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diodellet · 1 year ago

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this is me wringing miguel out esemefeych!!! para bagong laba yarn!!!

in a word of high-science and technology, here he is musing sentimentality over the most mundane details of his lover...

DARE I SAY THAT MAN IS SICK!!!! SICK WITH DOWN BADDERY!!!! SICK WITH LOVE EME!!!!

꒰ Letters to My Beloved ꒱

*sob* I just wanted to peacefully read “Letters to Milena” but ended up with another fic idea for Miguel O’Hara, this time a side story to The Spider and the Fly. Istg everywhere I go, he follows me (ꐦo_o）

For this fic, I took inspiration from this quote and Miguel’s ATSV lore. The thought of how language affects Yandere! Miguel x Variant! Darling’s dynamic…..how twistedly romantic~

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, self-deprecation, stalking, wtf is personal privacy, mention of noncon -> dubcon + nsfw, MDNI

Note:: Female reader, ATSV spoilers, guest-starring LYLA + Hobie + Spider-Cat, Darling’s mother tongue + cultural identity are different from Miguel’s (not Irish-Mexican)

♡ 4.3k words under the cut ♡

FILE NAME: ______ (EARTH-███)

— CLASSIFIED INFORMATION —

1. ______ wears the same brand of perfume.

2. Speech patterns: Softer voice, less outspoken, code-switches more often.

You don’t sound like her.

That is the second thing Miguel notices. It is another dissimilarity between you and his Variant’s wife, a significant detail which betrays closed eyes.

You have the same voice but a different manner of speaking.

You’re more quiet—softer volume, less talkative.

Your tone is anxious. Polite. Rarely cheerful, unless feigned.

Every sentence is carefully worded. There are more sorry’s and maybe’s.

There is also your code-switching. Unlike her, you habitually curse and talk to yourself in your mother tongue. But with others, you switch to perfect English—and you do it all the time, with greater proficiency, even when you are speaking to Miguel.

His wife is also the last person to cry and vent to Spider-Man. But that is an unfair comparison, given the circumstances of your first meeting.

To you, Miguel O’Hara is a new acquaintance and that is reflected in your conversations. It is only natural that there are no endearments, no inside jokes, no ounce of familiarity.

When he speaks to you, he doesn’t have to imitate another Miguel.

꒰♡꒱

“Um, excuse me? Spider-Man?”

He turns to face you. “What is it?”

Soft tone, not much eye contact. Your next words are even less familiar.

“I…haven’t gotten your name yet, have I?”

It’s just the two of you in the elevator. There wouldn’t be any awkward silence if the other Spider-Men had joined you, but they were sent home after their mission in Earth-███.

Their company won’t do you any good. It hasn’t even been an hour since your rescue, and you need time to adjust. He needs time to process everything.

…Your resemblance to her is uncanny yet minimal. Different hairstyle. Professional attire with stylish jewelry. An ID for a company which she’d find dull and unfulfilling. Dark eye circles, a nervous frown, a dim gaze trained on the floor.

A day pass is secured to your wrist, soon to be replaced with a modified Dimensional Travel Watch. A Lock feature would be a good safety measure.

Before Miguel can respond, you are already overthinking.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked earlier but I was still shaken from—wait, is it rude to ask for your identity? Is that why you haven’t told me?”

“Calm down.” He touches your shoulder, just briefly enough to get your attention. “It’s fine. I was planning to tell you later.”

Your relief is obvious. “Really? You’re sure about this?”

Are you always like this or is it just the emotional shock? Considering the situation he found you in, he has a lot of personal data to gather.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” He reveals his face, analyzing your reactions. “And I’m this dimension’s Spider-Man.”

No flicker of recognition—another version of you who has never met him.

“Noted.” You repeat his name to yourself, pronouncing it slowly. “Thanks for telling me.”

It sounds almost foreign in your voice. And now that he is looking closely, is your lipstick a darker shade?

When you face him, your lips are drawn in a shy smile. “I’m ______, by the way.”

You use your maiden name, not O’Hara.

“I know.”

7. ______ doesn’t understand Spanish.

It was easier to communicate with his wife.

Intimacy aside, she’d learned Spanish for her Miguel. She rarely spoke it, but she clearly understood his bilingual conversations with Gabriella.

Their daughter didn’t know your language. As a matter of fact, she always seemed more connected to Miguel’s roots than yours. The most she’d learned was a few phrases and the names of your favorite food.

It made sense. Among your Variants, his wife was the most disconnected from her family and, consequently, her community. With less opportunities to use your language, she’d forgotten most of it and found no practical benefit in teaching it to Gabriella.

Or maybe it was to establish more barriers between her old and new family. To keep her daughter deaf to the former’s criticisms.

Regardless, your language constituted her chats with old friends, her wistful stories of the past, the expressions which eluded translation. It took a while for Miguel to learn her speech patterns and replicate her husband’s responses.

On his first day in their dimension, he looked through his Variant’s belongings and found a Spanish textbook. There were two sets of handwriting in the margins, yours and his.

It must’ve held special memories. He could enviously imagine his wife’s earnest efforts, her Miguel’s amused guidance, the expansion of her capacity to understand him.

It wasn’t the only thing exclusive to the happiest versions of yourselves.

A first meeting which occurred under a <0.001% probability. Dates spent bonding over the expectations of their families and Nueva York. The happy family they created together.

His Variant called her mi sol. It was a fitting nickname.

To this day, Miguel wonders if it sounded different in his voice.

22. Fluent in mother tongue, more connected to her cultural heritage.

23. Dislikes direct confrontation, tends to hide her feelings and vent in private. More creative with insults.

You do surpass his wife in other categories.

You’re more organized. Your cooking tastes better. You are a good listener, a competent secretary, and the last person to give Miguel a headache.

You have a stronger cultural identity, despite coming from an equally prejudiced version of New York—or is it because of that? In a world which treats you like an outsider, perhaps that is why you’ve latched onto your heritage for an easier sense of belonging.

It explains why you put up with your family’s values, no matter how biased.

It means that you can speak your language fluently, with none of his wife’s guilty errors and pauses. Only then do you act more confident than her, less regretful.

And it manifests in your speech patterns, in the moments when you aren’t adjusting your manner of speaking for someone else.

In your personal notes, you mix English and your mother tongue. It’s the same for your conversations with the Spider-Men who know your language.

You speak in a localized variety of English with its own vocabulary, pronunciations, and untranslatable terms. Your version sounds nicer, more articulated.

You are more vocal in your language since less people understand it. It’s your default tongue for swear words and sarcastic comments.

Once, you were given extra work due to an MIA Spider-Man. Before contacting him, you opened a blank file to type paragraphs of profanities and insults in every language you spoke. Then you promptly deleted it and sent him a polite, if not passive aggressive, message.

LYLA had picked the perfect time to hack into your device. She saved a copy for Miguel, who felt less stressed after reading it.

He might have quoted a few lines when he confronted the same agent.

53. Handwriting: More legible, heavier pressure, prefers the same color of ink. ______ writes less often, only for short notes.

Securing a handwriting sample is easier than expected.

In the futuristic dimensions, digital text is the go-to medium for communication. But like his wife, you write physical notes every so often; his research links it to a mutual memory.

Your personal reminders are handwritten. Your old laptop has scanned documents with your signature and written information. Whenever you prepare packed lunches for Miguel, you include little notes for him.

Good luck. Take care of yourself. Call me when the mission is over.

His wife rarely wrote notes for him, so that is another exclusive perk.

Her handwriting was more aesthetic, according to Miguel’s memories and a folded note he’d kept. The latter’s contents are nothing special, just a to-do list with four unchecked tasks, but it is sufficient for comparisons.

You grip your pen differently, too. Your writer’s callus is lighter, and its location is off by exactly one millimeter. Still, he likes the feeling of your hand in his.

꒰♡꒱

“How many times are you going to read that?”

LYLA checks the food container. It is Miguel’s favorite snack this time, with a purple Post-It taped to the lid.

“Tell me if I should adjust the recipe. Might be too sweet. -______”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, setting aside the note.

“If you say so,” she trills. “At this rate, you’ll need a hammerspace for her notes.”

“A text would’ve been more efficient.”

Then again, it can’t be compared to reading your written words. Maybe it’s due to the specific medium, the interplay of visual and tactile sensations, a past version of you preserved in letters and imaginary voices. It isn’t the same as watching a video of you.

There is also his own perspective as a Nueva Yorker. Digital and handwritten text are vastly dissimilar. One is consistent, formattable, and widely-used while the other demands to be deciphered. And your letters always change depending on your mood or health.

Miguel traces the back of the Post-It. The indentations are less heavy. Were you in a hurry when you wrote the message? Focused on something else? Or is it an issue with your pen?

LYLA is still smiling. “Someone is growing soft.”

He glares at her this time. “Do you always have to call me out?”

99. More friendly with the Spider-Men who know her language.

100. Hobie Brown asked ______ to teach him a bit of her language. He specifically asked for swear words and the term for “close friends.”

You don’t know that Miguel can understand you.

Nueva York has a vast selection of translation devices, but the technology is insufficient. AI fails to interpret the tone of your voice, your personal vocabulary, and how those factors alter the meanings of certain words.

It can’t decode his wife’s speech patterns. There was a history to her endearments, a context for every word. But Miguel could only play along and take what she said at face value, even after learning your language.

He keeps it a secret from you, in case it becomes useful.

But hiding that skill comes with its own cons. The ______ who limits herself to English is different from the ______ who expresses herself in mixed languages.

It’s apparent in your chats with Miguel versus other Spider-Men. Foreign nicknames, inside jokes, secrets exchanged in your shared language—they are privy to another version of you, one whom he can only access through hacked texts and CCTV recordings.

It is only in those speech patterns that he can find you in your variety.

꒰♡꒱

You’re talking to your friends again.

Miguel switches to a closer CCTV and raises the volume.

Great, it’s Hobie and your dimension’s Spider-Man.

Despite their increase in missions, they’ve still found time to visit you in HQ. This time, Hobie is learning a few phrases from your language. His accent keeps messing up his pronunciation, but you’re a patient teacher.

At the same time, your Spider-Man is informing you of recent events in your old home. Miguel makes a mental note to do more research on Earth-███ slang.

You check your personal messages, and Miguel opens another holographic screen. The spyware shows a group chat with your close coworkers.

They are planning a film marathon—in HQ, so that you can join them. It takes a few backspaces for you to accept their invitation.

“LYLA.”

“Huh?” She appears in front of Miguel, fresh out of Sleep Mode.

“Assign Spider-Punk and Spider-Man ███ to the Anomaly in Earth-94. Then put…” Miguel opens the Nicknames tab of the chat. “...Peter G, Patrick, Julia, and Felicia in charge of next Friday’s missions. Any dimension will do.”

“Seriously?” LYLA gives him a knowing look. “Ben hasn’t called for backup. And should I remind you of last Sunday, 12:31:46 p.m., when ______ friendzoned Patrick? I have the video in three CCTV angles, max volume.”

“Just do it.” He lightly swats her, only for LYLA to flicker out of his grasp.

