers, his sweet facade sliding back into place, though something darker lingers beneath the surface.

“Now, now,” he says, his voice dripping with a saccharine softness that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “What’s the matter?” His tone is gentle, almost soothing, but there’s a sharp edge to it—a venomous undercurrent that cuts through the air.

You don’t answer immediately, your chest tightening under his unblinking stare. It’s as if he’s waiting, watching every little twitch of your expression, trying to peel you apart without lifting a finger.

“I just think…” you start, your voice faltering as his head tilts slightly, his smile remaining unnervingly intact. “I-I think we’re not… good for each other anymore.”

His smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze sharpens, a predator sizing up its prey. He takes a step closer, the air between you growing heavy. “Not good for each other?” he repeats, feigning confusion. “Sweetheart, where’s this nonsense coming from? Didn’t we promise forever?”

The sweetness in his tone sends a chill down your spine, but you hold your ground. “Forever shouldn’t feel like this,” you say, trying to steady your trembling hands.

It shouldn't make you feel bad about yourself, shouldn't make you anxious, shouldn't make feel... pressured.

For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes boring into yours. Then, his chuckle breaks the tension, soft and low. “Ah, I see,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. “You’re upset. That’s all. We’ll talk this through, won’t we?”

But his words aren’t a question—they’re a command, wrapped in the guise of concern. And as his smile lingers, you realize leaving might not be as simple as you hoped.

***

Why is this happening?

You thought he would accept and move on.

"Mmm, that's it sweetie. Take it deeper." He coaxes, his grip on your hair tightening. He starts to push forward, forcing more of his thick length past your stretched lips.

So why?

Your eyes squeeze shut tighter as he pushes in deeper, your throat convulsing around his invading cock. He throws his head back with a guttural moan.

"That's a good girl. Mhm, your throat feels so good wrapped around my dick." He grunts, starting to set a steady pace. Fucking into your mouth, using your face like a cock sleeve.

It was gross. He never did that to you.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the office as he picks up speed, his heavy balls slapping against your chin with each rough thrust. Drool escapes the seal of your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your messed up clothes.

He looks down, taking in the debauched sight of you on your knees, choking on his cock. His dick is spit-shined and glistening, streaked with their drool. Shit. The sight makes him thrust harder, faster, chasing his pleasure.

"Look at me," He demands breathlessly, wanting to see the tears and desperation in their eyes as he uses their mouth ruthlessly. He's close, so fucking close already from the intense, vice-like grip of your inexperienced throat. He grunts and curses, slamming forward one last time before pulling out abruptly.

Thick ropes of cum paint your face and hair, marking you as his. Some of it even lands in your eyes, making them sting and water.

"You're so pretty... You look so pretty covered in my cum," he whispers lovingly, smearing the head of his cock across your messy face, pushing the hot seed into their skin like makeup. "The prettiest girl in the world."

You were supposed to break up with him...

How did it escalated to this?

***

It's not like he's losing a lot... you aren't that special. So why is he acting this way? There are a lot of better options for him, prettier, smarter, and richer girls. Someone who can actually match him, who doesn't embarrass him, worthier to stand beside him.

Why is he fucking you like his life depends on it?

Your eyes already hazy and unfocused, breathing hard as you couldn't count how many times you've already come.

One of his hands snakes up your trembling body, finding a soft breast. He squeezes the supple mound roughly, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he kneads and gropes. He finds a pert nipple and pinches it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and tugging until it stands stiff and aching in the cool air of the room.

"Hm? Are you already tired? We're just starting," he coo, his hips slamming forward with renewed vigor. He leans down, his mouth finding your neck, sharp teeth sinking into the tender skin. He bites and sucks, determined to leave his mark on you, to claim you as his own. His. He can feel his orgasm building, his heavy balls tightening as he ruts into your abused cunt. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling fill the room, punctuated by the creaking of the bed and your cries. He's close, so fucking close to filling your cunt with his seed.

