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fangdokja · 10 hours ago

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🔞He’s not just your sugar daddy—he’s a sadistic master who won’t let you go.

❤︎ Synopsis. A sugar daddy arrangement spirals into a twisted nightmare as a calculating, sadistic man grows dangerously possessive. Luxury becomes a gilded cage, and love is warped by jealousy, manipulation, and obsession.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Sugar Daddy x Reader

♡ Novella #1. Bye, Bye, Bye - Part 5

♡ Word Count. 4,254

♡ TW. non-con, blood play, gun play, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, choking / breath play, ass slapping, physical assault and violence, face slapping

He dragged you through the penthouse, his grip tangled in your hair like a steel trap, unyielding and merciless. The door slammed behind you, the sound reverberating through the opulent space like a gunshot. You stumbled, your feet barely keeping up as he all but hauled you into the bedroom. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves.

The moment you crossed the threshold, he let go only to shove you forward, watching as you fell onto the massive bed with a graceless thud. Before you could scramble away, his weight descended on you, pinning you to the mattress like a predator with its prey.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, his voice low and venomous, laced with something dark and unrelenting.

Your composure, the icy mask you always wore so effortlessly, cracked. For the first time, you squirmed beneath him, your hands pushing against his chest, your nails digging into his skin in a frantic attempt to shove him off. But he didn’t budge.

“Stop,” you said, your voice unsteady, the usual calm replaced by a sharp edge of panic.

He laughed, low and humorless, his face inches from yours. “Stop?” he mocked, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “You didn’t stop when you let him put his filthy hands all over you.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear as he hissed, “You didn’t stop when you kissed him like you fucking meant it.”

You twisted beneath him, your body writhing in a desperate attempt to escape, but his hands were everywhere—pinning your wrists, gripping your hips, holding you down with an unrelenting force that stole the air from your lungs.

“Kiss me back,” he demanded, his voice sharp and commanding, a thin veneer of control barely concealing the raw, frenzied need beneath. “Stop squirming and kiss me back.”

Your head turned to the side, your lips pressed into a defiant line as you refused him, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

He snarled, grabbing your chin with a bruising grip and forcing you to face him. “Look at me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Look at me and tell me you didn’t mean it. Tell me he meant nothing.”

You met his gaze, your eyes wide and glistening with something he couldn’t bear to name. Fear? Defiance? He didn’t know, and it made him furious. He needed you to submit, to stop fighting, to give in to him completely.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice breaking on the edges of desperation. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

When you didn’t respond, his lips crashed against yours, brutal and punishing, his teeth grazing your skin as if he wanted to devour you whole. You tried to turn away, your nails raking down his arms and leaving red trails in their wake, but he didn’t flinch.

“Stop fighting me,” he snarled, his hands tightening around your wrists until you whimpered. “You think you can run? Think you can fucking leave me? I’ll kill anyone who touches you, anyone who even looks at you. Do you understand me?”

Your breaths came in short, panicked gasps, your chest rising and falling beneath him as you shook your head, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Please…”

But he wasn’t listening.

The memory of seeing you with that man burned behind his eyes, a searing image that refused to fade. It was madness, this feeling tearing him apart from the inside out, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

“You don’t get to walk away,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tender, though the steel in his grip never wavered. “You’re mine. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

His hands roamed over your body, rough and claiming, leaving no inch untouched. You struggled against him, your movements frantic, but it only seemed to fuel him further.

“You can fight all you want,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, trailing down your neck. “But you’ll always come back to me. You’ll always be mine.”

The weight of his body pressed you deeper into the mattress, his presence suffocating, inescapable. You bit down on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, but the pain was a small defiance in the face of his overwhelming dominance.

And yet, as much as you fought, as much as you resisted, he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

Because to him, you weren’t just a person.

You were an obsession. A possession.

And he would tear the world apart before he let you go.

────────────

Your heart raced as his free hand roamed over your body, ripping away the fabric of your dress with the ease of tearing through paper. His touch was like fire, leaving a trail of agony and revulsion in its wake. "Please," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, "please, don't do this."

But he was lost in his own fury, deaf to your pleas. He yanked your wrists above your head, securing them with the cold metal of the cuffs. The pain was stark and immediate, grounding you in the horror of the moment.

"Call me 'Master'," he barked, his voice low and menacing.

"You're going to beg for me to touch you, to use you." The words were a knife to your soul, a twisted game that made bile rise in your throat. Yet, you knew resistance was futile; his grip was ironclad, his resolve unshakeable.

The gun hovered at the side of your face, a silent, chilling reminder of his power. He traced the barrel along your cheek, the metal cold and unforgiving against your skin. "Call me 'Master'," he repeated, his voice a serpent's hiss.

"Say it, or I'll show you how much your 'no' really means." The word stuck in your throat, a vile taste you didn't want to give life to. But the cold, hard reality of the weapon against your flesh made the decision for you.

You swallowed hard and forced the hated word from your lips. "Master," you murmured, the sound a betrayal to your very being.

A twisted smile curled his lips. "Good girl," he praised, the malice in his tone as clear as the gleaming gun. He leaned down, the weight of his body pressing into you, his breath hot against your ear.

"Now, beg for it," he whispered, the gun moving to press against your neck. His hand found its way between your legs, his touch as unwelcome as the metal of the cuffs biting into your wrists.

You clenched your teeth, willing yourself to find some semblance of strength.

"Please," you choked out, the word tasting like ash. "Please, Master, touch me."