Through the CCTVs, Miguel watches her speak to your friends. They activate a portal and say goodbye to you. After they leave, you reread the group chat, smiling.

“She’ll be disappointed, you know,” LYLA informs him. “You better make it up to her during your movie night.”

“Send me her personal schedule.”

Miguel scrolls up the group chat for the movie titles. Nueva York’s versions are usually darker in terms of storyline; both of you would prefer that.

The next agent to approach you is Spider-Cat. He loafs on your desk, to which you eagerly take photos and mimic his meows.

“Should I do something?” LYLA asks sarcastically.

“Don’t mind him. He is her Sector’s emotional support animal.”

150. “Pretty” is also an important term in ______’s vocabulary.

If there is one word which sounds the same in your voice, it is “pretty.”

It was his wife’s best compliment, frequently said without explanation. It must’ve been a nice change from her job, where magazine layouts required professional critiques.

Everything was pretty—butterflies, fashion collections, the Banksy-esque glitches which appeared in her dimension prior to its collapse.

Gabriella, especially. She was always “pretty,” even in her regular outfits and soccer uniforms. That was something which Miguel could always agree with.

It’s similar with you, though you’re less vocal about it. There are only so many praises you can give to Nueva York’s fashion scene or your coworkers’ spiderwebs.

Unlike his wife, however, you don’t call yourself pretty.

There are zero records of you using that term to describe yourself. The most you will say is that you look pretty in an outfit, never thanks to your natural features. It is a distinct crack in your self-image, another deviation from her.

Hence, your weakness to flattery—one which Miguel has guiltily exploited through the rare compliment or responses to LYLA’s calculated remarks.

There is another key difference in how you and his wife use that term.

His Variant’s wife had never called Spider-Man 2099’s webs pretty.

But you do.

꒰♡꒱

“Careful, don’t break it!”

“Are we seriously having this conversation again?” Miguel gives you an exasperated look, claws raised. “It’s just a web.”

“But still…!” You pull your hand away from his, the motion illuminated in red. “I’d like to preserve the design.”

“Which would be fine,” he counters, “if it were actually removable.”

Sentimental. Just like her.

In the dim light of his room, your stubborn expression is eclipsed by his webs. The laser red threads are still stuck to your wrists, but they’ve been woven into a glovelike pattern over your left hand. The design lacks the coherence of your string figures.

Seriously, you were only left alone for five minutes. The last thing Miguel expected was to come back to you like this, staring at his webs with a weak smile, your admiration undeterred by every ugly purpose they have served.

You shouldn’t be so calm right now.

The alternative would be easier to grasp. Any other ______—his Variant’s wife, especially—would have cursed him, fought back once the venom wore off, resisted to the very end, and he would’ve accepted all of her hatred. He deserves it after everything he has done.

But you defied his predictions. What happened instead was your breakdown. Your shift from fearful resistance to broken submission. Reciprocated touches. Soft moans and heartfelt whispers. Desperate pleas for him to keep talking, to tell you everything he loves about you, that you can handle one more round…

And more crying. Lots of happy tears, so unlike those from your first meeting. Neither can he attribute them to acute emotional shock.

You make different sounds in bed, but the circumstances allow that.

This is between you and him, after all. Your first time together, neither of you pretending.

He hears a defeated sigh.

“Fine.” Reluctantly, you hold out your hand. “I’ll just save this image in my memory. But can you untangle the webs instead?”

It’s the least he can do for you. “Where do I start?”

You point at the base of your ring finger. “Here.”

The final knot is a ribbon bow, tied in the same spot as her wedding ring.

With a shake of his head, Miguel retracts his claws and takes your hand. The knots are easy to unravel, and are quickly reduced to a handful of loose threads in your palm.

“Happy now?” he asks you.

You close your hand, a small smile on your face. “I’ll keep it somewhere safe.”

He lets go of your wrist. “Do whatever you want with it. I don’t mind.”

Pulse is normal. The friction burns should heal in a few days.

An awkward silence falls. Now would be a good time to clean you up; but before he can suggest it, your bath is delayed once more by a glance at the mirror.

“Skies.” You visibly recoil and cover your face with a new pillow. Your muffled curses and self-criticisms are easy to decode. “I look like a mess.”

Miguel observes your reflection. You don’t look that bad…minus the love bites, the twin dots on your neck, and the other traces of his touch. Most severe are the claw marks on your thigh, hidden beneath a layer of bandages.

It isn’t deep enough to scar. But that doesn’t make the memory any less painful.

“It’s nothing to cry about,” he says drily, eyeing his own marks.

Now you are glaring at him. “Says the person at fault.”

In his peripheral vision, he notices your hand on your stomach. Your fingertips barely graze the skin, shaky and hesitant…of course. The aftermath must be on your mind.

Note to self: Tell LYLA to monitor your vitals until a pregnancy test can be taken.

“I hope this one looks like you,” he mumbles.

“What?” Just as quickly as he says it, your eyes widen with renewed disbelief. “Is this about…what the hell did you just say?!”

He puts his hand on top of yours, pressing it to your stomach.

“We won’t know until our kid is born,” he says lightly, “but I’ve run a few simulations. Among the DNA combinations, over half are in favor of your physical traits.”

So many possibilities, so many variations of their family.

The explanation does little to comfort you. “But what about your traits? Or a mix of both! I mean…think of Gabriella! She’s adorable, very pretty, all thanks to your genes…”

Your voice trails off. When you continue, you speak in a soft whisper.

“Even if the chances are small, wouldn’t you prefer a kid who looks like her?”

“No.” His answer is immediate, spoken with zero hesitation.

Even if the physical possibility exists, his daughter is exclusive to a dead memory. And how could he handle a replica of the child he failed to protect?

His grip on your hand tightens. “Like you said earlier, it requires specific cells. And before you ask, I don’t have the time to genetically edit their appearance.”

“Oh, okay.” There is a deep breath, a comfortable silence. “That makes perfect sense.”

What else? There’s also Miguel’s Spider DNA, your parenting styles, and many other factors which could never recreate Gabriella. What will your kid’s name be? Will they learn your language alongside English and Spanish? Will they be encouraged to take up soccer or a different hobby?

Is a happy family possible for the two of you?

It’s hard to say. But it’s still a fresh start, for which he can set aside logic.

“Besides,” he adds. He holds your gaze, committing those bright eyes to memory. “I can’t imagine a prettier face for our kid to inherit.”

…

¿Diablos, are you crying again?

153. ______ dislikes being called “mi sol.”

He understands.

It was her nickname, after all.

And there must be a reason why his Variant chose it over other pet names. Maybe it was because he liked the sound of it, or the imagery suited his wife, or it came from a personal memory which the two of you could never replicate.

With that being said, old habits die hard.

Once or twice, Miguel accidentally calls you mi sol, and it is difficult to recover from that. Your demeanor stiffens, he mentally curses himself, then he or LYLA must awkwardly continue the conversation. It’s impossible to forget her, really.

To some extent, he will always be haunted by his lost family. But it’s better now that he has one to call his own.

As it turns out, picking the right endearment takes time. There aren’t enough words in Spanish, English, or any other language to encapsulate Miguel’s feelings for you.

So far, he has gone through a few terms—mi luz, mi vida, and so on—with little variation in reception. They don’t do justice to the subtleties he has fallen in love with, all of which belong to his own version of ______.

He likes the color of your lipstick. The darker shade suits your aesthetic, your shy smiles, the movements of your lips, the occasional kiss marks left on his skin.

He likes hearing your personal stories. It’s your way of opening up to him, of telling him every aspect of your life which deviated from hers and brought you to him.

He likes your speech patterns. The languages you speak, your rudimentary Spanish, even a simple “Welcome home” can become poetry in your voice.

His own name, especially. It has never sounded more intimate, spoken with a wider range of emotions. Shyness, confusion, fear, anger, resignation, affection, happiness…it is a manner of speaking reserved for him, your Miguel.

You don’t sound like her at all. But nowadays, he doesn’t mind.

If anything, he has begun to prefer your voice.

167. ______ changed my nickname in her Contacts.

“You have a text from ______!”

The update prompts both Spider-Men to face LYLA. Miguel glances at his coworker, but their mask hides their expression.

A smile flickers on LYLA’s face. “No further Anomalies, by the way. The Canon remains intact.”

Thank god.

His attention returns to the Anomaly—Earth-26496’s Vulture, more tech-savvy than his Renaissance-Era counterpart, an equally shocking mess to deal with.

“Peter, bring him back to HQ. And try not to cause any more commotion.”

“Sure, boss!” With that, his coworker picks up the unconscious Vulture and swings back to HQ, avoiding the damaged Nueva York buildings.

Of all places, it had to appear in his dimension.

Left alone, Miguel checks his phone and opens a holographic screen.

Office desktop, webcam view. The CCTV shows you in the middle of work, examining video records and analytics. Five screens are in simultaneous use.

You look pretty, perfectly polished, your love bites and dark eye circles concealed with makeup. Maybe a bit anxious due to the news alert of the Anomaly.

He reads your texts, sends a reply, and watches the CCTV. Your eyes light up at first sight of the notification, and you immediately pick up your phone.

______: Are you okay?

Miguel ♡: the anomaly is being brought to hq

Miguel ♡: stay in your sector until it’s detained

______: Congratulations on saving another universe! <3

______: Did you get any injuries?

Miguel ♡: i’m fine. you can stop worrying

______: That’s good to know. But a checkup wouldn’t hurt.

______: Are we still going out later?

Miguel ♡: an anomaly literally just showed up in earth-928

Miguel ♡: right outside the cinema we were supposed to be at

______: Which you just captured!!

______: And before you say anything, we have zero records of Anomalies getting sent to the same place in a dimension.

______: Have you forgotten the Doc Ock who appeared in the lobby of HQ?

Miguel ♡: we can always reschedule our date

______: Can’t we go to another cinema?

______: It’s been a month since I’ve last gone out.

______: And no, working in HQ doesn’t count.

Miguel ♡: it’s safer to have our movie night at home

______: All right -_-

______: What do you want for dinner later?

Miguel ♡: anything is fine

Your expressions match your words. Relief followed by disappointment, the conflicted awareness in your gaze, a resigned shake of your head.

LYLA flickers in front of the screen. “The CCTV is a bit much if you ask me. Be honest, are you really checking if she’s being genuine or do you just want to see her?”

His gaze shifts to his phone. “First answer.”

She hums, unconvinced. “I’ll download the digital version of the movie. But don’t get too excited, Miguel—you’re missing out on her date outfit.”

“You can always show me the CCTV records.”

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

Three dots, a full minute. What exactly are you typing?

Miguel faces the CCTV. You’re still on your phone, an indecisive look on your face, so he opens another holographic screen.

And that is when he sees it.

On your phone screen is a short, unsent message.

A mere second after he rereads it, you delete the text and type the same phrase in Spanish. Only to replace it with your mother tongue’s version. Then in English again.

“LYLA, turn on the volume.”

“Sure thing!”

