#yandere naked snake

[yandereunsolved]

Funny thing is tgat in the mgs universe, don't even matter if the two parties ain't capable of carrying kids, can just take their DNA and mush it together in a lab and then boom, child-ish thing

Yeppers !

Which is what Liquid loves so much. ;) His darling can be anyone. And he can make their shared children into anyone.

Which makes me think... would the yan Snakes want children with their darling? how many? and in what way?

― Naked Snake ―

he already ends up having clones which are his 'children'

it does depend on the era

just in general 1

he wants one little child that he can help mould into something greater

also knows that bringing a child into the mix is incredibly complicated

loves the thought of impregnating his darling (even if physically incapable)

is not against scientifically making a baby

does NOT like the idea of having a specific surrogate

the dna has to be both yours and his

test tube is okay - he just doesn't want his baby in another person's body that is not yours

― Venom Snake ―

has some need for at least three children. up to five.

it's a hidden desire of his.

he could never. it's a pipe dream. but it's still a fantasy of his.

into babytrapping his darling. is more than confident that he'll be able to keep them safe.

thinks he wouldn't be a great father. he's already insecure about his status as your lover―even if he doesn't show it.

Venom Snake may be ooc. I haven't played the mgsv games yet. So even with delving into his backstory I don't know him very well.

― Solid Snake ―

maybe one.

can't ever see himself having children.

he feels like he's too broken. and he doesn't need to break a child. his life is fucked up as it is.

smiles softly when he thinks of a child that looks like you.

is insanely protective over the thought.

would give in if you asked.

would rather not deal with any lab... anything. (trauma response) he will do his best to cope if you really want to conceive and need medical help.

really likes the thought of adopting. (thinking back to his childhood and the foster system he went through)

― Liquid Snake ―

quantity. is obsessed with having an entire line of children. he wants to spread his seed.

either through traditional pregnancy or the science experiment way.

we know this. we know this, right? pretty Liquid-esque.

needs more than eight children. he was one of eight. one of two that survived. it's another way to be superior to Big Boss in his mind.

would dress up his children in leather jackets. you cannot change my mind on this!

wants them to be child soldiers. to become greater.

needs, craves, yearns in the deepest parts of his soul to have his darling be parental to these children.

― Solidus Snake ―

he is a two kid kind of guy.

he was supposed to be a perfect balance. so two kids would be perfect.

would tell the public the children were conceived 'naturally' ― would most likely prefer scientific tampering just to make sure everything is in check

would kidnap orphans for darling if they wanted it (but to him the orphan would be more of a 'practice child' to him)

his children will be trained to protect themselves, but they will not be badly harmed: physically or mentally

wouldn't mind being a family man. it's a nice thought to him.

he likes rubbing your stomach just to think of the thought of a family. (whether you are able to bare children or not doesn't matter)

[persnicketypomelo]

could I ask for some yandere big boss/naked snake hcs? Feel free to pick from whatever game you want. After all he changes quite drastically between them

I'll try my best. Probably going to mess up some plot points, but does anyone actually understand what's going on in any of these games? Sort of went for the beginning stages of how his interest could start, but if you want a more expanded version based on this, feel free to send more requests to my inbox

major spoilers for MGS3, maybe some spoilers for Peacewalker?, obsessive themes, some perverted behavior

(Mild) Yandere!Naked Snake Headcanons

I feel like a plot either during MGS3 or Peacewalker would be really interesting

Maybe you're the NSS agent that was originally supposed to work with him, (perhaps taking Eva's place for the sake of this)

From needing to cooperate with each other for your mission, it's natural that eventually you two develop some kind of bond with each other

And, well, it's not like he's immune to being attracted towards you

He finds that his eyes drift to places they shouldn’t during moments of rest

Even when you’re talking, he fantasizes about what it would be like to kiss you

But he’s not so impulsive to act on these emotions

He’s a soldier, after all; if he allowed his emotions to rule him, it could seriously jeopardize the mission

(As well as his career)

Despite the casual flirtation, you may be surprised to know how serious he is when it comes to you

Maybe he doesn't even know himself

Nonetheless, the mission concludes how we all remember it to, and Snake is left a fractured man

Even the toughest person would find it hard to learn the truth behind their mentor’s actions, have to kill her, and have their whole world changed in such a short time

Snake is a strong person, but even he has moments of weakness

When it all becomes too much, he takes a drag from his cigar, and thinks about you, the conversations you shared, what you could be doing now...

Even if just a bit, it serves to ease the worst of the burden

I think I wrote something similar with Solid Snake, but when just thinking of you isn't enough, he may either follow you or reach out to you directly

In those moments he can see your face or hear your voice, he’s no longer Big Boss, but just a man in love

However I think this incident might be one of the biggest catalysts for his darker tendencies to form

He's disillusioned now: a man who doesn't identify with his country, and whose life's work has felt all for naught

Even as he drifts from country to country and mission to mission (his own strange way of soul-searching), there's no way he's just going to let someone like you go

Snake has access to wide a range of electronic devices, technology which he is not afraid to use on you

How terrifying it would be if you knew that there was someone who had access to the details of your location, your personal information...

At the times when you two are on other sides of the world, he misses you more than he cares to admit

Sometimes he calls you, one that might be completely out of the blue for you

Truthfully, it doesn't matter what you talk about

You could be ranting about the most mundane aspects of your life, yet he closes his eyes all the same feels the stress melt away

But eventually, Snake comes across a more permanent situation in Costa Rica

Once he forms Mother Base, the last piece of the puzzle clicks

THIS is his calling, an army with no nation

He has a vision, one that he hopes you'll share eventually as well

Because he has the perfect role for you in it

[wk05-writes-yans]

I feel like he'd do some projecting.

[gyuzgrl]

sixth sense //jww//

anon req- yandere/stalker Wonwoo

summary- when watching you wasn't enough, he'd sneak into your house to get himself off. what happens when Wonwoo realizes he might be able to get something more tonight?

wc- 6k

Wonwoo swore this would be the last time. As his feet carried him further and further, across the street into private property, he promised himself that this was it.

No more.

You see, no matter how hard he tried, Wonwoo just couldn't stop watching you. Where you walked around on campus, the way you spoke to just about everyone so sweetly, how you secretly drifted off in class- he saw it all.

He'd spend hours and hours staring at your face, observing the way your features would morph into all sorts of expressions- so much so he now knows them by heart.

What started as something innocent, however, turned much darker when he realised that you lived in the house opposite his.

Night upon night, Wonwoo would sit by his window, watching, observing as you went about your life, completely unaware.

Your curtains were open- always were.

He knew when you studied, when you slept, when you touched yourself. You were so naive, so innocent, he really just couldn't help himself.

You made it so easy.

And now he's here, inside your house- with an hour to spend and a filthy, filthy imagination.

He's been here a couple of times before. Once when you'd left to go study at the library, another time when Somi and you went out for brunch, last week when your mother and you went shopping.

This time was different, though.

This time, you'd left him a little present on your bed.

As he walks into your room with practiced ease, Wonwoo's breath catches at the sight of pretty pink lingerie and a matching vibrator, laying exposed on your duvet.

'oh you have plans tonight, don't you?'

His thoughts show so clearly on his face- that signature Wonwoo smirk, corners of his lips just barely tilting up, head tipping to one side as his eyes linger over the pink lacey fabric.

Tentatively, he takes hold of the toy, clasping it in his palm, feeling the smooth, shiny plastic against his skin. Wonwoo's thoughts drift to how you'd use it in a few hours, completely unaware that he's been touching it- in turn, indirectly touching you.

'didn't know you liked this kinda stuff,'

'dirty girl'

Your room's mostly clean, usually is, save for the tangle of wires under your desk and a few odd clothes tossed at the foot of your closet. The laundry bin's full; a lid keeps it under control, but fails to hide the silky red fabric of your panties- the ones he saw you take off earlier this morning.

His eyes light up. The vibrator is long forgotten.

Time is of the essence here- there's not a lot of it left- so he grabs the red fabric in a haste and holds it to his face, inhaling deeply to take in your scent.

"fuck-" he groans softly, knees weakening at how goddamn good you smell. There's a hint of that fabric softener you use, clean and floral, but there's also the intoxicating scent of you.

The most intimate part of you.

Wonwoo settles on your duvet, nose still buried into your panties, and his eyes flutter closed as an evil hand snakes it's way into his sweatpants.

His cock jumps at the contact, and he hisses, taking his lower lip in between his teeth. Thoughts of you flood his mind, and he replays the image of you from two nights ago, with your naked body on full display as you lay in this exact spot, touching that pretty cunt of yours.

Slowly, Wonwoo begins to pump himself, squeezing hard around his girth, trying to satiate that red hot pit of desire screaming within.

He takes in a shaky breath, letting you flood his senses, and he feels himself grow in his fist, now moving faster.

Wonwoo thinks of you- of your voice, of your face, of your body. How you'd sound, whimpering, sobbing under him, how your features would settle so perfectly into utter bliss, how your skin; soft to the touch, would jump under his fingertips.

Within minutes, he feels his cock throb. It's hot and heavy in his hand, the tip burns a fiery shade of red as he works himself up to his release pumping faster as he takes you in desperately.

"f-fuck y/n" he chokes out, head falling back into your pillows.

His fist tightens around the width of his dick, trying to mimic what he thinks you'll feel like, and in seconds he tips over the edge. Hot, white ropes stream out of his cock, dribbling out of the tip, and he hunches over quickly to your nightstand to pluck out a tissue or two.

As he cleans himself off, the guilt hits, like it always does.

This is wrong, he knows it is, but he really just can't bring himself to stop. It's as though you've cast a spell on him and now he's become your very own moon- chasing after you, endlessly.

Wonwoo tidies up the bed, fixing your sheets, fluffing up your duvet, and he deposits- albeit reluctantly- your panties back to their assigned spot in the laundry bin.

15 minutes till you come back home.

He heads to your kitchen and discards his soiled tissues into the garbage shoot, destroying all the evidence that he was ever here.

There's still a bit of time left for him, so he looks through your pantry, face falling when he sees the endless sea of instant-meal cartons and ramen packets.

'you really should take better care of yourself,'

Just as he's about to close the cabinet, something catches him eye.

A hand blender- rather, the hand blender you borrowed from him last week. In a sudden burst of genius, Wonwoo comes up with a plan.