His grin grew wider, a predatory glint in his eyes as he began to unbuckle his belt. The leather slithered through the loops with a sinister sound, the anticipation of what was to come making your stomach churn. He pulled his erection free, stroking it with a casual cruelty that made you want to retch.

"You want this, don't you?" he taunted, the gun digging into your skin. "You want me to fuck you with it." The words were a vile incantation, a spell you didn't want to be under.

But the fear of what he would do if you didn't comply was stronger than your pride.

"Yes," you whispered, the lie burning like acid. "I want you to fuck me with it."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Good girl," he said again, the nickname a whip that stung your soul. He took the gun and placed it on the bedside table, reaching for a bottle of lube instead.

"But first," he said, his voice dropping to a growl, "we're going to get you nice and ready." He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers and brought them to your sex, his touch as unwelcome as a serpent's embrace.

Despite your mind's protest, your body, traitorous and responsive to fear, began to betray you, growing wet and vulnerable. He noticed and laughed, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Look at you," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're just as much a whore as I knew you were."

With a rough thumb, he spread the lube over your folds, the coldness of it sending a shiver through you. "Master," you whispered, trying to keep the defiance out of your voice. "Please, no more."

But he was beyond listening to pleas.

He inserted two fingers into you, the intrusion feeling like a violation, a desecration of your most sacred space. He pumped them in and out, his gaze locked on yours, watching the play of emotions across your face as he worked to loosen you up. The sensation was a mix of pain and humiliation, your body responding despite your mind's rejection.

"See," he said, his tone smug, "you can't resist me. You're going to take me, every inch."

He withdrew his hand and positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against you. He paused for a moment, savoring the power he had over you.

Then, with one brutal thrust, he claimed you, your body arching off the bed in a silent scream.

The pain was intense, your muscles clenching around him despite your will to resist. His eyes bore into yours, a challenge and a threat all rolled into one.

"Beg for more," he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper. "Beg for your master to fuck you harder."

Through gritted teeth, you forced out the words. "Please, Master, fuck me harder," your voice a broken echo of the strong woman you once were.

He didn't need further encouragement, his hips slamming into you with the force of a hammer on an anvil. Each thrust sent a bolt of pain through your body, but he didn't care. He was in control now, and he reveled in it. You felt your will slipping away, the fight draining from your limbs like sand through an hourglass.

Yet, somewhere in the depths of your soul, a spark of rebellion remained, a stubborn ember that refused to die.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice a toxic caress. "Mine to use, mine to break, mine to rebuild."

His hand reached up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "Say it," he ordered. "Say you're mine."

Your eyes searched the room for an escape, for anything that would take you out of this nightmare. But the walls were just as cold and unyielding as he was.

With a tremble in your voice, you whispered, "I'm yours, Master."

It was the hardest thing you've ever said, the most profane lie that had ever left your lips.

He took the gun from the bedside table, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. "Open your mouth," he said, and you knew better than to refuse.

The barrel of the gun was placed on your tongue, the taste of oil and steel filling your mouth. He began to fuck you with it, the gun moving in and out in time with his thrusts, the taste of metal making you gag.

"You're going to swallow this," he told you, his voice a mix of amusement and malice.

"You're going to choke on it like you're choking on your pride." Each movement of the gun was a violation, a degradation that made you want to scream.

But you didn't.

You couldn't.

The only sound that left you was a muffled whimper.

He watched your eyes water and your face contort in discomfort, his own arousal growing with every twitch of your body.

"Look at you," he said, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're so beautiful when you're suffering for me." His grip on your hair tightened, his other hand now gripping the gun as he pushed it deeper into your mouth.

You could feel your throat closing around the barrel, the panic rising in your chest like a tide.

"Swallow," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. "Swallow it all."

Your body tensed, your throat working involuntarily as you tried to refuse, but the pressure of his hand on the back of your head was relentless. The gun slid deeper, and you had no choice but to obey.

The cold metal filled your mouth, the taste of it coating your throat as you swallowed around it, gagging on your own saliva. His thrusts grew more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice strained with effort. "Take it all." The gun slid back out, leaving you gasping for air, tears streaming down your face.

He laughed, the sound echoing through the room.

He withdrew from you and stood up, the smugness in his stance a stark contrast to your vulnerability.

"Now, let's see if you've learned your lesson," he said, grabbing the gun and pointing it at you again.

"Beg for it. Beg for your master to fill you up." Your voice was barely a rasp, your eyes never leaving the weapon.

"P-please, M-Master," you stuttered, the word still feeling like a knife in your heart. "Please, fill me up."

Your sugar daddy's hand cracks across your cheek, the sound of the slap echoing through the room like a gunshot.

Pain explodes in your face, your vision momentarily swimming. You feel the sting of his palm, the heat of his anger branding your skin. The gun, still in his other hand, wobbles slightly with the motion, a reminder of the power he holds over you.

"You think you can lie to me?" he snarls, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"You think you can pretend to submit?" He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I want the real you," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

"I want the part of you that's screaming, that's fighting, that's hating every second of this." His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"I want to hear it. I want to see it."

You struggle against the handcuffs, your eyes flashing with defiance.

"Fuck you," you spit out, the words raw and unfiltered.

The slap comes again, this time even harder, sending stars dancing in your vision.

"Wrong answer," he says, his voice cold as ice.

He straddles you, the gun now pointed at your forehead. "Again," he demands. "Beg me to fill you up."

Your cheek throbs, the taste of blood in your mouth a grim reminder of your situation. You swallow hard, trying to find the words that will satisfy his sadistic craving.

"Please, Master," you murmur, your voice cracking, "please fill me up."