From the CCTV, you mutter the message to yourself, trying out all three variations. Your tone is soft, uncertain, hopeful and uneasy in equal parts. Your thumb hovers above your phone screen, close to the Send button…

Then you hit backspace and respond with “See you later” instead.

“Too bad,” says LYLA. She shoots him a mischievous look. “Better luck next time. Why don’t you say it first more often?”

“We’ll see,” he mumbles, viewing the text on his phone. “I can hardly say it right now.”

“Sure you can! I bet she’ll be happy to have it saved on her device.”

Instead, Miguel opens another holographic screen, a personal file this time. He types in the password, scrolls to the last line, and adds a new observation.

168. ______ is still figuring out how to say “I love you.”

♡

Prologue ๑ Epilogue ๑ Miguel’s Darling Files

*gasp wheeze* First Mary Howitt, now Franz Kafka……..istg if another author inspires me to write smth for Miguel O’Hara, I’m losing it.

This is officially my most difficult fic to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it. Your feedback means a lot to me, so pls don’t feel shy to share your thoughts and comments >:’3

Once again, thank you so much to @diodellet for beta-reading this fic and @yanmaresu for helping me with the Spanish phrases!! My Miguel O’Hara fics wouldn’t be the same without your assistance and tolerance for my brainrot, and I truly appreciate it (´-ω-`)

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @yandere-romanticaa @bweoo @kocherry @oofasleep @h2o2-and-baking-soda @yandere-wishes @hisachuu @weebsinstash @letskidaddle @handsomeunderwear-art @literaree @pumpkin-toffee @miggyyyyohara @qiaipia @abyssalrot @miguelswifey04 @skeleton-on-wheels0 @dilfartist @spiderscavenger @saharadesertaj @iamfakeu @angelplummie @obsessedwithromance @robindere

#fic reblog #mdni #oof just one item short of 169 #we'll get em next time lads #once again miguel's darling embodies: my pronouns are she but not her #the constant comparison!! miguel i diagnose u with: HAUNTED #++special ment to the ghost of gabriella in the wake of post-nut clarity #i find it an interesting mix when the both sides in a yandere relationship are #some flavor of shy? hesitant?#or reserved? maybe?#idk its the kind of inaction that necessitates the involvement of a third party #speaking of which bless u lyla for pushing miguel #and also bless u hobie for being a pain in the ass #and bless the other co-workers for (unwittingly) forcing miguel's hand #ser miguel hindi ka ba napapagod na manonood lang sa mga cctv!!!#take a shot for every reference to the OG letters to milena #here ill give u a bucket good luck rereading

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nestypewriter · 1 year ago

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[Worker Darling]: (slouching and aggressive typing)

[Yandere! Co-worker]: Heyyy...

[Worker Darling]: (huffs in annoyance and Turns to them) What

[Yandere! Co-worker]: Could you..do me a favor?..and print these out for me?(Hands in the paper)

[Worker Darling]: (Glares at them and gestured their piles of paperwork) You could see that I have my own things to do rn??!

[Yandere! Co-worker]: It would only take just a minute 😞

[Worker Darling]: No (turns back to their screen and loud aggressive typing)

[Yandere! Co-worker]: please please come on!

[Worker Darling]: Just leave me alone!

[Another Co-worker]: I could help you! (Grabs the paper)

[Yandere! Co-worker): Ew..No thank you! I got it( snatches the paper and walks away to the printer)

[Yandere! Co-worker): Stupid... Stupid lil..(Presses the print button)

(Then leads back and pulls out a note pad, and then aggressively scrabble out a sentence)

[Ways to win your co-worker's heart]

• Give them a cup of coffee every day

• Talk to them regularly

• Give them presents

• Make them print out your paperwork

[Yandere! Co-worker]: (tucks back the notepad into their pockets) I will get them next time..

#x reader #yandere x reader #oc x reader #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #yandere dialogues

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cumtastiics · 6 months ago

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desperate yan - lost the request but it was js desperate yan accidentally ate an aphrodisiac // tw * yandere, suggestive content.

mdni!

"you're so cute-" he moaned in your ear. he was desperate, his cock barely in, yet his legs were shaking.

you couldn't do much but roll your eyes at this, seeing how he was closer than usual. "...don't cum already. that's boring," you mumbled. you hardly got to cum with him, but you would at least like if he lasted a bit longer.

"m-my co-worker gave me this candy," he interrupted himself, kissing and sucking your neck, his desperation showing more. "and i think it was an aphrodisiac."

"isn't that more of a reason to keep fucking for longer than usual?" you looked down at him.

he ignored you, whimpering more in your ears, giving you sloppy kisses. "your lips are so soft... i wanna bite them..."

you were gonna be stuck like this for a while, weren't you?

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x y/n #desperate yandere #desperate #yanblr #yancore #yandere writing #yan blog #suggestive #i am cumtastic #g/n reader

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thehauntedetheral · 6 months ago

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YANDERE ASSASIN

Requests are open !

• You and your husband has been married for 2 years now. And you were happy with each other.

• You are an accountant for a company while your husband is an engineer.

• You were like any other normal couple working, eating dinner together, going out on weekends, doing the usual day to day stuff.

• But one thing you didn't knew was that well your husband is an fake engineer who pretends to be one.

• In reality he is a most sought after assasin who is hired to kill top level people.

• The "I have to go out for two days for a project darling" is nothing but a excuse he gives you to go and kill his target in another state.

• Have guns hidden in various places in your shared home for " safety purpose ".

• One time you found one of his gun and asked him why is it here? "Hehe well darling the crime rate is increasing day by day I bought it for us for our safety I even have a legal licence for the gun." (Yes a licence for being an assasin)

• This is the same man who melts into your arms, follows you around the house like a puppy, looks at you like you hung the moon and stars and also the same man who doesn't miss his target even from miles and shoots them mercilessly.

• Hits all the target in a shooting game giving you a huge stuffed teddy bear while saying "Beginner's luck, baby."

• Yan vowed in the beginning phase of his job that he would never get married due to his job risk but you entered his life, made him break his vow as he asked you to marry him after falling so desperately in love with you. How couldn't he? You are just so damn perfect.

• You mentioned in a conversation to him casually how a co worker creeped you out by his staring. Boom from next day the co-worker now always avoids you like plague. (Because some unknown assasin threatened his life if he ever came near you)

• He has never been guilty in his life for killing people or having it as job but becomes guilty in a millisecond when he sees you sad thinking how bad of a husband I am? And to make all the clarifications clear you were not sad due to him you were just having your usual period mood swings. Because no way in hell this man would ever make you sad. Before making you cry he would shoot himself with his own gun.

• You both were watching an assasin movie on a weekend and you said how good looking and skilled that assasin the movie character is.

Meanwhile Yan's Mind : Control your self yan no need to be jealous you are better than that freaking stupid looking loser assasin. y/n just doesn't know. Control.

• Yan at a Halloween night comes home after shooting his target with a little blood on his clothes wearing his assasin black clothes and a gun in hand knowing full well that you are at your friend's house. Only to be surprised that you are at home throwing him a suprise Halloween party with others. You looking at him with a confused look as he stands on doorstep shocked.

Yan : Suprise baby!!! I came up dressed up as an assain that you liked in that movie. I hope you like it. (Saying with an akward smile while telling himself to not be so reckless next time)

Meanwhile the people at party who know the true Yan : 🧍‍♂️

• Is so damn protective of you due to his work line that whenever he leaves for days makes sure your friend stays with you and making sure you are safe through all the hidden cameras spread all over the house.

• He loves you a lot. He might be a deadly assasin to the whole world but he is just a normal engineer madly in love with you who just wants to devour you whole so no one else can have you.

• Reader to their friends : My husband won't ever hurt a fly.

Meanwhile Yan listening to this conversation: 🧍‍♂️

• When he is off duty he just spoils you with his cooking and spending all his time with you cuddling watching shows and just talking.

• Prays to god that you never found out about his true job afraid that you would get scared and leave him.

For more yandere reading :

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purerae · 2 months ago

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— DUPLEXITY;;

fem!reader x coworker!yanderes

— who knew attempting to bond with your co workers would lead to a fucked up love triangle?

prologue; quit your job! If dying was an option right now, Y/N would take it with a gleeful smile.

Sprinting through the woods, her ears ringing, she slams her grimy, broken hand against her head over and over. Her knees, bruised to a swollen pulp of purple, threaten to buckle beneath her. A deep, unprotected gash dressed painfully across her back, its edges rotting, every movement tearing at the poorly dressed wound.

Ignoring the piercing whine in her ears, her heart froze at the sound of shuffling drawing closer. Her legs wobbled, threatening to give out, but the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her moving forward. An ear striking screech bursts from the girl’s throat, desperate to catch the attention of any passing drivers or hikers.

How could she be so foolish? It’s four in the morning, and she’s in the middle of nowhere, with two freaks relentlessly chasing her.

Her scream was a terrible mistake. It brought her no closer to freedom instead only closer to her pursuers. Their shouts echo behind her, filled with words she can’t—and doesn’t want to comprehend.

Pleas, threats, and bursts of anger escape from their mouths but the only thing that Y/N had her mind on was getting her brother and leaving this shithole. Y/N ran and ran, but to her dismay and an almost comical cruel sense of bad luck , Her vision was slammed with a wall ruined with graffiti that was now taunting her from her inescapable future. Her breathing slows as she stumbled back, desperately praying for anything that could save her. Surely they weren't close, she put in all this effort, they cannot be close! With trembling caution, she moved backward, her steps deliberate and silent. She avoided every brittle branch and insect littering the forest floor, straining to make as little noise as possible. Her back pressed into something soft yet unyielding, carrying the earthy scent of firewood mixed with the sharp tang of blood that she’ll always loathe. Y/N’s breath hitched, frozen in her chest as the sound of heavy breathing enveloped her ears from just behind.

‘Fuck.'

“You can’t run from us. It’s two against one, cutie.”

Even with her back turned, she could picture his smug, shit-eating smirk. A chill ran down her spine as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, trapping her. God, she wished she had a bat so she could beat him till he was a lifeless piece of flesh that she could point and laugh at. Too bad that would never be possible, even if she had a weapon to begin with. Deep down, Y/N knew there was no escaping this. But with every ounce of strength her battered body could summon, she let out the loudest scream she could muster; a semblance of hope in her body that somebody could save her. It tore through the cold night air before everything turned black. The last thing she heard was another man's footsteps approaching them, and two voices she made an oath to never hear, conversing. All she wanted was a fucking pay raise.

- Y/N buttoned her blouse with a giddy smile, rushing around her room in search of the shoes she’d bought just for this day. "I can't believe I got the job! I'm so excited, this still feels so surreal." she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm as she grabbed her phone, waiting for her friend’s response. "Girl, I'm happy for you!” her friend shouted over the line, her voice barely cutting through the loud music and chatter in the background. “Just work hard, and you’ll be promoted to detective in no time! My little Sherlock Holmes~” Y/N scoffs out a laugh before she shakes her head at the chaos on the other end. Normally, she’d lecture her friend about hosting a party at seven in the morning, but today, she was too nervous and way too excited about her first day to care. "Ahaha, Yeah I don't know about that... I'm still in shock that I got the job to be the assistant, let alone be the main thing. I just hope the person in charge of me is nice." The E/C-eyed girl replied looking at the ceiling , nervously biting her nails whilst walking back and forth in her room.