It's hasty, definitely reckless, but he has a shot at getting to touch you.

step 1- hide the blender inside the highest shelf of your pantry.

check.

step 2- head back home, shower, put on the cologne you seem you like, change into loose grey sweats and a fitted white wife beater.

check.

step 3- wait till you get home and watch as you settle into bed, ready to play.

check.

step 4- once you begin to work yourself up, almost on the verge of release, that's when he'll strike, ringing your doorbell to ask for his blender.

Wonwoo's heart thuds against his chest as he presses your doorbell. The sound echoes around in his head and he swears he can feel his heart in his throat. Scuffling footsteps draw his attention back to you, and he smirks, imaging what you look like right now; scrambling around to cover yourself up, frustrated that you've been interrupted.

The distinct slap of your house slippers against wooden floors grows louder and louder, in time with Wonwoo's speeding heart, and he feels his mouth go dry.

This is happening.

Creaking your door open, you pop your head out, eyes widening when you see Wonwoo at your doorstep.

"this a bad time?" he asks, tilting his head to the side as his eyes rake over your body, observing the loosely tied robe you've covered up with.

"uh n-no, what's up Won?"

Fuck there was that petname you used all the time. He hated petnames, hated when people called him stuff like that, but with you? God, there was something so cute about it when you said his name like that. Makes him want to push you down and fuck you senseless right here on your doorstep.

"you remember that blender you borrowed? I kinda need it right now," his voice is deep as he speaks, and you notice his apperance.

Tight white vest, baggy grey sweatpants, wet hair- fuck he's your very own wet dream, delivered right to your doorstep. A deep blush spreads across your cheeks and you wonder if he knows what you've been up to.

"y-yeah, come in I've got it around here somewhere," you stutter, stepping back to let him in. Wonwoo steps forward, his long legs closing the distance between your bodies, and you gasp, eyes flicking over to his as he towers over you, barely an inch between your frame and his.

Once again, he let's his eyes skim over you, taking note of the way your cheeks heat up under his stare.

'oh? you like this, don't you?'

There's that smirk again, the knowing twitch of his lips, the condescending look in his eye. He's assured, you're far too desperate to turn him down when he makes his move.

Despite the rambling thoughts inside him, Wonwoo appears composed. He quirks a brow at you, looking almost unimpressed, and you scramble around for words..

"you w- you walk really um, really fast,"

"you don't," he states, bemused, "I really do need that blender, though."

Embarrassed, your skin burns crimson and your lips part, forming an 'o' shape.

"o-oh uh yeah that. it should be in here," you mutter, sauntering your way over to the kitchen with him trailing right behind.

Wonwoo has to physically restrain himself from reaching out to run his palm over the curve of your ass, swaying enticingly as you walk.

'fuck you made this so hard-'

You slip behind the kitchen island, throwing a quick glance his way over your shoulder, before opening up the first cabinet- the one that originally did have Wonwoo's blender.

Clumsy hands, pat around the surface of the shelf in vain, and you turn around, pouting. Wonwoo thinks this is his breaking point (it isn't, but still).

"not here, sorry this might take a while Won"

His heart swells at the petname, and inside he's got fireworks going off. On the outside, however, he remains unmoved.

"yeah take your time, baby, I've got all evening"

You flush.

He called you baby.

Turning to face him, you offer a watery, nervous smile.

"m'sorry Wonnie"

'oh fuck me-'

You turn back around pulling open another cabinet, and then another and another. Moving from the ones at eye level, you kneel down, digging through the shelves under your counter top. The angle makes Wonwoo dizzy.

'you're doing this on purpose, I swear'

On your knees, eyes a little teary from embarrassment, you look up at him, shaking your head. This is the sixth shelf.

"sorry-"

"you're good, here- I'll help you look"

Wonwoo's voice soothes through you, it's low timbre running along your nerves like guitar strings. He steps beside you, eyes scanning over the counter top as you stand up and open your highest cabinet.

You stand on your tip toes, arm fully outstretched, and you begin to search around; this time in the right cabinet. As your fingertips glaze over something that feels like a blender, your eyes light up, and Wonwoo, standing behind you, takes notice.

"think it's here"

The only issue now, is that you can't reach it. It's too high up for you to grasp properly. You stretch as far as you can, straining your body as you try to reach the little plastic device, and before you know what's happening, you feel a presence directly behind you.

Wonwoo.

His chest pushes flush against your back as his arm extends out far beyond yours, and you let out a surprised squeak.

He grins.

The hard muscle of his torso has your mouth watering, only adding to your desperation. Sure, having your orgasm so rudely ripped away is one thing, but to have Jeon Wonwoo of all people, dressed the way he is, pushing up against you, all while you're defenseless and unable to satisfy yourself? Oh this is just pure torture.

"found it" he whispers right above your ear, his breath tickling the shell of it. You shudder.

Wonwoo brings his arm back down, setting the item down on the counter. You turn around, caged between his arms, and your knees go weak at the sight in front of you.

The thick muscles of his arms are on full display, veins jutting out deliciously right beside you. Wonwoo's eyes stay trained on your own, a dark desire, a hunger, running wild in them.

Suddenly, you realise, your little bullet vibrator won't be enough for you tonight.

You gulp noticing the proximity of your bodies, of your faces, and Wonwoo smirks.

"you're all red,"

"s-shut up"

"but you are, I mean look at these" he grins, bringing his fingers up to press your cheeks together. "so fuckin' cute when you blush,"

You're stunned into silence.

"and this-" he motions to your robe, now loose, falling apart at your cleavage, revealing the delicate pink lace of your bra, "who's this for?"

Your eyes almost double in size when you glance down, and you scramble to adjust yourself.

"it's nothing! I was just- I was just um,"

"just what?"

Your brows scrunch up as you bite your lip, suddenly conscious of your surroundings, and you avoid his gaze, opting to look down at the fabric of his vest.

"were you playing with yourself?"

You shake your head furiously, tears welling in your eyes. God, this is embarrassing but for some reason, you find yourself growing hotter, wetter by the second, with your body pressed up against his.

"dirty girl,"

Wonwoo's voice is sultry and low, he's practically purring at you, eyes glazed over with desire. The way he calls you has your cunt clenching down around empty space, and you know you need this. You need him.

"if I was t-touching myself, would you be upset?"

'hook, line, and sinker.'

"oh princess, you were just trynna feel good, of course I won't be upset" he coos, stroking your hair.

"a-and if I say that I was thinking of y-"

"hm?"

"if I say that I was thinking of you, while I was... y'know, would you be mad?"

Oh he wasn't expecting that.

Not one bit.

The stoic, unmoving persona dissipates within seconds and Wonwoo let's out a shaky breath, bringing his face closer to yours, leaving barely an inch of space.

"not at all,"

There's a short pause as you both share understanding glances- a wordless confession.

"this is my mess to fix, isn't it?" he whispers, breath fanning over your face, burning hot against your cheeks.

You nod, desperately, and he leans his forehead against yours.

"and you want me to fix it, baby?"

"please," you whimper, pressing your thighs together helplessly.

Wasting not a second more, rather, unable to wait a second more, Wonwoo pushes his lips to yours, enveloping them in a hungry, needy kiss.

Hot, wet skin greets your mouth, cradling your lower lip as he sucks feverishly at the tender flesh. Wonwoo slides a hand up to your chin, tilting your face up between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasp when he prods his tongue into your mouth.

A pathetic whimper escapes you, and you give in to his body.

"you want this?" he pants, his breath hot, meshing with your own.

"I do- fuck I really do Wonnie"

Your voice is whiny, your eyes gloss over, Wonwoo curses under his breath.

Without warning, he slides his hands under your thighs, and hoists your body up, moving you to sit on the counter. You gasp at how easily he manages to lift you- like you're a fragile little doll, completely at his mercy.

As your thighs spill out from under the robe, they make contact with the cool, hard marble below, and you jump at the sudden sensation.

The fabric of your robe rides up, giving Wonwoo access to the hem of your panties, and his eyes flick down, darkening considerably when he looks at your pink lingerie.

"oh? what's this you're wearing?" There's a smirk in his voice, plain as day. His hands smooth over the front of your thighs, stopping right at the edge of the robe.

"may I?"

His eyes draw back up to yours, and he looks at you, the question genuine in his gaze.

"yes," you breathe, swallowing at the thick lump in your throat.

Eager hands slide up, disappearing momentarily under your robe to feel you first, before pulling the loose fabric apart completely.

Wonwoo slips the silky fabric over your shoulders, letting it pool around your thighs on the counter, and it's as though life presses pause for a while.

He stares at you in awe, in wonder, eyes tracing over every curve, every contour of your body and the lace against it.

"you're so beautiful-" he shudders, unable to stop himself from looking.

"I am?"

Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

"what, you didn't know?"

"uh uh," you shake your head, staring up at him through thick lashes, "nobody's called me that before"

There's a pause. You can practically hear the gears twisting and turning in Wonwoo's head, with his brow set in a frown.

'you really didn't know'

'how do I show yo-'

His lips twitch up, revelation written all over his face.

"as much as I'd love to fuck you into this counter, there's something better in store upstairs,"

"u-upstairs? but how do-"

"shh, princess, don't bother your pretty head about silly things, hm?" he cooes, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

In a swift motion, you feel the surface beneath you shift away as Wonwoo lifts you into his arms, hands hooked under the flesh of your ass.

You yelp, eyes wide with panic, but the adoring grin painted on his face calms you down. He walks up the stairs, turning to the right, unlocking your door.

"but how do you kno-"

"patience, pretty- we'll talk when I'm done with you" his voice takes on a darker tone, and you feel your arousal seep through the flimsy lace of your panties. Feeling the tip of his fingers dampen, Wonwoo smirks knowingly.

"someone's eager"

You blush, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, but Wonwoo's quick to pull you back.

"don't you dare hide from me."

The familiar, plush mattress of your bed greets your thighs as he sets you down gently, eyes practically glued to your face, scanning for discomfort.

"if you wanna stop you're gonna tell me, kay? if you can't use your words, tap twice" he says, bringing your hand to his bicep.

"uhuh" Your eyes are hazy, staring into his, as you marvel at how breathtaking he looks crouched down towards you, watching, observing.