The words feel like acid on your tongue, but the fear of the gun keeps them coming. "I'll do anything," you whimper, your eyes never leaving the barrel. "Just...please."

He leans in, his breath hot on your face, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deceit.

For a moment, it seems like he's going to believe you, to take the bait.

But then his gaze hardens, and you know you've failed to convince him. "No," he says, the word a knife twisting in your gut.

"You're not ready." He stands up, the gun still pointed at you.

"You're going to take this," he says, his voice a low growl, "and you're going to love it. You're going to beg for more."

With a sadistic smirk, the billionaire withdraws the gun from your mouth and lines it up with your exposed, trembling sex.

He slicks the barrel with the excess lube from earlier, the cold metal gliding against your sensitive flesh.

With a merciless shove, he begins to penetrate you with the gun, the pain and humiliation overwhelming as he uses you like a toy, his eyes never leaving yours. Each thrust is accompanied by the sickening sound of the metal sliding in and out of you, leaving you feeling more and more defiled.

Your body jerks and tenses against the invasive, foreign object, the pain a stark contrast to the wetness between your legs, a betrayal of your fear-induced arousal.

He watches your every move, the power in his eyes growing with every gasp and whimper you emit. He takes his time, driving the gun in deeper and harder with each pass, the barrel stretching you beyond your limits.

"Look at you," he sneers, "so desperate, so needy. You're pathetic." His voice is like a whip, cutting through the haze of pain and degradation.

"But you're going to love it, aren't you?" He leans down, his breath hot on your cheek as he whispers in your ear, "You're going to cum for me, like a good little slut."

His thumb finds your clit, pressing down hard, his cruel touch igniting a firestorm of sensations.

You want to scream, to beg him to stop, but your body responds to the mix of pain and pleasure, the hatred and fear warring with an unwelcome arousal. The room spins around you, the pressure building, your mind screaming for relief.

You feel his hand tighten on the gun, the barrel digging into you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Beg for it," he demands, his voice a growl.

"Beg to cum for me." You want to tell him no, to spit in his face and defy him, but the need is too much.

"P-please," you stutter, "please let me cum."

His laughter is like a gunshot in the quiet room, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Not yet," he says, his thumb moving in merciless circles.

"Not until you're begging for it like a dog."

The gun slams into you, the pain a crescendo that threatens to shatter you. Each thrust feels like a declaration of war, a battle you're losing more with every second.

But your body is a traitor, responding to his cruel touch, building towards something you know you should hate but can't help craving.

"P-please," you whisper again, the word a desperate prayer. "Please, let me cum." He smirks, the gun still moving inside you.

"Beg," he says, his voice a demand.

With a sob and breathless gasp, you do as he asks. "I'm begging you, Master," you whine, the word a curse that feels like it's burning your tongue. "Please, I'm begging you to let me cum."

His eyes light up with satisfaction, the sadistic gleam in them making you feel even dirtier than the act itself. He leans down, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his thumb pressing down even harder on your clit.

"You're learning." And with that, he gives you what you've been begging for, pushing you over the edge with a final, brutal thrust.

Your body convulses, pleasure and pain melding into a white-hot agony that consumes you.

You scream his name, the sound torn from your throat against your will, a declaration of your defeat.

As the tremors subside, he pulls out the gun, his expression one of triumph. He wipes the barrel on the bed sheet, leaving a dark, oily stain. "You see?" he says, his voice smug.

"You enjoyed it." The words are a knife in your gut, a truth you refuse to accept. You turn your face away, the tears falling freely now.

"No," you murmur, the word a feeble protest.

"I didn't." But deep down, you know that right now, in this moment, you are.

Your sugar daddy discards the gun with a clatter, his lust-driven eyes never leaving yours. He leans in, capturing your bruised and trembling mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, drawing blood and leaving a mark that stings as much as his earlier slaps. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting of your fear and submission.

He grinds his erection against your thigh, the heat of it a stark contrast to the cold metal that was just inside you.

He releases your wrists from the handcuffs, his grip shifting to your arms as he flips you over onto your stomach. His hands move to your hips, his breath hot on your neck as he lines up his cock with your sore and abused entrance.

The older man, fueled by your whimpers and the marks of his possession on your skin, enters you roughly from behind. His movements are punishing, his cock sliding in and out of you without mercy.

Each thrust is a declaration of his power, each stroke a punishment for your earlier defiance. You feel the heat of his grip on your hips, his fingers digging in, leaving bruises that will linger for days.

Despite the pain, your body reacts to his dominance, your traitorous arousal building again. He notices and smirks, his hips moving faster, pushing you closer to the edge of another forced climax.

You grit your teeth, trying to hold back, but his relentless pace and the sting of his fingers on your clit overwhelm you. You cum, your body arching against his, the sound of your muffled screams filling the room.

He doesn't stop, his rhythm unbroken as he uses your body for his own pleasure, bringing you to peak after peak of unwanted ecstasy.

Each orgasm is a new level of hell, each spasm of pleasure a twisted form of punishment that leaves you feeling more and more degraded.

With each slap, your cheek stings and your body jolts, the pain and humiliation mixing with the overwhelming sensations of his relentless assault.

Your moans become louder, more desperate, as your body succumbs to his will, each slap pushing you closer to the edge of another unwanted climax. The sound of your own voice, begging and pleading, echoes in your ears, a symphony of degradation that fuels his desire.

His thrusts become more punishing, his grip on your hips tightening as he uses you, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends a bolt of pain through you.

The hand that's not holding onto you snakes around to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes water, to remind you who's in control.