"Gonna... hngh... fill this pussy..." He grunts between clenched teeth, slamming home one last time. His cock throbs and pulses as he starts to come, thick ropes of hot cum painting your inner walls. He grinds against them, making sure they take every last drop as he marks your womb with his essence.

Finally, with a last shuddering groan, he collapses on top of you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your tender, cream-filled pussy. He pants harshly against the shell of their ear, his hands still groping and fondling your sensitive body.

"Y-You're an idiot..." You sniffle, "Why me? There's a lot of—."

He cuts you off, "You know, I would never cheat on you, right?" He whispers tenderly, kissing your ears as if assuring. "No matter who comes to me, I would never pay attention to them. Never. You're the only one I want." His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze.

It was the first time you ever heard his voice to be so... vulnerable.

"The only girl I want... So..." You can hear his voice shake, "Don't break up with me, ok?"

Your eyes glaze with tears, your heart tugging at his words. No, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. You made up your mind a few weeks ago, always nagging at the back of your mind. Ending your relationship would be the best for you two—.

He kisses you then, any doubts in your mind disappearing as his mouth claiming theirs in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, plundering the warm cavern as he grinds his hips forward, rubbing his throbbing erection against your thigh.

Ah, you don't care anymore.

"Don't think anymore, ok? Just let me do it for you."

He starts to rub the broad head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your combined juices. "Tell you what, sweetheart. I'll be gentle like the usual... for now." He promises darkly, his voice rough with restrained lust. "I'll make this first part nice and slow, nice and easy for you."

"H-Huh?"

With that, he starts to push forward, the thick length of his cock slowly sinking into your tight, clutching heat. He has to fight the urge to slam forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. But he resists, forcing himself to go slowly, to savor the exquisite feeling of your walls stretching around him.

"Ah, you're still so tight." He grits out through clenched teeth, his fingers flexing against your hips as he fights for control. "Such a perfect cunt."

"Too soon! I'm still... s-sensitive!" You cried out but he starts to move then, his hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm as he fucks into you with deep, deliberate strokes. Each thrust pushes him a little deeper, a little harder, until he's finally buried to the hilt inside you. He pauses for a moment, letting you feel the heavy weight of him, the way he's stretching you impossibly full.

"Hehe, sorry can't help it. Does that feel gentle enough for you, sweetie?" He asks, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, yet his angelic face covers it. "Or do you need me to be even more... careful?" He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his pelvis against your clit.

Your brain short circuit by the overstimulation, all you could think about was him, and his big cock, "A-Ah, you— ish... so good~!"

He snarls in feral pleasure as he feels your pussy clench and ripple around his pistoning cock. The way you are moaning and crying out, begging him not to stop... it's the headiest fucking thing he's ever heard. It makes him want to ruin you, to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll never forget the feeling of his cock splitting you open.

You came in surprise, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, chest heaving, "C-Can't too much..!"

"You can do it," He growls, his voice a dark, distorted rumble. He can feel his own release building, his balls drawing up tight as he fucks into you with wild abandon, "A-ah~ clench this greedy cunt around my dick, dollface. Milk it for all it's worth.

You never saw this side of him before, a more vulgar side to him. Spouting dirty words that's the opposite of his facade. Maybe, you didn't know your boyfriend that well? He was always gentleman to you in bed, always going with your pace and being mindful about his words but now...

"N-No~ I really ah! Can't!" You shake your head frantically, having enough of the sensitivity.

"Yes, you can! You will, sweetie~!"

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin as he chases his pleasure. He wants to mark you, to leave his claim all over your body for everyone to see. He wants the whole world to know that you belong to him, that you're his to fuck and fill and love as he sees fit. The thought of another man putting his hand on you makes him mad, you're only his and he isn't afraid to take that way for you to be officially his.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetie." He grits out, his hips slamming forward with sharp, brutal thrusts. "I'm gonna pump this tight little pussy full of my seed, gonna breed this fucking cunt until it's dripping with my cum."