Your hand smoothes over his muscles, dipping into the ridges, feeling how firm and strong he really is. Wonwoo shivers under your touch, revelling in how soft your fingers feel tracing over his skin.

"keep touching me and this is gonna go a lot different than how I planned,"

"oh yeah? what did you have planned?"

"you see that mirror there?" he tips his head to the side, angling it toward the mirror standing opposite your bed,

"I'm gonna make you watch."

Wonwoo crawls his way up the mattress, shifting himself to sit up against the head board. His legs are folded at the knees, spread just enough to fit you in between, and he smirks.

An arm moves to rest on his knee, and he crooks two fingers at you, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips.

"c'mere"

Wordlessly, you obey, moving shyly into his embrace, facing him so innocently, Wonwoo can barely bring himself to tell you that you need to turn around.

You shuffle onto your shins, awaiting his next command, and he sighs.

"so fuckin' eager- god I bet you're soaking"

Bashfully, you nod your head, eyes lowered.

"turn around for me, hm?" he ushers, his voice gentle yet firm, and you comply once again, turning in between his knees.

The sight before you has your face flaming. Right there on the wall sits a painting of you and Wonwoo, exposing your most intimate moments, bringing them to view. Your eyes meet in the mirror, and his own shine knowingly at the blush searing across your cheeks.

"keep your eyes on us, sweetheart" he mumbles into your ear, breath ghosting over the sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps spreading over your neck and shoulder. "don't you dare look away"

A soft whimper escapes you as Wonwoo's lips attach themselves to the skin just below your ear, kissing so gently it raises the tiny hairs on your neck. Your eyes narrow in on the spot connecting your bodies- his lips, your neck- and you feel yourself grow hotter, needier, just from the sight alone.

Leaving wet, dull red marks as he moves to the side, Wonwoo reaches a sensitive spot just above your collar bone, grinning against your skin when you gasp.

"see how pretty you look right now? all marked up for me- all mine,"

"a-all yours," you breathe, head lopping to the side, giving him better access to your neck.

His hands grasp your shoulders, smoothing down your arms slowly before settling at your stomach, essentially caging you into himself.

The sharp sting of his teeth nipping at your skin, the way he holds you so secure, how his voice- sensual and deep like the ocean- resonates deep inside you; it's simultaneously soothing and exciting.

While one part of you wants to melt into him, let yourself drown in the ebb and flow of his voice, the other part is on fire, raging within you, begging to be quenched.

"can I take this off?" he murmurs into your skin, hands grazing over the hem of your bra.

"please,"

Tantalisingly slow, Wonwoo rakes his nails lightly along the width of your bra, until they find your clasp.

Deftly, he clicks you free, ridding your body of the fitted fabric.

"oh would you just- just look at yourself, christ-"

Feverish hands slide under your arms, cupping your breasts, toying with your nipples, as your eyes remain trained on yourself and on the way he handles you.

Wonwoo kneads the flesh of your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh in his grasp, feeling how you fill up his palm so perfectly.

"Wonnie-" you whimper, watching how he manhandles your body, doing as he pleases with you.

"that's right, baby, Wonnie's right here"

His lips resume their work on your neck, pressing sloppy, heated kisses along your skin, occassionally nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

The hardened peaks of your breasts poke out enticingly, and Wonwoo knows it'll be criminal to leave them untouched. He pinches each one between his forefinger and thumb, rolling, tugging, squeezing the dark nubs, giving you a different kind of pleasure.

"oh my god-" you gasp, back arching when he tweaks one of your nipples with more pressure than before.

The motion sends a jolt of light all over your body, and you feel yourself yearning for more.

"didn't know you were such a dirty girl," he mumbles into your skin, "letting me touch you like this- must've needed a cock inside you really fucking bad, yeah?"

"uh uh- wanted you for so long Wonnie, just you"

Your voice is embarrassingly whiny and breathy, but Wonwoo hears you loud and clear. He looks at your reflection, meeting your eyes.

"just me, huh?"

You nod, biting your lip, suddenly embarrassed of your sudden confession-

"I- I like you,"

Wonwoo let's out a quivering breath, hands leaving your chest to pull you into a hug. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent as he leaves you with a muffled- "I like you too, god I really like you"

He sighs into your skin, relaxing as he doesn't have to hold his cards so close to his chest anymore. His feelings, your feelings, were out in the open. You feel for him the way he feels for you and that's enough.

The moment you share is almost sweet enough to let you forget the ache deep in your cunt.

Almost.

You need him.

"Wonnie,"

"yeah baby?"

"need you to touch me" Your voice is a mere whimper, you sound pathetic, but you can't bring yourself to care.

The corners of his lips turn up into a sly smirk, and you feel it against your skin. Wonwoo lifts his head, eyes finding yours, and you note a dangerous fire dancing behind his gaze.

His ankles hook over your own, trapping your legs under his as he spreads you open, completely at his mercy. You gasp, feeling your limbs move without your command, and Wonwoo mimics you, mocking your naive surprise.

"oh look at how pretty-" he mirrors your gasp, your wide-eyed expression, "all spread out for me, hm?"

For some reason, you can't bring yourself to bite back. Insults and snarky remarks flood your mind, and you chastise him internally, calling him an asshole, a cocky, arrogant idiot; but the sight in front of you brings you back to reality.

You like this- you like being mocked and ridiculed. You like being at his mercy, unable to control your body. The flush on your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, tells you all you need to know.

Curse him in your head all you want, your body likes this.

Wonwoo let's his hand trail down, snaking past your collarbones, your tummy, just above the hem of your panties. You watch, transfixed, as his touch raises the tiny hairs on your body, creating a path of goosebumps.

A thick lump forms in your throat when he reaches where you need him most, and Wonwoo notices how your eyes are narrowed in on his hand.

"good girl, keep looking at yourself baby-" he breathes into your hair, sending a shudder down your spine.

Your heart swells at his praise, and you look at him, wide-eyed.

"hey," he warns, sliding a finger along your clothed slit before pressing down on your clit, "here. keep your eyes right here- you're gonna watch me fuck you,"

Your hips jerk up, jolting at the sudden stimulation, but his legs force you back down, pushing your body further against him.

Words escape you, your mouth feels dry, and your eyes snap back to the image of your clothed sex. The way his finger toys with your clit, teasing just enough, has you growing so desperate, you're willing to do just about anything to get him to touch you.

"Wonnie p-please," you shudder as his finger presses into you again, "please just- oh," Your voice breaks off into a broken moan when Wonwoo begins to rub firm circles into your clit.

The textured fabric of your lingerie adds an additional layer of stimulation to your nerves, sending sparks flying all over your skin like scattered fireworks.

"please?" he echoes, his tone mocking your own.

His fingers move faster, pushing down on your most sensitive spot, and you can't help but stare shamelessly at how effortlessly he plays with you.

Wonwoo reads the silent language of your body like no other, watching each crease in your forehead, each stutter of your hips to see what you need. Those long, slender fingers flick at you so easily, so deftly, it's as though he knows you better than you know yourself.

Soon enough, your clit throbs under his touch, and he knows you're close.

"oh sweetheart-" he coos, "I haven't even touched you yet-"

Your cunt clenches down at his condescending tone, anticipation building to a shocking crescendo. Just how far is he going to push you?

"m'gonna- fuck m'gonna cum-" you moan, head tipping back. Your legs twitch under his, and your thighs work tirelessly to press together, but in vain.

You're trapped.

"aw baby look," Wonwoo brings his free hand up to clasp your neck, forcibly turning your head straight. "so pretty like this- fuck you're shaking,"

Your eyes flick over your reflection, hazy as ever, and you feel your orgasm coming on. There's something so sexy about watching yourself come undone, watching Wonwoo spread you apart and use you like a little toy.

A wave of pleasure, approaching fast, washes over you as he works you up to your orgasm. The rough texture of your panties has you drooling, and soon enough, you're nerves ache from overstimulation.

"that's it, princess- so good for me,"

Wonwoo pushes the crotch of your panties aside, without warning, and dips two fingers into your cunt, pushing deep inside to collect your essence. Your body jolts in his embrace, thighs tensing with effort to squirm away from him, but again, there's no escaping.

"oh you taste like heaven," he groans, slipping his fingers into his mouth, licking up every drop he collected.

You find yourself entranced by the sight, watching him clean off his fingers, slipping his tongue so deftly between each digit, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like inside you.

Noticing the fascination with which you observe him, Wonwoo shoots you a sly smirk, letting your legs slip free.

'I know what you're thinking,'

"turn around,"

Your body moves on its own, following his voice, and you shift in his arms with your back to the mirror.

"now c'mere," he licks his lips, moving his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his thigh.

Within seconds, his lips are on yours, pressing needy, hungry kisses to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy, in dire need of more.

Air escapes you quicker than water in a broken dam, and you find yourself growing light-headed, pulling away for breath despite Wonwoo's grumbling.

When you draw back for the third time, he's beyond frustrated, groaning as his lips chase yours.

"get back here." he seethes, hands gripping the flesh of your waist, "right. fucking. now"

Your body, unfortunately, is slow to respond.

Wonwoo curses under his breath before flipping you over, arms straining as he lays you down as gently as he can.

You yelp, clutching onto his biceps like your very own safety belt, and your eyes widen at how easily he moves you.

"what are y-"

"can't have you running away," he smirks, tongue running along his lower lip.

Balancing his weight on one arm while bringing your hand to touch the other, Wonwoo repeats himself-

"if you want to stop, tell me. if that isn't possible-"

"tap twice, got it" you interrupt hastily, impatient as ever. He smiles fondly at you, a soft huff of laughter spilling past his lips.

"that's my girl,"

Your nails run over a thick vein jutting out from under his skin, and he swallows thickly, Adam's apple dipping low into his throat.

"you're really fucking distracting, y'know that?" he tuts, grabbing your hand and pinning it up above your head.

Before you can respond, Wonwoo captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue past your lips, and exploring the expanse of your mouth fervently as if he's trying to memorize the way you feel, the way you taste.

The hand on your wrist loosens its grip and Wonwoo runs his fingers down the inside of your arm- ghosting a feathery touch over the sensitive skin.

"Won-" you whimper into his mouth, desperate for air, but he doubles down, pushing his lips closer to yours. Your helpless, muffled whines fill his ears and he can't help but grin against your lips.

