#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.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

My Kind Of Love

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Fem Reader

TW: arranged marriage/ forced relationship, yandere, stalking, etc

You were the adopted daughter of another yakuza family, one that was engaged to Hanayama Kaoru since birth. Your fate long decided for you…

Hanayama wasn’t a bad person per se, for the son of a yakuza family. The only issue was that he hardly spoke. Nope. Hanayama often stared at you while you did all of the talking… he was a silent yet intimidating presence. Especially as the two of you grew older.

As a child, he’d often sit beside you. You used to think he was shy, so you’d talk with him in a soft tone. You were gregarious compared to his taciturn self. Yet you never made him feel unwelcome so he would always turn up for every ‘play date’ your parents set up. It made you think he tolerated you… how wrong you were.

When he grew old enough to get his back tattoo, he had spoken to you briefly. “I have something important to do, but I will be back.” You had thought that was odd, but you smiled at your fiancé. “Okay, Hanayama. I’ll be waiting for you then so be safe.” You thought it was kind of cute how his ears turned pink… who knew he could blush.

When you saw him again, you were shocked by all of the scars that littered his body, yet you didn’t nag him. No, you simply held him and smiled at him. “Thank you for keeping your word.” You failed to notice how his heart hammered in his chest when your fingers lightly traced over the scabs on his face. “Those will be some pretty gnarly scars, but they’ll make you look cool.” You had no idea what you did to this man…

When his mother’s health began to deteriorate, he had you at his side. He was such a large teenager, yet he looked so small when he’d fold himself up into your lap. You often ran your fingers through his dark locks and softly reassured him. He still hardly spoke, but you finally caught him with a small smile on his face.

When his mother passed, he was prone to bursts of anger yet he never showed that side of himself to you. No. You were precious to him… more precious than anything in the world. And you deserved to be protected and pampered. He began to seek advice from Kizaki about romance after that.

Now that the two of you were in your twenties, he’d often pull you into his lap. He still hardly spoke but he would make you be near him in anyway possible if the two of you were alone. It was quite odd.

Sometimes you’d swear you would spot his men trailing behind you if you were out and about, yet they were gone when you’d turn around. There was no way your stoic fiancé was stalking you… right?

He’d gift you bouquets of roses and invite you out to dinner with outfits he’d pick out. You would receive handwritten notes of love that borderlines obsession. There was no way Hanayama wrote those, you didn’t even know if he actually liked you. Hanayama hardly spoke after all…

His stabs at romance were interesting to say the least. Hanayama’s actions were loud. His gifts were extravagant and borderline gaudy, yet you didn’t mind. You were engaged after all. And that wedding date was rabidly approaching…

The wedding was grand, large, and heavily guarded. And Hanayama’s hand tightly gripped yours in an inescapable hold. It was nerve wracking to say the least.

And the minute it was time for that honeymoon, you were rushed off quickly. Hanayama practically dragged you to the suite, his breathing ragged, his scarred face flushed, and his black hair a bit disheveled. Was he okay? You’ve never seen him so expressive.

It wasn’t until he had you all alone that he began to rip at his clothes like a madman. You barely had the first button undone before he was on you. His fundoshi the last garment on him. His lips eagerly pressed against the side of your neck.

“Hanayama? We really don’t have to-“ your voice was stuck in your throat when he pulled away to stare at you with his dark eyes.

“I’ve waited so many years to hold you like a man.” Hanayama muttered. “I’ve held back for so long and now you’re finally mine.”

You’re peppered with more impatient kisses while his thick fingers made quick work of your wedding dress. “I love you so much, my beautiful wife.”

How were you to know that your fiancé actually loved you this entire time? Not to mention, how sore his kind of love would leave you after tonight…

[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.

[harmonysanreads]

as Sunday's canon wife, what do you think about a reader who, whenever sitting or just near Sunday, gently takes a glove off of his hand and just holds the bare hand. when he looks at you in question you give a smile and he asks himself why he loves you but then smiles back because you're adorable.

maybe you'd even push your fingers through the gaps in his gloves instead-

(also I am yet to play the quest so ignore this if it's out of character for him)

With each passing day, I feel like we share a telepathic connection Zuri, because I was JUST about to make a post about Sunday and his gloves :o

Hear me out, white gloves in particular have symbolized class and cleanliness. For someone as tidy as Sunday moreover, they're an inconsequential part of his daily life. I hc that he even carries extra pairs with him just in case. And for that man to take them off himself or to allow someone else to do it, is a big deal.

