#Yandere power

[dilfartist]

Yandere Denji Imagine

TW; stalking

Imagine: A good friend of yours is off with their parents and needs someone to watch their dogs while they are out and you were available. Your friend drops off their two dogs and you’re left with them.

The first few hours are fine, the dogs are laid back and don’t cause you any trouble except for the amount of times they have to use the bathroom.

...That is until you and the dogs are sitting in the living room enjoying some TV when suddenly one of the dogs, named Chewy, is staring at your patio. His gaze is unmoving and he puts his full attention on the glass doors. You don’t mind it, dogs do that sometimes for no reason or because a rodent has climbed up a nearby tree. Then Chewy starts to growl lowly, an unwelcoming growl that makes you pause the movie.

“What is it, boy?” you ask looking at the patio with him. All you can see is the darkness of the sky enveloping everything outside.

After a while of his nonstop growling, you decide to grab the nearest object that you can use to defend yourself. You amble towards the shut doors and flip the switch beside them. The light turns on revealing two squirrels chewing on some nuts. You sigh in relief. The horror movie must have been really getting to you.

However, while Chewy stopped his barking and resorted back to low growls, Chip the other dog continued to bark up a storm. You turn to him to complain but notice he isn’t looking at the patio but at the window that is behind the couch you had been sitting on.

Your eyes follow his and that's when you finally notice...

In the window is a man watching you, breathing heavily. His gaze focuses intensely on you with no sign of losing the craziness in his eyes.

[lijojo]

genshin sugar daddies

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for every day of the week. a bit overwhelming, right? however, you somehow find ways to make time for each and every one of them, no matter how emotionally and physically demanding they are. it's just that, now they don't seem too keen on sharing, and you don't know what to do. (modern au)

tw: nsfw, dark content - minors dni

mondays are always harder in more ways than one. mondays are diluc's days, and that means that you're spending a good portion of your nights at angel's share.

on mondays, it's happy hour. which means that you're sitting at a booth in the corner looking pretty while diluc is tending to his customers. you're more than happy to sit back and relax while you wait for him to finish with work. when the drinks are on the house, you're willing to wait as long as it'll take.

periodically, when he's not busy, however, he'll walk over to you and engage in conversation. you act as a taste-tester for new drinks so he's always asking you if you like them. you two will talk about your day, any interesting events, and so on until diluc is pulled back into work again.

then you're back to fiddling your fingers and watching him work. over time, you've learned that he preferred that you not do anything while you were supposed to be with him. that instead, you fixated your gaze on him while he moved about. sometimes you'll catch him looking at you to see if your eyes are still on him.

even while he's dealing with a certain tone-deaf bard, there's something about the way he looks at you so intently that reminds you of a predator.

when angel's share closes, you're there to keep him company while he cleans up. when he's done, he'll sweep you away back to his manor.

you'll fall onto the sheets as he grinds against you. his shallow breaths brush against your throat. the look he gives you is nothing short of intense.

"everyone at the tavern was looking at you, you know," he mutters, running his fingers down your chest, sinking into your pants. he pulls them down effortlessly along with your panties. "didn't you feel it, darling? their filthy eyes on you. they want to ruin you. everyone wants to ruin you."

he throws your legs over his shoulders, his fingers crawling up your thighs. you jump when he suddenly inserts two fingers into your cunt, scissoring you. his free arm wraps around your leg to keep you locked against him. his eyes are glued onto you as he presses a kiss against your calf.

"but your eyes were on me all night, weren't they. couldn't take your eyes off me, could you. you're mine, dear. do you hear me? you're mine."

you don't overlook how tight his grip is. tight enough to make you wonder if he'll ever let you go. in the morning, he does, but you're scared for the day he wakes up and decides that it's for the last time.

tuesdays aren't as bad. when you’re sore from the night before, childe is there to take you out to meals, shopping, and sightseeing. he's not always available to spend time with you on tuesdays, because of his equally-demanding job and whatnot, but when he is free, he never wastes a second.

or a dollar.

childe smirks smugly from his sea. his posture is lax, one hand lazily tracing circles on the chair's arm while the other comes up to rest under his chin.

"how about you twirl for me, girlie? you look so beautiful."

you giggle, observing yourself in the mirror. "why thank you."

you bask in the way the soft satin kisses your skin. the way your newly-own earrings sparkle under the dressing room's light. just a couple years ago, you could've only dreamed of being dressed so prettily.

"do your side-bitches ever treat you as well as me?"

"childe!" you chide.

he laughs, getting up from his seat. but you both know better than to believe his little chuckle is genuine.

he approaches you, sliding his hands around your waist. tucking your head under his chin, he stares at you through the mirror's reflection.

you don't say anything, and childe doesn't either. it appears he's more than happy to enjoy just standing there. his gaze is glossed over, far away.

the two of you sway side to side for what seems like forever until he decides to say something.

"do they buy you pretty things like i do?"

of course they do, you think. although you spend one-on-one time with each and every one of them, they are all aware of each other. it's only right that they did. it was the first thing you said when you brought the idea up to them, that it wasn't going to be exclusive.

but when you see the way he looks at you, you can't really tell him the truth. not when his focus is redirected from his thoughts to you.

"the things you buy me are a special kind of pretty," you reply.

it seems like that answer is enough for him, because he doesn't say anything else. instead he hums quietly, letting the vibration ripple in the back of your head. he slides his hands down your hips and before you can say anything else, he whips his head around.

"i'll buy these sets." he motions over to the closest clothes rack to an attendant you hadn't noticed. "and that one. and the dress she's wearing. how many colors does this come in, by the way?"

the attendant doesn't hesitate. "five colors, sir. they come in bla—"

"great." he shuffles through his pocket to pull out a black card. "pack them up, we won't be here any longer," he retorts.

the attendant looks ecstatic, quickly shuffling out of the dressing rooms towards the cash register with newfound glee.

"childe," you whine. "i don't think these will fit in my closet."

his hands crawl lower, his finger hovering over your clit. "then they'll fit in mine. come over any time of the week when you want to wear one of my special pretty things."

your breath hitches as he rubs slow circles on your clit. he pushes the two of you back into the dressing room and closes the curtains.

"what are you doing, she'll be back any second—"

he kisses the corner of your jaw, pressing his lips close to your ear. "no worries. if there's one thing i'm sure about, it's that no one undresses you faster than i do."

wednesday is when usually everything calms down. kazuha will typically invite you to a new park, scenic route, or gallery. together, you'll write haikus, sonnets, and limericks together. some hours you'll just sit in silence, putting pen to paper. and when the sun goes down you'll exchange poetry.

out of the seven men, kazuha probably scares you the most. he was the first person you decided to do this whole ordeal with, after all. and since he's known you the longest, he also knows about your circumstances more than others. maybe that's why he's so focused on treating you as if you were a fragile cherry blossom petal. his touches feel like ghosts, running down your forearm as he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

in exchange for his protection, his money, and his care, you give him honeyed words. you act as his muse for when he's hit a creative block. you're there to listen to him read out verses when the wind can't bear the strength to carry them. you listen to his grief about his best friend, his loneliness when he was forced to leave his home country. as someone many of the locals looked to for wisdom, he too carried the emotional burdens of being someone's rock. emotional burdens that he let onto you (whether purposefully or not, you're unsure). but you listen anyway, hearing him talk about days of poverty, where sometimes he had to worry about things to eat, or how to get proper healthcare.

you can't lie and say you're always stable enough to hear some of the things he has to say, but you try.

even if you sometimes feel like you can't take it, you just smile and squeeze his hand tighter like you're supposed to. sometimes your mind will go on autopilot, and sometimes you'll stand up on the grounds of needing to go to the bathroom. but at the end of the day, this is what you signed up for. this. making men happy so that you yourself won't have to worry about your endless debt.

you peer over your notebook to see kazuha immersed in his own writing. but instead of his usual peaceful expression, he looks somber. his hands won't leave the paper, his eyes glued onto the words that he's drawn onto the pages.

"what's got you so worked up?" you ask curiously. "is it something new?"

it's like your voice snaps him out of his trance. he blinks, looking up at you. there's a smile you know all too well on his lips. "yeah, i suppose you could call it that."

"could i look at it? i want to see what's got you so focused like that."

his lips press into a straight line. "hmmm, maybe later."

his words catch you off-guard. usually he's the one who's eager to share his work, regardless of the quality. "oh? is it something you want to keep secret?"

he doesn't many any hint of an answer. instead, he puts down his pen and stares at the ground in contemplation. he's picking and choosing what words to say.

"i could protect you," he says, shuffling his papers to the side. you turn to him, curious. his expression slowly hardens. "by myself, i mean. i could take care of you."

"kazu—"

"i have the means to make a living for the both of us. i could sell more of my poetry, i know they'll sell well—"

"where is this coming from?" you move closer to him, brushing his hair aside. "kazu, are you worried about something?"

there's something that's stopping him from saying anything. his fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

he purses his lips, before turning away and sighing. "no, not really."

after that, he doesn't say anything else. the two of you bask in silence once again. even though you're used to the quiet, there's something deep down in you that feels nervous. like something in the atmosphere changed. there's a sudden resolved glint in his eye as he get backs to writing so diligently on a piece of paper he won't let you read.

after all these days spent talking about himself, somehow you're scared for the day he suddenly decides to stop.

on thursdays you're usually at tighnari's greenhouse, watching him take notes of other plants while you twiddle your thumbs. once in a while, he'll begin rambling about the plants—what kind of species they are, how rare, their medicinal properties, and the like.

you're more of a companion, than anything. someone who can make his days a little less lonelier. and you appreciate it. it's much more tranquil with him. you can enjoy his sharp quips, especially when cyno comes to visit.

his sex-drive is relatively normal, if not a little below average. just like wednesday, you also expect thursday to be a typical rest day.

except when spring comes.

when spring comes, your routine get a little wonky. for one week, at least. because that's when tighnari's heat hits him like a fucking monsoon.

you can already tell when it's coming when he begins to hover closer to you. whenever you take your hand out to do anything, even the slightest gesture, he's already taking it and dragging it towards his sensitive ears.

the moment you've made your plans set to 'take the week off' and help him out, he's already on you, face pressed into your neck as if it's his oasis.

as you can tell, he takes this week very seriously.

"i bet—shit—those other fucks don't get to hold you as long as i do," he lets out as he fucks into you like there's no tomorrow. his hands hold onto your waist like he owns it, pressing sloppy kisses down your spine. "looking so pretty for me. i wonder what they'd say if you got pregnant with my babies. you'd be so much more beautiful plump with my kids. is that what you want huh? to make them angry with my cum stuffed in your gorgeous pussy?"

some days you almost can't believe how uncharacteristically aggressive he is. he dicks you down like he's trying to imprint his shape into the core of your body so that none of the others can fit inside.

and when he cums, he'll take whatever unfortunate portions slip out and smear it all over your chest. especially where your heart is.

then the process starts all over again.

when it's over, he'll spoon you. as if he didn't almost fuck you to death. his touch is tender, like a ghost's hovering over your skin.