'you make the prettiest sounds,'

Finally showing mercy, Wonwoo lets you breathe, moving from your lips to your chest, kissing his way down to your soaked panties.

"made a mess of these-" You can practically hear the smirk in his voice and you want nothing more than to smack it off, but you know he's right.

"you'll clean me up though, won't you?"

Silence.

Wonwoo sucks in a deep, composing inhale. His eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches. There's a deep, dark desire, an untameable lust behind the browns of his eyes, one that sends a shiver down your spine.

His fingers hook into your panties, tugging them off firmly, and his jaw clenches at the sight of your bare cunt.

"fuck-"

As if under a spell, Wonwoo finds himself drawn to you, placing his lips to your sex. He sticks a kiss to your slit before running his tongue along your folds and you know you're done for when your legs begin to twitch.

"oh please-" you whimper, hips bucking up into his tongue, and his lips twitch up. He brings his tongue to your hole, prodding it inside you, flicking in and out as his hand splays over your lower belly, thumbing your puffy clit.

Your jaw falls slack, hanging open, and your head lolls over to the side in pure ecstasy.

Wonwoo moves inside you with ease, pressing into every spot you need, rubbing lazy circles into your sensitive nerves. A choked moan claws its way up your throat, flooding the room, and Wonwoo knows he's doing something right.

All those nights studying you, the way you touched yourself, the things you seemed to like- they paid off in the end.

Your breathing grows unsteady and rapid, and he moves faster, pushes deeper into you, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

"f-fu- Wonnie m'gon-" you stutter, breathlessly, and he hums an affirmation, his voice sending waves reverberating through your nerves. The added stimulation of his voice, buzzing through you, is just enough to send you over the edge, and you cum on his tongue, back arching off the bed.

Unable to control the sounds escaping you, you're a whimpering, moaning jumble of nerves.

"that's it, baby-" he soothes, easing his tongue over your cunt, lapping up the remnants of arousal as you shudder uncontrollably. "taste so fuckin' good,"

Wonwoo kisses up your torso, settling on his knees to take his clothes off.

The white tank goes first, revealing his chiseled upper body, and your jaw drops. He looks unreal. The sweatpants are next, leaving him in a pair of fitted black boxers that cling to the width of his thighs and do little to hide his size.

"you're still okay with this?" he asks one last time, fingers halting at his boxers.

Stunned by the view, you nod dumbly, lips still parted in surprise.

"baby- I need wor-"

"yes! yes- yes I'm o-okay with this" you blurt out, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"do you hav-"

"I'm on the pill" The boxers are shucked off.

Oh my God.

The mattress dips under his weight, dimples forming under his knees and elbows as he hovers over you. Wonwoo places a chaste kiss to your forehead, aligning himself with your entrance before easing into you.

"you-you're so big-" you breathe, feeling the wind knocked out of your lungs. "Wonnie- oh my god"

Your eyes widen, brows knitting together as he pushes further and further, until he bottoms out inside you.

"shi-shit that's it- takin' me so good-" he hisses, clenching his teeth.

The girth of his cock has your walls stretching wide, trying desperately to accommodate him, and your eyes roll back. Wonwoo finds himself in a bit of a dilemma, unable to figure out whether to keep his eyes on your face, contorting in undeniable pleasure, or on your cunt being stuffed full by his cock.

With each thrust of his hips, you feel him move further, reaching deeper inside you until his tip nudges your cervix, coaxing out strangled moans on your part. The thick, pulsating vein running along the underside of his cock drags against your walls, and you feel him grow inside you- getting even bigger than before.

"W-onnie-" you mewl, words cut off by sharp gasps every time he slams back into you. "too big oh my g-"

"shh, you're takin' me so good doll, doin' so fucking good for me-" His voice is tainted with effort, each consonant ringing sharp and breathy as his lips ghost over yours.

Every fiber in your body buzzes with electricity, sweat glistens off of you like gold- you're on top of the world right now. The pleasure you feel in this moment is simply unparalleled. Nobody has, or ever will, come close.

Wonwoo's motions pick up speed, as he hooks his arm under your thigh, pulling it over his back- angling himself deeper into you, reaching spots you don't even know exist.

The first thrust with this newfound angle has both of your lips parting, breathing out shaky "oh"s against each other. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head, breathing ragged and fast.

Wonwoo lets out a huff, smirking like he isn't gasping for breath the same way your are-

"that's it- I know you're close baby"

His hand leaves your thigh, rubbing zig-zag patterns into your clit, just enough to steal that orgasm out of you. The calloused pads of his fingers show no mercy, pressing directly on your nerves, and your hole spasms around him. You're certain you can feel your heartbeat where his finger presses, you can feel his too with the way his cock throbs inside you.

"so goddamn tight-" Wonwoo seethes, now feeling his own high approaching. He continues his motions on your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves from left to right, until you finally give in with a sob.

"m'cumming oh fuc- oh fuck"

The muscles of your thighs tense momentarily, cunt clenching down hard around his cock, before you let go completely. A warm, prickly relaxation washes over you, and Wonwoo grunts, releasing himself inside you.

His thrusts slow to a halt, and he lets out an airy laugh, in disbelief. He stares down at your disheveled frame- flushed, sweaty skin, blown pupils, hair tangled up around your head.

"you're beautiful," he breathes, unable to hold his tongue, and you giggle, turning away bashfully.

Wonwoo tilts your chin back, pulling you to face him-

"I really like you, y/n,"

You smile, eyes shimmering up at him. "I like you more"

There's a brief pause as you gaze into each other's eyes, before you realise something.

"wait- how'd you know wh-"

"sixth sense" he grins, eyes carrying just a touch of madness. "I know everything."

[ozzgin]

Hello! I just wanted to say I really like your writing style!!

I was wonder have you done a hybrid yan whose darling has a phobia of the animal they are a hybrid of?

Eg wolf with a darling scared of dogs, Naga with a darling scared of snake, ect.

I can definitely expand a little on that! I'll keep it very generic, so you can go for any kind of hybrid you'd like. :)

Yandere! Hybrid x Phobic! Reader

Featuring a hybrid of your choice and a Reader who's terrified of him, but not for the reasons one might expect.

Content: gender neutral reader, hybrid yandere, stalking, monster romance (mild NSFW)

He's been in love from the moment he saw you. So entranced, in fact, that he didn't even notice he'd stalked you all the way to your home. And much too eager to see you again to not return there the next day, and the day after and so on, until today.

Today, however, was meant to be special. He'd planned to confess his feelings and pray for the best. What's the worst that could happen, he thought. If you were to reject him, he'd just return to his habit of watching from afar.

Though he didn't expect you to scream and run away in a panic. You nearly toppled over the ground in your frantic escape, white as a sheet, mumbling apologies that slowly faded into the distance. He could only stare. He didn't get the chance to introduce himself.

That was...not his best moment. That night he turned and twisted, plagued by a shame he'd never known before. Was he truly so irredeemably monstrous? He'd never interacted much with humans before, so he never quite considered his own appearance. Could he really go back to admiring you secretly? Was there no way to convince you? His heart throbbed melancholically.

In the morning, to his great shock, you were already waiting for him in the same spot, just as pale, knees bent and ready to sprint at any given second. You managed to blurt out your explanation: the phobia. He suddenly remembered one instance where you stumbled upon an animal and had a reaction similar to what he experienced. So, you were indeed afraid of him, but not in the way he initially assumed. His eyes lit up with newfound hope: you were giving him a chance, after all.

The first months were rather clumsy. A lot of fidgeting, a lot of sneaky glances, and to his great dismay, a lot of distance. To think you were finally his, and he couldn't even hold you properly.

One must appreciate the small victories. You were no longer a stranger he'd follow from the shadows. He no longer had to imagine what you'd smell like, or what your laugh sounded like, or how your hands would feel in his. You have to take what's given to you, he'd tell himself once he was alone again, desperately touching himself to those scarce memories.

Despite his almost manic neediness, he always greeted you with a reassuring smile. Always asked before touching you. Always apologized if he got ahead of himself. He'd never allow his love to outweigh your comfort.

You jolt slightly.

"Sorry, was I too rough?" he freezes, observing your small, naked body underneath his.

"No, just muscle memory, sorry."

You purse your lips, embarrassed about your sudden anxious reaction in the middle of an intimate moment. Will you ever get over your fear?

"Hey now, is this the kind of face to have while I'm fucking you?" the hybrid jokes with a grin. "Small steps, remember?"

He'd wait forever if it was for you.

[sinnful-darling]

mmm thinking about oviposition with yan! naga…

mdni !!

cws : yandere themes, big juicy snake man pumps you full of his eggs, dubcon, implied stockholm syndrome, implied kidnapping, dacryphilia, breeding kink, rut, mating season, he makes you walk around naked, hemipenes, when i say monster cock i mean monster cock, manhandling, aphrodisiac venom, scent kink if you squint, ribbed cock bc i can, size kink bc im filthy and a slut for that shit, idk how big the eggs are supposed to be so just imagine for a moment with me, naga uses magic to heal your cervix bc he pushes past it to breed you….

“little bunny,” the naga murmurs, lips parted and gazing at you with thinly veiled desire. a shiver runs down your spine at the sight, feeling his large hands pull you into his lap. his tail coils around your waist— the chill of his cold scales seeping into your skin.

“you’re cold.” you grumble.

“i know, bunny. needed your heat.” he sighs in content, dipping his head into the curve of your throat and taking a deep breath of your scent. a low groan escaping his lips. he presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, sinking his fangs into you and gripping your hips. his hands rock you against the plate that hide his cocks, the area in question being pushed to the side as he grows aroused.

“h—hey! no—“

his cocks spring free, the both of them pressing against your stomach and larger than you could’ve ever imagined. your eyes widen, the scent of cortisol coming off of you in waves, causing a frown to tug at his lips.

“no need to be frightened, little bunny. i promise i’ll be gentle.” he murmurs slotting his lips against yours. you cry out in protest as his cockhead presses against your folds, your hips forcibly rutting against it in ways that have you dripping for him.

the nest he built for the two of you grows hotter by the second, your skin flushing and cunt clenching around nothing. the naga grins as he slowly pushes into you, pleased that your tiny human body reacted so quickly to his venom.