"Don't stress about it! I'm sure they'll be nice, babes. And you should ju-" Y/N’s friend was abruptly cut off by a guy shouting in the background, his voice carrying over the music: “Ayra! Get back to the party already!” "Hold on a sec Noel! Im talking to Y/N" she yells back with an obvious scowl on her face… Well, Y/N was almost positive that she displayed one based on the tone of her voice. "It's fine! You go do your shit, I gotta’ finish getting ready." "Okay Okay, message me after your shift ends. I wanna know everything~!" The bubbly girl says as she mimics a kiss sound. Despite Ayra not being able to see Y/N, she smiles with a soft gaze at the phone before hanging up. Staring into the mirror, she carefully assessed her outfit. A sleek black blouse layered over a white undershirt paired perfectly with a matching black pencil skirt. Light makeup enhanced her features, and her neatly styled hair framed her face just right. She smoothed her clothes with her hands, beaming widely as she twirled in front of the mirror. Y/N gathered all her essentials, carefully packing them into her bag before stepping out of her apartment. She locked the door with a quick twist of the key, then paused to double-check it twice…just to be sure; it was a habit she had done ever since she lived in her parents home.

Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the ground floor. Knowing the ride would take a while, she lived on the second-highest floor, after all, she pulled out her phone to check the time. It was 7:15 a.m. Perfect. With the bus journey to the department taking only 30 minutes, she was right on schedule (which was always a struggle for her.) A grin spread across her face as she opened her email app and tapped on the message from the 'Warrens Department.' Her heart fluttered nervously as she re-read the letter, scanning each line to ensure she hadn’t missed anything important. As she scrolled to the bottom, her brows furrowed. There, tucked away, was a link she hadn’t noticed before.

'Shit I must've missed this' She thought with worry before quickly clicking the link, silently thanking her instincts for prompting her to double-check the message. The link was a profile of the detective that she would be working with. Looking at the picture, she notices that he was a very conventionally attractive male. The formally dressed girl squints her eyes before assessing the man that her eyes laid upon.

Xavier Allette, it read. Twenty-five years old, with five years of experience as a detective.

‘Holy shit, he became a detective at 20? I was still in university then.’ Y/N’s thoughts wandered briefly as she reminisced about her own journey, a flicker of envy stirring as she compared herself to her boss.

Letting out a breath of relief that she didn't know she had; The assistant was expecting an old cruel man as her boss, but to her luck, it was someone of a similar age to her. And, as a bonus, he wasn’t bad to look at either.

Y/N knew better than to judge someone based on their appearance, but as her cheeks warmed, she couldn’t help but blush at the handsome face staring back at her from the screen. A straight pale face, with a clean-shaven look. His hair was a wavy deep black, tussled formally. Eyes sharp and matched with his extremely dark hair. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the absence of a glint or any sign of life in his pupils. ‘I’m overthinking it,’ she told herself. ‘He’s just posing for the picture’. It had to be her psychology degree kicking in, making her analyze every feature of his face like a subject in a case study. Xavier’s nose was strikingly defined, and his lips were full, holding a slightly warm tint that gave his serious expression a subtle softness. Though he was wearing a suit, anyone could tell the detective worked out as his jaw was sharp and his shoulders were broad. It was clear that he took good care of himself.

The only other information displayed on his profile was a list of the cases he had worked on and details about his educational background. 'Maketa Academy?!' That was the most prestigious high school that Y/N had ever heard of. You could either get in with a scholarship or a lot of money. Unfortunately for her, she had been neither crazy smart nor crazy rich, so attending a place like that had never been an option. Y/N couldn’t tell whether Xavier had gotten in through wealth or intellect, but either way, it was impressive. Her train of thought abruptly halted as the elevator chimed, signaling her arrival on the first floor.

Turning off her phone, She exits the building before walking a short distance to the bus so she could arrive at the destination where she was going to be working.

'Please be nice to me, Warrens Department.'

Y/N rushed out of the bus, the clock read 8:00 am. The bus kept on delaying because of the traffic that the driver faced. The 15 minutes that she was hoping she had left to spare, disappeared all because of not getting a driver's licence! Cursing at herself, she ran to the building that was two minutes away. She could get there in ten seconds, her stubbornness is saving her life today.

The girl stared in awe at the building for a second. It was massive and incredibly modern. A large sign labelled Warrens Department was placed right in the middle of the building. Shaking her head, she scans the key card that came into the mail a week ago and fixes any loose hairs before walking into the building.

8:01 am, Already a minute late, though not much of a difference, she didn't want to disappoint her boss on the first day. Power walking to the reception she sighs shyly before speaking up. "Hi!" Her voice cracks.

'Oh my god, first I'm late, now my voice cracks, I should just quit my job and leave this e-' "Hello! Who’re you? I've never seen you before?" The ginger girl behind the desk questioned loudly. Her light southern accent peeked through. The red-haired was incredibly short, her face caked with pink-themed makeup matching her formal pink outfit. Y/N thought the receptionist was cute and seemed nice too! If she wasn't too busy stressing about being late, she'd love to be her friend. "I'm the detective's new assistant— Xaviers Allette's assistant." Y/N rambles, hands shaking with nerves.

"Y/N L/N?" The receptionist questioned with eyebrows raised, Y/N nods quickly and shows her key card to the lady. "I'm Abigail!" her smile drops, "Also, you should probably head over to his office quickly, Mr Allette hates tardiness.. a lot." It was now Y/N's turn for her face to drop, she mumbles a quick thank you before running off.She stops in her tracks as she realised her stupid mistake. "Hey Abigail, what's his room number?" Y/N spoke rushing back to the desk. Reaching halfway, the red-haired girl puts her hand out, ordering her to stop running back. "It's on the second floor, room 11, hurry!" She yells, shaking her hand. The late assistant puts a thumbs up as a way of saying thank you before completely ignoring the elevator and rushing up the stairs. Turning left she finds the room that is the lead detective. On the door, a silver plate is shown with 'Room 11' and 'Xavier Allette' engraved onto them in a fancy font.. It was clear that his room was the biggest on the floor.

Wiping the sweat off her hands and re-checking herself on the reflection of the plate, she checks the time.

8:05 am.

Y/N knocks on her boss's door. The door opens automatically, she notices the man that was just on her screen almost an hour ago, sitting down with his eyes furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. His eyes were fixated on his computer screen, fist propped against his chin. The assistant looks around while patiently waiting for him to say something.

20 seconds passed and all that she could hear were the sounds of him typing. the h/c hair-coloured girl clears her throat.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Y/N L/N, and Im p-"

"You're late." A deep, harsh voice cuts her off.

A/N : New story :p !! i really like the plot for this one and will have a masterlist out for it soon!

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aayakashii · 8 months ago

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soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a 😙🤌 chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!!

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

Part 2 of this fic here <3

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

#yandere x reader #male yandere #kuuya posting #yandere oc #devotion disorder

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casuallyanidiot · 6 months ago

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Oh dear. Poor reader :(. They must be crying and whimpering, all scared in that dark but spacious boot of his car. It's not right, their screams are perfectly muffled by the gag he so perfectly and effectively bound them up in.

Can you blame him though? It's painfully infuriating to see them struggle in shitty flats with worse room mates. He made sure they can't work anywhere else so they definitely can't afford anything better. Yan (ex) coworker knows they'd be happiest and safest locked inside his lovely manor at the edge of some remote forest with no where to run! ☺️

He's got everything prepared. A pretty room, locked up for them to acclimatise so that they don't hurt themselves or him. They don't even have to worry about the things they love, he's already got everything shipped out there.

What's wrong? He's got everything they could possibly need. Don't piss him off now. He's seen them be useless at everything ever. Just be the pretty doll they know they can be :)

Yandere coworker, if you can even call him that anymore, is nicer to you once you're chained in his basement than he's ever been before.

It's honestly a guilty pleasure of his, but he can't help but get hard when he sees you all teary and curled up on the plush bed he's given you. Yandere coworker smiles despite your fear. He loves this. Finally after all this time, you're the weak little thing he knew you always were.

"Don't cry baby," He coos. "I'm gonna take good care of you," He murmurs with an almost giddy smile. He grabs your ankle and tugs you towards him. You try and claw away from him, but of course you can't even do that. God, you're helpless without him.

Yandere Coworker wrangles you onto his lap and squishes your face in his hand. "Be nice," He warns despite the soft grin on his face. He forced you into a cute little outfit earlier. He had always imagined that you would look far better in short, frilly skirts and soft pastel sweaters than you would office wear. He's glad to know that he, as usual, was right.

"Be nice," He repeats. "You're acting like the world is ending, baby." His voice is full of playful affection. He presses open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck and rolls his clothes hips against yours. You whimper, and he can't help but chuckle. Even after all of this, you still don't get how good you have it. The entire room is filled with designer furniture, all tasteful and cute like you. There's nothing on your body that's worth less than a hundred dollars, and he feeds you (even if by force) only the best meals.

"You're just so dumb, sweetie," Yandere coworker murmurs as he nibbles on your earlobe and forces your thighs apart. He hears you squeak and feels you shake against him. He shushes you quietly. "Acting like you can do anything for yourself... Fuck, you're so useless. You can't even get good sleep if I don't make you, huh?"

You flinch. You try to argue, but he delivers another warning squeeze to your cheeks. He hums and draws circles up your plush thighs with his thumb. "That's why you need me, baby," He practically moans out his words. You're terrified, and even though he knows that he should be trying to get you to accept all of this, he just loves how you tense up in his arms.

"But I know, baby," His voice drips with false sympathy like honey on his tongue. You "I know exactly what you're good for."

Yandere Coworker knows that it's hard for something so simple and sweet like you to understand that this is a good thing. Maybe once you're face down, ass up and stuffed full of his cock, you'll stop pretending like you can even do that.