"why won't you leave them all for me?"

you shift a little to look at him and kiss him softy, sweetly, on the line of his jaw. "oh, nari, you know i can't."

his ears droop at your words. "you can't, or you won't."

his words make you freeze a bit.

you think back to last week, and the week before, and the one before that. you think about why you started selling your services in the first place, the endless debt you used to be in, and the progression of the relationship between all seven of your...contacts. even if you wanted to, you don't think you could back out if you tried. you've dug a hole for yourself. one deep enough to cause some sort of disruption if you ever decided to stop digging.

so you just hum. "you know how much i love routine."

as some sort of apology, you give him and open-mouthed kiss, one he's almost desperate to return. he moans, hands cupping your face to bring you closer to him.

you're well unaware how much your words have an impact him.

at the end of the week, all al-haitham wants to do is unwind. it's the only logical thing to do. no late-night drinks with the colleagues, no stressful trips to some tourist trap. on fridays, al-haitham comes home to a meal made with love.

when al-haitham's at work during the day, you're usually running your actual errands. it's when you have time to make those one-in-a-blue-moon visits to your actual home, although it's getting harder to call it that.

when it gets to the late-afternoon, you'll usually head to al-haitham's place to start cooking. if you didn't know how to cook before, you do now. every ingredient is handled with care, measured meticulously just as you knew he preferred.

and when he gets home, tired and stressed out, you're there to welcome him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

during dinner, sometimes he'll talk to you about work or the latest research he'd gotten himself immersed with. in return, you tell him about some of your childhood memories. your likes, your dislikes, what used to be your hobbies. you do your best to keep your personal matters out of the conversation, no matter how many times he tries to pry into your private life.

sometimes dinners feel like a full on investigation, the way he keeps greeding for more information about you. he watches you eat with calculating eyes. you pretend to pay no mind to it.

in the beginning, kaveh used to join you for dinners. you always liked the guy, the way he bickered with al-haitham and riled him up. but now you've begun to see less of him, as if he never comes home on fridays at all.

after dinner, there are two different outcomes depending on his mood:

outcome one is that you'll spend the rest of the night curling up on his couch, the both of you immersed in your own books. al-haitham leans on your shoulder as he flips through the pages as if they're nothing. you can't help but feel ticklish whenever his hair brushes against your jaw.

somewhere in the middle, he'll move one hand to start fidgeting with the end of your shirt, sometimes crawling underneath to caress your sides.

outcome two is less quiet. the moment he gets home with that solemn face, you know it's coming. his voice is huskier, his responses shorter. it's usually a result of an impending deadline, colleagues being more peskier than usual.

the moment you two are done with dishes, he gingerly takes your hand and leads you up to the bedroom.

his kisses tastes like green tea and dinner. his hands run up and down your torso, trying to imprint the feel of your skin into every inch of your brain. you whimper when his thumbs press softly into your nipples, rolling them around as they harden.

your hands find purchase on his collar, tugging him impossibly close. he groans at the contact.

you let out a yelp when your back suddenly falls onto the bed. your hands are pressed onto the sheets, al-haitham's fingers encircling your wrists. his knee nudges your legs further apart, rubbing at your clit.

"don't look at the ceiling, dear, look at me," he breathes out, his hands leaving your nipples to gently guide your face towards. "that's it. good girl. just me. just look at me. only me."

he smiles.

"now, let me do god's work on your divine body."

saturdays with ayato can sometimes get hectic. some saturdays you're out getting bubble tea together and enjoying the city, and other saturdays you're hurrying to some publicitiy event hosted by the kamisato clan.

on those type of days, you can expect to wear gowns layered with shiny nylon tulle fabric. it's not as revealing as what you'd try on in dressing rooms with childe. in fact, it's a bit more modest.

today you're wearing a light-blue gown to match with ayato. you turn around to get a good look at the cute bow attached at your waist, your diamond encrusted earrings swaying along with you.

it's as if you've put on another costume. another front to wear for the night.

ayato enters the room just shortly after. in his hands is a diamond necklace to match with your stunning earrings. small smile falls upon his lips when he clasps it on.

"you're beautiful," he mumbles. you giggle when he kisses you square on the lips, licking away the tinted color.

"ayato," you press in-between kisses. you place a hand on his chest to gently push him away. "you're going to ruin my lipstick."

he pulls away with a cheeky smile, taking your wrists to wrap around his neck. "you can always put on some more later."

you pout but kiss him regardless. he tightens his hold on you in reaction, moaning into your mouth.

at these kinds of events, you're there as his plus-one. just so that other officials could stop introducing girls to him when he clearly wasn't interested in them. it'd be arguable to say that you might even be there to make the events a little less intolerable.

somewhere along the lines, you'd sleep with him in addition to being his arm candy at parties. sometimes even before: you two rushing to put on your formal attires and fix your hair minutes before the event started.

but beyond that, you started to get to know him better. he'd whisper into your ear about funny stories relating to the guests as you meet them. sometimes you'd run away in the middle of the party to binge out on the food and talk about your other interests. surprisingly, he doesn't talk about the politics behind his duties as the head of the kamisato family. not as much as you expected, at least.

instead he talks about his dreams for a family. how many kids, what their names would be, how he'd raise them. and as he talked, he'd give you this heavy gaze that you're not sure what to do with. as if he was expecting something from you.

you're beginning to believe that ayato has somehow confused contractual girlfriend with actual girlfriend.

when you had met ayaka months ago, ayato introduced you as his girlfriend. you didn't attempt to correct him—that's ayato's business. not your's. but when you're expecting ayato to come clean to his dearest sister, you're sorely mistaken.

instead, while he kisses your lips so hungrily, he subtly slips a diamond ring onto your finger.

sundays are usually kaeya's days off. although the cavalry captain's duties are seemingly never endless, he takes the day off to take a breather.

in other words, he sees you.

at first, it was just candlelit dinners. he'd walk in with a bouquet of roses, complimenting your dress and staring at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes. he'd take you to somewhere fancy, pull out the chair for you and sweet-talk you all through the night.

conversations were fun with him. you didn't have to think much at all, not about how to pay the bills, the six men in your life who seemingly began to want yours to only revolve around theirs, or being someone your not.

kaeya was probably the only one who you felt you could be comfortable with. he made you laugh, he'd tell all sorts of interesting stories, and he never made the silence feel awkward.

at least, that's how you used to be.

you see, usually after these candlelit dinners you'd both go back to his place, with him ripping off your clothes the moment the door closed. but as of recently, he's been asking to come over to your place instead more often. almost too often.

and that's not the only thing that's changed.

the sex used to be rough. heated. almost as if he was consumed by all of his pent-up sexual frustration and was only focused on getting off. he'd slurp your cunt like a man starved but he'd still rail you as if that's the only thing he cared about.

but as time passed, he's been getting more and more...sensual. the sex is much more slower. personal, almost.

vulnerable.

after dinner, he slowly slips off your clothing. one article after another, until your left in your underwear. he first kisses you on the mouth, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. slowly, he makes a trail of them down your body, as if no skin deserved to be left untouched.

although you made a rule that no one could leave your marks on you, it doesn't mean he doesn't try. as he kisses your lower lips, sometimes he'll attempt to leave marks close to your clit. if you're not careful, diluc will find it tomorrow.

his thrusts were always deep, but now that he's much more purposeful about it. it's rhythmic, as if he's trying to reach a new spot inside you. somewhere no one's touched.

the pillow-talks are much more longer as well. he holds you tighter now, wrapping his arms around your hips as he tangles his legs with yours.

instead of ranting on about the silly incidents he witnessed on the job earlier in the week, he talks about his feelings. towards you. towards diluc. towards himself. some nights you can handle it, some nights are too much.

but you can't say anything. not when he's holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. not when he helps you pay off your debt. and so you let his raspy voice whisper in your ear as he combs his fingers through your hair. you listen to him mumble sweet-nothings.

you're not sure if you like the adoring look he gives you as you drift off to sleep.

[allurilove]

Yandere Professor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.

*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.

Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.

You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.

You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.

You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.

When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.

Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.

He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.

Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.

He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.

Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.

“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.

His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.

It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.

Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.

It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.

His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.

Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.

“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.

“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.

Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.

His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.

“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”

“You weren’t understanding my hints.”

He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.

He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.

He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.

He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.

Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.

The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.

He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.

That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.

That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.

Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Feels like sugar in me~ (Dom Yandere manager x model male reader) ૮꒰っ˕‹̥̥̥ ꒱ა

WC:. 2.5k

Tags: power abuse, ass eating, voyuer, humiliation, gaslighting/ manipulation, older man-younger man (character is referenced in his mid forties and reader in his twenties) dark content, slight dub con, dacryphilia <33

A/N: my posting schedule has been all wonky the past month! But I hope you guys enjoy and as promised @blond3ang3l ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Everybody knew that modeling was a cruel line of work, your father told you so ever since you were just a little boy prancing around your bedroom.

Most male models didn’t last more than a month in the industry, you understood exactly why once you started putting yourself out there. Applying to all the big name brand you could never dream to be taken in by but you wanted to atleast try!

Here you were, halfway across the U.S trying to pursue your own little American dream and how else would you do that if not by working in some rundown diner by your apartment. Well that was until you met Him, tall and undoubtedly handsome with black hair having grey streaks through the sides with a small little beard of mostly white hairs, his name hung infamous to anybody who ever wanted to be a somebody, Dean Carter was his name.

You didn’t know him too well, just a local man who liked the diner you worked at for some reason you always thought. But he’d smile at you a little too long or tip you a little too much with his age showing at every glance he handed you. Creases in the corners of his eyes and lips crinkling up in delight when he watched how your hips swayed in your apron working the floor having him in awe. He had to have you—he absolutely needed you.

He’d simply slip you his business card just trying to swoon you under his wing like any big dreaming boy, whispering honeyed promises of fame and being a star on the runway to you anytime you would doubt him. Your fate was sealed the moment he wanted you, he was a man of greed and power and he wanted you in his pocket like a caged bird.

Here you were, eight months later from meeting dean, a photo shoot just being finished by you but you were far from happy. How could you possibly be happy when all you were seen as was the pretty boy who slept his way to fame, and the worst part of it all was the fact they weren’t wrong and all you could do is sit in your designated seat in your dressing room feeling the cold hand clasping your cheek “don’t listen to them baby, you’re just so much more than a pretty face and you know it”

Dean leans down kneeling on his knees with his chin resting on your shoulder blade holding your chin making you look at the mirror straight ahead of you. “Sh-sh doll don’t pout, you’ll ruin your makeup” his lips press to the back of your ear as his hands grip the sides of your seat turning you facing him.

“Not right now dean..” you whimper out silently feeling the hotness in your eyes bubbling up with tears that threaten to peak. “Don’t be that way baby doll, let me make it all better, you know I just wanna help” his voice softens so much your heart wants to believe it’s all real but atlas, you knew so better and yet you still fell.

“Not tonight dean, I don’t feel like it” you sniffle put rubbing your face feeling your warm cheeks under your palms while his hands slip down massaging your thighs in the slacks you were modeling. His thumbs tracing up slowly to your zipper giving it a little tug, you already knew what he was getting at and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him.

“Hush darlin, it’ll all feel alright so soon” a elicit purr fell from his thin lips when he stops after opening up the top of your pants leaving them hanging up on your hips, his hands slipping up to your hip bone and grabbing it gently lifting you up out of the chair and getting you on the counter of your dressing room while his hands guide your thighs apart.

“People will hear us dean” you hush out and tilt your head back looking upwards at him trying your hardest to not let your emotions win tonight. “Well then they’d be lucky, you’re my little show-boy aren’t you [name]? Always strutting down that runway”

Dean’s hands slide up your sides gripping your boxers and the waistband of your bottoms and slid them off down your thighs with ease leaving you in your white socks and the designer shirt, having not made it to putting on the shoes yet.

“O-h shit—“ you go slack in the face with your jaw hanging pinching your brows together when his face shoves between your thighs and nuzzles his way between your cheeks having you spread wide arching your back and holding the marble counter top.

“Taste’s so sweet doll, like sugar on mh tongue” his voice deepens rolling his own eyes back into his skull leaving red irritation marks on your ass cheeks from his stubble while he groans against your hole before lapping his tongue out from his mouth giving a long lick going down your crack leaving your balls neglected while your cock stands half hard.