You feel yourself slipping away, your resistance crumbling like sand in a storm, as he fucks you into submission.

"That's it," he grunts, his voice a harsh rasp in your ear. "You're mine. You're going to scream my name until you can't even remember your own."

His strokes become erratic, his breathing ragged, as he feels his own orgasm building. He slaps you again, the sting of his palm sending you spiraling over the edge, your body convulsing in pleasure against your will.

The hand around your throat tightens, cutting off your air, as he slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt. You feel the warmth of his release inside you, a disgusting mix of pleasure and despair that makes you want to retch.

But instead, you moan, the sound torn from your chest, your body betraying your mind once more.

He pulls out, the emptiness inside you feeling like a void. He flips you over again, his eyes scanning your tear-stained face, the marks of his possession branded on your skin.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice a low growl. You raise your gaze to meet his, the hatred and fear in your eyes clear as day. He slaps you again, the sting a stark reminder of who's in control.

"Say it," he says, his voice a mix of demand and need. "Say you're mine." The words stick in your throat, but the fear of what he'll do if you don't is too great.

"I'm yours," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "I belong to you."

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, a gesture that would be tender if it weren't for the bruises he's already left.

"Good girl," he whispers, the praise a knife to your soul. He leans in, his breath hot and ragged. His cock, still hard and gleaming with your arousal, presses against your stomach.

"But we're not done yet," he says, his eyes gleaming with a new form of sadism. "I want you to scream my name until you can't even think."

He grabs your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat to the ravenous hunger in his gaze. His hand moves between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, still swollen from his earlier torment. He begins to rub it, the sensation a mix of pleasure and pain that sends a fresh wave of arousal through your trembling body.

You want to fight, to resist, but the feeling is too intense, too overwhelming. Your body betrays you once more, arching into his touch, begging for more even as your mind recoils in horror.

"P-please," you whine, the word a desperate plea. "I-I can't." His grip on your hair tightens, his smile a cruel parody of affection.

"You can," he says, his voice a command.

"You will." And with that, he slams his cock into you, the force making you scream.

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valenrixo · 2 days ago

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Can you do you write from drabbles at proposing to the boys please?

- 🦧 Anon

I gotchu

Killian would probably scream and do nothing but repost wedding videos on TikTok, he’d probably also have a custom made wedding dress that had a miniskirt

Killian probably also be a bridezilla because everything would have to be cute, you don’t have to worry about money because his fans paid for most of it

Killian fainted when you got on one knee (uhm guys he has a fainting condition)

He’d definitely be mad if you didn’t set up some kind of display for it though like if there aren’t candles and rose petals he’s gonna say no at first

Leo manipulated you originally in the story but I’m just gonna say in a different dimension you actually wanted to marry him he preferred it to be in your guys shared home with not many people around

The weddings must be in the backyard though he wants it to feel homely.

He’d probably be in his pajamas and an apron when you propose to him so he’d freak out when cameras get brought out.

Mark and you would probably both try proposing at the same time, like you both open a ring box at each other at the same time

He’d probably feel self conscious because he got pretty embroidered diamond rings while you just got bands with a single jewel in the middle

Saylor will actually sob, you have to wait until the next day to hear his answer because he cries so much he falls asleep. It’s a good thing though…

#oc blog #oc fanfiction #sub yandere #yandere blog #yandere oc #dom reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere boyfriend #yandere femboy #🦧 anon

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yanoverload · 22 hours ago

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The more you talk about how pathetic Dae-ho is, the more i want to bite him. And since you said he'd moan in public I'm curious how the others would react to me biting them as well.

-🪼(ps, ur art is very bitable inherently, I am gonna eat ur entire artsyle)

That's because Dae-Ho, unlike the others, has no sense of a right or wrong compass. That's why you guys love him LOL

Let's see....

Kouta - You barely see people but let's say you do this with others around. Smug. He is so smug. Do you see his master??? He is the only one that gets bitten, losers!!!

Beau - whimpers very quietly, pushes your head towards his tits so you don't see his needy expression.

Dae-ho - only keeps an image around those he know or that know him, doesn't want to mess up his parents image. If you're in a supermarket where people don't know him tho, he will gasp loudly and be full "Darling stop... People will stare hehe.... You're so naughty..." Pick me girl behaviour.

Ramune - moans like a pornstar. Doesn't care. He's an incubus, everyone can tell. You're embarassed? Sucks to be you stranger, he's unzipping darling's pants rn, time to give the public a show.

Mono - bites back and presents himself basically. Thinks it's like a mating call or aomething.

Éliphas - Moans very little, and looks at you like you stabbed his mother. Won't look at you in the eye for the rest of the day. (Won't stop you if you try to continue) Will call you late at night for... "Help".

#samhain talks #asks #yandere oc #sub yandere #yandere serial killer #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere x you #yandere tanuki #yandere hellhound #yandere cow boy #yandere incubus #yandere unicorn hybrid #🪼 anon

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ozzgin · 1 month ago

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Lazy!Sleepy!Yandere who is utterly and helplessly obsessed with you. He's just...yawn...too tired to show it.

Someone flirted with you? Oh, he'll teach that guy a lesson alright...after his nap.

He has a basement cage all ready for your kidnapping. The handcuffs, the rope, the blankets...man, these are some soft blankets. You're going to love it here. It's so cozy, you could fall asleep instantly. As a matter of fact, he just passed out himself.

Particularly funny if paired with a Demanding!Reader. You flip your bag inside out, yet you find no tracking device. Does he even love you? Upon interrogating him, you discover he was too lazy to open the packaging for the AirTag. Sorry, he'll do it tomorrow.