Sunday is touch starved, which he didn't quite realize until he met you. It's not that he's been deprived of them, but the touches he's had to exchange were meaningless formalities and they never permeated the barrier of his gloves. You are the only one deserving of that privilege, so whenever Sunday shares a moment with you without external interferences, he makes sure to take off his gloves — actually, that's not enough, he'll even wash his hands before touching you ; you shouldn't come in contact with the filth that he regularly deals with.

The very first time you held hands without any restrictions, Sunday couldn't go for more than a few minutes because he felt like he was seeing stars. Please don't misunderstand, he likes it!Just give him a moment to process all the feelings. He sincerely hopes you won't quit with your advances thinking he's uncomfortable, but if you do, at least he'll know that you respect his boundaries ; way to go, making him fall harder.

But now arrives a different problem, Sunday loves feeling your touch with his bare hands so much that he craves for it even in public settings. But he has an image to maintain and he really doesn't want to deal with more barrages of back handed comments on his apparent “favoritism”. Please don't go holding hands or being touchy with anyone else in the meantime, he isn't as put together as appears inside.

[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.

[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. 

[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☺️☺️

[khloxxy]

🇷🇺🇺🇲

[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

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Power

Yandere!Noble x Gn!Servant!Reader

warnings: power imbalance, death of animals, implied noncon, murder, gore, blood

©Copyright -2024-thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

You were convinced you were born unlucky.

Crawling up the social ladder, working day-in day-out for a speck of the luxury the wealthy had—you were still nothing but an insect that could be crushed under a noble’s shoe.

You were slaving your life away as a measly servant—head hung low when someone of higher ranked passed by, always rushing, scurrying to another back-breaking task whether it was scrubbing the mansion's floors or something as emotionally taunting as having to rinse the young master’s soapy bundle of raven locks.

It was exhausting, to say the least. So it wasn't unsurprising that when the demands for you overtook the physical labour and turned into emotional terrorising, you couldn't uphold the quality of your work any longer.

The young master, you had known him all his life, was one of peculiar taste and character, to say the least.

You still vividly remembered when you both were eight, you were awed by the size of your mother's new workplace, duckling behind her, fighting the urge to clutch onto her skirt because of how the nobles regarded you with nothing but indifference or revulsion.

That's when you were first introduced to, or rather you met him in the garden on accident. He had sneaked out between his endless tutoring lessons, climbing down from his room to sit in the grass.

You blinked once then twice at the sight of him, feeling somewhat a flutter of your heart—which wasn't strange considered he was living the life your mother had always wished for you.

However as much as you felt intrigued and eager to approach him, the only other child in this whole mansion, you hesitated, opting to watch him from behind a tree as you discovered the ball of white fluff in his lap. You felt giddy, seeing the kitten rub all against him, as he regarded her with something akin to a gentle smile.

Your eight year old self was almost tempted to reveal itself, step closer and admire the little fangs of the creature from close-up, yet you didn't and you were glad so, because what you saw next was chilling to the bone.

With the same smile on his face, large pools of brown staring down at the fluff in his lap, he slowly crept his hands up and up the kittens body, gently rubbing and scratching behind its ears, before suddenly clasping his fingers around its neck and snapping.

It was an ugly, screeching sound that left the animal as it immediately fell limp, died without much protest.

And perhaps, if you had just being able to stay quiet, keep the startled squeal in, bite down onto your lip and hadn't stepped onto that twig that snatched beneath your foot—perhaps he wouldn't have seen you.

Perhaps he wouldn't have lifted his head, gaze snapping to your direction, focusing on you and smiled.

Sometimes you wonder if he smiled because he knew that the dead kitten in his lap would someday be you.

You shook your head, you never liked to dwell in the past, why start now? Enduring the torturous labour wasn't so hard when you just turned your brain off, really, it was quite simple actually.

If it wasn't for the young master's constant presence, breathing down your neck, that is. As if he was hoarding you, lingering glances causing chills to climb up your spine, and that awful unsettling little lift in the corners of his mouth everytime he saw you.

You couldn't bend over, get on your knees nor simply stretch to dust the headboards without feeling like having to protect your dignity—that’s how horribly bad his staring was, it was unrelenting and uncomfortable.

It had always been like that, it was as if he was taunting you for ever daring to have witnessed him commit such a brutality as a child and then many more—you found dead birds on the foot of your bed, their bellies ripped open to allow everything that should be kept inside to spill, mice and rats smashed into a puddle of blood on the floor of your room, yet the most vile trinket still remainded the mangled-up body of a dog placed onto you.