“Dean, they’re gonna hear us~” you can’t help anymore, you slowly crumble on the counter, reaching your hands back and placing them over your mouth trying to hide how you were crying like a little boy and leaning back against the dressing room mirror internally praying that none of the brand executives made it to your room to see you in all your glory hitching your leg up on the older males shoulder and letting him devour you like a helpless lamb.

Deans tongue presses flat to your rim and keeps rubbing against it before his lips press against your hole sucking at it and gripping your thighs tighter looking up at you the whole time wanting to kiss away your tears.

“My baby boy is such a pretty cryer” he hums in a sickeningly sweet tone coating your rim in a glossy layer of his spit making heat build inside your stomach leaving your cock now fully erect pressing it’s way to your belly button.

“I’m not gonna- I can’t handle it!” A sharp gasp falls from your lips feeling like you’re being torn apart by the man between your thighs. His fingers moving off your thighs only leaving his right hand on your knee trying to keep your thighs from fully closing around his hand while he takes his fingers and snakes his way between your cheeks, letting us index finger prod open the walls whilst he keeps flicking his tongue in sync to his fingers.

“You wanna be a star right doll? Let me make you the brightest one” the movement doesn’t slow or waver leaving your lips trembling against your palm understanding his inward promise, the one he’s told you a thousand times over.

“Close dean” you sloppily slur and cry out feeling your hand slipping from hour mouth when his finger works its way against your prostate having the world around you turn white in a buzz and your cock glaze over with a pearl of semen leaking down the sides of your base making your body clamp up ready for the wave of release to wash over you only to have him pull away from your ass leaving your leg sliding off his shoulder when he stands back up.

“I want you to reach your orgasm from my cock, not my mouth baby doll” his words wash over you when he wipes his hands off and starts undoing his belt leaving his slacks undone while he opens up his fly, the grey waistband reading ‘Calvin Klein’ exposes itself to you before he pulls out his cock showing him already stiff from eating you out.

“Look at the mess you made baby, you’ve got my face utterly filthy” stepping between your thighs keeping them spread open while he presses his face into the side of your neck with your legs slowly lifting up to his hips, “the staff will hear us, I don’t want them to know dean” your hand finds its way into his hair and pulls at it, not even bothering to hide the hot tears streaming down your face.

He reaches his hand off your hip, still holding it tight with his other hand while he holds your chin firm and lifts his head from the crook of your neck pressing hot kisses to your damp cheeks. Dean’s cock presses its way between your slick cheeks letting his cock-head rub and make contact with your rim almost daring to push inside you but not doing so yet.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got’cha” his words linger muffled and half audible between his lust filled haze and the wet kisses he left across your skin. Your thighs stay parted up on his hips with your eyes looking up at him feeling humiliated in ways beyond words, unable to stare in the mirror behind you, unable to face what you’ve let him break you into.

“Just push in dean” your sniffles fall on deaf ears but he just smiles down at you and takes his lips off your cheeks placing them on your neck while letting your chin out of his clasp making your ruined face fall forwards on his shoulder when he slips his hands back to your hips guiding you down on his cock. “That’s a good boy, my sweet little angel” he talks you through it making your rim ease up when he sinks into you leaving you feeling every vein of his shaft when it pierces you.

“Sh-sh-sh don’t cry, baby. If you stay nice and quiet I’m sure they won’t hear” his words do very little in terms of easing you. Your neck tilts back looking up at the ceiling and staring through blurred leans as you reach your hands off the counter edges and dig your nails into the back of his tailored suit, leaving lighter colored marks on the fabric while the sound of hushed moans and skin filled up the dressing room.

Dean continued to roll his hips and make out with your neck, butting and sucking on every inch moaning into the skin, not bothering to stop your tears “you’re so pretty when you cry like that Y’know angel”

his voice was far to sweet for the ways he was ravaging your body. His cock pressed up against your prostate with every deep stroke he gave, your cock weeped against your stomach the whole time he held your hips flush against him while working between your legs, making sure his cock rubbed and violated every inch of your cavern.

Dean held your hips tight, softly massaging them and rutting his hips fucking you up against the counter with his canines dragging alongside of your neck so soft you felt like you were on cloud nine and yet you wanted to puke. You’ve never felt so beautiful yet so dirty until you were with him.

You finally look down from the ceiling with a sharp gasp “o-oh Dean-“ your eyes zoom out until they see the dressing room door peaking open, then it’s like bells and gears in your head start churning with your toes curled close to cumming. “Don’t even pay attention to it doll” Dean smooths you or at least he try’s to sooth you but fails, you just shove your face into his shoulder moaning and wailing to yourself when you realize there’s someone entering the room.

“Are you almost ready [nam—“ low and behold the door opened wide standing in the doorway was one of the stage managers for your upcoming shoot today, he stood jaw slacked the clipboard nearly falling from his hand staring at you watching how Dean didn’t bother stopping making the tears flow faster when you look up from dean’s shoulder having your eyes meet.

“Scram, boy. [name] is busy right now” Dean’s voice hardens tilting his head back out of your neck with drool smeared on his chin from a the kissing he was doing to your neck. He doesn’t bother to stop your coupling session but instead shoo’s off the other man. Oliver the stage manager scrambles to leave quickly, not wanting to be in the middle of the situation any longer but you knew him.

You knew within ten minutes the whole brand- better yet label. Would know your secret and that alone made your face go red with shame. “I’m close~ let-me come please?” You plead with Dean knowing that you needed your high, you needed the adrenaline that brought you to heaven before throwing yourself back down to sadness like always.

“Come for me darlin, just let go” Dean croons to you holding you up on the counter steadily thrusting into you already starting to leak more pre cum inside you. Your dressing room door still open wide leaving anyone able to see you being ruined by your manager if they just walked down the hall. Your cock starts to spasm and bob upwards jerking on its own about to cum as your legs wrap tighter around his hips, gripping his back and curling your toes tight arching.

Your walls clamped tight around his manhood when you finally hit your peak feeling rope after rope speed from the pudgy cock head when you orgasm. Dean pulls out of you and comes all over your thighs, holding you tight and panting when his cock throbs and releases its load all over your thighs in a thin and runny mess while you sit panting and truth to wipe away your tears before you can even look back at Dean.

“You did great, so great doll” he murmurs his words leaning down kissing your cheek and wiping your eyes leaving you sitting on your dressing room counter all splayed and ruined with cum coating your skin and runny mascara flowing down your cheeks as you watch Dean remove his hands off you and start fixing up his pants, wiping his cock off before putting it back inside his own boxers.

“I’m sorry I have to run honey, I need to straighten things out and I have an appointment with the magazine executives for your next shoot” with one last kiss on your cheek and an infatuatedly pleased smile when he looks down and sees your thighs coated in his cum, a small peck is forced on your lips before you watch him leave as he always did once he was finished.

Sitting alone in your dressing room, still up on the counter with the door now shut feeling the sadness wash over you from the after effects of your orgasm leaving your rubbing your eyes having to get up and get cleaned “I have to learn to stop crying, I swear” you whisper aloud to yourself walking around the dressing room just cleaning yourself off with a complementary rag and looking at your disheveled appearance in the mirror making you sight, after all how could you not? This same scene replayed day after day with Dean and you knew it would continue to.

[wisecura]

You Did What?

Kouhai Satoru Gojo x f!Senpai-Reader (age gap) 5k

an: this is apart of a request I got not too long ago for an arranged marriage with an age gap for my star bby Gojo. The second one is coming out very soon for the reversal (he's a bit older than you).

summary: Satoru Gojo was your over-the-top, unbearable, yet strangely endearing kouhai back in school. Maybe you were just a little too sweet to him, though, because now he's showing up at your door with a marriage proposal in hand.

MINORS DNI AFTER THIS POINT.

warnings: obsessive behaviors, noncon/dubcon, arranged marriage, power play, domineering subby, possessive behavior, small jealousy, implied stalking, fingering, popped cherries, he's a good boy, age gap, usage of the word 'little' (might be a lil belittling), minors DNI, not entirely heavily proofread

Life in Tokyo had been nothing short of abysmal.

Between the tiny, overpriced shoebox apartments and the always-packed streets, it wasn’t exactly the dream you'd had in mind. But hey, at least everything you needed was within walking distance. 

And yeah, you were always zipping out of town for work, trying to carve out your spot in the pecking order. Just 22, rocking your first real job and your own place, but your social life?

Nonexistent.

You could whine about it, but what's the point?

Whenever you caught up with old classmates, you’d play it cool, telling them you were out living it up, just so they wouldn’t worry. Pretty sure they were spinning the same tales to you. In your line of work, there’s not much room to be anything but selfless.

You kept in touch with a few underclassmen, especially the clingiest of them all—Satoru Gojo. Normally, you wouldn’t bother, you were several classes ahead of him, after all. He only graduated last summer, turned 19 in the winter, and then took over as the head of the Gojo clan that next summer.

But ever since you graduated, he’s been all over your lock screen, bombarding you with texts. A quiet day meant only getting 12 messages. In high school, he was just as clingy, but at least back then, he could just hang around you in person instead of blowing up your phone.

You’d think he’d have outgrown this by now, but nope—by noon today, you’ve already racked up 7 messages from him. It’s kind of cute, sometimes. But let’s be real, trying to get a boyfriend with Satoru always on your tail? Yeah, good luck with that.

The rain had been pounding relentlessly all evening, its steady drumming against the windows filling your tiny Tokyo apartment with a soothing rhythm. Wrapped in a blanket on the couch, you were finally relaxing when your phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

You glanced at the screen. Another text from him. And another, and another-

Gojo: What are you up to?

Gojo: You never answered my last message. Did you fall asleep?

Gojo: Or maybe you’re ignoring me...again.

Gojo: That hurts, you know. I thought we were close.

With a sigh, you set the phone face down. Satoru Gojo, your overly attached kouhai from high school, had been this way since the day you met—clingy, needy, and always too much. He had always claimed you were the only one who could "handle" him.

And sure, you had a soft spot for him, maybe more than you should. But on days like today, his relentless need for attention was just too much. The knock at your door was abrupt, loud, and insistent, snapping you out of your thoughts. You stared at the door, hesitating, then your phone buzzed once more.

Gojo: I’m outside. Open up.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself off the couch. When you swung the door open, there stood Satoru, soaked to the bone. His normally fluffy white hair was slicked to his forehead, and water dripped from his clothes onto your floor.

“Satoru,” you exclaimed, startled. “What the hell are you doing? Why are you soaked?”

He waved a hand dismissively, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. You blinked at him. You should’ve expect this, but honestly he'd never been this forward. 

“You’re soaked! You're gonna catch a cold, you idiot.”

“Would you take care of me if I did?” he asked with a grin, but his voice somewhat off, was missing its usual upbeat playfulness. He took the towel you handed him but made no move to dry himself off, seemingly content to let you fret over him.

As you scanned him for any signs of injury, he watched you with an intensity that said he might just enjoy this concern a bit too much. Maybe he was hurt? But knowing him, that seemed unlikely—

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” crossing your arms.

He flopped onto your couch as if he owned the place, his damp clothes leaving a wet spot. "Just wanted to see you," he said, his gaze flitting to yours before darting away.

“You’ve been texting me all day. You could’ve just waited for me to reply.”

He pouted, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “You’re so mean to me. Do you really think I'm that annoying?”

You rolled your eyes. “You can be.”

"Rude," giving you a mock-offended look. Then, after a pause, "You've been busy, though...haven't you? Out a lot lately."

You froze, your mind racing to last week. Have you been out a lot? But then you remembered a few days back, when you’d gone on a casual date with someone. It hadn’t been anything serious, but you definitely hadn’t mentioned it to Satoru. Given his flair for the dramatic, he’d likely make a big deal out of it. How did he know you'd been out?