"What if I say no? Huh? What if I tried to run away right now?" you glare at him with a huff, arms crossed.

He invited you over, yet he hasn't shown any concrete intention to capture you.

He gasps, embarrassed by his own mistakes. Then, he drags his feet over to the door, promptly locking it.

"There. Now you can't get away."

"Dumbass! It doesn't count if I have to remind you about it!"

#lazy yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere boyfriend #yancore #yandere parody

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meo-eiru · 2 months ago

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How will you respond?

#elias #yandere pretty boyfriend #artists on tumblr #digital art #male yandere #yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #comic #yandere comic #yandere messages #messages #text message #yandere male #yandere boyfriend

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tsuutarr · 3 months ago

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The hero didn’t really think much of you when he first saw you. After all, you're just a pretty little saint that grew up with praise inside the gleaming walls of a church, never knowing any suffering. He doubts you’ll be able to keep up with him during his journey to save the world.

All of his initial disdain for you disappears when he begins his journey with you. You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re generous. Your healing ability from the gods isn’t the only thing that seems to heal him – just your presence, just your laugh, just you. You make life – his journey – a little more bearable.

So how – how could they? You’re his light, you’re his everything, and yet… They want to sacrifice you? That’s why you were chosen to be his partner for his trip? And you’re just standing there, unwilling to fight your fate.

“I’m okay with disappearing,” you murmur, wiping his tears away with hands that are turning to stone. “If I can save your life with my own, then I’m satisfied.”

But he’s not. He’s not satisfied, not when you’re not by his side. When he sees you turn to stone, your skin replaced with beautiful white marble, he vows to do anything to bring you back to his side.

Using the power of the gods, he turns back time again and again and again so he can save you – so he can be with you.

But you meet the same fate over and over and over again. Again and again and again.

…Then who cares? Who cares about this shitty world when it’s without you?

The next time you return to consciousness, the world is in disarray, covered in murky fog and the smell of blood. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled into a warm embrace.

“You’re alive…” the hero says, hugging you close. His warmth is suffocating. “Yes… I should’ve done this from the start instead of turning back time…”

��W… what’s happening?” you ask, heart feeling too heavy, like stone, in your chest. “What did you do…?”

“Nothing, everything, anything.” He nuzzles your neck, savoring your warmth. It sends chills down your spine. “Anything to have you by my side. Even if it means destroying the world.”

#yandere oc #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #tsuuper ocs #yandere hero x reader #yandere imagines #reader is the type of person that'd sacrifice themself to save their loved one #yandere hero is the type of person that'd sacrifice the world to save his loved one #yandere boyfriend #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #Elias Lightrend Tsuu OC

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d3stinyist1red · 4 months ago

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴛʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan celebrity who everyone likes and adores

yan celebrity who you texted for no reason at all, it wasnt even that bad it was just

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Y/nis_daddysigma

wsg lil bro

nice clothes 🙏

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yan celebrity who decided to check his insta messages that day, scrolling through the thousands of messages his fans sent him until he randomly picked one

yan celebrity who decided to respond to you

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Theyluvme

thanksss :3

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yan celebrity who immediately begins texting back and forth with you, you were SHOCKED ASF bc why is this random millionaire tryna keep convo with you..

yan celebrity who you managed to captivate within a small moment of time, immediately trying to text you every second of his day, kicking his feet back and forth when he texts you

yan celebrity who is hooked, waiting for your messages back, feeling so good when he hears that familiar buzz from his phone signalling that his wifey texted him

yan celebrity who thinks about you 24/7 now, thinking about who you were with, if they were a bad influence, if he should install more cameras in your house,

yan celebrity who literally fantasizes about your guys future, he decided that he WAS gonna carry your baby he does NOT care

Yan celebrity who can't handle it anymore, needing to be near you in real life, and not just him stalking you

yan celebrity who meets you the first time in real life after all those face time calls and texts messages, literally clinging onto you a koala, LITERALLY HIS BODYGAURD HAD TO PULL HIM OFF YOU😭😭

yan celebrity who gives you VIP tickets every time he has a concert, literally rambling about you to his bodyguard who wants to go home ( BODYGAURD does NOT get paid 😭🙏🙏)

yan celebrity who instantly notices you in the crowd, waving at you, heart pounding against his chest and performing his best at the concert to impress you

yan celebrity who escorts you backstage, and hovers WAYY too close to you, trying to find any and every excuse to touch you (he smacked your ass and told you that he saw a fly on it and he wanted to kill it, there was no fly 💀)

yan celebrity who anytime you try to put some distance between you both, pulls you even closer, giving you more attention, more of him

yan celebrity who literally cries when you finally decided to jerk him off, watching TikTok on your phone as he crumbles into a whimpering mess, arching his back and everything in front of you

Yan celebrity who buys you anything and everything you want, taking you to many country's every week saying that 'Dont worry about it, baby! I just feel like I should do this for my wifey!' (he thinks you guys were married as soon as you jerked him off, you've literally told him you only helped his problem bc he was about to perform and he wasn't gonna be able to perform with his full potential if he was 🧱)

Yan celebrity whose hands always lingers on your arms, loving to squeeze and hold them as a way to show his love and clingyness for you

Yan celebrity who texts you corny shit

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Theyluvme

bae this is ur sign to breed me

Y/n_daddysigma

get the fuck out my dms bro

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I_luvy/n_pls_eatmeout_n/n

Y/nis_daddysigma

bro just put the ketchup packets in the bag bruh

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I_luvy/n_pls_eatmeout_n/n

pls eat me out

pls edge me

pls

pretty pls

im going to touch you so good tonight

Y/nis_daddysigma

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GUYS I GOT LAZY ASF LMAOOO

#yandere x reader #yanderemalexreader #clingy yandere #yandere x darling #soft yandere #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere male #yandere boyfriend #yandere #yandere celebrity #yandere idol #destinys worksss<333

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allurilove · 3 months ago

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Calm Yandere x you

“Your expressionless boyfriend.”