“thaaats it, bunny.” he groans, shallowly thrusting into you. “y’gotta let me in, pretty.”

the naga lifts your hips, rutting you against one cock while gently thrusting into you with the other. the way your clit brushes against the ribbed flesh pushes you closer and closer to your climax, your whimpers growing louder in volume as your body melts against the strong, sturdy frame of the naga. slowly, the naga’s cock reaches as far as your cunt will allow, utterly filling you to the brim.

your mind was spinning at how full you felt; you’d never felt anything quite like this before. the naga slowly lifts and rocks you, your orgasm washing over you as his cockhead brushes against a certain spot inside of you. tears burn your lashline at the intensity of the feeling, your jaw agape as the air is knocked from your lungs.

“fuck— s’tight…” the naga groans through gritted teeth. his head drops to the curve of your neck, lapping at your sweat-slicked flesh between grunts and groans. he screws his eyes shut as he ruts into you, heavy balls slapping against the curve of your ass. the naga leans back, gazing up at you with a softness, his forked tongue darting out to wet his plump lips.

“bunny,” the naga breathily groans, “feels s’good.”

all you can do is whine in response, your mind melting from the overwhelming pleasure, the feeling sending jolts of electricity down your spine. “p—please! need more…!”

“such a greedy little thing you are.” the naga grins, but picks up speed nonetheless. the pace has your eyes rolling back and tears streaming down your cheeks, your mind melting into a pleasant mush. your thighs shake as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to tighten again, one of the naga’s shafts bumping and grinding into your clit.

your gummy walls clench around the naga’s cock, forcing a throaty groan from his lips. his lashes flutter with ecstasy as his cock twitches inside of you, his quiet noises rising in volume — becoming breathy and whiny.

“little bunny — i’m gonna cum…” the naga groans, his thrusts growing sloppy. “cum with me… need’ta feel you cum again.”

he heatedly slots his lips against yours, groans and whines echoing throughout your shared nest as his kisses trail the expanse of your throat. his touch leaves a trail of fire, your cunt pulsing as you grow closer and closer to the edge.

“bunny — please…. cum with me! cum with me!” ropes of cum spill from the naga’s cocks, simultaneously filling you to the brim and staining the soft flesh of your stomach. he continues fucking into you, the way his shaft bulges inside of you forcing an orgasm to wrack your body.

your eyes roll back, your thighs trembling as your vision blurs with tears, the naga releasing a throaty groan. “that’s it, little bunny. just let go f’me…”

“s’gonna hurt a bit, darling…” the naga warns before his cockhead forces its way past your cervix, blinding pain erupting from your lower half. your fingers dig into his shoulder, a shrill cry erupting from your lips.

“i know, little one… just a bit longer. you’re doing so good for me.”

an egg the size of a tennis ball is planted in your womb, heavy and warm. one after another, the naga fills you with his eggs before slowly, carefully removing himself and brushing away your tears with the rough pad of his thumb. you feel unbearably full, unable to forget the pain from the intrusion. the naga’s eyes soften at your tears, his palm reaching out to gently cup your stomach — just above where your womb would be. a soft light shines from his hand, the scent of rain and moss attacking your senses as the pain ebbs away.

the naga wraps you in his tail, tenderly pressing your head to his broad, sturdy chest as he plants a small kiss to the crown of your head. with a flick of his hand, the naga cleans you up, the fragrance of his magick and the steady beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

[fangdokja]

Hey there, Fang. This is my first ever ask of someone, so I read your rules very closely and I hope I don't mess it up already. I also want to say that I haven't even finished reading your Yandere Alpha Male oneshot and I can already tell I'll be in love with the rest of your work 🥹.

I had seen that you also have a Yandere Bully Collegemate OC and I NEED HIM IN MY LIFE! (I say that respectfully and in no way do I want to rush you into writing his story 🥹). As a request are we able to get a oneshot of him, please? I don't have anything specific in mind, maybe Reader gets dragged to a Frat Party by him and he does her in the bathroom out of jealousy/possessiveness, etc. I'll be happy with any idea you have 😊. Can we also have NSFW with Non-Con? I'm not too fond of anal, but I'll leave it up to you! Thanks, Fang! I'll be cheering you on! 🤗

🔞A night of hedonism becomes your worst nightmare.

❤︎ Synopsis. At a twisted frat party, you're the centerpiece of a dark game of dominance and degradation, where every touch and whisper reminds you of the power he holds—and the humiliation you're forced to endure. The night is far from over, and he has plans to make you his plaything in front of them all.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! College! Bully x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Torn Between Us - Part 3

♡ Word Count. 17,206

♡ TW. dom + top + older + scumbag + sadistic yandere, explicit non-con + rape, psychological manipulation + conditioning + abuse + trauma, fear play, BDSM + DDLG, bullying, love bombing, mature language, crime, unhealthy coping mechanisms + toxic relationships, gaslighting, victim blaming, implied masochism, slight pet play, collars + leashes, public + situational humiliation, non-con photography + filming, non-con alcoholism + forced intoxication, drugging, forced oral + deepthroating, public sex, slapping, physical assault + abuse, degradation, name-calling, forced prostitution + stripping, whipping, dacryphilia, slut shaming, genitalia assault + abuse, gang rape, mind break, blackmail + threats + coercion, illegal auctions, hard objectification, free-use whore elements, explicit and realistic depictions of sexual abuse + rape, forced double + multiple penetration, creampies, Stockholm Syndrome, forced anal, orgies, masturbation, public nudity

You felt the cold air bite into your skin as he yanked your shirt over your head, the fabric tearing away from your body with a vicious snarl. He threw it aside, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh with a hunger that made your stomach clench. His grip was iron, his hands roaming over your curves with a cruel possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. You were his toy, his plaything, and as he dragged you to the mirror, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze—like a brand searing you from the inside out.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his voice a low rumble of thunder. "This is what you are. A whore. Nothing more."

You stared at your reflection, trembling, the bruises from his earlier assaults already starting to bloom across your skin. His eyes bore into yours through the mirror, a challenge that made your heart race. You tried to look away, but his hand snaked around your throat, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh beneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a low growl. "You always have been. And tonight, everyone will know it."

With a sadistic smirk, he reaches down to unbutton and unzip your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear in one swift motion, leaving you naked and exposed in the cold room. He takes a step back, his eyes feasting on your trembling body, the evidence of your fear and humiliation only adding to his arousal.

He opens a closet door, revealing a selection of cheap, revealing outfits—tiny dresses, lingerie, and accessories that scream 'slut'. He sifts through them with a critical eye, tossing a few onto the bed with a grunt of satisfaction.

He holds up a scrap of red fabric with a smirk, his eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. It's a lingerie set—a thong and a push-up bra that barely cover anything. "This will do," he says, tossing it at you. "Put it on, and let's see if you can still pretend to be shy for me."

You freeze and don't follow through immediately.

He grabs the back of your neck, his grip tight and unforgiving as he pulls you to your feet. "You heard me," he growls, his voice thick with irritation. "Put it on. We're going to make an entrance they won't forget." His eyes bore into yours, the hunger in them unmistakable.

You swallow hard, the taste of fear coating the back of your throat as your trembling hands fumble with the flimsy fabric.

Each touch feels like a brand, a reminder of what you're about to endure.

You hate him for this—for reducing you to this trembling wreck of a human being—but a dark, twisted part of you craves the attention, the power he holds over you.

It's a dance you know all too well, a dance you've been forced to perform countless times before.

With shaking hands, you slip into the red lingerie, the fabric scraping against your bruises and the cold air in the room making your skin pebble.

He watches with a predatory gaze, his eyes lingering on every inch of exposed flesh as if committing it to memory. When you're done, he nods, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Perfect," he says, his voice a low purr of approval. "Now, let's go show everyone what a good little slut you are."

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim you, to mark you as his own. His grip tightens on your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel the unmistakable bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach.

It's a promise of what's to come, a reminder that you're his to use and discard at will.

Despite your fear, despite your revulsion, your body responds, your pulse racing as he whispers sweet nothings against your neck, his breath hot and moist.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust and possession. "So eager to please." He grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck, and you suppress a whimper.

The sting of pain sends a jolt through your body, mixing with the warmth of his praise, confusing your senses until you're not sure what you feel anymore—just that you crave more of his touch, more of his attention.

He smirks, the corner of his lips tilting up in a way that makes your stomach drop. "Maybe I'll just leave you in that," he says, his eyes raking over your nearly naked form.

He stands, releasing you from the bruising grip of his arms. You feel the cool air of the room kiss your overheated skin as he steps away, and for a brief moment, you hope that perhaps he's changed his mind.

But then he crosses the room to a drawer, pulls out a black leather collar studded with silver spikes, and you know that hope is futile. He returns to you, his gaze dark with excitement as he fastens the collar around your neck, tightening it just enough to make you gasp. "There," he says, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. "Now you're dressed for the party."

He leads you to the full-length mirror, forcing you to look at yourself.

The red lingerie clings to your bruised body, the lace scratching at your skin like the accusatory eyes of everyone who's ever seen your scars. The collar stands out starkly against your pale neck, a declaration of your ownership. He stands behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his chest pressing against your back as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"You're going to be the center of attention tonight," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Everyone will see you like this. Everyone will know that you're mine."

You whimper, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens. He chuckles, the sound sending a cold shiver down your spine. "Don't worry, I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of girl you are. A dirty little whore who can't get enough of the pain I give you."

You muster every ounce of courage and beg him to at least let you wear something more over the revealing lingerie, your voice quivering with fear and desperation. "Please," you whimper, "just let me put on something else. Anything. I don't want everyone to see me like this."

He chuckles darkly, his breath ghosting across your neck as his hand comes up to trace the line of the collar. "But that's the point," he whispers, his eyes gleaming in the reflection.

"You're my little showpiece tonight. My trophy to flaunt and use as I please." His thumb strokes the sensitive skin beneath your ear, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "You know how much I love watching you squirm under their eyes."

He sighs heavily, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "You're so predictable." His voice is a low rumble of amusement. He leans closer, his breath hot and moist against your skin.

"But that's what makes you so perfect for this." He grabs your chin, turning your face to the side so you can see the lust in his gaze.

"Begging for mercy, for dignity, for anything to not be seen like this. It's pathetic, really." His thumb traces the line of your jaw, his grip tightening slightly. "But it's also what makes me so fucking hard."