"Work," you said cautiously, watching his expression carefully. “Work,” he echoed, tilting his head as if considering your answer. “That’s it? No fun? No...extracurricular activities?”

“Extracurricular activities?”

“You know,” his tone light but his eyes pinning you, somewhat pouty. “Going out. Meeting people. Spending time with a special someone.”

Your stomach churned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He hummed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his damp hair falling into his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, senpai. You always have been.”

“I’m not lying,” you said firmly, feeling your palms clam up.

“Really?” He grinned, but there was no humor in it. “Then why is it that I heard you’ve been seeing someone?” Your heart skipped a beat. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter, is it true?” You hesitated for a moment too long. “It is, isn’t it?” his voice dropping.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said quickly, not sure why you felt the need to explain yourself. “It was just one date. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened? So you went out with someone and didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why would I tell you?” 

“Because I care about you,” he said, rising abruptly. “Because I thought we were close.”

“We are, but that doesn’t mean I owe you every detail of my personal life,” you shot back. He took a step closer, his damp shoes squeaking against the floor. “It’s not about owing me. It’s about the fact that you’re mine.”

Your eyes widened, stunned those words even fell out of his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” his voice was trembling now—nervousness? borderline hysteria? Those possessive words had never spilled from his plush lips before, so you were left grappling with their sudden weight. “I’ve always been yours, senpai. And you’ve always been mine. We're best friends. We're the closest. I don’t care what you think. I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re mine.”

“Satoru, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, trying to step back, but he matched your movement, closing the distance.

“Am I?” he asked, his blue eyes wide and desperate. “You have no idea what it’s like. Having your best friend ignore you. Watching you go out with someone else. It’s killing me.”

Watching? “Satoru, you’re not thinking clearly—”

“I’ve never been more clear,” 

“Satoru.” Your mind raced, and you felt the need to put some distance between the two of you. Despite his obvious advantages in strength and size, he'd never given you reason to feel wary—until now. It felt like a mistake letting him into your home. “I...I think you should leave. We need some space, Satoru.” You couldn’t help but fold into yourself, the weight of the conversation draining you.

He paused, the room swallowed in a heavy silence. No words. No breaths. No footsteps. When you dared to look up, his face was crumpled, on the verge of tears. Surprising you even more.

"You’re...telling me to leave?" His voice came out softer than before, soothing yet tinged with desperation. "Why?"

Before you could muster an answer, he dropped to his knees in front of you, crawling closer as you backed up until you were pressed against the wall. He starred up at you, an urgency you've never seen from him before, pressing in on you. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his eyes—wide and pleading like a lost kicked puppy—locked onto yours.

"Please," he whispered, his gaze swimming with tears. tears. "Don’t make me leave. Don’t let someone else take you away from me. I’ll do anything. Just let me stay. Don't push me away."

"Satoru, get up," you said, your voice quivering, fingers trembling as you tried to push him away by pressing on his head. Yet, no matter how much you pushed, his hold remained firm, his strength undeniable. He was soaking the front of your clothes, and it felt very much like an overgrown puppy, coming in from outside.

"No," he murmured, burying his face against your stomach. "Not until you promise. Not until you say I can stay. Until you promise not to go out with anyone else."

“This is insane,” you managed, your hands unintentionally tangling in his soft, albeit wet hair. It was softer than you imagined. Focus—

He suddenly pulled you down with him, his grip unrelenting as you found yourself sinking to your knees in front of him. Now, he was so close, his face just inches from yours, towering over you, his expression a tangled web of desperation and a darker, unspoken plea. Your back was flush against the wall and you weren't sure what he was planning next.

"If you leave me," he said softly, his voice trembling, eyes wild and somewhat dazed. You weren't sure how space equated to you leaving him. You could see him frantically trying to piece the situation back together, the stakes seeming far more catastrophic than the words tumbling from his lips. "I'll make sure you regret it..." His confidence seemed to swell as he caught your wide-eyed stare, "You know I can-You know what I'm capable of."

Your blood ran cold. “Satoru...” a warning

"I don’t want to hurt you," he continued, tears now streaming down his face. He looked pathetic, begging there on his knees, letting out small hiccups with each terrifying sentence after the other. "But I can’t lose you. I can’t share you. Please, senpai. Just say yes. Tell me you won’t shut me out."

"Satoru, this is too much. You're overreacting. I just need some space—"

"Marry me." His eyes lost their frantic sheen, sharpening as they fixed on yours. His tone was firm, non-negotiable. "I’ll make you happy. I’ll give you everything.”

The rain outside roared, its sound blending with the rapid pounding of your heart. His request blindsided you, his words enveloping you, a suffocating, inescapable grip. He couldn't be serious. You two weren't even dating.

"Satoru, we aren't even dati—"

"That doesn't matter. I've always loved you. Even way back then. You've always been the only one on my mind." You gaped at him, stunned by the raw intensity of emotion from someone usually so untouchable. "I-I cant imagine being with anyone else, I need you." He whimpered, pushing into you like the overgrown puppy he was, overly excited to see their master. His head rested against your chest, looking up at you with a pout.

"I've been so good. I've waited so long. I-if anything, I deserve some praise." His words stumbled out, and there it was—the mighty Satoru Gojo, stuttering. He waited for a response, your mouth hanging open at the sheer audacity of this man. The whiplash hitting you quicker than the words. He looked so pitiful.

"P-please, please praise me," he said, a little more desperately, anxious under your flabbergasted stare.

You were definitely outmatched here. You've always had a soft spot for the blue-eyed sorcerer. It was one of the many reasons you gave him as much leeway as you did. As your hand gently came up to his hair, petting him, he practically purred under the touch, his eyes melting with affection. "I knew it."

"Satoru..." you began softly, and as if he could read your mind, knowing you were about to protest, he interrupted. "I'll do whatever you want. Be whoever you want."—"Sato—" "I'll buy you anything, we can go anywhere, live anywhere. I can support you, you won’t need to stay in this shitty apartment anymore—" "Wait a—" "I love you. I love you so much, I couldn’t stand that man touching you, please don’t ever do that again," his face twisted in pain at the mere thought. Your hands reached for his cheeks, gently coaxing his gaze back to you.

"Satoru, calm down." you tried to reason, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'm not sure if jumping into a marriage is the best idea right now. We need to talk about this more," you insisted, trying to temper the urgency in his eyes. "A marriage isn't just a contract—it's a lifetime commitment. I'm not sure if we're ready for that yet. You haven't even asked me out yet-"

But Satoru was relentless, his desperation clear. "I've already drafted the papers," he confessed, his tone suggesting he’d been planning this for some time. "I can send a formal request to the higher-ups—whenever I want."

The threat remained unspoken yet unmistakable—a solid recommendation from him, the new head of the Gojo clan—in need of an heir, would be near impossible to refuse without severe consequences. The reality of your situation weighed heavily on you. It was as if it was already decided. But why you?

"Satoru, listen to me," you pleaded, searching for some sign of understanding in his intense gaze. "What do you think this marriage would be? What do you even want from this?"

"You," he answered quickly, eagerness palpable. "Ill give you a life where you don't have to worry about money or security. I can give you a house, anywhere you want. Paris, New York, Tokyo—you name it." he's hugging you tighter at each insistence. "Satoru—"

"Luxuries, travel, whatever you want—designer clothes, fancy cars... I'm going to spoil you rotten," he whispered, his voice dripping with certainty, as if it were all already fated to be, the only concern being what next. "And it's not just about the material things—I mean, I'll be there too. Always. Anytime you call, I'll be there."

"You can't do that, Satoru," you countered, feeling the walls closing in as he all but confirmed he would shirk his very important responsibilities if you so asked.

"I will, if its for you. Please, baby. please." You can't deny the way your heart picked up at the unfamiliar pet name. It sent your heart racing, and your cheeks flushed—a reaction he caught and savored, his eyes lighting up, his head tilted, giving him a perfect view of your pretty red cheeks. His grip on you seemed to trail, his hands rubbing your sides.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" you questioned, your voice tinged with both disbelief and a creeping unease as Satoru nudged closer.

"Absolutely...my little wife," he murmured, his voice quivering with a concocted vulnerability as he slipped between your legs, still soaking wet. His presence was close, too close, his body heat mingling uncomfortably with yours. Your heart stutter again at the term.

"Satoru, that’s...that’s too much," you breathed out, feeling his hands settle on your hips, his grip firm yet gentle, as if claiming his place. He's pulling you impossibly closer, his hips between your own. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't turning you on, much to your own surprise. He was shocking you at every turn.

"Isn’t it better when it’s just the two of us?" he continued, his voice a needy whisper that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. He leaned in, his breath warm against your neck, lips brushing your skin with feather-like kisses that trailed up towards your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "No distractions, no one else around. Just me and...my sweet little wife."

His words were laden with possessive desire as he continued his trail of soft kisses, now accompanied by long wet licks that striped across your neck. Your arms found their way around his muscular neck, and your legs instinctively clenched at his sides. His words making you dizzy.

"Y-you think you can make decisions for both of us like that?" you attempted to steady your voice, but it wavered under his touch and the tender assault of his lips.

"’m just trying to secure our happiness together," he insisted, his voice a whisper against your skin, full of confidence—yet pleading. "I know you care about me, deep down. You wouldn’t want to see me hurt, would you, wife?"

Those big eyes begging for your approval, especially when he sensed you might push back. A lovesick puppy.

"Satoru, listen—we really need to talk about boundaries," you insisted, trying to anchor the conversation despite the intoxicating closeness and the persuasive touch of his lips, which fluttered dangerously along the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Boundaries," he repeated, his voice a soft whimper, contemplative, as if he was trying to wrap his mind around the concept. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips pausing as if savoring the very idea. "Okay, we can talk boundaries...as long as they include me being this close." His tone deepened, desperately straining as he pressed closer, grinding into your achy cunt. The soft groan that slipped from him vibrated against your neck, coaxing a surprised whimper from your lips—a sound sweeter than he had ever imagined.

His eyes locked onto yours, reveling in every reaction he elicited from you. Though you weren't married yet, your body seemed to resonate perfectly with his touch, as if it knew him well. The marriage contract had been prepared long in advance, drafted the moment he graduated high school. He had always known you were the one for him. You were, in his eyes, made for him.

He didn't ease up, grinding his length into your clothed pussy, clawing out any reactions he could get, and feeding you his own. And lord was this man vocal.

You wouldn't have believed it if anyone told you—Satoru Gojo, revered as the strongest sorcerer of his generation, the prestigious heir to the Gojo clan, and the youngest prodigy to grace the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, reduced to a puddle of neediness. The type of man that screams top energy, is now rutting against you faster now—helplessly, a begging mess, calling you his "little wife" in a breathy, lovesick plea, so so desperate and clingy.

But you couldn't say anything about it, your leaky pussy was proof enough that you were no better. And the fact that you were so adamant that you weren't interested only moments ago only served to feed his ego.

"What boundaries did my little wife want to set?" His voice confident-damn near arrogantly possessive, as he all but solidified his hold over you, only for you to squirm under his words. He didn't seem to like that as he bit down on your collarbone, earning a sharp gasp from your panting lips.

Before you could wrap your head around the question, he pushed your legs up to your chest, thick fingers digging into the squish of your thighs, instantly knocking the air from your lungs. A mean mating press, and all he needed now was to fuck into you like he meant it. "Satoru—ha—hang on."

But oh-no he wasn't about to hang on, his hips delivered another punishing thrust in between your spread legs, leaving you stuttering out. Your hands that had been wrapped around his neck were now biting into the unfairly smooth expanse of his broad shoulders, leaving behind marks that would surely leave people staring.