Breed?

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing mercilessly at the sensitive bundle of nerves. "I want to feel you cum on my cock, sweetheart. I want to feel you shake and quake as I fill you with my my child."

Wait...!

His other hand slides up, wrapping around your throat and squeezing lightly. It's enough to make you gasp for air, pulse jumping wildly beneath his touch. It's enough to make you even tighter, body instinctively clenching down around him as he fucks into you with short, vicious thrusts.

Too much!

"Now, sweetie~ cum. Now." He commands, his voice a dark and sinful. And with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls deep inside her and starts to cum. His cock jerks and pulses as he paints your insides with thick ropes of his hot seed, filling you up just like he promised.

So full...

You gasp out, your skin flushed and damp with sweat. The room spins around you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as you struggle to catch your breath. Body aches all over, especially between your legs. The feeling of his cum painting your insides is strange, unsettling.

Your vision having black spots, your consciousness fading as you hear him murmur promises to you.

"I'll take responsibility whether we have a child or not, we'll get married and have a cute child."

You feel a warm kiss on your forehead.

"I love you. I love you more than anyone else, I only love you."

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lilacxquartz · 3 days ago

Text

THE LIFE YOU LIVED

kenjaku x future vessel f!reader

plot: being the daughter of an important public figure, you were already used to unwanted attention. however, nothing could have prepared you for this.

summary: kenjaku tries to find out more about you, finding that there’s more depth to you than he had originally thought — a/n: kenny focused chapter bc he’s in stalker mode, but there’s an upcoming mutual interaction for next time!

part 2 of 7 • previous chapter • next chapter • chapter directory • masterlist • on ao3

Chapter 2. Backgrounds

Okay, so getting close to you by approaching you directly was not the way to go. Kenjaku knew that now, and it could be something he could work around. People had all sorts of ins, and it just so happened that you disliked a head-on approach. This was fine. He could simply wait for a better opening and then sneak in when it was possible.

Indeed, at least for now, Kenjaku was therefore perfectly content with watching you from a distance and tailing you from the shadows rather than being up in your face. You were rightfully paranoid, so he kept his cover under wraps with much more care than before. You didn’t notice him the second time, nor the third, and however many times else—not even when he got alarmingly close. His assistant of the era was helpful enough, too, helping him find out all sorts of things about you.

Getting to know a person from their background always made him feel dirtier than he wanted to, though. It wasn’t that he cared; that wasn’t the issue, but it was just a sensation that clung to his skin whenever it happened. It was also dependent on the vessel he housed himself in, so particular adopted quirks made him feel either better or worse about how he chose to go about things. In some ways, he often found himself jealous of the people who just reached out and took what they wanted when they coveted something, knowing that he couldn’t do the same, since his style was closer to infiltration.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged in response to his assistant who just asked how far deep to go with getting a profile on you, “go as deep as you have to; her middle name, blood type, old photos – things like that, maybe information that hasn’t been made public yet either, like habits and who she talks to. I want things like what she reads and what her takeaway order is. Dive as deep as you need to.”

His assistant blinked once at the intensity of the task, but they never questioned it, and at first, Kenjaku had to admit that the findings that they salvaged were disappointing. You were completely ordinary, save for the reputation your last name carried. That first impression that led him to want to know more about you only served to disappoint him in the end. What a pity. Perhaps this was on him for blindly assuming that your habits were as spontaneous as your personality was.

Though he supposed that he shouldn’t be too disappointed. These sorts of infiltrations were always easier when the future vessel was as blank as needed, because they—along with those around them—would have an easier time accepting a slight shift in their everyday lives, even if they couldn’t tell what was wrong.

A small part of him died every so often, after all, whenever he came across someone interesting that he had to snatch.

The week continued like this.

Uneventfully.

But then by the end of his Friday afternoon, a packed folder landed in his lap.

He blinked down and raised his arms before looking back up towards his assistant.