———

The backhand hits you like a whip, the force snapping your head to the side and sending you sprawling onto the cold floor.

Pain explodes across your cheek, and you taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth. The world spins around you for a moment, and you feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

But as the shock fades, so does your pride.

He looms over you, his eyes narrowed and gleaming with a dangerous light. "You've forgotten your training, haven't you?"

He says it like it's a personal affront, like you've spit in his face rather than simply begging for mercy.

"Bitch," he sneers, the word a vicious caress that makes you flinch. "You're going to learn respect again, one way or another."

You feel his heavy boot come down on your cheek, pressing your face into the cold, unforgiving tile. The pain is immediate and blinding, a stark reminder of your place beneath him. His weight shifts, the pressure increasing until your skull feels like it might crack under the force.

You whimper, your cheek mashed against the ground as your nose fills with the scent of your own blood. His foot grinds against your face, his voice a harsh, displeased growl.

"You're mine," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "Mine to use, mine to break, and mine to fix."

His foot releases you, and you gasp for air, your cheek bruising under his boot's imprint. "Now get dressed. We have a party to attend."

He smirks down at you, his eyes glinting with sadistic amusement as he watches your desperate struggle to breathe beneath his weight.

His hand reaches down to trace the bruise already forming on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the tender flesh with a cruel fondness. "Such a pretty face," he murmurs, "It'd be a shame to mar it completely."

He laughs darkly at your muffled cry, his nails digging into the bruise he'd just created, sending shockwaves of pain through your face.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, "You're going to be the star of the show tonight, baby. And if you're a good little whore, I might just let you keep that pretty face intact."

His hand yanks your hair, forcing your head back, and you bite back a scream as the pain shoots through your scalp. He's enjoying this, the cruel twist to his lips saying it all as he sifts through the selection of leashes hanging in the closet.

Each one a symbol of his control, a tool to parade you around the frat party like a prized pet.

His eyes flicker over the leather and metal chains, the soft fabric and studded collars, each one designed to inflict a different kind of humiliation. He finally settles on a short, studded leather leash, the kind that would leave painful indentations on your skin. He loops it around your neck with a sadistic smile, the cold metal pressing into your flesh.

"This one," he says with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. "It'll match the collar nicely." His grip on your hair tightens as he secures the leash to the collar, the clasp clicking shut with a finality that echoes in your mind like a prison door slamming shut.

He jerks the leash back sharply, the studs biting into your neck as you're forced to kneel before him again. His smirk widens at your obedience, his eyes glinting with a mix of pride and cruel amusement. "Who told you to stand up, slut?" he asks, his voice a low, dangerous purr that sends a tremor through your body. His hand slides down the leather strap to the clasp, and you brace yourself for the pain, for the punishment you know is coming.

The second you try to stand up, he yanks the leash, forcing you back down to your knees. "Who told you to stand up, you disobedient little slut?" he snarls, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and excitement.

You feel a rush of heat between your legs despite the fear, his harsh words sending a thrill through your body. He reaches into the closet, pulling out a whip, the leather cracking sharply in the tense air as he tests its length.

The sight of the weapon makes your heart race, a mix of terror and arousal pumping through your veins.

"Now," he says, his voice low and deadly, "you're going to crawl to the party like the good little bitch you are. And if you dare try to stand again without my permission, I'll show you just how much this whip loves to kiss your skin."

He strokes the whip along your bare back, the cool leather sending goosebumps rippling over your flesh. His touch is possessive, a clear declaration of his intentions to claim you fully and completely in front of everyone.

The whip cracks through the air with a vicious sound, striking your already bruised flesh with a sharp sting. The pain is immediate and intense, making you yelp and arch your back as your skin burns from the leather's cruel kiss.

He smiles, watching your reaction with a predatory gaze, his eyes lighting up with sadistic pleasure at the sound of your pain. He runs the tip of the whip along your spine, tracing the outline of your body as you tremble before him.

"Look how eager you are," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "You love this, don't you? Being my little whore. Being used and humiliated in front of everyone."

His hand tangles in your hair again, wrenching your head back to expose your neck to his hungry gaze. "You're going to be the star of the show tonight, baby. Everyone will see just how much you crave this."

The cold steel of the leash digs into the flesh of your throat as he jerks it, forcing you to crawl after him like the animal he's made you out to be.

Your knees scrape against the rough, unforgiving surface of the hallway floor, leaving behind a trail of bruises and small abrasions that burn with every movement.

The humiliation is complete, the weight of his hand on the leash a stark reminder that you have no say, no power—you're nothing more than his plaything to be used and displayed as he sees fit.

────────────

The moment you enter the packed frat party, the atmosphere shifts—the air thickens with a mix of lust and anticipation.

His hand tightens on the leash, and he pulls you closer, a low chuckle escaping his lips as the whispers of those around you grow louder.

You can feel the weight of their stares, their eyes raking over your bruised and exposed body, and your cheeks burn with a mix of humiliation and arousal. You want to hide, to shrink away from their judgment, but his grip is unyielding, his presence a stark reminder of your role for the night.

As he parades you through the crowded room, the whispers grow into a cacophony of murmurs, the occasional laugh cutting through the din. You can feel the heat of their gazes on your bare skin, a mix of pity and perverse fascination. You're aware of the pictures being snapped on phones, the videos that will surely spread like wildfire across the school. But his hand remains firm on the leash, his grip a silent declaration of ownership.

The whispers become a murmur as the crowd around you grows denser, a sea of faces you vaguely recognize from classes and the dorms. They all seem to know him, and by extension, what you're here for.

A few of the bolder ones lean in close, whispering lewd comments about your body, your obvious discomfort only fueling their excitement.

The flash of a camera phone blinds you for a second, and you realize that your humiliation is being documented for the world to see.

You feel his hand slide down the leather of the leash to your neck, his thumb caressing the tender skin just beneath your jawline. His grip tightens, a silent warning to not make a scene, to be his good little whore.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a seductive purr in your ear, his breath hot and moist. "You're such a good slut for me, aren't you? Just like old times."

You bite your lip to hold back the tears, your cheek stinging from his earlier blow. You can't believe you're here, in this place, with him.

The music is loud, the lights are strobing, and the smell of cheap beer and sweat fills the air. You're naked except for the red lingerie he made you wear—his favorite color—and the collar around your neck, a stark contrast against your pale, bruised skin. The spikes dig into your neck, a constant reminder of his ownership.

Domo... you want to call for Domo...

Where is she...?

Please... please come back...

You're sorry. You're so sorry for lying to her.

For pretending to be someone you're not.

As you try not to cry, you feel the leather leash tighten around your neck, his hand guiding you through the thickening crowd.

The whispers and stares feel like a thousand tiny knives cutting into your already shredded dignity, but the fear of his wrath keeps you in check. The frat house is alive with the pulse of music, the smell of alcohol, and the heat of bodies pressed together in various states of undress.

Your eyes scan the room, desperately searching for an escape, but the only thing you find is his smug smile as he leads you to the VIP section.

He sits on the couch, the throne of his own twisted kingdom, and pulls you onto his lap, your bare thighs exposed and trembling against the rough fabric. His arms wrap around you like a steel cage, his hands roaming over your body with the ease of someone who's owned it for years. His touch is both possessive and degrading, a cruel reminder of the power he holds over you.

"Look around," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers trace the line of the collar, pressing it into your skin. "This is your world now, my little whore. Everyone knows what you are."

You dare a glance around the room, your eyes filling with tears as you take in the leering faces and knowing smirks of the partygoers.

You're the entertainment, the punchline of their crude jokes, and it's clear none of them see you as anything but his property to use and discard.

The humiliation is almost too much to bear, but you bite your tongue, the metallic taste of blood mingling with the salt of stray tears.

"You're mine," he says, his voice a dark growl that sends shivers down your spine. His hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

"And tonight, I'm going to show everyone just how much."

———

He takes the bottle from his pocket and uncaps it with a smirk.

You recognize it as the same brand of alcohol you've had before, but something about the way he handles it makes you feel sick with dread. He brings the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you struggle to breathe, your pulse racing.

The liquid is cold and bitter, burning down your throat, and you cough and choke as he pours it down your throat. His grip is unrelenting, his thumb pressing into your jaw to force your mouth open wider, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.

"Swallow," he commands, his voice a low rumble. "Swallow it all."

You try to resist, but his grip is unyielding, the bottle pressing against your teeth until you have no choice but to obey.

The liquid burns its way down your throat, and you feel the beginnings of a sickly warmth spreading through your body, turning your limbs to jelly and your thoughts to mush.

The room starts to spin, and the leers of the partygoers become a blur of faces, their whispers a cacophony of white noise in your ears. You struggle to focus, but everything is slipping away from you, your mind fogging over with a thick haze of confusion and fear.

He watches you with a twisted smile as you gag and choke, the alcohol burning your throat and making your eyes water.

His chuckle is deep and satisfied, the sound of a man who's used to getting exactly what he wants, no matter the cost to others. As the last of the liquid trickles down your throat, his hand releases your chin, leaving a sticky trail of drool to hang from your bottom lip.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Now, let's see how obedient you really are."

With a vicious yank of the leash attached to the collar around your neck, he forces you down to your knees. The spikes dig into your flesh, sending sharp stabs of pain, but you know better than to protest. Your knees hit the cold, sticky floor, and you feel the weight of his stare on you as you blink back the tears.

You're so vulnerable, so exposed in the skimpy lingerie and the collar that screams of your ownership. The room around you is a blur of faces and sounds, the frat brothers leering and jeering, eager to see what's to come.

———

The force of his slap sends your head snapping to the side, your cheek stinging with a white-hot pain that seems to resonate through your skull.

You blink back the stars in your vision, the sting of your eyes mixing with the salty taste of your own blood. His hand wraps around the back of your neck, forcing your face closer to the bulge in his pants. The fabric is rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the softness of your bruised cheek.

"You're going to show them," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "You're going to show every single one of these pathetic fucks what a good little whore you are."

His grip tightens, the pressure almost cutting off your air. "You're going to suck me off right here, right now, and you're going to enjoy it. You're going to make them all wish they had a piece of what's mine."

The second slap lands with a crack that echoes through the room, the sound of your skin against his palm ringing in your ears like a gunshot.