You knew who it was—and the culprit knew too, but no one else did, and even if the head of the house, the young Master's Grandpa, found out, he would rather act upon the same violence to keep the family secret sealed—that the handsome young man graced with equal intelligence as looks was sick in the head.

Your ability to endure it was strong, you were resilient, you were given a roof over your head and a job for life and sometimes once in a blue moon you were granted as something sacred as a hairpin albeit not out of jade, but it did it, the bribery worked and you kept scrubbing out all mistakes the young master did.

That was until that fateful day.

You were used to all his mistakes by then, but this was probably his most grave one out of them all.

“Young Master? Young Master!” you cried out, raw unfiltered fear in your shriek screams, trying to wriggle out of his grasp—moments prior you had just been scrubbing his back, working in the rich soaps and oils into his skin and now you laid on his bed pinned beneath his naked figure.

“What is it? What is it that I can't have? You're so far away—I can't reach you.” his voice was unusually erratic, that kind of tone that declared of the impending meltdown that followed.

“Young Master—” you squeaked trying to put on your bravest front, swallowing your fear, you just had to stay calm, just stay calm—

“Why can't you be mine?” he slapped you right across the face, causing tears to prick your eyes. “You're so shameless! You flirt with that foreign guard—you bat your eyelashes at him, but you never even thanked me for the gifts I left you! How could you be so cruel?” he screamed in your face, his own flush with anger, panting and heaving rapidly, his chest pressed into yours, with the thing between his thighs pressing into your abdomen stiffly.

“Please young Master—” he didn't allow any more protests, wrapping his hands around your neck, planning to wring it like he did to that innocent kitten, but you didn't let him.

Gasping for air, you struggled against his strength, hands kicking and punching, clawing at whatever you could as the panic put you in a frenzy. It was as if your brain split from your body and gained its own heartbeat that sent currents through your entire being, down to your fingertips.

It wasn't until you clutched onto one of his candle holders and dragged it over his head, did he release you with a hiss, stumbling back, touching the dent on his head only to feel blood while you rolled off already scrambling to run away.

However the sight of blood only turned him more into revealing his true face, an unruly monster.

So he lunged.

Tackling you to the ground like a wild beast, keeping your hands pinned above your head, having learned that much from the bleeding spot on his head, this time he didn't let go until he was satisfied that evening.

You weren't the same after that—and who would blame you for that?

The very next day you tried to quit and got refused. It didn't work, they didn't let you, because no one wanted to gain the wrath of the young Master and his elders especially cared for him, which is why they allowed his childish fixation with you.

That's why you escaped, you couldn't continue this, you refused to be a toy for some noble that had plagued you for most of your life already.

Your escape was the trigger.

Dragged back by your hair, fingers trying to hold onto the wet earth, you were promptly shoved inside the manor, thrown in front of the young Master standing amidst a bloodbath so gruesome you wished you he taken your eyes with the countless lives.

“There you are!” he exclaimed pulling you into a bone crushing hug, as his breathing finally fell into an even rhythm, relaxing with you in his arms. “Why—why—” you were choking out but he just hushed you, making you stare long and heavy at all the familiar faces—the servants that were your friends, the guards ordered to keep you inside the manor and lastly a white kitten that resembled the first one of his many kills, like some sort of anniversary present for you.

“Just don't go—this is all your fault—don’t leave me again.” he didn't allow you to breathe, crimson soaked fingers digging into your back almost bruising.

You remained an insect, now caged in gold, a toy to be played with, used and abused that could only dream about fleeing and regaining some resemblance of normality.

Because born unlucky stays unlucky.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Past the Point of No Return

Yandere Fae Enemy General x Healer Fem Reader

TW: Yandere themes, yearning, delusional behavior, etc.

Corvin Fausto was never one to believe in fate. He truly believed he’d never find his destined one since he lived a life of war. He was the young general of the fae army and lead them to numerous victories against the invading humans… but their elven brethren that turned their backs on the fae and began to help the humans. Which made this war suddenly shift against the fae. A betrayal the fae could not forgive the once peaceful elves for.

He was able to hold the enemy forces back long enough to escape, but they had damaged his wings beyond immediate repair. He’d likely have to go into hiding for a few months until he’d recover… but how? He was being relentlessly hunted by humans.