#yandere x reader #my writing #yandere #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x you #stalker yandere #fanfic writing #yandere boyfriend #x reader #yandere co worker #yandere core #yandere concept #yandere character #answered asks #ask #asks open #smut #tw kidnapping

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ixel-4 · 17 days ago

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bts fic recs

✿ - my favorites

✧ty for the resources :))

— Seokjin

ᰔᩚ Mold a Pretty Lie by @blog-name-idk {college!au, unhealthy & toxic relationships, virgin reader, eventual yandere, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Scale by @shina913 {richboy!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Internal Conflicts by @yoongiofmine {non idol!au, fluff, angst, smut, step brother}

✿ Off Limits by @floralseokjin {brothers bsf!au, smut, angst, fluff}

ᰔᩚ Cupids on Holiday by @persphonesorchid {angel!au, fluff, angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers, humor}

ᰔᩚ Paraluman by @muniimyg {love triangle, fwb to lovers, bsf to lovers, smut, angst}

ᰔᩚ Lets Get Married as a Joke by @burningupp {angst, fluff}

— Namjoon

✿ A word from our sponsors by @100vern {podcast, friends to lovers!au, crack, smut, fluff}

ᰔᩚ The Holiday Pretense by @mortallydeepestobservation {fake dating!au, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers, crack, smut, fluff}

ᰔᩚ Perfect Plan by @mortallydeepestobservation {friends to lovers, fwb?, angst, fluff, happy ending}

ᰔᩚ Beauty & The Bookworm by @jungshookz {uni!au, librian!namjoon, fluff, angst, smut}

— Yoongi

ᰔᩚ Sugar Rush Ride by @lo1k-diamonds {fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Dillema by @trivia-yandere {drug dealer!yoongi, smut}

ᰔᩚ The Road not Taken by @prodagustd {brothers bsf, one sided pining?, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Oh, Darling! by @yoongiofmine {non idol!au, uni!au, fluff, angst, smut}

✿ Between the Titles by @highvern {fluff, smut}

✿Three Tangerines by @kithtaehyung {brothers bsf!au, implied age gap, angst, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Minted by @kithtaehyung {angst, action, smut, haegeum!au, gang!au}

ᰔᩚ Take a bite by @glossdebut {smut, fluff, angst, slowburn}

✿ bbydaddy!yoongi by @muniimyg {smut, fluff, angst}

ᰔᩚ So it goes by @prodagustd {fwb to lovers, fluff, smut, angst}

✿ Terms & Conditions by @ktownshizzle {fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au}

ᰔᩚ The Deal by @untaemedqueen {drug lord!yoongi, fluff, smut, angst}

ᰔᩚ Whispered Vows by @lostbookmark {angst, fluff, smut}

✿ Dating Advice by @taleasnewastime {strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Love and Lullabies by @ktownshizzle {fluff, angst, smut, idol!au, acquaintances to lovers, dad!yoongi}

✿ Hook, Line & Stinker by @yoonmetogether (smut, fluff, angst}

— Hoseok

ᰔᩚ Heartbeat by @joonbird {gang!au, fluff, smut}

ᰔᩚ Guarded by @xjoonchildx {mafia!au, e2l, slowburn, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Connotations of Sin by @persphonesorchid {fallen angel!au, angst, fluff, smut, horror}

— Jimin

ᰔᩚ Serendipity by @mikrokosmoslove {ceo jimin!au, lovers to enemies to colleagues to lovers, angst, smut, drama}

✿ Silk Sheets by CallMeByYourName97 {sugardaddy!au, smut, fluff, toxic relationship}

ᰔᩚ Growing Pains by @taleasnewastime {unrequited love, brothers bsf, mafia!au, fluff, angst}

ᰔᩚ In the wake of your leave by @taleasnewastime {unrequited love, brothers bsf, slowburn, mafia!au, angst}

— Taehyung

ᰔᩚ A really great (love?) story by @whatifyoulivelikethat {non idol!au, fluff, smut, friends to lovers}

ᰔᩚ Stuck with you by @jungshookz {roommate!taehyung, uni!au, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut}

— Jungkook

ᰔᩚ Strictly Platonic by @jeonqkookskooks {college!au, bsfs to lovers, fake dating!au, fluff, angst, smut}

ᰔᩚ Game on @sparklingchim {footballer!jungjook, fake dating, f2l}

ᰔᩚ I Want You to Stay by @ahundredtimesover {boss!jk x assistant reader, strangers to lovers, slowburn, angst, smut, fluff, drama}

ᰔᩚ Bbydaddy!jk by @muniimyg {exs to lovers, fluff, smut, angst}

✿ Home by @bonny-kookoo {est relationship, foreigner!reader, fluff, smut}

✿ Hotter than Hell by @chateautae {supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut}

ᰔᩚ Paraluman by @muniimyg {love triangle, fwb to lovers, bsf to lovers, smut, angst}

✿ Sauvage by tjunglebook {ceo!jungkook, fluff, smut}

— Ot7

ᰔᩚ Change my mind by @winterzsurprise {soulmates!au, f2l, eventual smut, slowburrn, polyamory}

✿ Little do You Know by @yoongiofmine {fluff, angst, smut, playmate!au, idol!au}

ᰔᩚ Back Home by @alexlwrites {college!au, romance, humor, fluff, angst}

✿ Everything Falls (Into Place) by @blog-name-idk {college!au, roommate!au, fluff, humor, smut}

ᰔᩚ Sh. by @wwilloww {non idol!au, wilderness!au, f2l, smut, fluff, angst}

#bts #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hobi x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #fluff #smut #bts x y/n #bts fanfic #fic rec #bts fic recs #angst

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yandereunsolved · 9 months ago

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✐ᝰ Yandere Clark Kent 'Superman' ᝰ.ᐟ

Alien, farmer, reporter, superhero, and Justice League member are all titles Clark has collected over the years. They stretch from the most mundane to the ones that are given the highest respect. All of these titles pale in comparison to the one he yearns for the most: to be your husband. Every one of his positive traits seemed to disintegrate when it came to you, his accomplishments and status along with them. He was simply Clark to you, not Superman or Kal-El.

He was nothing but a love-sick maniac at your feet. His obsession threatens to break the moral code he is so devoted to. He understands that his attraction to you is something unhealthy and taboo. He is a beacon of light in the darkness of the world. Yet he'd be willing to blind the entire world with light just to be acknowledged by you. He'd cut out his own heart and present it in a gift box with a red bow if it'd please you.

You—just a human reporter who works at the Daily Planet. You who lives in a small studio apartment. You who has aspirations of doing something greater than just writing opinion pieces. You who has captured the noble hero's heart.

You, you, you, you, you, you, you.

He can't get enough.

He doesn't get enough of you. You seem to actively avoid him. You interact with Lois so cordially; you two are close friends. He works with Lois. Why are you giving him the cold shoulder?

He knows everything about you. He knows your favorite restaurant, where you go to de-stress, your schedule, your hobbies, and your fantasies. He's spent so much time learning about you. You've learned nothing about him except for the fact that he's your dorky, sweet co-worker.

"Are you staring at them again? How long have you been staring at them? Why do you keep staring at them? Do you have a crush on them!?" Lois interrogates him with that same curiosity kindling in the back of her violet eyes.

He could demolish buildings in an instant, but he couldn't control his pale complexion from being invaded by a red hue. He had to think for a moment. His words had become lost in his mind, like they had been dispersed among the cosmos. He stuttered at first. It felt so out of character for him. He always, well, almost always, knew what to say.

He had to be careful around her. He's lucky that he has been clever enough to keep his obsessive tendencies under wraps until Lois leaves his side.

"I just want to know why they refuse to talk to me." His words were laced with truth. Still, he was dodging her questions, as always.

Lois huffs in irritation, like he just said the most asinine thing one could ever utter.

"They obviously like you. They just think you're way out of their league."

"What?" He deadpans.

"I never give you the inside scoop about your darling little crush, but this one time I may." She teases him. "Clark, they like you. The googly eyes you two make at each other are such an obvious indication that you both are totally whipped for each other."

"You're serious?" His pupils dilate to such an extensive degree that you would have thought he was getting them checked by an optometrist. A lump forms in this throat, twice the size of his Adam's apple. "They like me?"

"They more than like you. They are interested in you, and you should totally ask them out on a date. I have to help a friend out, y'know? You two would make such a cute couple." Lois's pitch in her voice had become so much higher; even with her evident giddiness, there was an undertone of sulleness.

"Hey!" Lois calls you over. She waves her arm around and points towards Clark.

You scurry over in your flattering work outfit. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to eye you like a forbidden sweet. Still, he could feel his clothes grow tighter and his palms become sweaty. You couldn't even look him in the eyes. He wanted to gently tilt your chin up so your eyes would meet his. He'd eat a lump of kryptonite just for you to glance at him with that love-lorn expression. If only you knew, he could show; no, he has to show—

"You and him are going to go undercover in a local cafe a few blocks from here." He's snapped from his never-ending supply of thoughts about you. "It's supposedly a cover for a notorious drug cartel. Your cover story will be that you're a young couple going out on a date."

You glance at Lois and eagerly nod. His words don't register your reply, but from Lois's grin, you obviously said something along the lines of yes. You walk off once again, your eyes sweeping across the aged carpet covering the office floor. Once out of hearing distance, Lois turns back to him.

"You're welcome. You owe me one." Lois nudges him in the side.

He could die a happy man now.

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 10 months ago

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Lover's Quarrel

Pairing: Dark (aged-up) Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: You get away from Bakugo’s toxic clutches. But soon your peace comes to an end.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; minor Violence/Abuse.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

I just realized today is his birthday, so here it is :) hope you guys like this.

–

“...you better damn pick up my calls, (Y/N). I’m losing my patience here so you better get that fucking attitude out of your system or I’ll do it for you. Swear to god I’m gonna drag your stupid ass back home if you don’t come to your damn senses and if you fucking think that-”

You press a button, closing the voicemail with a sigh. Throwing your phone to the bed’s edge, you turn your back to it, curling yourself into a ball.

Your mind is an unstable whirlwind of thoughts and worries and a solitary tear rolls down your face. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair.

You pull the blankets over you, but even their warmth isn't enough to calm the cold that scatters through your body.

A sob breaks your composure and you hastily push your face into the pillow, smothering down the ugly sobs and whines that break out.

It takes a long time until your eyes are finally dry and you have no more tears to weep.

But even afterwards, as you finally fall asleep, the heavy feeling still weighs on your heart.

Ding.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Your friend looks at you and you’re quick to mute the notifications that pop up, eyes catching sight of the messages that Bakugo is spamming you before you black the screen.

“I know I’ve asked before, but is everything really okay?” she asks, ignoring the movie on display in favor of looking at you, a concerned wrinkle settling between her brows.

“You seem… so distracted ever since you came. Is it about Bakugo?”

You shift on the couch, uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing.” you hesitantly tell her, measuring your words carefully. None of your friends know about the depth of Bakugo’s dark side and you’d rather not involve them.

Even though you’re almost sure that she suspects something is up, especially with the unannounced way you dropped by unannounced a couple of days ago, asking if you could stay a few days.

“You can tell me, you know that, right? I’m not gonna judge or whatever.”

You nod, giving her a small smile but no words come out of you despite the hefty weight on your mind. You don’t want to burden her with your problems.

“I know, don’t worry. We’re just giving it some time. Lover’s quarrel and all.” you try to joke even though there's no humor in your smile.

"I see, okay." your friend draws a small smile, hesitating for a moment before letting it be.

Work drags far too slowly.

Boring paperwork to be filled, a few documents that need reviewing.

Nothing that actually manages to successfully distract you away from your current problems. If anything, it leaves you with far too much time for your mind to wander through your situation.

A definitive break-up is more complicated than what it seems as you’re aware that Bakugo won’t peacefully accept that.

Just the idea of having to deal with an even angrier Katsuki has you cowering further into your chair and you distract yourself by opening your work email, digging into the emails that need to be answered.

You’ll think about Bakugo later.

“Later” arrives much earlier than what you expect.

When the clock hits 6 p.m you reluctantly turn off the computer, gathering your jacket and your purse.