“What am I looking at here?” he asked.

“You wanted something interesting,” they said.

Kenjaku blinked. “I never said that.”

They shrugged, feeding him an equally unreadable look. “You didn’t, but let’s not fool ourselves here, this is always what you mean when you tell me to ‘dig deep’, isn’t it?”

Kenjaku blinked again and let out a deep sigh. True, he supposed that they did have a point. He was indeed looking for anything that he could work with—anything that could grant him an in. Upon a flick of the pages, he saw that this was a folder that held onto a singular purpose, as it was just stacks upon stacks of medical records. His eyes scanned through the printed and handwritten reports, ranging from things like dates and doctors notes alike.

This was both an intriguing but also concerning finding, because he didn’t like body hopping into someone who was riddled with potential health problems, and these were far too many visits for someone your age. Given that the logs didn’t detail anything like emergency room visits and went beyond regular check-ups, he initially guessed that it could be something unresolved.

A chronic illness came to mind, as those required all sorts of diagnostic visits to get to the bottom of, but that didn’t seem to be the case either.

At least not when he read through a doctor’s note that stuck out in particular. A lot of the paragraph was scribbled out with a pen but he could just about make out what was written before. Years upon years of processing all sorts of texts gave him such a skill. He laughed to himself as he considered the thought, supposing he should be thankful that it wasn’t some sort of cryptic secret message. He’d had enough of those over the centuries.

[June 11th 2009]

Patient claims to have no prior existing health conditions but often complains about a lack of energy. Bruising can be found around the body, but ferritin and hemoglobin levels come back normal. Slightly low potassium. Hematoma style bruising can be found on the arms, legs, and stomach. Based on the locations and imprints left behind, domestic violence or abuse is the more likely cause. Notes will be directed to—

The note cut off then, or at least, became much less eligible than before, concluding the findings.

Kenjaku paused to purse his lips, trying to consider if the observation might have been off at all, but after dabbling around in medicinal matters on and off throughout the years, he knew better than anyone that doctors’ notes were as upfront as they could get. They were often blunt, too, as other professionals within the industry would read them via referrals and the like. Therefore, a doctor wouldn’t have written that last point unless they thought it was beneficial to do so.

The better pressing question was, why was this part of the note scribbled out? A complaint from you came to mind, or maybe it was made by someone close to you. If the abuse came from within your immediate circle, then it might have reflected badly on their public image if such information made it to the surface.

“Good work,” he said at last, skimming through the rest of the reports, “if you find anything else that’s useful, you know where to find me. Call me if you can’t.”