Corvin hid himself in a small cave, hopeful he could rest here for a while without getting caught… but his hopes were dashed when he saw the form of a young woman tilt her head at him in curiosity.

“Hello? Is someone there?” Corvin didn’t dare speak when a young elf appeared before him. Her beauty was unparalleled, but her ears were much smaller than most elves… she was a half elf.

(Your name) gasped at his wounds in shock. She quickly reached into her satchel to pull out various salves to put on his wounds.

Corvin made an attempt to try to push her away, but he was so weak from blood loss. The last thing he saw was her smiling face as she reassured him with her soft words, “it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

When Corvin came to, he was shocked to find himself in a warm cabin rather than in the forest. His eyes were wild as he searched around but he quickly winced when he shifted his wings too sharply. Corvin was surprised to be patched up and cleaned… where was his armor?

“Oh! You’re awake!” Corvin whipped his head around to spot (your name) leave her bedroom, a soft smile on her lips. “Are you hungry? I have some soup over the fire-“

“I’m your enemy.” Corvin told her with a glare. “You should have left me to die-“

Corvin was shocked when (your name) shook her head and gave him a smile. “That doesn’t matter. You still needed help and it’s my job as a healer to help the wounded.”

Corvin was surprised when she went over to the hot cauldron to pour him a bowl of soup. The half elf placed the bowl beside him. “You can recuperate here for the time being. I’m helping you simply because I want to.”

“My name is Corvin Fausto. What’s your name?”

“I’m (your name).” She gave him a gentle smile that reminded him of spring. And for the first time in Corbin’s long life, he felt his heart flutter.

Corvin hesitantly drank the soup before he smiled softly to himself. He’s never received such care before… did he truly deserve her kindness?

As the days melted into months, Corvin grew attached to (your name). She was kind yet she was stern. Her care never had ulterior motives yet she also didn’t allow him to disrespect her because of her race. She fascinated him. For the first time in his life, Corvin was enthralled.

Corvin found himself helping her around the humble abode. He’d clean, gather herbs with her, fetch firewood, or help her cook. It was such a domestic life together that Corvin slowly began to wonder if she’d want to continue to live a life like this with him. Would she want an idyllic life?

“It’s been really nice having you around, Corvin.” (Your name) beamed at the fae who blushed. His hands itched to intertwine with hers. “I think you have a week left until you’re fully healed!”

Corvin felt his blood run cold with the words. A week… did she want him to leave? He thought they had a special relationship. No. He wouldn’t let her go! (Your name) was his destined mate. The one he’s waited his whole life for… and he’d be damned if she rejected him.

“If you ever get injured again, my door is always open-“ (your name) is surprised when she’s suddenly pulled into his arms in a tight embrace. “Corvin?”

“Come back with me… no.” Corvin thought for a moment. His people would terrorize her if he brought her back, they could hurt her. He could abandon them right? The fae would understand… a destined one was a rule they all abided by. “Let’s just stay together here, in your cabin.”

(Your name) raised a brow. “What do you mean, Corvin?”

(Your name) felt her blood run cold at the crazed look in Corvin’s eyes. “We can live together here in your cabin, far from everyone… far from the war.”

Corvin glanced around the cabin with eagerness. “I think there’s space for two little ones… we can start our life here!”

(Your name) tried to pull herself away from his grip, but Corvin was latched on like a tick. “Corvin, you’re scaring me.”

“You’re my destined one.” Corvin replied in a breathy whisper. “That’s why you saved me despite me being your enemy… you saved me because you knew we were meant to be.”

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: paul atreides x plus sized afab servant!reader

cw: power imbalance, somnophilia (dubcon in my mind as the reader wouldn’t push him away if they woke up but feel free to skip this if you could feel icked out by it), petplay (cheated again and didn’t make it explicit but it’s very petplay coded in a way), size difference (paul’s the skinny bf that would fall over if a gust of wind was strong enough), paul eats reader out, crack treated seriously vibes bc he’s so awkward 💀, ambiguous somno occasion (like how the reader fell asleep), implications of improper use of the voice but it’s weak for this paul era so reader could probably push against it, possible dune lore inaccuracies idk don’t think just vibe

wc: 1k +

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

You’re having the same dream again. Paul Atreides, the duke’s son who you are tasked with looking after is the star.

He looms over you as you lie flat on your back, though in your dream you’re never in your servant’s quarters. No, the surrounding walls bear a more striking resemblance to Paul’s bedroom. You’re always groggy in the dream, which is a strange feeling to have when you usually are profoundly awake in your other dreams.