Rated 18 + — mature short content!

Includes: calm yandere x talkative gender neutral reader, mutual pining?, strangers to friends to lovers, cute fluff in the beginning… other stuff later on. wink wink. ♡

Calm yandere was known to be a little cold. His default face is an unamused one, the ends of his lips always downward, and it certainly scared you away from him when you first saw him. He didn’t like to socialize as much as you did, and when you talked to him, he only seemed to nod. “Mhm,” and “uh-huh,” was all you could get from him. He didn’t hate nor dislike you— you’re an absolute perfect specimen, and a normal, and adaptable human being. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted, period. He started to form a crush on you, and it was a minuscule one at first. He appreciated how you were able to carry a conversation, how bright and confident you looked compared to him, and you were this bright light in his grim dark reality.

Calm yandere was surprised when you made the first move. You wanted to be friends, and being just friends with you felt like torture. Although, he agreed—not wanting to miss the opportunity to be by your side even more. He followed you around, agreed to show up to all hangouts you planned, and he even invited you to his house. His house was surprisingly warm. He had soft white curtains, light pink decorations here and there, and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet was what you would describe him now that you got to know him. He was the perfect host. He was showing you around the backyard, and he pointed out a couple of butterflies that liked to come by. His voice was flat and monotonous when he explained his favorite butterflies to you, but you could see a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. And most importantly, he showed you his bedroom. He had manga books on his shelves, Smiski figurines, and one of the compartments was just filled with snacks. He had an old dog named “Mini” that was sleeping on his huge bed, loudly snoring, and kicking her feet as she dreamt of running around.

Calm yandere had asked you to be his partner months later. You were shocked when he confessed his feelings for you, and here calm yandere was, thinking that he had done a good job of hinting at it. You did notice the glances he would send your way, and how they would linger a bit longer than before. You then started to think back to the times he would do things for you. He would bend down and tie your shoelaces. He gave you his jacket when it was raining, and he would walk home soaking wet. He carried you on his back when you tripped and hurt your ankle. He let you into his house when you fought with your parents, and tried his damn hardest to crack a worried expression on his stone-like face. It wasn’t like you weren’t into him, you tried to give him signals too.

Calm yandere was oblivious, just as you were oblivious. You had literally invited him to every place you could think of. You made pottery with him, and even put your hands on his to help him shape his clay into a vase. That was a very intimate act. An act that made you flustered and blushing when you had pressed your body behind his. Him, on the other hand, didn’t even blink at the action. When you had told him that you found him cute and adorable, he just said “okay.” OKAY?? Clearly that meant he didn’t like you back, and you quickly put on a strained smile and went on with your day.

Calm yandere was an active listener, not really a replier, but a listener. He might look like he was disinterested, but any subject you brought up was the most interesting, and fascinating, topic of all time. You would talk his ear off, and you liked to speak your mind. “So, as I was saying…” you continued. He nodded along, his cheek resting on his hand, and he leaned even closer to play with the strands of your hair. He liked feeling and touching you. It reminded him that you were real, that you were in front of him, and you were officially his. Your lips were perfect, always moving and speaking, and it would form the world’s most beautiful smile. He could tell that some days you didn’t want to hear any solutions from him, and only wanted to have someone to talk too. So, he does exactly what you want.

Calm yandere was happy to advance the relationship even further! He would show finally show some PDA. An arm would casually be slung around your shoulders while you two walked. Whenever you sat next to him, and he didn’t like the distance between you two, he would grab onto the leg of the chair and pulled it in closer. He then would kiss your cheek, and as fast as it came, he had pulled back before you could reciprocate. He knew that being a boyfriend meant that he had to do some certain things… He was feeling bold when he saw you wearing shorts, and without really thinking, his hand reached out to touch at your thighs.

Calm yandere was taken aback by the overwhelming positive reaction. He didn’t imagine that a single brush from his finger tips would cause your brain to go haywire. You had pushed him onto the couch, and he fell back with a little grunt. He saw that you had climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on a sensitive spot of your body. He felt up the flesh, and his fingers slipped underneath your shorts. He kept a watchful eye on your facial expressions, and he hummed in delight when you spread your thighs even further for him. He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of your privates, and he started to collect some of the wet substance that had leaked out. He heard you breathe out his name, and when your voice soon became whiny and you had pleaded for more, he knew you had to be close.

Calm yandere had you on your back. He pulled your shorts down your legs, flinging them to the side after he revealed your lower half to him. He leaned down to greet your sex with his tongue. You were loud and talkative in bed, just as you were out of it. Your back arched, and your hands painfully gripped at his hair. Your body started to tremble, almost trying to squirm its way out from underneath him. His hands had to keep your legs from closing on him, “don’t try to keep me away from you.” your boyfriend said firmly. He then gestured to the growing tent in his pants, “this is all your fault. I’ll make you feel good if you can do the same for me.”