When you check your phone out of habit, the lack of messages surprises you. Strange.

Maybe Bakugo is finally catching the hints that you want to be left alone? You sure hope so.

You couldn’t be more wrong about it and you almost jump when your co-worker shrieks in delight, nudging your arm as you retrieve your car keys from the purse.

“Oh god, he’s so cute, damn. Seems like someone was eager to see you.”

Your heart drops at the sight of the blonde man that leans against your car, crimson eyes fixed on you.

“You’re so lucky. My boyfriend never comes to pick me up.” she whines before finally saying a distracted goodbye, throwing adoration filled glances at Bakugo when she walks away.

For a moment, you consider leaving your car in the open parking-lot. You could take the bus to your friend’s apartment. It would be no big deal, only half an hour before reaching her place.

But the impassive expression on your boyfriend’s face warns you not to ignore him and you don’t doubt Bakugo’s ability to cause a overly explosive scene right in front of your workplace.

Your legs walk on their own towards him and he straightens up, pushing himself off the hood as he walks to you, meeting you half-way, far too close for your comfort.

He’s wearing civilian clothes, you notice. They make his firm muscles bulge from beneath the thin material, the veins in his arms popping out with his hands hidden in the pant’s pockets, as always.

“What do you want?”

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“Talk then.”

Irritation seeps into Bakugo’s face. He’s never had much patience.

“We can talk in your car. The keys.”

Despite his stretched hand, you don’t deposit the keys in his palm. It’s your car. It’s your life. You have to fight for it.

“Y/n.”

You take a step back, shaking your head.

“If you wanna talk, then we can talk here. Out in the open.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with ire, and it compels you to take another tiny step away from him.

“Will you stop fucking stepping away from me?” his voice booms loudly through the empty parking lot, eliciting a wince from you. “Quit acting like I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp or somethin’. I’m just trying to take you back home, you idiot.”

“But I’m not going back.”

“You are.”

You clench your teeth, hoping it would help ease out the incoming flow of angry tears that threatens to spill at any moment now.

“I said. I’m not going back.”

Bakugo ignores your words, losing his patience upon your refusal.

“Like hell you aren’t. I’ve had enough of this stupid attitude of yours.”

His hand latches to your wrist, holding it in a bruising grip, tight enough for you to feel the bones in your hands being painfully compressed together.

“Ah, Katsuki, you’re hurting me!” you cry out, attempting to release his grip by using your free hand.

But your fingers are far too weak to pull him away and he groans when your nails scratch him. It makes him grip your hand harder and you sob, body limpless following forward when Bakugo tugs you in his direction.

You bump into his hard chest, head sharply pulled back with his callous hand enveloping the back of your neck, his large palm easily covering all of it.

The tall hero doesn’t even bother looking around, unafraid of the possibility of someone walking by. Bakugo’s never been one to be overzealous, much less now that the position on Pro Hero Number 2 belongs to him.

“You’ve had your fun these past days. But it’s over now, y’hear me?” the tips of his fingers dig into your neck, and you’re barely able to hold his threatening gaze, already knowing that you’re not coming out on top of this.

“You’re coming back home with me. No fuckin' fuss, no complaining, and that’s final. Like hell I’m gonna let you get away from me, so you better start fixing that attitude.”

He squeezes your neck, looking at you with deadly eyes.

“You hear me? Brat.”

He keeps his hand on the back of your neck when guiding you to your own car, unceremoniously pushing you to the passenger’s seat before claiming the steering wheel for himself.

A few tears escape from your eyes and you turn your face to the window, ignoring the sharp looks Bakugo throws your way.

You hug yourself, all of your hope dissolving at the realization that you’re never truly gonna be free from him.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #mha x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo #tw: toxic relationships #tw: yandere

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arminsumi · 3 months ago

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YEAH, PSYCHO BOYS DO IT BETTER

Your co-worker, Aki, jus' wants to bump off your lousy boyfriend so he can show you that heaven exists on his tongue... 'n maybe he also wants to dumbify you on his cock until you tell him you love him.

ㅤ★ requested by anonymous

ㅤ★ warnings; strictly no under 18s/MDNI, infidelity, Aki is *ahem* unwell/kinda yandere, possessiveness, alcohol/drunk fling, drunk s*x, oral (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x/cr**mpie, sum breeding kink, sum dumbification

It's a front — it always has been. Aki's not normal about you.

Underlining his every move, every word, every thought, is this sensual super psycho scorpionic energy.

He singes you with his hot looks some days in the office. Goes over to your cubicle and lingers for too long, biting his thumb and coolly flirting with you — "You look good today." leads to "Are you free later? No, no just as friends..." leads to shots after work with your co-worker Aki...

No, Aki's not normal about you at all; he follows every syllable you speak, follows your shadow like a dog, thinks about bludgeoning your boyfriend in his bed, and eats your attention like he's been starved of it for his whole life.

It's just a pity that you had a man. And a lousy one at that. One who can't even kiss you right, as a drunk Aki grumbles to you after a quick four shots of liquor.

"Your boyfriend can hardly kiss you right, can he even fuck you right?" he whines. It's shocking that these kinds of words are coming from a voice so feathery and quiet.

Your eyes widen. Your heart beats quicker. You tense your thighs together. You stutter.

"Aki... I think you've had too much to drink. Let's get you home, hm?"

He sighs.

You just don't understand him — that's what he's thinking while you help him walk home, your tiny frame tucked under his 6'2 stature.

That small rush of insanity comes over him, and for a split second he doesn't care that you have a boyfriend.

He just puts his drunk, smoky mouth on you and kisses you hard. You can not only taste the cigarettes and alcohol, but all the little psycho feelings on his lips.

Humming into the kiss, Aki feels dizzy. He's melting. Knees buckling. His hands come to cup your cheeks. He turns his face this way and kisses you like that, then turns like that way 'n kisses you like this.

"Aki, we shouldn't do this." you pull off his lips and he still chases after yours.

He looks like a psycho mess. Grazing his lips against yours. Breathing hard. Hair disheveled.

"You could do so much better." he admits right there against your face. "Y-y'know I meant what I said back there..." he breaths heavily before adding, "I could fuck you so much better than him."

He spies you rubbing your thighs together and his whole body runs hot. Leaning into you, he tries to stir you up some more.

"... come on... come inside, 'lemme show you."

"Aki, I'm a good girl. I don't do stuff like that..."

"But he doesn't even treat you well. Tell me, what do you owe him?"

You inhale deeply. "It's not right..."

" 'n that just makes it better..." he mutters under his breath. He pulls back, shakes his head and does a full 180. "Sorry... I'm just drunk."

He looks so pretty in this dim light.

The corridor of the apartment complex in which he stayed was so poorly lit, but right now? It lit up his dark, brooding features... black hair, blue eyes, and that overbearingly large frame; he really had that look going, hm?

His suit tie dangles deliciously before your eyes, and right then you feel a little surge of craziness yourself — oh and Aki just whimpers in surprise and delight when you yank him down by the tie to kiss him hard.

Hot, quick breaths, and small whimpers... yeah, it was a no-brainer where this was going.

Surely enough, it's three minutes later and you two are bursting inside his apartment, lip-locked like teenagers, his hands are all over your waist and squeezing places that you've always daydreamed of him squeezing.

"Nn!" you squirm at the friction of his leg coming between your thighs.

"L-l-let me I feel you, please." he whines with this need you've never heard in a man's voice. His long fingers are hesitantly tickling up the hem of your skirt. His knees are bent — tall boy problem; he can't kiss you without lowering himself significantly.

"Mhm!" you hum, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your pussy.

Letting out a low groan and eagerly feeling over your clothed pussy, Aki gets intoxicated on the smell of your perfume, just inhaling your neck like a vampire 'boutta bite.

He's multitasking just like he does in the office, the poor boy — trying to keep your lips entertained with his lips and trying to rub his middle finger up and down your clothed slit while trying to lure you into his dark bedroom.

You giggle all over his neck when you and him stumble into the bed like clumsy drunks, and that sound for some reason goes right to his cock.

Hand coming down, you squeeze at his bulge, "Aki, I didn't even know you liked me this much before tonight..."

"Then you're pretty oblivious, huh?" he murmurs, biting hard at your bottom lip.

*****

Aki's a sloppy eater between your legs, letting your slick run down his chin while his tongue wiggles inside.

"You taste so fucking good." he presses a twisted grin against your pussy lips, looking up at you momentarily, "Oh, baby, don't hide your face... I wanna see the expressions you make when you cum.

"A-A-Aaaki, nn!" you nest your fingers in his dark hair, pulling at it and eliciting a groan out of him that you feel all over your clit as he goes to suckle at it.

Soft lips puckered, tongue swirling, Aki shines his pretty blue eyes up at you and you don't even catch the devilish light in them because you're too blissed out — eyes pinched shut, a little drool escaping the corner of your mouth, head thrown back on the pillow of your co-workers black satin sheet bed.

"Can he make you feel this good, huh?" he asks.

"No!"

"Yeah? He doesn't make you cum on his tongue, does he? Need a real naughty boy to show you how it's done?" he asks in a taunting coo.

You're deliciously stuffed up with his long fingers, clenching around them tight and drenching him 'till your juices run down past his knuckles and get all over the palm of his shaky hand.

"Aw fuck, baby, you really like me don't you?"

"A-Aki, I'm not gonna tell you those kinds of things." you whine, feeling his fingertips rubbing somewhere deep in your gummy walls. Your eyes flicker into the back of your head as he just thrusts his fingers harder and meaner into your tiny hole.

"... 'guess I need to make you cum 'till you're dumb then, huh?"

****

He's crazed, up in your face, sticky damp sweaty forehead pressed against yours and eyes boring up into yours like he's gone crazy now after tasting your pussy. Aki's been mercilessly rubbing his thick cock back and forth through your folds, groaning each time he feels you cum — which has been how many times? More times than your boyfriend has made you cum in the last three months, that's for sure.

"Baby, tell me you love me." Aki begs, cock twitching as he intently watches your reactions to each thrust of his heavy cock. "Come on, y'love me yeah? You love me?"

"Aki! Nn... I can't say that... I have a boyf— ahh! Mnn!"

"Fuck, shut up about him already..." he groans.

He's perfectly stroking your clit like this, running through your folds, slicking up his cock 'till there's a sticky strand connecting from the base of his cock to your hole.

It's taking all his self-restraint not to plunge inside you. He's already accidentally poked his tip inside, each time immediately pulling out and profusely apologizing. But god it sent a shock of pleasure through his body to feel his tip squeeze through your tight ring of muscle like that.

Again it happens; he pulls back, accidentally pokes his leaky cockhead inside — just the very tip of the tip.

"Nn! Fuck!" you drool, giving him heart eyes, "Sh-shit, you're jus' trying to frustrate me now..."

"I'm sorry..." he bites his bottom lip, keeping his tip poised at your entrance. You can feel his throbbing heat against you, driving you crazy to breaking point.

"Sh-shit... jus' give it to me, then..."

"Are you su— fuckmeohmygodnnn!"