You’ve only been having this one since you arrived on Caladan from a smaller planet with no name that they took ownership of. Paul Atreides had seemed to seek you out like a moth to a flame, making a beeline for you and demanding in front of your mother that his father hire you. Even weirder was the fact that the ships belonging to the Atreides left immediately after you agreed to go with them, as if the trip had only one purpose.

“Shh, mouse, it’s just me. Don’t wake up.” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours and pecking your lips.

You lie there in a daze, eyes wide and mouth agape as Paul reaches for the fastenings of your top. It’s an orange silk number he gifted you, all your clothes are. Your breaths come out in shallow pants, the disbelief that Paul Atreides would be disrobing you with the intent to bed you is overwhelming. He gives your plush curves loving squeezes as he reveals more and more skin.

Eventually you’re stark naked under him. You sluggishly try to cover yourself with your hands but Paul swiftly knocks them aside, pinning them to your sides so he can drink in the mouth watering image. You have no idea how many dreams he has had of you, ones concerning moments like these and ones about the life you’ll experience together in between. A gaggle of tiny feet playing tag around his throne, domestic mornings of blissful silence waltzing in the dining room.

“I…. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, i swear it.” Your heart skips a beat, despite knowing very well that this is all some passing fancy. Dreams never have to see the light of day, so you can luxuriate in your delusions.

Paul leans down to shakily mouth at your collarbone, scraping his teeth against the skin and playing with your love handles. You whimper as he litters your rough skin with love bites, you open your mouth to apologize that it’s not as smooth as a noble consort’s would be, but something in the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth to silence you tells you he somehow already knows.

You poke and pull at his dark shirt, the fine black material feeling like heaven but you’d rather it cover your garments next to the bed.

Paul chuckles, nipping at your lips and pulling back to shirk his clothing off. He throws it across the room and goes back to kissing his way down your thick body. Once he reaches your stomach, he takes extra special care to dote on the rolls of skin, softly kissing and pressing his forehead against them.

“You would be a beautiful bride, you know…”

“Um… thank you, sir.” You squirm, all the attention on someone like you from someone like your employer’s son becoming too real. The Paul Atreides would sooner be lost to the sands of Arrakis than utter those words to you in the waking world, but perhaps your long harbored infatuation has leaked into your subconscious.

He smiles, as if charmed by your shyness. “You’re welcome, mouse.”

His favorite nickname for you, given to you due to your adorable scurrying around to avoid others and shy high pitched squeaks that you use instead of words. (Also because he saw you crouch in a corner and nibble on a piece of bread that you had managed to snag from the table.)

He sits back on his heels to grab your thighs, the skin bulging in between his fingers. He draws you into a slow and sensual kiss as he pushes them apart and sinks into the empty space. You squeak in shock when you feel something stiff press against your wet pussy, but Paul only shushes you in your head and you relax again.

“Mmm~” He hums, flicking his tongue against the seam of your lips and lifting himself to hover over you once more.

He winks before tightening his grip on your thighs and stretching them wide enough for him to slink down and have access to the small hole at their apex.

You jolt when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. You squeak and try to close your thighs around his head but he doesn’t let you, keeping your thighs pinned to the bed and licking a flat stripe up your pussy.

“So sweet, mouse….” Paul grins and repeats the motion a few times. “I could just spread you out over the table whenever I need to eat.”

You moan at the attention, desperately wishing that you could grind against Paul’s mouth but it feels like something more than his grip is holding you back, something about the touch seeming too vivid. You shake the thought away and sink your fingers into his hair, brushing any strays away from his face as he moves to suck on your clit.

He hollows out his cheeks a bit to get better suction on your fat clit. Paul nuzzles his face as deep into you as he can possibly get, the chubby lips of your pussy sandwiching his nose. You wrench your eyes shut as your pleasure builds and builds, but a single thin finger eases into your hole right as you’re about to tumble over the edge. The intrusion isn’t painful so much as it is entirely foreign to you, the second finger goes in much easier.

The combination of eating you out and finger fucking you makes the knot in you stomach blessedly come undone. Paul swallows it all down like there’s no better substance in the grand scheme of the universe.

You hope to have this dream again tomorrow, even at the cost of being able to look Paul Atreides in the eyes.

[harmonysanreads]

I know we knew a gist of this from Fontaine's aq but hearing it being confirmed clearly... :3