Calm yandere liked to lick his fingers in front of you. His tongue swiping at the salty cum before he fully puts his digits inside his mouth. He could feel the wrinkles and ridges of his pruned fingers, and he gleefully sucked off the excess cum and saliva that had gathered on there. You were lying on the couch with a bit of a daze, your chest rising and falling, and you could still feel his eyes wandering on the work he had done. You had love bites on your neck, trailing down to your inner thighs, and lower towards your ankles. He had bit you down there to keep his voice down while he had himself buried deep inside of you. What could he say? You knew how to press his buttons and drive him wild.

Allure: this is calm yandere after you had called him cute.

Allure: A little update: I’ll work on the master list soon after this, and I’ll have to update a couple of lists such as the yandere kink ones… so that should be done next!

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rxmye · 8 months ago

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" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . .

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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2-dsimp · 23 hours ago

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I'VE BEEN BRAIN ROTTING ABOUT THIS SO HARDDD but like... any of your ocs reactions to their s/o dying??? or like, getting ill with a disease that can't be cured. ( rivius and uhm any other of your boys?? kinda curious how nokka would react to wifey dying before him ) your ocs have been in my mind for MONTHS now ever since i found your blog and i've been visiting your blog for more than twice a day, it's so bad. also, I'm sorry if I broke any of your rules when it comes to requesting something...

—-/——-/———-/———-/—————-

[The Archdevil reaction to your death]

—-/——-/———-/———-/—————-

“No, no, no! This is all rubbish! The formula needs one last piece! That’s all it’d take to finally fix them!”

Rivius snarled, the devil was holed up in his laboratory. Completely closed off from the outside world, obsessing over perfecting the perfect formula. A formula that could cheat death in its raw essence.

Your life was taken far too soon, an untraceable contamination latched onto you. Before you could make it to his laboratory to get throughly quarantined. The mad scientist was running on empty, blackened eyes with his pupils glowing red with pure devastation. His tears slowly dripped like magma, burning holes into his scattered diagrams and blueprints.

In his manic episode he chopped off his hair, the long mane. That was his only boost of self esteem to show that he actually belonged in his lineage off giants despite his inferior size. Because of his failure for not being able to defy that damnable improbability from wrongfully taking you away from him.

The Archdevil ran his body haggard like a machine running only on steam, while lamenting over his resentment for fate. He despised how many people threw that detestable word around. As if that was a justifiable reason to accept that your death was meant to be. It was complete bullshit, utterly incomprehensible!

If there was enough time he could’ve cured you. He knew he could’ve saved his dearest attendant. At this point he’ll throw away any sense of morality and go off the deep end. It didn’t matter what he needed to do in order to complete his newest creation. Sure, it may cause calamity and wars between other worlds/nations just because of its god defying existence. But you were worth everything and more.

Stepping towards your encapsulated within in a cyro pod he crafted from scratch. He pressed a hand against the glass a promise escaping from his lips. An almost unrecognizable voice from him misuse full of vulnerability.

“Attendant, I never said you could quit being my assistant. Don’t you know that our contract has no end date? I won’t allow you to rot away. Your rightful place is by my side.”

——-/————-/————

A/n: you’re fine! I’m still in the middle of revising my rules! Also thanks for dropping by XD! As for Nokka let’s just say there’s gonna be a rampaging dragon on the loose. 👀

#Rivius the Archdevil #Nokka the Husband #yandere scientist #yandere devil #yandere monster #yandere blurb #yandere angst #yandere stories #yandere boyfriend #yandere concept #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yanderecore #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines

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fangdokja · 2 days ago

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The rules were clear: no emotions, no questions, no attachments—until he broke every single one.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Sugar Daddy x Reader

♡ Novella #1. Bye, Bye, Bye - Part 3

♡ Word Count. 1,678

When he first proposed the arrangement, you didn’t hesitate. His offer was lucrative, and you weren’t one to let opportunity slip through your fingers. A man like him—a towering figure in both wealth and stature—was a rare breed, the kind of person who could make or break fortunes with a single word.

It wasn’t about attraction.

He wasn’t the first powerful man you’d played this game with. You knew the rules. You played your part: the perfect accessory, the flawless mask. For him, it was a practical exchange. For you, it was business.

At first, he respected that. He appreciated your cold efficiency, the way you kept your affairs as clinical as a surgeon’s scalpel. He didn’t pry into your personal life, and you didn’t pry into his. You both knew what this was.

There were rules, spoken and unspoken. He could entertain others, as could you. It was freedom cloaked in control. Neither of you asked questions. Neither of you cared—at least, not at first.

────────────

He hadn’t meant to follow you. Not at first.

The arrangement had been clear from the beginning, pristine and untainted by emotion. You were just a tool—polished, effective, and utterly replaceable. He told himself this every time he watched you walk away, your silhouette swallowed by the vast expanse of his empty penthouse.

Yet here he was.

It began as a compulsion, a dull throb at the base of his skull that refused to dissipate. He told himself he was only ensuring your loyalty, but the truth was something far uglier.

From the shadows, he watched you. Watched as you slithered into rooms meant for the powerful, your every movement calculated to ensnare. Watched as you laughed, a sound that grated against his nerves because he knew it wasn’t for him. The dress you wore was his, the diamonds around your neck a testament to his wealth—and yet you gave none of it meaning.

You belonged to him, but you didn’t act like it.

And so he followed, telling himself it was nothing more than a passing irritation. The first time he saw you lean into another man, he felt… nothing. At least, that’s what he told himself. His jaw tightened, but his heart remained steady.

The second time, however, was different.