Leaning close, his breath hot against your ear, he whispered, a shiver tracing down your spine, crunched up beneath him, "What was my little wife so worried about?" Your eyes proved to him that you were already gone, smothered by his thrusts, and if he were to remove your shorts, you were sure you'd be leaking a pool onto the floor. He cooed softly, his voice a mix of teasing and assurance, "I'll be a good boy. Now tell me, haah—what boundaries did you want to set?"

Beneath him, you trembled, each of your senses heightened by his proximity and the sheer intensity of his gaze, which now swept over you, taking in every reaction before meeting your eyes with a piercing look. "C'mon, pretty girl, tell me, tellme. tellme—" he urged, punctuating each plea with another deep thrust against your clothed cunt.

“Satoru—please—” you managed between labored breaths, each word as shaky as your body.

“Ooh! Hang on—I've got one—" You could feel his breath on your neck, voice dipping a more taunting note. "how about remaining faithful," His grip on you was aggressive and domineering, yet his tone carried a playful lilt. "See, now that's an easy one," You couldn't stop the whimper that rolled from your lips, each thrust forward sent a sharp press into your clit.

You couldn't make a solid thought if your life depended on it. The room spun a little, your mind foggy with need. You felt dangerously close to agreeing to just about anything he proposed, just to keep him moving.

"S-Satoru, please, don't stop," shameless. absolutely shameless.

“Haah, oh—my sweet little wife—‘m just trying to have a conversation—” He groaned as your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, a raw, primal groan rips out, sending shivers down your spine. “Aah, a conversation you wanted. So tell me what I can do for you.”

You can't move an inch as he slows his momentum down, leaving you reeling. You're panicking at the loss, eyes shooting wide as he firmly presses into you. "Or maybe," You felt the heat of his cock pressed against you, "how about a boundary that ensures every day starts with you under me like this?" Satoru's voice was husky, almost choked with his own arousal as he maintained that exasperatingly slow grind, each movement calculated to keep you right on the edge.

You couldn't muster a response, your mind was too clouded with the intoxicating blend of pleasure and frustration, gripping at him to keep going. His smirk was audible in his voice as he continued. "Hmm, not enough? What about...we never sleep apart, huh? Always tangled up like this—sounds perfect, right, wifey? Or do you prefer senpai?"

You felt yourself clench around nothing as you let out a string of needy huffs, eyes drunken, intoxicated on his heat. "And I think," he paused, his breath against your ear, "we should always say goodnight like this...no...we should always say goodnight with me deep inside this pretty pussy, claiming you as mine over and over. No more goodnights through phone screens, just this—"

One hand trails down between your legs, drifting across your sorely sensitive skin, before reaching the warmth beneath your shorts. You feel yourself buck up, but his grip on your other thigh has you restrained. He glides his large fingers along the edges, before dipping into under the fabric, finding his salvation, immediately. "Ahh-shit, you're soaked, baby," His voice was dense with pleasure, a hint of awe, a mix of wonder and satisfaction.

"Do these boundaries work for you?" he teased, fully aware that you were beyond the point of coherent speech, your responses physical, instinctive—your body arching towards him, desperately seeking to close the gap he controlled so teasingly.

His laughter, low and satisfied, resonated through the charged air between you, feeling as tangible as another stroke of his fingers. "I’ll take that as a yes," he murmured before finally relenting to the desperate pace your body craved, driving his fingers into you with a fervor that wiped all thoughts but his name from your mind.

Stretching, and so so thick, yet you so desperately craved for his fingers to curl into your sweet spot, your mewls and moans saturating the air, the debauched sounds from your leaky cunt dragging his eyes to watch as your juices coated his hand.

His eyes were locked on your squirming, messy form. Noticing every movement, learning and adapting his thrust to the motions that drew the most from you. Once he hit that sweet spot, you were out.

To him—this was a dream. A fantasy he'd always had, way back when he first met you.

Now you were soaking your shorts, so he did what any good husband would do and took them off of you. He marveled at the sight of your pretty cunt, glistening, slick pooling from you at a rapid pace. Calling to him. You looked so fucking tasty.

But he wanted more. So much more.

He wanted to fill his pretty little wife, full. Withdrawing his fingers (earning him a small growl from you), he pressed his hips forward, the fabric of his clothes barely containing him as he rubbed against you, his need clear and urgent. His fingers, dipping into his mouth, your taste dissolving onto his tongue, he moaned—"Baby, can I fill you up?" begging, voice guttural, raw, groveling, as he pulled himself free from the confines of his pants, stroking himself with a single hand. You strained to look at him, your legs blocking your view, but when you caught sight of it you nearly drooled. His plea was nothing short of a godsend at this moment, everything you were wanting and more, and that cock looked more than fucking delicious. Big and thick enough to rock your shit.

"Please, please I want more,—ngh—'

He lined himself up at your entrance, poking his fat tip an inch past your slit. The stretch was already a bit much, you really hadn't gotten much action, recently. Toys never cut it.

And just that tip had Satoru's mouth dropping open as he slid himself further, watching the magic act that was his disappearing cock into your tight heat. You deliriously blubbered incomprehensible sounds, begging to be filled, but he seemed so happy with taking his sweet time, savoring every second—every inch.

Once you were completely filled, he stilled for a moment, wearing you like a little cockwarmer, the stretch made you feral as you continue clawing his forearms, pathetically, words dripping from your lips frantically asking bawling at him to go faster.

"Ah, you take me so well." He hissed out, starring down at you with an almost obsessive gaze. "Gimme a second, baby, I needa minute, shit-s'feels sooooo good." He slouches into you, body shaky.

Your breathing is unsteady as he presses into the back of your cervix, poking through your belly. "Ah y'know, you're my first baby, saved myself all for you. All for this moment—" His words slewed together in a stupor, bucking slightly into you. Your eyes widen as you're about to comment, but he stops you with one quick ram of his hips, your head lolling back, mouth dangling open. The dude's fucking huge, hot as all hell, and you're the one who popped his cherry?

You feed into each other as he picks up his pace, clinging to you like a second skin, hips ramming into you with a speed that seemed unreal. Each thrust splitting you open like the very first, you just couldn't get used to him. He moans loudly into your ear, breathing becoming more and more labored as he reaches down to play with your clit.

"A-Ah shit—fuck, I'm gonna cum," his voice frustrated, wanting to last all night with you, but your tight cunt deemed otherwise. His fingers dug deeper into your skin, large welts already forming, "shit-shit, aah fuuuuckk-" spilling his load deep inside your womb, head pulled back, blissed out, twitching into you.

You can't help the way your mind stills, he pumped you full—theres so much, that his gooey cum spills out around the edges, trailing down between your crack, "aah shit baby." He seemed embarrassed, a flushed look on his face as he looked away and back shyly.

He thrust back in, his eyes locked on the way his cum oozed out around him, letting out his own whine. Your breathing stutters when he pushed back inside, your abused cervix aching. You hadn't cum, but damn were you close, and damn if you weren't sore. He rubs your nub again, feeling you clench around him, letting out a hiss, clearly overstimulated.

"You're losin' so much, wifey, how're you ever gonna be full when you're so wasteful," his eyes never leave your cunt, as he swirls his thumb over your clit, as you're left clawing to get away from him, the obsessed focus on your clit just too much. But you're still pinned. And he's still not done yet.

"S'ok baby, 'll give you more, yea?" He's mumbling the words, lost in the meal spread out in front of him. "Want you to cum all over my cock this time. Think you can do that for me?" He doesn't wait for a response as he's hardening up once again, and you think his stamina is fucking impeccable. His own words, nasty for a beginner, but only serving to egg him on.

Once again he's picking back the brutal pace, his cum mixing with the thin pool of your syrupy slick, the loud squelches back in full force. He's lost again, his head buried in your neck now, leaving large dark purple hickies, a hand clenching that back of your neck, devouring you like a fucking rotisserie chicken. You do him one better, your claws sinking deep into his back, each thrust blanking your mind as his fingers continue at your clit.

He angles his dick upwards—just slightly, grazing that upper spot that has you seeing stars, you're pants come out frantic now, pussy clamping, so so close to release. "Cum for me baby? Gonna coat this cock? Mark me up, baby—mark up your husband—" His words have you finishing, an electric current zapping through you, leaving you lit like a live wire. His fingers are punishing, a reminder of his words, his words a reminder of your place in his life, and you find yourself over-satiated.

Squirming to get him to stop, then begging when it he ignored it. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, his thrusts seeking his second release into your tight little pussy, your little begs only speeding him up as he let out another guttural moan, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, no doubt breaking skin. His cum, hot, burning—as you gushed around him, your pussy pulsating at every movement. His heaving never let up as he kept himself buried deep inside of you.

"Fuck, I love you so much."

come home

[floatyflowers]

Platonic Father! Sauron/ Halbrand/Annatar x Daughter! Reader

You are the daughter of Sauron, and nobody knows that except for a few, Morgoth and his servants.

Honestly, nobody knows how Sauron came to have a child of his own, nor do you even know how you are his blood child, fully from his specie none the less.

When Morgoth is backstabbed by Sauron, you thought you didn't have to be afraid of evil scheming anymore.

But no, Sauron had other plans, he wants to take the place of Morgoth.

This is why you ran away without looking back.

And you ended up with Celebrimbor who took you in and treated you as his daughter, allowing you to call him 'Ada' without knowing that you are related to Sauron

You are disguised in another form so nobody recognizes you.

You chose to start a new life, and Celebrimbor is the perfect match.

Everything was peaceful, until Halbrand or rather Annatar entered your lives and decided to manipulate Celebrimbor.

You felt extremely uncomfortable with him around, despite being unaware that he is your father in disguise.

Sauron was amused at how you didn't recognize disguised as Halbrand or Annatar, even though he immediately knew you.

Afterall, you are a part of him, body and soul.

"Annatar, you have lied to my father!"

"Your father? You truly have forgetten that you were created in my image, that I'm your real father who knows you best, my child"

[envy-of-the-apple]

Dark! Gojo Satoru x reader (Soulmate Au blurb)

(warnings: dark content, implied kidnapping, implied noncon, masochism)

I really like the idea of soulmates in the JJK world. They're rare, but the reason why they're so coveted is because they are the only person in the world who is immune to their soulmate's cursed technique. 

Being Gojo's soulmate would be like hitting the jackpot, at first. You're a regular person, with no cursed energy. Maybe you and Satoru's hands bump into each other while you're at a cafe, grabbing your respective drinks. To you, it's just an accident. You apologize, make your way out. 

To him, it's like submerging himself into an ice bath. For the first time in years, someone had gotten past his limitless technique. It was so unexpected, and real, and so warm.

Your hands were warm. 

It's the thrill of it that gets him first. The unexpected. No one's ever come close to him. He is the summit of the mountain. The strongest. And yet, there you were, effortlessly able to bypass his barriers without even trying. With women, with Geto, he'd always have to turn his technique off. He'd have to let them do something to him. You could do anything to him, and his powers wouldn't even stop you. You could kick him, punch him, bite him. Anything you wanted, and for once, he'd be powerless to stop you.

He can't detect you with his six eyes. It makes the hunt even better when he catches up to you. It's days of stalking and harassment and the touching that finally makes you snap and slap him. 

It hurts. 

It hurts and he fucking loves it. 

He already made up his mind days ago, but this only cemented it. When he finally takes you home, to his bed, it's euphoric. You scratch and bite and scream and hurt him over and over again. Hours later, when you've passed out from sheer exhaustion, he has more bruises than you do. They'll fade eventually, but that's okay. 

You could always make more. 