The pain is so intense, so sudden, that for a brief moment, it overwhelms everything else—the humiliation, the fear, the sickening reality of your situation.

The taste of blood fills your mouth, mixing with the bitter taste of his hand as tears spill down your cheeks.

"Fuck," he says, his voice a mix of frustration and arousal. "You're such a slow learner."

His grip on your neck loosens slightly, his other hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt. The clink of his belt is the only sound in the room, louder than the pulse thundering in your ears, louder than the jeers of the frat brothers. "But we're going to fix that, won't we, princess?"

He pushes your face closer to his crotch, the scent of his arousal thick and overwhelming. The fabric of his pants presses against your cheek as he unzips them with a smug grin, revealing the hard, thick length of his cock.

"Look what you do to me," he says, his voice a taunt as he strokes himself, the sound of his hand gliding over his shaft echoing through the room. "You're going to make me feel so good, baby. Just like you always do."

You feel the heat of his cock against your lips, and despite the fear and pain, a dark, desperate craving stirs within you. His fingers weave through your hair, guiding you closer as you open your mouth to accept him. The taste of his arousal fills your mouth, and you feel his hardness pulse as your tongue darts out to trace the veins along his length. He groans, his grip tightening slightly as you take him in deeper, the leather of the collar biting into your neck.

Your eyes water with the effort to not gag, but you force yourself to take more, the desire to please him overriding your instincts to fight back.

As you hungrily deepthroat his cock, his eyes light up with a sadistic gleam of satisfaction. He groans deeply, his hand fisting in your hair as he starts to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air.

The leather collar around your neck is a constant reminder of your submission, the metal spikes digging in as he uses you as his personal whore. The room seems to spin around you, the sounds of the partygoers' cheers and taunts a cacophony in the background, all fading away as you focus solely on the task at hand.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "So eager to make Daddy happy. You really are a good little slut, aren't you?"

The words, though degrading, only serve to make you suck harder, your throat working to accommodate his size. His other hand moves down to squeeze one of your breasts, twisting the nipple through the flimsy fabric of your lingerie, eliciting a muffled moan around his cock. The pain sends a bolt of electricity straight to your core, making you wet despite the horror of the situation.

"Yeah, just like that," he grunts, his hips bucking against your face. "You love being used like this, don't you, my little fucktoy?"

The sound of your needy moans are like music to his ears, and his grip on your hair tightens even more. He starts to fuck your mouth with purpose, his hips moving in a steady, punishing rhythm. The friction of his cock against the back of your throat and the way your cheeks hollow out with each thrust makes you feel utterly used and debased—exactly how he wants you.

The frat brothers around you cheer and catcall, their eyes glued to the obscene scene unfolding in the VIP section. The room is a blur of leering faces and lewd gestures, the sound of their jeers and laughter echoing in your ears.

"Look at her," he says, his voice thick with arousal as he addresses the crowd. "My personal little slut. She'd do anything for me, wouldn't she?"

You can't bring yourself to argue, the words sticking in your throat as his cock slams into the back of your throat. The frat brothers hoot and holler, some of them reaching out to touch you, their hands grabbing at your exposed skin. Each touch feels like a violation, a further reminder that you're not a person here, just a thing for their amusement.

"Look at her," he says, his voice a low growl, "so eager to please." He slaps you again, the sting on your cheek sending a fresh wave of arousal through you, even as tears leak from your eyes. "You're going to be the main event tonight, my little slut. Everyone's going to see how much you love being used."

The room is a whirlwind of noise and bodies, the smell of spilled drinks and sweat thick in the air. He yanks you to your feet, the leash pulling at your neck. Your knees wobble, but he doesn't care, dragging you through the crowd to the makeshift stage they've set up.

The cheers and catcalls grow louder as he leads you up the steps, your bare feet cold against the wood. You're aware of every set of eyes on you, the collar around your neck gleaming under the strobe lights, his hand wrapped firmly in your hair, guiding you.

"Look at what I brought, everyone!" he calls out, his voice ringing with a dark kind of triumph. The music cuts out, and the room goes still. "This is what a real woman looks like, isn't she? Willing to do anything for the man who owns her."

The frat brothers cheer, and you can feel their eyes on you like a million tiny knives, cutting into your soul. He pushes you to your knees in the center of the stage, the lights above you making you squint.

You're dizzy, the room spinning around you, but you know better than to fight. You know what happens when you fight.

He strokes your hair, a mockery of tenderness. "Look around, baby," he whispers, his voice a dark caress in your ear. "These are the people who matter. These are the ones who understand what you truly are. And what are you?"

You swallow, the bitter taste of fear coating your mouth. "Y-Your slut," you murmur, the words barely audible.

He laughs, the sound cruel and triumphant. "That's right," he says, his hand sliding down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "My slut. And tonight, you're going to show everyone just how much of a good girl you can be for Daddy."

The crack of the whip slices through the air, the sound jolting you out of your haze. The leather kisses your bare skin with a sharp sting that sends a bolt of arousal straight to your core. You whimper, your body already conditioned to respond to his brand of pain with a twisted form of pleasure.

He smirks down at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he sees your reaction. "Now, now," he says, his voice low and soothing despite the harshness of his words. "Don't be shy. It's showtime."

The room seems to close in around you, the leather collar tightening around your throat with every breath. The stage lights are hot and blinding, and the leers and catcalls from the drunken frat boys below make your stomach churn. He snaps the whip again, the sound a sharp crack echoing through the room, and you flinch, your body responding to his command despite your mind's desperate rebellion.

────────────

The music starts, a thumping bass that seems to pulse through your very bones, and his hand tightens on the leash attached to your collar. "Dance for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Show these pathetic fucks what you're really made of."

You try to push the drugs' haze away, but your body moves on its own accord, swaying to the beat, each movement a silent plea for mercy that he ignores. His eyes never leave yours as you strip away your dignity, peeling off layers of clothing to reveal bruised skin and the marks of his ownership.

The frat boys cheer, their eyes greedy as they watch you, and you want to die—to just slip away and leave this nightmare behind. But his grip on your soul is too strong.

He snaps the whip again, a little closer this time, the tip grazing the bare skin of your arm. You yelp, and he laughs, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. "That's it," he says, his voice a dark caress. "Show them how much you love it."

With the crack of the whip still ringing in your ears, you struggle to rise to your feet, your legs shaking with fear and a strange, dark excitement. The alcohol and the drugs he forced on you swirl through your system, mixing with the adrenaline and the horror of what's happening to create a toxic cocktail that fuels your actions.

You look down at your body, the red lingerie clinging to your curves, and you know that you're going to have to give him what he wants. You hate it—you hate him, you hate this, you hate what he’s turned you into—but the fear of his wrath and the need to survive override your pride.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction. He tugs at the leash, and you follow his lead, your movements jerky and awkward as you try to mimic the seductive dances you’ve seen in movies.

The stage lights burn down on you, making you feel exposed, making every eye in the room feel like a brand on your flesh. The frat members leer and shout obscenities, their excitement palpable as they watch you perform for their entertainment.

He circles you, the whip coiled in his hand like a living extension of his will. The leather cracks again, and you flinch, but this time, you know better than to resist. You begin to sway your hips, the music a distant throb that you try to sync with, your eyes fixed on a spot just beyond the sea of faces.

Each step is a battle between your instincts to flee and the cold, heavy weight of his expectations.

The whip slices through the air, its leather tail biting into the tender flesh of your thigh. The sting is immediate and sharp, a stark reminder of your place.

You gasp, your dance faltering for a moment as pain blossoms in a crimson flower, stealing your breath. The crowd cheers, the sickening sound of their approval spurring him on. His eyes narrow, and he pulls you closer by the leash, his grip unyielding.

"Is that all you've got, my little slut?" he sneers, his voice a harsh whisper in your ear. "You used to be so eager to please me, so desperate for my praise. Have you forgotten your training so quickly?"

You feel the warm trickle of blood run down your leg, mixing with the stickiness of his cum that still clings to your skin.

The room spins around you, the strobe lights flashing in a disorienting rhythm that seems to pulse with the bass of the music.

Your body screams for relief, but his words cut deeper than any whip ever could. You shake your head, eyes wide with terror and humiliation. "No, no, I—"

His hand snaps out, slapping you hard across the cheek.

"Don't you dare lie to me," he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. "You're mine, and you'll perform like the whore you are."

He shoves you back into the center of the stage, the cold metal of the pole pressing into your bare skin. The music changes, a slower, more sensual beat that seems to taunt you with its intimacy.

He cracks the whip again, a warning that echoes through your very soul.

Your body moves almost of its own accord, the drugs and his relentless grip on the collar's leash guiding your actions.

You wrap your shaking limbs around the pole, your torn lingerie barely clinging to your bruised and bloodied skin.

The crowd of leering frat members hoot and holler, their eyes devouring the sight of you, their entertainment for the night. The stage lights burn into your retinas, making everything else a hazy, pulsing blur. You feel the stickiness of the semen on your body mixing with the sweat and blood, creating a nauseating cocktail that clings to your skin.

"Look at her, folks," he calls out, his voice carrying over the music, his words a knife in the heart of your dignity. "Isn't she just the prettiest little thing you've ever seen?"

He sneers down at you, the glint in his eyes cold and unforgiving. "What are you waiting for?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Take it all off, slut. Show everyone what you've been hiding." His hand moves to the collar around your neck, giving it a sharp tug that sends a bolt of pain shooting through your body.

———

You bite your lip, trying to ignore the burning in your throat and the sticky warmth of your own blood, as you begin to peel off your clothes with trembling hands. Your eyes never leave his, the fear and anger in them a silent scream for mercy that you know he won't heed.

With a tremble that you hope he'll mistake for seductive anticipation, you unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts bounce free, nipples stiff with cold and fear.

You're aware of the leers of the crowd as they watch you, and the way his eyes rake over you, claiming ownership of every inch of your exposed flesh. The collar feels tighter around your neck, a constant reminder of the power he wields over you.

"That's it, slut," he says, his voice thick with pleasure as you stand before him, naked except for the soiled lingerie around your thighs.

"Show everyone what you really are."

With trembling fingers, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your thong, taking a deep, shaky breath as you push it down over your hips.