You've snaked your legs around his hips, locked 'em snug and tight and pulled his cock into your eager pussy yourself — trying to get as much of him into you as you can.

Aki's melting. He's literally falling to pieces when he feels your warm walls hugging his cock. He's stuttering. Trying to piece together a thought but your pussy is squeezing all logic out of his head.

"Y-you're s-s-so fucking tight..." he whines, sinking inch by inch out of you, then back in, rubbing his needy cockhead against your contracting walls. "Sh-shouldn't we use a condom?"

"Nooo! Gimmie your babies!" you lock your legs around his waist, giving him a crazed look. "Nn, please, 'm ovulating... it feels so good, I jus'... I jus' wanna..."

"Huh...?" his hips stutter and his cock throbs. "F-fuck... and here your man was always calling me the little psycho..." Aki smiles.

His head prods against your G-spot as he picks up his pace now that you've adjusted to his size. Even in his hazy state, Aki's so careful. Eyeing out your expressions for any discomfort, asking you if you want to keep going, wailing and whimpering when you just pull him into a hot and nasty kiss.

You should have expected it, because it's always the quiet psycho boys, but his thrusts destroy you.

He doesn't know what to obsess over. Your glossy lips? Your glossed-over eyes? The way his cock plunges into your slippery pussy and makes a bigger mess each time?

"Nn! Gonna cum... don't stop!" you whine, clawing at his back.

His ears perk up. Oh, you're gonna cum? Well, allow him to just...

"Good girl... fuck... cum for me. T-tell me you love me, 'n I'll cum too. Aw, please please please... I'll give you every last drop. I'll give you my babies — nn! Fuck! Please!"

He's shivering. His abdomen muscles twitch and flex with each pounding thrust into you. His cockhead is bullying a deep spot inside you, drawing out your orgasm and intently watching your eyes flicker as you cum all over his cock.

"I-I-I love youuu!" you whine, totally blissed out and dumbed by the feeling of his cock stimulating your sensitive walls, "Nn, I love you! Aki!"

It's your words and the milking contractions of your sweet orgasm that draw out his own orgasm.

"Fuck, good girl... m-mine forever, yeah? Fffuck 'm cumming... ahah, I love you so much."

He hides his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a harsh groan, and shoots a thick load — pushing himself deeper as he cums, pressing his cockhead up against your cervix, just to make sure that he's got you pregnant so you can never leave him now.

He's panting, coming down from his high with you. You feel him hug you tight, his bicep muscles twitching at your sides.

"Aki... I need help cleanin' up..." you whimper softly under his weight.

"... of course, baby."

"Don't call me that..."

"Baby."

You giggle and swat him. "You're a bad boy... now help me out, will ya?"

#tw: smut #tw: yandere #aki #aki smut #smut #aki x reader #aki x reader smut #aki x you #aki hayakawa #csm #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #csm x reaer #aki hayakawa smut #chainsaw man #csm aki #csm x reader #female reader

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yestrday · 8 months ago

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: ̗̀➛ YANDERE SALARYMAN IS A FOOL FOR YOU .

ahhh, looks like you caught the attention of an overworked white collar! who is truly the victim here, you or him?

( yandere, perverted man!!!, nsfwish but no s3x, hes creepy :(( ) + thanks to my bbg for being my beta reader mwah mwah

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who is constantly overworked to the bone by his abusive boss. He's clocked in so many overtime hours that human resources is beginning to suspect something, but his co-workers keep pushing their work onto him that he can't help but go overtime. Working days always seem to be like this— constant yelling by his shitty boss, papers jamming the printer, co-workers dumping more work on him before time-out, the side-eyes and whispers of women directed at him in the elevator, and somehow always forgetting to bring the lunchbox his roommate made for him. He's a pushover with no backbone, so he spends most of his nights banging loudly at his keyboard and cursing his own spinelessness.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who's just a walking black hole of negativity. It's already bad enough that he's been dealing with a lot of mental baggage from his childhood, but this stupid fucking black company is making him this close to fucking losing it.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who only wants to go pick up a coffee after work and sees you manning the cafe. Just a sweet little thing, working their student debt away at the new cafe's that opened up near his workplace. He tells himself that it's all part of your job to smile and be polite but fuck— your sweet grin's making his hands go clammy and his voice tremble.The line behind him shoots him judgmental glances because the creep is blushing and sweating and stumbling over his words but if you were ever annoyed, you don't show it on your face. No one’s been this nice to him, but when your fingers brush over his shaking ones when you hand him his order, electricity spikes from his fingertips and sends his heart into overdrive as you flash him another service smile. He has never believed in a god before, but upon meeting you, he might as well declare himself religious.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who feels super guilty about drooling over you when you're several years younger than him. You're just a college student trying to finish your studies while he's a white-collar slave about to enter his 30s. The contrast between you and him is like heaven and hell, and he curses himself for being such a stupid filthy pervert as he palms himself to your Instagram page he's managed to find.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who is once again tired and about to die from another night of overtime, heading out to catch the last ride home and surprised to see you closing up shop. You brighten when you recognize him as one of your regulars (he could give two shits about the black coffee he was ordering when he was too busy ogling you). He stammers and shrinks when you ask him about how he's doing out of concern. You mention his eyebags and his pale skin and his overall sickly demeanor and you fret over him as you two walk to the station. He's at a loss for words when you force the ham and cheese croissant into his hands and tell him to eat up, before waving at him with a grin as you enter your bus.

Woah. So like. You're in love with him, right?

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who goes fucking crazy over this interaction. He knows, he knows, he knows, okay?! You’re just nice like that, but his affection-deprived mind is going into overdrive and can’t help but overthink. But he has to stop himself. You’re probably only like that because you pity him, huh? Whatever’s on his pallid face and baggy eyes must have had you pitying the minimum wage salaryman. … This pity act is probably only to make you feel better about yourself, handing croissants out to whichever near-death white collar you see on the street like some sort of good Samaritan. Well, he doesn’t need it! You can fuck off with your—

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who finds himself in front of the cafe again, nervously adjusting his tie and wiping his clammy hands on his slacks before pushing the doors open. You’re on the morning shift today (haha wow what a coincidence) and the grogginess from waking up extra early today is wiped clean after you look up from the tabletop you’re wiping and shoot him one of your megawatt smiles. Fuck fuck fuck why’d you have to be so damn cute! A man could get the wrong idea, you know?!

“Espresso for Doppo!” Your bright voice rings throughout the cafe and the salaryman has to gulp down his anxiety as he makes his way to the counter. His neck grows hot as he feels glares boring into the back of his head, and the only relief he has is your sunny smile when he picks up his order. “Thanks again for your patronage! Quite the regular here, aren’t you? All staff’s been ecstatic over a Matenro member stopping by here.”

Ugh… The staff knows him? Not only is an insignificant water flea like him taking up a space in your mind, but there are others as well? What could they be possibly saying about him? He nervously laughs, eyes darting around the place as he fidgets. “Uh, ah, y– you know me…?”

He can feel the look that you’re shooting him right now, and he wants to dig a hole for him to hide away in. “Of course! Matenro, the winners of the first Division Battle… waaah, I was so ecstatic when I saw you for the first time! You guys were so cool. I was even cheering you on during the second Division Battle.” You sigh sadly. “Well, Fling Posse’s good, but a Shinjuku local’s gotta stay loyal, y’know?” Oh, so it’s just about being loyal. What was he even thinking, getting his hopes up that maybe you liked Matenro, liked him, for their rap. Stupid, stupid, stupid— “Oh, but don’t get me wrong though! I love the way you guys do hiphop. Especially your screaming shtick, Kannonzaka! Can really feel the pent-up stress from Chuohku all the way to here, haha!”

Doppo shrinks into himself, using his work bag to try and hide the shaky smile that’s been threatening to break out onto his face. To… To think the cute barista he’s been crushing on for a month now is a fan of him… This kind of stuff only happened to Hifumi, not him! He doesn’t… He’s not quite sure to handle the situation. Instead he nods as you gush over Matenro and at the end, finally squeaks out a tiny little, “Th– Thanks!”

You shoot him a pitying look. Clearly all that rap about his pent-up stress and rage is clearly stemming from somewhere. Sighing and looking at the building in front of you, you see the skyscraper’s soulless windows and architecture and sigh. “Enjoy the coffee then, Kannonzaka. Being a black company worker is stuff but!” You shoot him a grin and a thumbs up. “I’m rooting for you and Matenro!”

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who’s reeling from your compliments and praise. Oh… Oh god. You– You liked him! Actually liked him. And, and you said you were cheering for him too! Well, him and Matenro, but still! He goes back to his apartment feeling more chipper than usual, something that his roommate notices. The creepy smile matched with the dark laughter as he enters their apartment isn’t exactly charming, but he’s happy to see him happy nonetheless. He thinks that he’s been wearing that gloomy look for far too long and he’s glad to know that he’s found someone to brighten up his days.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who has gained some courage to hold longer conversations with you. When you’re working the night shift and run into him after closing up, he’s glad to know that you take his dry humor very well. As the two of you silently walk together to the station, he can feel his heart beating so fast that he might near collapse. He wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks and swallows down the anxiety in his stomach. It’s already weird to see a near 30 man walking together with a fresh-faced uni student alone and at night, so he might as well not add more to his creepiness.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who has to bite down his tongue when you press up against him in the jampacked train. You smell like coffee and pastries and he— he tries not to sniff himself— probably smells like sweat. A sudden lurch of the train has you clinging to him to maintain stability and oh god oh god oh god you smell so fucking good shit. He suppresses the urge to sniff your hair. Instead, he (oh gosh he was really about to this) shakily wraps one arm around you, his palm on your lower back to offer you more support. You smile at him so sweetly, as if the dirty old man didn’t have the agenda of just trying to feel you up. Oh… oh gosh he can feel the dip of your lower back… trailing to your—

He hopes you don’t feel the tent down… there. Though with how tightly you two are up against each other, he highly doubts that.

“Bye Mr. Kannonzaka!” You cheerily wave to him as you both part ways at your stop. Though he is unable to match your energy, he waves you off with a faint smile before you bound off to your home. His eyes linger long as your figure disappears into the distance and he’s left all on his lonesome.

— Then he runs off to the nearest bathroom. People cast him weird glances as he rushes off to the farthest bathroom stall and sits on the toilet, burying his head in his hands as he tries to make sense of the numerous thoughts rampaging in his head.

Oh god. That just happened, didn’t it? Something straight out of those perverted doujinshis that happen on trains. And he was the ugly bastard, wasn’t he?! The weird, creepy, scummy ones preying on innocent girls that don’t deserve their fantasies. He was a hopeless case. He should do the entire world a favor and make away with himself, but then he couldn’t see your pretty face in the hell that he was going to. You didn’t deserve this—

His phone dings. He checks the text notification that comes from you.

[Your Name]: heya ! just curious about what brand your bag is. felt it on the train and dats sum serious quality leather!

He screams into his hand. The man in the stall beside him angrily knocks on their shared wall to shut him up. He rack his brain to try and figure out any possible way to properly answer without rousing suspicion until you send another text.