[khloxxy]

🇷🇺🇺🇲

[esthercore]

Cw: Mild Dacryphilia, Gn Reader! Oral, Size kink, dom/sub, a bit non-withdrawable consent if you squint, user has a crush on Capitano, power play

Telling you, I won't slow down, won't slow down Girl, you gotta know right now, there's no way out Imma pull the trigger off And imma let these bullets talk

Capitano glared down at the little soldier in training standing in front of him, their eyes red from crying so hard, cheeks and nose flushed too, the makeshift tent filled with the noise of their sobs.

"Tears will do you no favor, this is the outcome of your own incompetency," he said, yet the way his pants tighten around him crotch by the sound of your pathetic noises.

Silly thing trying fight off some treasure hoarders who tried to meddle with the fatui cargo you were help shipping, only to ruin the supplies yourself, by falling over them. Your posture all wrong, can't even hold a sword properly, yet tried to be a hero just for his attention.

And you did get his attention, alright, especially from his dick who takes a special interest how perfect you look, especially when crying.

"Why not make up to me then, cadet?"

"Ho-"

His finger laid against your lips shushing you, so gentle, as he leaned down so that your forehead can touch the cold metal of his helmet, his hand cupping your face, lightly brushing away the tear stains, "Just be a good doll for me"

His hand patted your head lightly before lightly pushing you down, guiding you to your knees, leaning a bit back, his torso moving ahead, so his clothed dick rub against your face.

Looking up at him for approval, you gained a strong tap on your chin, "Hands on knees, no more waiting." So you followed, hands pressed down, lowering his zipper with your teeth, only to be greeted by the unholiest length in Tevyat, gasping out loud. His pretty uncut cock very thick, and long, veins all visible and the slight up tilt on the tip, oozing out trickles of pre cum on your parted lips.

Tired of your slow pace, he positioned hi hand on the back of your head, pushing it on his cock, making you gag at the sudden intrusion in your throat, causing you to slap his thigs as a reflex, eyes watering again, earning a sharp pull on your hair, forcing his cock deeper in your throat.

"If you can't be useful if the field might as well use your pretty body for something." God how he loved they tears rolling down your cheeks, "Don't act like you haven't been dreaming about this for month, I'm not blind if you aren't aware."

Silly thing want to crush on him? He had all the rumors about you moaning his name in your nightly 'self-care', they way you look at him like he's a god, they way you are unable to not blush around him. A warrior must be observant after all, he notice the way your body moves, how pretty you look while doing anything and everything, how much you are not suitable for the cruel battle grounds, how desperately you need someone to take care of you.

How suitable you are to stand alongside him in public, and how pretty below him in bed, all his to indulge in.

Well if you want him so bad then get ready to be the best cocksleeve in Tevyat and he happily be yours for the eternity, no take backs.

Wrote this honor of him invading my dreams last night, hoping he come or cum back.

[angelyuji]

…you can see i have a favorite twin

tw // kidnapping, power imbalance, implied noncon in stan’s part, yandere themes

18+ :)

yandere ford where hes hyper paranoid and freaked out about bill coming back, so he kidnaps you and keeps you trapped in the shack/basement of the shack. the kids and stan know hes being crazy, but “grunkle ford is just worried and scared for u and he really really needs you” so they let him keep you. ☹️☹️

yandere stan who abuses his role as boss at the mystery shack to make u do whatever he asks. especially since wendys in college and the kids are in california, no ones around to stop him or help you. soos thinks the world of stan, so he’s not going to believe you. buying you a tight, short uniform, making you come in early and close late, he’ll call you into his office just to tell you to pick something up of the floor for him, slowly leading up to him bending you over on his desk and teaching you exactly how to treat your oh-so-kind boss☺️☺️

[sugurouge]

— diabolic waltz : getō suguru x f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, dubcon/noncon, yandere themes, size difference, strength difference, corruption, power dynamics/imbalance (reader refers to geto as master), pet names (doll, whore, toy, bunny, little one), hair pulling, water torture/forced drowning/waterboarding, punishment, deep throating, mind break, degradation

summary: You should know better than to behave greedy or entitled, but if he so sweetly entices you to misbehave, even the impeding punishment doesn't stop you from taking what you need. Until it's time to pay up. And Getō makes sure you always pay your debts.

wordcount: 2k | my kinktober masterlist

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.

Geto rests comfortably in his armchair, dark purple eyes rake over your needy body—only hidden beneath a layer of satin. With you in his lap, there is at least a sort of solace to his tiresome days. He likes to view you as a sick way of rewarding himself, his prize for making it through another 24 hours. Hence why you're always kept on display whenever it's just the two of you. Him and his property, the weak human that somehow won his twisted interest. Nothing more than eye candy for him. You're so pretty until you turn needy and start talking too much.

"Master, please—" you start your advances all over again. Ever so prettily as your nails drag over Geto's exposed chest; you have long since pushed aside the layers of his attire.

Geto heaves a heavy sigh. It's his first indicator for you to shut your pretty mouth before he sends curses your way. Yet, simultaneously, he can't resist the torture; cannot keep his right leg from bouncing to cause friction against your puffy lips. Teasing you further to hear more whimpers instead of your actual voice.

Your hands press against his body as you try to control the bouncing, but the friction created by your dress brushing against your nipples makes it impossible to form coherent or cautious thoughts. Your legs clench around Geto's muscular thigh, attempting to maintain the pleasurable feeling.

"You really wish to bother me like that right now?" His dangerously low voice challenges. Suguru is well aware that he is the cause of your distress, but would he ever admit that? Not in a million lifetimes.

You know full well what will happen if you say yes, how your day will turn out if you give in to your own neediness when your master isn't the one to initiate. Your glossy orbs beg him without another word spilling from your lips as you nod.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. You're just so dumb; how could he not adore you? The minor tilt of his head gives you the okay to shed your dress, to expose your perfectly clean body to his eyes. It's one of his priorities, to always have his doll look prim and proper. Soft and dewy skin, rose oil spoiling your figure to make it shine in the low afternoon light and envelop you in faux innocence for him to ruin.

You sink down to your knees right between his legs, your delicate fingers running over his muscular thighs up to his stomach, but the "tsk" coming from Geto's lips has you freeze immediately. Doe eyes look up at his intimidating stare, while his entire face remains stoic—almost bored, as he rests his cheek in one of his palms.

"Hand or thigh, no cock," he bluntly states.

You try to suppress the whine rising in your throat, try not to furrow your brows at his statement.

"Well, what will it be, bunny?"

He doesn't actually ask. Geto simply enjoys oversaturating your lusty mind with difficult decisions. You're always so afraid he will leave you.

"Hand, please, please," you bat your lashes at him even though you're painfully aware of how little effect it has on him. Yet he pats his thigh, indicating for you to sit on his lap once again. Your body follows suit.

"Any other wishes?" Narrowed eyes stare at you, they make you feel small and vulnerable as his hand dances along your thigh, drawing close to your needy pussy.

Your eyes snap down to his dishevelled clothes, raking over the layers of fabric that hide his perfect body from your gaze and touch.

You inhale sharply the moment his fingers snap you out of your thoughts, penetrating your walls deeply without warning and immediately curling against your clamping muscles. Yes, Geto might be okay with listening to your begs once in a while, but his pleasure lies in overwhelming your pathetic body, not preparing you softly.

Your head lolls back, fingers holding onto his shoulders, though they twitch to run through his black strands. You are well aware of the fact that he'd never let you ruin his hair.

Soft moans spill from your parted lips. He taught you to stay quiet, to not ruin his image of you—his sweet doll.

Yet the feeling is too good. The way his fingers stretch your cunt, your slick dripping down over his digits and palm. Your hips roll against his hand, pretty whines causing your chest to heave so perfectly for Geto to enjoy the sight of your tits.

He adds a third finger with ease and uses his thumb to draw intricate patterns on your clit, applying more pressure on the nub once he feels you tighten around him. "Such a needy whore..." he mumbles impassively.

But his cold voice, the boredom laced in his words mixed with his brutal ministrations, are exactly what you've grown to love from your master. It's so clear that you're doing something wrong, that you're messing up his perfect routine—but you just can't help it.

Your whines grow louder, small fingers now gripping onto his wrist as the coil in your stomach tightens further and further before it explodes. You fall forward, against Geto's chest, covering his neck area with moans, tears, and sweat as you gush all over his hand and dirty his robes.

Goosebumps run over your heavenly skin, clearly proving how overwhelmingly good he can make you cum with just his hand by now.

"Disgusting..."

You flinch slightly at that, eyes squeezing shut from just one word coming from Geto. He pulls his hand out of your tight cavern, your slick clearly coating his skin as a scowl spreads on his face. "You enjoy this? Staining me with your slutty needs?"

You create some distance between your bodies, shamefully staring at his hand before your eyes trail over his tainted clothes. You didn't plan on this happening, didn't plan to make such a mess, especially not over him, but why does he have to be this good?

Being a disappointment still has the same effect on you as it did from the start, causing tears to spill from your eyes as your body starts to shiver. "'M sorry, I didn’t—I wanted—"

"Time for a bath, no?" he sighs and gets up, pushing your smaller body off his lap with little care as disgust is clearly painted on his features.

Your butt meets the hardwood flooring and you try frantically to stop the tears from running down your face. Pleading ever-so sweetly with a shaky voice for your "Master..." to have mercy.

The clacking of his shoes stops the moment he stands beside your body once again. Long fingers card through your locks before he kneels beside you and tugs at your roots.

"How much longer are you going to make me wait, little one, hm?"

The sting on your scalp rips you out of your struggling mind; it forces you to rely on your instincts if you want to get out of this unscathed tonight. "Forgive me," you whisper.

So incredibly cute.

Geto takes a deep breath, eyes running over your body as he hums. "Five minutes."

You nod in perfect understanding and immediately grab your gown before hurrying over to the bathroom.

Aftercare is important, he always tells you. And aftercare you shall give him.

So you let water fill the spacious bathtub, let the most expensive bubble bath fill the room with a soothing scent as you light candles to set the mood and welcome Suguru in.

You stand in front of his large frame, looking up at his face to grant you permission to undress him, carefully undoing the ties of his gown before letting the heavy garments hit the floor. You will wash them as well.

Only his briefs aren't yours to touch as he walks past you and finishes undressing himself before he sinks into the warm bathwater.

You watch him the entire time—how he leans back against the expensive porcelain of the tub, arms resting around the rim—looking oh so inviting. His eyes meet your gaze, appreciating your obedient state as he slightly tilts his head to make your body move.

You follow his silent order, going down on your knees right behind his back, cool fingertips carefully reaching out to lie on his tensed back.

The stark difference in temperature makes Geto hiss in annoyance, slightly flinching out of your reach as he glares over his shoulder. You are quick now to rub your hands together, mumbling your apologies before trying to touch him once again.

Small fingers soothe his skin, spoiling his muscles. You always start with his shoulders, using a sponge to have the warm water coat his exposed back and chest, massaging the well-trained area until his breathing calms down and little groans escape his throat.

Only then do you move on to kneel next to him, carefully admiring his relaxed features—he looks almost angelic. So calm, almost innocent.

Until his eyes meet yours and he holds out his hand to you. The exact hand he used to make you cum and that was tainted with your juices.

You focus on it, carefully massaging his fingers and ‘cleaning’ him further. "Good little doll..." Suguru breathes his praise out between his soft lips. It's usually the only compliment you receive, so you make sure to savour it.

You smile gently and finish up your care of his hand until he takes it out of your hold. He brushes your hair out of your face, leading his hand to reach around the back of your neck as you bend over the bathtub, nails digging painfully into your scalp while being pulled forward to be met with the bathwater.

You squeeze your eyes shut immediately, trying desperately to keep your lips sealed as you're pushed beneath the surface. Your nails grab onto the porcelain of the tub, weak muscles trying desperately to stop him from shoving you down further, but it's to no avail. He's much stronger than you'll ever be.