You were supposed to be working. Another mark, another transaction. He had followed you, not out of suspicion, but out of curiosity. Watching you maneuver was like watching a predator stalk its prey—smooth, deliberate, mesmerizing. You leaned into the man you were entertaining, all soft laughter and coy glances.

And then it happened.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with hands that dwarfed your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a confidence that made bile rise in his throat.

The man’s hand slid to your waist, and before he even realized it, his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry, possessive, and you let it happen, your body melting against his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

His vision went red.

Mine.

The word slammed into him, a tidal wave of rage so potent it nearly blinded him. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms until he tasted copper on his tongue. The world blurred around him, his vision narrowing until all he saw was you.

You, with your body pressed against another’s. You, with your lips parting in a coy, practiced smile. You, allowing someone else to touch what was his.

He hadn’t thought himself capable of true jealousy—not the petty, childish kind. But this was different. This was a visceral, primal thing that clawed at the edges of his sanity.

How fucking dare you?

The thought was loud, screaming in his mind as he moved closer, his footsteps silent and predatory. His pulse was a thunderous drumbeat in his ears, each step pounding out a single word: mine, mine, mine.

When he reached you, it was as though time itself froze.

The man—your mark, no doubt—turned just in time to catch his fist. The impact reverberated up his arm, a satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage that sent the man sprawling to the ground. Blood spattered across the pavement, the crimson droplets stark against the cold gray.

“Who the hell—?” the man sputtered, but he didn’t get to finish.

The gun was in his hand before the thought had even registered, the cold steel a natural extension of his body. He pressed the barrel to the man’s forehead, his hand steady, his breath unnervingly calm.

“Step back,” you said, your voice low, sharp.

But it was too late.

The shot rang out, sharp and deafening in the confined space. The man’s body jerked once, twice, before collapsing in a graceless heap. Blood pooled beneath him, its metallic scent thick in the air.

He didn’t look at the body. His eyes were on you.

You were frozen, your mask slipping just enough to reveal the cracks beneath. Your lips parted as if to speak, but your voice did not come out. For the first time, he witnessed genuine fear in your eyes.

And it thrilled him.

“Have you lost it?” you hissed, taking a step back, your movements vigilant, deliberate.

He ignored your words, but turned to you then, his eyes dark and feral, a storm barely restrained. You had seen him angry before, but this was something else entirely. This was wrath.

“You think this is a game?” he snarled, narrowing the distance between you in two swift strides. Before you could react, his hand was around your throat, slamming you against the wall with enough force to knock the air from your lungs.

“Do you spread your whore legs for every man who flashes you a little cash? Fucking slut.” he growled, his face inches from yours. His other hand pressed the cold barrel of the gun to your throat, the threat unmistakable.

You glared at him, your jaw tight, your breathing shallow. “Let go of me,” you said, your voice low and steady despite the tremor running through your body.

His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Let go?” he repeated mockingly. “After what I just saw? After what you just fucking did?”

You glared at him, your hands clawing at his grip, but he didn’t loosen it. If anything, his fingers tightened, the pressure enough to leave bruises.

“I warned you,” he reminded, his voice low and dangerous. “Did you think I was joking? Did you think I wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t care about you whoring yourself around, you slutty bitch?”

Your lips curved into a faint smile, defiant even now. “It’s just business.”

The words shattered something inside him.

“No,” he hissed, his voice a deadly whisper. “Not anymore.”

The gun pressed against your throat, the cold metal a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His other hand grasped your jaw, forcing you to meet his coldblooded gaze.

“You think you’re so fucking untouchable,” he whispered, his voice low and venomous. “You think you can keep playing this damn game, that you can stay above it all, you pompous bitch. But you’re mine. Do you hear me?” He leaned in, his breath low and hot against your ear. “Mine.”

He kissed you then, his mouth brutal and unrelenting, a clash of teeth and desperation. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t submit either. Your lips moved against his, hesitant and unwilling, and it infuriated him.

The gun shifted, the barrel tracing a line up your neck to the delicate curve of your jaw.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice sharp, each word like a blade. “Tell me you understand.”

You met his gaze, your eyes cold, defiant, staying silent.

He smiled then, a slow, predatory grin. Without breaking eye contact with you, he pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, deafening in the confined space, the bullet embedding itself in the wall mere inches from your head.

You flinched, the sound reverberating in your ears, but you didn’t scream. You didn’t cry.

And he loved you for it.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond nor retaliate. His mouth crushed against yours, violent and bruising, his teeth catching your lip. He tasted blood—yours, his, he didn’t care.

You didn’t respond at first, your body stiff against his. But when his grip tightened on your throat and the click of the gun pressed right to the side of your head; you relented, your lips moving against his with a hesitant, reluctant surrender.

“That’s better,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice a dangerous purr. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

Your hands moved to his chest, pushing weakly against him, but he didn’t budge. He pressed closer, his body pinning yours against the cold, unforgiving wall. His fingers dug into your hips, hard enough to bruise, as if he could mark you as his through sheer force.

“You’ll learn,” he said softly, his hand cupping your jaw with a mockery of tenderness. “I’ll make sure of it.”

As he kissed you again, his teeth sinking into your lower lip until he tasted blood, you realized something chilling: this wasn’t a man you could outmaneuver. This wasn’t a game you could win.

This was survival.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure you would make it out of this alive.

“You think you can keep playing this game,” he murmured against your lips, his grip on your jaw unrelenting. “But I’ll show you. I’ll show you what it means to be mine alone.”

And in that moment, he knew.

He would destroy you.

Piece by piece, he would tear you apart, until there was nothing left but the fragile, trembling thing beneath the mask.

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