[Your Name]: just kidding~ (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

…

… You’re going be to the death of him, you. Youngsters these days.

you thought this was a general yandere fic, didn't you?! get hypmiced!!! /matenros you/

#yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere #male yandere #hypnosis mic #yandere hypnosis mic #doppo kannonzaka #yandere doppo kannonzaka #hypnosis mic x reader #yester.writes

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 3 months ago

Note

a day in the life where everyone tries to win reader over, maybe they heard reader mention something like how they can't stand an annoying relative asking them about a relationship over the holidays, or trying to get her the best gift?

ps i love your writing, i read it like my morning paper

A Day in Life: Christmas, Presents and Revelations

Synopsis: A day in your life full of good Christmas presents, propositions and secrets.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: Implied stalking; Calling someone a manwhore; Karens in the family with traditional and conservative ideals and miserable lives; Mentions of past cheating; Mentions of past Bucky Barnes X reader; Is Hal Jordan slowly getting his redemption arc?; Slightly implied horny Reader; English is not my first language.

Word count: 2,2k

Requested? Yup.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— And it's just so annoying, like, sometimes I literally don't want to show up on these things, but I don't want to leave my mom there alone with my dad’s family. — You huffed. — My auntie’s too concerned about my romantic life, like her husband didn't get other three women pregnant at the same time she got pregnant and only married her because he would have to marry one of the four girls. — You shook your head while your co-worker laughed. — And you know what's worse? I told everyone I had a boyfriend, but Bucky cheated on me, and I didn't tell them that yet, so she's gonna think I lied and mock me like the middle-aged Regina George she is!

Unknown to you, certain people were listening, and silently, each one of them made a decision.

Your last day at work before Christmas, you were getting ready to go home, pack and take the road, when someone knocked on your office door. You looked up, seeing no other than Martian Manhunter at your door, holding a present.

— How can I help? — You hid your gritted teeth behind a polite tone.

— I came here to follow the Earth tradition of Christmas and give my loved one a present. — He stopped in front of you with a soft smile and extended the gift in your direction. You hesitated.

— You didn't have to… — You cautiously took the present from his hand.

— I also have a proposition for you. — And there it comes. — I couldn't help but overhear earlier that you were in need of a partner for a meeting with your family. — You wanted to facepalm. — I could be that person. — You sighed.

— I can't show up with an alien superhero. — You crossed your arms with a pointed look.

— As you know, I'm a shapeshifter. — You watched as he changed his appearance to look like multiple different kind of people, one moment he was a tall blonde man, the next, a black girl with braids, then an asian young guy, and so on, meaning he could look however you wanted him to. — And you can call me by whatever name you choose, even the name I adopted here on Earth… J’onn J’onnes. — He settled for his usual green alien appearance. — You widened your eyes at his confession, thinking “oh, shit”.

— Uhh…

— While you think about it, open my present, darling. — He gently pushed the present in your direction again and you, still wordless, obeyed, while mentally searching for a way out of this.

You cleared your throat and teared the paper. The feeling of destroying the wrapping paper of gifts always made you feel a little embarrassed, as if the beautiful wrapping itself was the present and you were being rude by tearing it apart. It was a silly thought.

As you finished, you found out he gave you a comic book from your favorite hero. It made you excited, but you couldn't show it much.

— Oh wow, thank you… — You coughed. — Can't even imagine how you knew it was my favorite… — You internally rolled your eyes. — Anyway, about your offer- — Another knock interrupted you, and you both looked at the door. Aquaman was there with another present in hand.

He looked suspiciously from you to the other hero and stepped forward, then focused on you.

— Whatever offer he gave you, I give you one better. Take a king to meet your family, darling. — He smirked and offered you his present. You ignored what he said, settled the comic on your desk, and opened his present. It was a necklace with charms related to the beach, like some shells, pears and fishes, all made of your favorite metal. You pursed your lips, not waiting to admit to yourself that it was pretty and you liked it more than you thought you would, just like the last gift.

— Thank you. And about your offer, I can't exactly do that. You can imagine why. — He shrugged.

— Well, you can simply take me as your completely human lighthouse keeper, Arthur. — He smirked and wrapped your shoulders with his left arm. You shuddered, thinking “God, no”. — We’ll even invite them to our beach house, darling. Right on the shore. I also have a boat. Let's impress them. — He grinned proudly, as if he was sure you couldn't deny him.

You shrugged his arm off and before anything came out of your mouth, you remembered about your auntie and her shittalking right now. She always wanted a beach house, but everyone knew your uncle prefered to spoil himself and his side-pieces than her or the kids, and yet, she felt superior to every member of the family who was single because at least she had a husband and she didn't need to work, including you.

Rubbing a beach house, a boat, and a blonde hunk himbo on her face could be nice… Even if you just offered to take only your immediate family there one day and then just pretend you broke up with him later, he and the league would still get the wrong idea.

— Knock knock, oh- What’s everyone doing here? — Flash was there and pursed his lips while looking at the three of you. You groaned internally.

— You can go, Flash, (Y/N) won't choose you. — Aquaman, or Arthur, weaved him off. Flash narrowed his eyes for a second and then turned to you, ignoring him and beaming at you, extending a gift in your direction.

— I bought you something! — You discharged the necklace behind you and took the new gift, it was a bracelet with a lightning symbol in your favorite metal. It was also pretty, you were getting tired of it.

— Thank you, Flash…

— Please, just call me Barry. — He grinned brightly. — Please ignore the stinking ugly dressed fishman and the alien still learning to act like a normal human. You can take the funny and smart forensic chemist to meet your family. — He reached up and took his mask off, you widened your eyes, at seeing his real face. Huh, you didn't think he was blonde.

You stuttered, too shocked.

— Oh God… — You thought knowing their name was worse than their faces, secret identities and all, but something about seeing a real face that was kept hidden all the time felt like a heavier burden. To make matters worse, Green Lantern showed up. — No.

— Just hear me out, please! — Everyone turned to him with annoyed expressions. — I changed, I swear! And I apologized like, a thousand times. — He cleared his throat. By your face, he knew it was the worst thing to say. — Anyway, here’s your gift. — He bit his lip while you took it from his hands and opened it with hostility. They were tickets for the next concert of one of your favorite artists, that made you feel a little bad for the way you treated him, but it didn't change what he did to you in the past.

— I… Thank you. — You were trembling with nerves at this point from all the surprises you were having.

— I heard you needed someone to bring home for the holidays…

— Uhuh.

— And your dad is a big fan of the army, right? — You blinked. It was true, but you never told them that, yet, you weren't surprised they knew that.

Where was he going with it…?

— Please, not you too.

But he took off his ring anyway, and after a moment, he was wearing civilian clothes, along with a military jacket and dogtags.

— Who better than a charming ex-air force member to present to your family? Test pilot now, I can take them flying. Actually, I can take you flying. — He winked. — Call me Hal Jordan, beautiful. — He winked and saluted you. — Also, I fought in the war.

— Dude. Just give up. They're not gonna pick you.

— I will never give up, I'm a green lantern, strong will is kind of my thing. — He looked at you again. — So, darling?

While you were staring blankly at him, someone cleared their throat.

— Be reasonable, you don't have to be humiliated today. — Wonder Woman catwalked into the room confidently. She was holding two bags from a clothes store in her hands. The amazon pushed Hal Jordan aside and stopped in front of you. She looked you up and down and smiled charmingly. — Take me with you, darling. This is for you. — She extended one of the bags to you. You took it and looked inside, then reached in and pulled it out. It was a beautiful outfit, completely on your style, and clearly of good quality. But when she pulled out what was inside the other bag, it took your attention and you looked curiously at the red wine satin dress she was holding up. — And this is what I will be wearing. — She smiled seductively. — Diana Prince, pleasure to meet you.

You couldn't help your jaw from dropping while imagining her wearing that. While some family members might not admire the sensual outfit as much, you definitely would. Secretly. Your ego would too.

Damn it, why couldn't she be more normal and less yandere?

You swallowed, looking away from her and the dress. It was finally too hard to say no, but not for the mature reasons.

At your silence, Diana’s eyebrows rose up and she tilted her head to the side, with a pleased small smile. The other men in the room groaned and started arguing loudly, but she was untouchable in front of you.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

— I think I should just go home, it's getting late… — You rapidly shoved your gifts inside the bag, took your things and squeezed your way between them heroes, not even realizing how trapped you were previously, but just as you got to the door, you hit a brick wall, or Superman, as people usually call him.

You groaned and he looked at you sheepishly.

— I guess after all of that I can't offer you something much better, but I can try… — Superman took a deep breath and before you could blink, he flew away, changed clothes, and came back. One second, Superman was in front of you, the next, just a regular cute guy wearing glasses and a suit. You took a second to recognize him and understand what happened and what that meant.

Damn, who knew glasses were a good disguise.

— I'm Clark, Clark Kent. I grew up on a farm in Kansas and I work as a journalist at the Daily Planet. — He smiled shyly and gave you his gift. — I hope you like it…

You blinked and catatonically looked at the thing he gave you. Differently from the last gifts, it wasn't neatly wrapped and it had a weird shape, but by how it felt in your hands, you guessed what it was.

You expected the sight of a Superman plushie to greet you, but instead, it was a plushie of your favorite fictional superhero. The same hero from the Martian’s comic.

Well, it was cute. You would probably fall for him if you didn't know better. You held back an awed sound that wanted to spill from the back of your throat.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by all the Justice League groaning a collective and loud “GET OUT”, you looked up, confused and curious by what caused all this, surprised by seeing it was just Batman entering the room.

Huh, why did everyone react like that?

He stared at you, then at every single one of them, silently, almost disapproving, or disappointed, but then, he smirked when he looked at you again.

Batman was smirking? You flinched.

— This is for you. — He gave you a big box. It was surprisingly heavy. When you opened it, there was a very expensive and beautiful pair of shoes, something you only dreamed of having and was always on your Pinterest board. Only digital influencers and celebrities wearing it, making you jealous. But that wasn't all. There was also jewelry and a very expensive bottle of wine. You will definitely take it to the holidays to impress your family. Or maybe keep it to a very special occasion. — And there’s more from where it came from. — He reached for his cowl and your breath hitched. Never in your wildest dreams you thought this day would happen.

He took of the cowl, and in front of your was…

Bruce Wayne?!

While everyone deflated, knowing they lost, you just had to hold back your laugh, but a snort still escaped. That took everyone off for a second, including the always stoic hero in front of you, who was clearly bewildered when you couldn't hold back anymore and laughed to his face.

— You think I'm gonna show up to my family with the nacional manwhore? HA! Yeah, that's gonna impress them for the first five minutes, then I will be the dummy who’s gonna be traded for the next top model. — You shook your head, still laughing. Bruce frowned deeper. You slightly feared for your job after you bluntly called him a manwhore.

— I would never do that to you. My affairs are all to deceive the public and keep my job a secret.

— And that might be true, but my family doesn't know that! Or are you gonna tell this to everyone? Funny. Billionaires are so delusional and out of touch… — You shook your head and walked out.

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