Geto lifts your head back up out of the water, and you suck the air back into your lungs—which quickly mixes with the bathwater as he dunks your head down again.

Your screaming is drowned by the transparent liquid all around you.

It becomes a loop—the pain of him tugging at your roots, being met with the cold air of the bathroom before he pushes you down again.

It becomes a loop—the pain of him tugging at your roots, the cold air of the bathroom meeting your skin before he pushes you down again. Your mind loses focus, your fight grows mellow until he pushes his erect cock between your lips. It jolts you back awake. Not only are you drowning in the water, but you also have his thick shaft infiltrating your mouth. Tears mix with the water, nails digging into his abs and thighs as your attempts to scream vibrate along his cock.

Geto groans. His eyes roll into their sockets as he completely relishes the feeling of your convulsing throat around his member—all while in the comfort of his bathtub. But he has to stop. Sadly, at some point, he remembers you’re not actually a doll. Your body grows slack, and the struggling of your throat diminishes.

Only then does he pull your head out of the water, letting your body slump over the edge of the tub as he slaps your cheeks until you wake up. Your head pounds as you choke up water; it almost feels like someone is ripping your lungs apart.

“Stupid toy…” Geto mumbles, already dragging your head down and forward again.

“No, no, please, not again!” you frantically plead, and he stops—stops right before the surface of the water meets the tip of your nose.

“Why not? I made you cum how you wanted to as well, didn’t I?” he analytically proclaims. “Now suck like I taught you.”

The sting of the water is maddening; only the stretch of his cock against the back of your mouth inflicts more pain upon your body as he guides you up and down with water infiltrating your lungs.

It all becomes a blur in the end, and it’s hard to tell what is real and what a bad dream when you wake up the next morning in your soft king-sized bed, dressed in one of his favourite baby dolls, and his strong arms around you.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!SAGAU x Secret!Creator!Reader Part 2.5

Short Summary: After encountering a group of hilichurls on your way to Inazuma, you discover the benefits that come with being the creator of Teyvat. (i couldn’t sleep so i decided to keep my flow of thoughts going.)

characters: Xiao

warning(s): blood, violence, heart attack, ooc characters, xiao being weird

Previous | Next

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

You’re on your way to the harbor, pushing Grandpa Fuyi in his wheelchair. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you put a bit more force in pushing him. The two of you travel on the outskirts of the town away from the dirt path that leads to the main town.

Not long ago, a deep feeling told you that if you were to enter through the main town you’d definitely run into Zhongli. Just the thought of it sent shivers down your spine. To avoid being seen, you decided to take a detour.

As you’re walking, you see a group of hilichurls resting with their weapons laid by their side. You slow your pace, being very careful with your movements…but as your eyes scan the area, you feel your heart drop in your chest. Not far from the group of hilichurls, you see the large figure resting against a tree beside them… a mitachurl.

It’s your first time ever coming across one and even from a distance away you can tell how large they really are. Their size in real life is incomparable to the size you’ve seen on your screen. The sheer size of the monster makes you freeze in your tracks. Sweaty hands tightening on the handles of Grandpa Fuyi’s wheelchair, you slowly begin to back away. However, the squeak of the wheels, albeit quiet, is enough to wake them.

They, jump up, alert. Their eyes immediately turn to the two of you, snarls echoing into the air. The mitachurl wakes as well, the ground shaking as it jumps up. Their loud roars wake Grandpa Fuyi up. He realizes the situation you are in and you can feel how hard he’s shaking through the handles of the wheel chair. You too, are filled with terror, not only in fear of your life but for Grandpa Fuyi’s.

Despite his fear, he yells at you.

“R..Run… run away!” His voice finally snaps you out of your trance and you quickly begin to wheel him away as fast as you can. But your pace isn’t fast enough and Grandpa Fuyi knows this as well.

“Child… leave me…”

Your eyes widen and when you process his words, a tear falls from down your cheek. The glittering crystal falls to the ground as you continue running.

“No!” you tell him. Your voice is shaky, a stark difference to Grandpa Fuyi’s which is surprisingly steady. It’s as if he’s accepted his fate.

“It’s alright… I’ve lived long en-“ you interrupt him immediately.

“Are you insane?!”

You keep on running. You hear a low hiss in the air and you stumble, cursing when you feel a sharp pain in your back. You head twists, glancing down behind you to see golden blood dripping from your clothing and an arrow sticking out from your lower back.

Your pace slows from the pain, sweat dripping down your face. You can hear the footsteps grow louder and the ground shakes heavily from the mitachurl’s stomps. A slight turn of the head tells you that it’s too late to run as the mitachurl has caught up.

Unable to run any longer, the gears in your head turn fast as you think of way to get out of the situation. The mitachurl is only a few feet away from you, your body now filled with adrenaline.

The mitachurl swings his club, you can feel the wind as it comes down towards the two of you. As a last attempt to protect him, you shield Grandpa Fuyi with your hands up, hoping to take the majority of the blow.

Just as you feel the club collide with your arm, a golden light blinds you. The light clears and all of a sudden you see the monsters launched away from you, slamming into the ground, their bodies slowly disappearing.

Who… who saved us?

Your eyes scan the surrounding area for your hero, until you realize that it’s only you and Grandpa Fuyi. Realization sets in and you stare at your hands in shock.

Did I… was it me?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Granda Fuyi gasping. You turn to see him grasping at his chest. It seems like the weight of the situation finally weighed down on him as his face is scrunched up in pain.

“My chest…” you kneel by his side, eyes wide. You panic once more, not knowing what to do. He’s having a heart attack.

Amongst your racing thoughts, an idea flashes in your head.

I-I’m the creator, you think.

You stare at your hands before placing them on his chest. A few seconds pass and nothing happens. Grandpa Fuyi’s groans of pain continue, frail hands clawing at your hands on his chest.

Your pillar, the one person to help you, is dying and you can’t do anything about it. Your hands shake, tears falling down. The tears harden into crystals, some bouncing off onto the floor, the others piling onto his legs as you lean over him. Grandpa Fuyi is too dizzy from the intense pain that he doesn’t even notice.

The time you spent together flashes through your head. You think of the times he helped you, the times he stayed awake late at night to comfort you when you couldn’t sleep from the fear of unfamiliarity. His kind smile and his corny jokes that took you a while to even understand.

As you’re lost in your thoughts with your crystal tears still steaming, a small light suddenly flashes from where your hands are placed against his chest. Letting out a gasp, you wait for the light to die down.

Grandpa Fuyi begins to relax and his eyes flutter shut. Your heart drops in your chest. It isn’t until you hear the soft sounds of his breathing that you realize he’s fine. You let out a cry of relief, resting your head on his knee.

Finally, you start to calm down and your breathing evens out. However, as the adrenaline leaves your body, the pain starts to sink in. You reach for your back, flinching as you feel the wooden arrow stick out. You curse, unsure of what to do. You know if you pull it out, blood will rush out like a champagne bottle with the cork popped off… but if you try and get help, your identity as the creator will be revealed.

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you open them and grab a shirt from your bag. You rip the shirt into strips and roll up one of the strips into ball. With a deep exhale, you reach for the arrow, hoping for the best. Your hands pause, scared of the pain that is soon to come. However, with no other options, you force yourself to build up courage.

Finally, you rip it out, the pain of your skin tearing causing you to cry out. You can feel the blood pour out of you so you quickly press the cloth ball to your back and apply pressure to the wound. You wince and bite your lip to silence the scream you want to let out. Using the other strips from the ripped up shirt, you clumsily wrap the wound as best you can.

Finally finished, you let out a sigh, the pain still radiating from your body. After a bit, you realize you’re still out in the open with the sun almost completely set. The danger starts to sink in again, so you stand up, ignoring the pain. You wipe your hands, thankful for your black clothes that hide the golden blood stains before rushing Grandpa Fuyi to the harbor. As you rush, you forget to clean up the crystal tears and puddle of golden blood you left behind from the disaster you just experienced.

Filled with desperation and the need to leave Liyue, you don’t notice the figure standing on a hill not far from you, watching as you leave.

—

Xiao was doing his nightly rounds when he heard the echoing stomps of a mitachurl. He quickly rushed over to the danger, spear grasped tightly in his hand.

He arrived just as the mitachurl attacked you. Xiao cursed, seeing the mitachurl’s club collide with your arm, thinking he’s too late.

However, he’s shocked by the golden light that erupts from your form, knocking back the monsters and destroying them with a bright flash.

Xiao’s feet are locked in place as he finally takes a good look at you. At the golden liquid that seeps from your body and the crystal tears that pile on the ground. His heart is pounding in his chest so hard, he swears he can hear it.

Is he hallucinating?

He’s trying to make sense of what he saw but by the time his racing thoughts slow down, you’re gone.

Dazed and unsure of reality, he slowly shuffles over to the place you were just at, the scent of blood growing stronger as he draws near. Xiao drops to his knees beside the puddle of blood and tears. His hands shakily touch the heap you left behind. A choked gasp leaves his mouth as looks at the warm, golden liquid on his hands. Just by touching it, Xiao feels like his karmic debt has somehow lessened just a bit.

It’s you… it’s really you…

He’s delirious, unable to control his actions as his hands scoop up more of your blood, bringing it close to his face as if he wants to cover himself with the proof of your existence.

Xiao wrestles back his self control and his rationality returns. Though he’s able to calm down, the need to see you remains. Xiao jumps up to his feet, ready to chase after you but he stops in place.

What would he say to you?

That he knows you’re the creator?

What would you think of him?

Surely you’d be disappointed with him for not coming in time to stop you from getting hurt. Xiao doesn’t think he can handle it if he saw you stare at him with disappointment. Just the thought of it makes his heart clench.

Although he’s reluctant, he fights the urge to follow you. It takes a while and several deep breaths but he’s able to tame his impulsiveness. Now, somewhat calm, he bends over to collect your tears, very carefully placing them in his pocket like they’re his most prized possession. After collecting your tears, Xiao leaves, intending to share the news of your arrival with the other adepti.

—

You arrive at the harbor, breathing heavily. Grandpa Fuyi is still fast asleep. With a slight limp from the pain, you go around asking each of the ship members which boat you can take to Inazuma. However, each of the ship members give you the same answer.

The only ship leaving for Inazuma is the Crux. Despite it be being black, your clothes are still soaked with golden blood. You’re unsure if you can handle the chance of meeting both Beidou and Kazuha without them noticing anything. You want to give up but the radiating pain from your wound fills you with a sense of urgency that forces you to accept.

That’s how you find yourself in the lowest deck of the Crux, surrounded by sleeping ship members. Grandpa Fuyi lays on a cot by your side, not once waking up from his deep sleep.

You wait for a while, making sure every one is asleep before heading to the small bathroom. There, you take the time to thoroughly tend to your wound as well as wash out the golden blood from your clothes. As the last of it slips down the drain, you stare at yourself in the mirror, thinking back to all of the events that occurred.

You start to wonder, what other powers do you have?

You decide to experiment. Thinking back to aspects of the game, your thoughts land on one of the most useful devices… waypoints. The traveler is able to use waypoints to go anywhere they want in Teyvat. Deciding to put your powers to the test, you think of a place you want to go to. You rule out Inazuma, since the Crux is already on its way there.

Still unsure of any limits you may have to your powers, you decide on somewhere nearby, hoping that if it does work, you’ll still have enough juice to teleport back. Although you feel a bit wary on entering Liyue again, there’s a part of you that doubts the teleportation would even work.

This doubt allows you to close your eyes and concentrate. Your mind forms the image in your head and you feel a sudden rush of power. When you open your eyes, you’re exactly where you imagined, inside the Wangshu Inn.

You smile widely, excited over having discovered a very useful power.