His assistant nodded curtly before leaving Kenjaku to his devices alone, closing the door with a soft click. There were about fifty-odd pages to work through, and he was determined to get to the bottom of what you were hiding—or what someone else was trying to hide for you.

~~~

It quickly became a frustrating affair to figure you out, Kenjaku had concluded by the time the sun set. The more he dug into your past, the more complicated everything became. He thought that you, at best, would be the textbook standard of a spoiled trust fund kid, but it all kept sinking deeper and deeper.

He supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised, though. The personal lives of the wealthy were often dark.

At the very least, he determined that you weren’t sick, or at least physically. There was something—or someone—in your life causing you such distress, however, that it reflected as bruises on your skin. Maybe that personality you demonstrated back then was a cope, or a means to distance yourself further from similar people. He could respect that much, but he wasn’t too thrilled about having to experience it for himself when the right time to take you over would arrive.

He sank back into his seat, thinking about it all. You had likely trained yourself to smile through the pain. At least that much hadn’t changed throughout the ages. People in all sorts of influential roles often had to deal with the mess that was inner circle politics for far too long. He’d seen it in the peak just centuries ago, when palace-based disputes were more commonplace. An ordinary person was always far easier to blend into, but such bodies were then dead ends.

Therefore, he had to get involved with something messier.

Like you.

A phone call was what it took to snap him out of his troubled mind, next. He answered it on autopilot, flipping the device open with a yawn.

“Got a minute?” a familiar voice came through.

Kenjaku glanced at his wrist watch, grimacing at the time. He had invested too much into your history already. “I guess so,” he yawned, “depends on how important it is.”

His assistant continued. “The things I do for you and you’re half asleep,” they jabbed, leaving Kenjaku to almost envision the eye roll. “Essentially, she’s quietly engaged to marry the wealthy son of some luxury brand CEO. The wedding is scheduled for next year in the summer, and get this, the company is backed by her father and is heavily invested in by the Gojo clan. She’s speculated to gain 40% in shares within the company upon marriage and will gain a direct audience with the clan to model some of the upcoming line.”

Kenjaku sat up in a beat, digesting the words he just heard. A wave of amusement washed over his body, but also excitement. You were exactly where he had to be within a year, meaning he could infiltrate the clan from a purely business standpoint, which would be a good position for the next couple of years. Though he couldn’t deny that it was a little odd for an arranged marriage to be carried out during such modern times. How novel. It wasn’t that the concept was unfamiliar to him; he had lived through the periods where such things were the norm, but it was simply just so out of place in today’s society, that was all.

Your father, who had the front of being a whimsical businessman and smiled for ceremonial dinners with the president, had a darker side, it seemed. As did the handsome son of the company, who was destined to marry you. A thought crossed his mind to take over the body of the son instead, leaving you to live the rest of your life, but he didn’t want anything too flashy. Being in the background was important enough, in its own right. Too much spotlight on him and he’d end up slipping up sooner than he’d like.

What a selfish man, indeed, your father was. Forcing his only adult child to abide by their will, talking them into arrangements that would later benefit their goals and line their pockets even further. He did suppose that he was similar, though. You were bound to the merger of some rich man to secure your family’s future, while he bound his own son as a vessel for Sukuna’s return to fulfil his grand plan in the upcoming years.

That side of politics, therefore, he did understand.

This, however, meant that you were likely not as close with your father as he had initially thought. It was easier to get along with a family that abided by softer traditions than one that exhibited a tight lid on living a non-negotiable life. Regardless of who was the problematic person in the mess you found yourself in, once he got what he wanted, he could very likely conduct some scandalous revenge just in time to distract the nation well enough to seek out an even more suitable vessel—but ah—he was getting carried away. One step at a time.

When his assistant hung up the phone, something else within him twitched. He didn’t… want to take you over just yet. He wanted you, but not out of romantic purpose or lustful intent, but purely because of the sheer entertainment value your family and overall life had to offer. He wouldn’t mind delaying the plans for a couple of years if need be, if it meant to sit back and stir things up in places he didn’t belong for a while.

Out of curiosity, he texted his assistant a couple of minutes later, requesting a background check on your financé. Such information didn’t take as long to find as with you, at least. The guy had more photos with your father than the very few ones you had from your childhood, which painted a very particular picture in his head already.

That you were just the collateral needed to secure a good deal.

Kenjaku found himself clicking his tongue. “How quaint.”

Perhaps this engagement was the key to the puzzle he had been meaning to solve, because with it came the right connections. One thing kept gnawing at the back of his mind, though. He liked it better when he was just tailing you alone. He didn’t like the addition of this other guy who had been assigned to your life.

(After all this time, was he still capable of feeling possessive, then?)

At some point, though, several texts came flooding through in a stream from his assistant. He blinked as he processed the feed.

>>She’s storming out of her house.

>>Drunk maybe?

>>Yep, definitely drunk. She just scolded a lamp post.

A laugh escaped his lips, setting the serious sentiment aside. It was close to three in the morning, and his poor assistant was scrambling after you. After a moment, he decided to have them text him the coordinates, because now this… this he had to see.

Because just where exactly did you think you were going?

And all alone?

(Would you even notice if you had some… extra spontaneous company?)

this has been part 5 of lilac’s jjk yandere nightmares

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