“Y… Your grace,” a voice full of wonder calls out to you from behind. Your head snaps to the side, all excitement draining just as quickly as it came.

Xiao’s yellow eyes are wet as if he’s about to cry. A loud thud reaches your ears as he drops onto his knees in front of you. Ever since he saw you, your image was constantly on his mind. Because of your sudden appearance, he thinks that truly heard him, his desire to see you so deep that you decided to answer his prayers. His eyes are filled with an intense admiration and a twisted sense of worship.

“I-I… It’s an honor-“

“Fuck.”

Previous | Next

[mellowwillowy]

Your boyfriend had always been charming with how easygoing he was toward everyone. That was what drew you to the younger man, he knew which buttons to press to impress you a tad too well.

Everyone envied you. You were just a nobody while your boyfriend was an everything. A rich sole heir from a prestigious family which you weren't aware of until it was two years into the relationship. He might be testing you or whatever but the result proved to be satisfying when he learned that you were someone far from the shallowness he had been seeing. You did not measure him by his competency and wealth, you measured him by his compatibility with you.

You were a fresh breath for him who had been living a suffocating life for 25 years, bound by decisions that were made by his family.

You were something he could finally obtain by his own hands, his own decision, and something he could finally be obsessed with. It wasn't a fleeting obsession like an attraction toward a trending band. It was far from it. It was an addiction, a drug injected into his vein. And you would never notice it until it was too late for you. Cillian was a man far from your ideal but he could mold himself just to be your boyfriend. He would play pretend to be a funny man who just went on his harmless whims and your dictations. He knew he hated his family's dictations on his life but you?

He was just playing along. You were far from the terror his family gave him for all these years alive. But he wouldn't let you know to protect that one fragile pride you could only rely on.

... He was starting to sound like your best friend...

For someone who had reached their late 20s, you never expected to date someone who had just reached their mid-20s. A charming, handsome man who loved to crack countless jokes just to see you smile. Romance didn't suit you. You had always thought you'd live until the 50s single while working endlessly for a hopeful retirement.

But everything changed the moment you dated him. You'd lead a domestic life together where the two of you would work together for a future you had carefully planned.

"I think you might graduate in 1998 so how about we get married after you get your doctorate?" Cillian asked you tenderly as he eyed your occupied ring finger, measuring your finger size while also disdainfully tugging on the silver ring your best friend gave you as a bridesmaid gift.

"That sounds just right to me, it might be too late for me already but it's a perfect age for you to marry me."

Cillian was five years younger than you and he would be 28 by the time you two got married. You didn't care about people's opinions. Their snickers did not determine your choice of life.

Cillian pulled your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes closed while he ran his mouth about how much he loved you. About how much he couldn't wait for the future where the two of you were bound by the wedding vow and rings, as one.

"I'd never leave you. We are meant to be one." he mumbled as he intertwined your hand with his, "... I will find a way to have you close to me forever."

You cocked your eyebrow at his words but said nothing in response, shrugging it off as some melodramatic profession of love until it finally hit you that he meant it. Four years into the relationship, he decided to break it off because he was called back home to marry a woman of his family's choice. It was exactly one year before the two of you were supposed to marry each other and yet he selfishly ended it.

He was the one who professed his love the most yet he was also the one who ruined it. He ruined everything, your life plan and schedule all burned down just like how you burned the wedding invitation. He'd pay for the flight ticket from America to France and cover all the commodities because that was all he could do to see you again.

He could never pay you back for what he had done to make you suffer. The year wasted on college leave, the hospital and psychiatrist bill to mend your broken dream and mental and the life schedule you had planned before you even met him; he could never fix it back.

"Because the only thing you have is your stupid wealth and stupid power scandal with everyone around me, destroying bits of my life!"

The man dared to see you personally in your home country. It was 1999, a year after his marriage and a few months after you graduated. Everything had been a living hell ever since you two broke up. Your education journey went into a downfall along with your career dream as a perfumer and now he proudly destroyed your career as a professor as well.

All in exchange for you to become his secret lover and move to France together with him yet he worded it as though this was more of an opportunity for you to finally be a professor in one of France's prestigious universities.

"... I will find a way to have you close to me forever."

Cillian had always been a charming young man but all you saw now was the sight of a faceless monster who tore your future apart out of his idealism with love.

He knew he was no different than you. The two of you were a match made in hell and now you had to live in hell itself.

Reference: Episode 5.0 and 5.5 from Power Scandal

[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[floatyflowers]

Part two of Dark! Sauron X Celebrimor's Daughter! Reader.

I really want to know about the baby and surely Sauron will bind her with some spell or something so that she doesn't give him away or do anything, Sauron is undoubtedly one of the characters with the most yandere potential.

Part 1

You kept your pregnancy hidden from your father, and it was an easy task as Celebrimbor is focusing all his attention on the rings.

And you stayed most of your days in your chambers surrounded by a few trusted servants who would keep your pregnancy a secret.

Of course, Sauron is the one who manipulated them to ensure you have a safe delivery.

The problem with pregnancy is that it is spiritually painful for an elf woman as it can last from one year up to 108 years, however you are not a full elleth.

You are half-human half-elf, meaning you will take only nine months to give birth, yet it's still a hard experience.

Your mother left you and your father after giving birth, she suffered severe depression.

Apparently, that's one of the reasons why Celebrimbor doesn't trust humans.

You, on the other hand, don't hate your mother for leaving, however, you want your child to grow up with you by their side.

Sauron, took advantage of your state and implanted happy visions in your mind of you, him, and the baby which is a daughter.

Annatar would come to your bed at the end of the day, only to place his hand on your growing bump, feeling satisfaction that his plan is going well.

But deep down, you knew that it was him trying to manipulate you.

However, it brought you a great sense of comfort even if you despised your baby's father.

It's quite unfortunate that your water broke when the orcs decided to attack your land, Eregion.

"Where is my father, Annatar?" you demanded, refusing to give birth in such horrible circumstances.

"Focus on birthing our daughter, and don't worry yourself, my dear"

Sensing your panic, Sauron begins muttering a few words, using magic to calm you down.

However, instead, you block him out and begin weeping.

You would rather you and your child die then face the horrid war.

"I need to speak with my father, now!" you exclaim, holding your stomach in pain.

Sauron decided on invading your mind to order you, using his deep frightening voice.

His true nature has finally shown itself, and it's too scary for you to disobey or even rebel against.

All you could see in your mind is a figure made of fire, speaking to you.

"If our child does not survive, I will ensure that your father and everyone you know face suffering. Tell me, is that a fate you desire for them, my pet?"

The servants watch in confusion as you shake your head at Annatar before starting to push.

"When I return, I expect to see you holding our daughter"

And like that, Sauron takes his leave to see to Adar's army.

Part 3

[erisv7]

The Female Lead In a Yandere Harem Game

The Imperial Chronicle

Issue 157 | Year of the Tiger, 12th Moon Cycle

SCANDAL IN THE PALACE: THE EMPEROR BRINGS DISGRACE WITH A CONCUBINE

The lady glanced over the scandalous news once more. Her lips curling into a wry smile. Despite the insult of her husband's betrayal, she maintained indifferent. She carried herself with dignity, as if the scandal is unworthy of her concern.

"So, you're the concubine he picked."

The empress's voice was smooth, almost sweet. As she lounged back in her seat. With deliberate ease, she pressed the heel of her jeweled slipper onto the concubine's shoulder. A mockery of affection that carried the weight of her disdain.

[Name] knelt frozen, her mind racing. How had it come to this? She had never sought the Emperor's attention, nor wished to be dragged into the chaos of court life. Yet here she was, the plaything of power, caught in a game she had no hand in starting.

The empress tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "I suppose even a pawn can be amusing." She mused, pressing down slightly harder. [Name] remained silent, her shame swallowed by a quiet resignation. It wasn’t defiance. Only the hollow understanding that her fate had never truly been her own.

"Do you know why he took you as a concubine?" The empress drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. She leaned closer, her piercing gaze slicing through [Name]'s composure. "It wasn’t for your charm, your wit, or even your beauty. No, it was for me."

[Name]’s breath caught, her confusion plain. The empress’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she continued.

"He chose you because I instructed him to. A quiet girl from an unremarkable family. I have no taste for men. Their arrogance, their fumbling desires. I find it all... distasteful. Women, though," She said, her fingers lightly brushing [Name]’s cheek. "Women are art. And you, my dear, are here because I wanted you."

[Name]’s mind reeled. She hadn’t chosen this life, hadn’t asked for any of it. Now she realized she wasn’t even the Emperor’s plaything. She was the empress’s pawn.

The empress reached out, tracing a cold finger along [Name]’s jaw. "How does it feel, knowing your purpose was never yours to decide?" She whispered, her tone held cruelty and amusement. [Name] lowered her eyes, swallowing her bitterness. What could she say? This, too, was out of her hands.

"Prove your worth," the empress commanded, her voice low and smooth. Yet laced with a threat. She turned on her heel, not waiting for an answer. "To my bedchamber."

[Name] followed in silence, her footsteps heavy with resignation. The gilded doors closed behind them, sealing her fate yet again.

Later, the empress stepped out into the cool night. The air fragrant with blooming jasmine. She walked slowly through the palace gardens, her demeanor serene. Yet her mind sharp with satisfaction. The night was hers, her control absolute.

Meanwhile, [Name] lay on the silken sheets. Staring blankly at the ornate ceiling. Her thoughts spiraled into absurdity as she tried to make sense of her life.

She was the protagonist of a game. The female lead, ensnared in a world where everyone’s desires revolved around her. Pulling her into their obsessions.

She stared at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror. Searching for the girl she used to be. Instead, she saw the character they had cast her as. An object of obsession in a game she never chose to play.

[Name]’s mind wandered through the faces of those who seemed hopelessly drawn to her. Their obsessions suffocating and relentless. Each one brought with them a peculiar brand of madness that tightened the web around her.

The Emperor

Beneath his regal demeanor was a possessive man who saw [Name] as the perfect jewel in his collection. His love was stifling, expressed through gilded cages and lavish displays. He watched her every move, ordering his spies to report on her daily activities. If she so much as smiled at another man, that person would vanish. His existence erased by the Emperor’s silent wrath.

The Empress

Her obsession was colder, sharper, like the edge of a blade. The empress viewed [Name] as her personal possession. A treasure she refused to share. She would isolate her, ensuring no one else could bask in her light. The empress's punishments were subtle but devastating: restricting [Name]’s movements, destroying her friendships, and whispering poison into her ears to make her doubt herself.

The Knight

The palace knight. Stoic and loyal, was consumed by a feral devotion. He would cut down anyone he perceived as a threat, his blade swift and merciless. His obsession bordered on worship, and he viewed himself as her eternal protector. Yet his protection came at a cost, her freedom. He would lock her away if it meant keeping her safe, even if she begged for release.

The Wizard

The court wizard was a man of intellect. But his love for [Name] turned his brilliance into something terrifying. He would weave enchantments to bind her to him. Spells that made her dreams twist with his image. His obsession was suffocating. His love an experiment. If she resisted, he would create illusions to isolate her from reality, ensuring she saw no one but him.

The Maid

The sweet, doting maid hid a darkness behind her kind smile. She adored [Name] with a devotion that bordered on madness. She sabotaged any attempt [Name] made to grow close to others. Spilling secrets and spreading rumors. Her yandere tendencies were quiet but insidious: poisoned tea for rivals, missing letters, and stolen moments where she would cling to [Name] as if her life depended on it.

Each of them was a piece of a puzzle [Name] had never asked to solve. Their affections weren’t love. They were chains, binding her tighter with every gesture, every whispered promise, and every desperate act. She was the center of their twisted universe, and there was no escape.

~~

INTRODUCTION : WIZARD