The fabric clings to your wetness, and you feel a fresh wave of humiliation as you realize just how much your body is betraying you in this moment. You peel the thong away from your skin, exposing your vulnerable, bare pussy to the leering eyes of the frat boys and the sadistic grin of your tormentor.

He watches you, his own erection pressing against his slacks, his hand resting on the bulge as if contemplating whether to let you service him further. The room seems to pulse with the beat of the music, each bass drop echoing the hammer of your heart as you stand before him, naked, collared, and utterly at his mercy.

The whip slices through the air with a sinister hiss, and before you can even process the command, the leather bites into your sensitive flesh. The pain is immediate, white-hot and searing, and you let out a high-pitched scream as your body jolts reflexively.

The sting against your pussy sends a jolt of electricity through your core, the pain so intense it's almost impossible to believe it's real. You look down to see the crimson line marring your pale skin, and the sight only makes you feel more exposed, more violated.

He laughs, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to your sensitive ears. "Is that all you've got, baby?" He asks, his tone mocking and filled with dark amusement.

"I've seen you take so much more. Don't tell me you're going to be a bad little slut now." He gives the leash a sharp tug, and you stumble toward the pole, desperation fueling your movements.

Your body wraps around the cold metal, your trembling hands sliding up the pole as you try to compose yourself. The room's attention is fully on you, the music a distant backdrop to the horror show you're being forced to perform.

The pole is slick with sweat and other, unidentifiable substances, but you ignore the revulsion, focusing instead on the task at hand. You begin to move, your hips swaying and gyrating, your breasts bouncing with the rhythm as you try to push away the pain and the fear.

He grabs the back of your head, the glass bottle pressing against your mouth.

You try to resist, the bitter taste of the drug-laden alcohol already making your stomach churn from the first dose, but his grip is unyielding. His thumb digs into your cheek, pushing your jaw open wider, and he pours the amber liquid down your throat, forcing you to swallow.

You cough and choke, the liquid burning like fire as it slides down your throat, the potent aphrodisiacs mixing with the fear and adrenaline already coursing through your system. Your eyes water, your vision swimming with the sudden onslaught of chemicals, but he's relentless, watching you with a sadistic glint as you drink.

As the bottle empties, the room seems to tilt on its axis. The laughter and jeers of the frat brothers blur into a cacophony of sound, the lights above seeming to pulse and flicker erratically.

He releases your head, and you drop to your knees, gasping for air. The collar around your neck feels tighter, the spikes digging into your skin with each frantic breath you take. He chuckles, his eyes gleaming with a dark excitement as he watches you struggle.

"Looks like my little slut's ready to perform," he says, his voice a taunting whisper that seems to resonate through the haze in your mind. He tugs on the leash, jerking your head up so that you're forced to meet his gaze.

The world spins around you, the edges of your vision blurring with the potency of the drug. "Now, get up and show them what you're good for."

———

You struggle to stand, your legs wobbly from the potent cocktail of fear and aphrodisiac swirling through your system. The room seems to tilt and sway around you, the leers of the frat boys blurring into a sea of hungry, lecherous faces. Your body feels like it's on fire, your pussy slick with arousal against your will. The collar digs into your neck, a painful reminder of your bondage, but the heat from the drink and the humiliation of your performance makes the pain strangely… addictive.

"Good girl," he purrs, his voice thick with lust and satisfaction.

"Now, show them how much you love to dance for daddy." His hand slides down your back, his fingers lingering over the fresh bruises marring your skin. You flinch, but there's something in his touch that makes you crave more—his dominance, his control.

With the collar biting into your neck and the drug coursing through your veins, you stumble to the pole, your movements uncoordinated and sluggish. But as you begin to move, the music seems to fill you, guiding your hips into a sultry sway that seems almost instinctual.

You wrap your hands around the pole, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat emanating from your body. Each slide of your palms up and down the pole is met with a chorus of catcalls and whistles from the intoxicated audience.

The music pulses through the room, a siren's call to your debasement, and you begin to dance with a fervor that borders on desperation. Your eyes glaze over as the potent cocktail of fear and the drug takes hold, your body moving in ways that seem both alien and eerily natural.

You twirl around the pole, the friction of your bruised skin against the metal sending waves of painful pleasure through your body. Your breasts, now free from their fabric prison, bounce with each thrust of your hips, the friction of your nipples against the pole making them rock hard and sensitive.

The frat boys below you have abandoned any pretense of decency, their hands shamelessly stroking their erections as they watch you. The smell of lust is palpable, a thick fog that seems to coil around you, tightening its grip with every passing moment. Some of them have already climaxed, their semen spattering the stage, mixing with the sweat and tears that drench your legs.

You feel their eyes on you, a hundred pairs of hungry eyes feasting on your nakedness, and you know that he's watching, too—his smirk growing wider as his grip on the leash tightens, urging you to go further.

You arch your back, pushing your hips out, grinding against the pole in a display that has them howling with lust. Each movement sends a jolt of pain through your bruised body, but you ignore it, the need to satisfy him overriding any semblance of self-preservation.

You're nothing but a toy to be used and discarded, a living, breathing manifestation of his darkest desires.

You spread your legs wider, bending over the pole, and their eyes follow, drinking in the sight of your exposed sex. The collar feels like a brand on your neck, a declaration of ownership that marks you as his property.

As you spread your legs wider, revealing your wet and vulnerable sex, the crowd goes absolutely wild.

The air fills with the sound of their ravenous cheers, and money begins to rain down from the frat brothers' hands, landing in a cascade of bills and coins around your knees. The cold, hard cash is a stark contrast to the heat of their stares, but you're too lost in the haze of pain and forced pleasure to care.

Your body moves almost of its own accord, driven by the potent cocktail of the aphrodisiac and the need to satisfy the monster that holds your leash. Each bill that slaps against your skin feels like a slap, a declaration of your worthlessness, but it only fuels your performance.

"Look at her," he says, his voice thick with lust as he watches you, the whip still in hand. "Isn't she such a pretty little slut for us tonight?"

The room is a cacophony of male desire, the scent of testosterone and sex heavy in the air as more and more of the frat brothers drop their pants and start jerking off to the sight of you, their little whore on stage.

Some stand right at the edge, their erections bobbing in your line of sight, leaking pre-cum onto the floor as they watch you spread your legs and arch your back.

The aphrodisiac is making you wetter than you’ve ever been, and the sticky wetness coats the insides of your thighs as you gyrate around the pole. Each time you glance down, you see their eyes on you, watching the show with a hunger that’s palpable, their hands moving in time with the music as they pleasure themselves.

You feel a strange mix of fear and arousal, the drug playing with your emotions and making you crave his attention even as you despise the way he’s using you.

His hand tightens around the leash, reminding you of your place, and you whine, your hips rolling in a desperate bid for relief that you know won’t come. He’s enjoying this far too much to let you cum.

Instead, he gives the leash a sharp tug, pulling you closer to the edge of the stage, closer to the sea of erections pointing at you like accusatory fingers.

“Look at them,” he says, his voice a low purr in your ear, his breath hot and heavy with his own lust. “They all want a piece of you. They’re all watching you, jerking off to you, thinking about fucking you. And you know what? If I want, I can give them that. I can make you service every single one of them. You’re mine to do with as I please, remember?”

You whimper, your eyes darting around the room, meeting the eyes of the men below. Some of them are smiling cruelly, others look at you with a hunger that makes you want to crawl into a hole and hide. You know that if he wanted to, he could throw you to them like a piece of meat.

“But tonight, baby, it’s just me,” he says, his voice thick with arousal as he pulls you closer, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass.

“We’re going to show everyone who you belong to. Who’s going to fuck you until you scream my name. Who’s going to make you forget all about that prissy little bitch Domo and your sad little attempts at a normal life. Tonight, you’re going to remember who you really are—my little whore.”

———

He hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his waist almost instinctively as he lines himself up at your entrance. You can feel how wet you are, the stickiness of arousal coating your thighs despite the horror of the situation.

He doesn’t bother with any preamble, no sweet nothings or gentle coaxing—his cock slams into you, brutally tearing through your folds with a sickening sound that’s lost in the din of the chanting crowd.

The impact sends shockwaves through your body, your back arching and your nails digging into his shoulders. You bite your lip to stifle the scream that builds in your throat, the pain of his intrusion mixing with the drug’s sickening thrill.

As he thrusts into you with a brutal force, your body betrays you, a strangled moan escaping your throat. Despite the horror of the situation, the drug's potent cocktail of pain and pleasure has turned you into a writhing mess of need, your inner muscles clenching around him involuntarily.

The crowd goes wild, their cheers and jeers echoing in your ears as he fucks you like a ragdoll, his hips pistoning into you without mercy. Each thrust is a declaration of his dominance, a claim staked deep inside your core. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving bruises that will bloom like dark flowers on your flesh, a testament to his ownership.

“Look at you, little slut,” he snarls, his teeth bared in a twisted grin. “You can’t even help but cum for me, can you? So desperate, so fucking pathetic. Just like I knew you would be. You’re mine, and you always will be.”

He slams into you, each thrust a declaration of his dominance over your trembling body. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he ruts against you, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

The crowd's lewd cheers only serve to spur him on, his thrusts growing more erratic and forceful as he nears his climax. The pain is overwhelming, but the drug cocktail makes it almost bearable, the edges of your mind fogging with a haze of pleasure that you despise yourself for feeling.

“That’s right, take it all, baby," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You love it when I use you like this, don’t you? Love when everyone sees you’re nothing but a whore for me?”

With your body a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and the potent effects of the drugs clouding your judgment, you find yourself obeying his command, kissing him back with a passion that's been twisted and corrupted by the situation.

Your mind is a blur of pain and arousal, the line between the two blurring until you're not sure which one is which anymore. His smirk widens, and he takes full advantage of your compromised state, his kisses growing more possessive as he feels you give in.

His hand snakes up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue invades your mouth, claiming you in a way that leaves no doubt who you belong to.

The crowd's cheers grow louder, a cacophony of sound that seems to echo in your ears as he fucks you mercilessly on the makeshift stage. You're dimly aware of the frat brothers jerking off in front of you, their eyes glazed with lust as they watch your degradation unfold.

His hand moves from your neck, down to your throat, squeezing gently but firmly, reminding you that you're his plaything, here for his pleasure and their entertainment. You moan into his mouth, the sound lost in the cacophony of his grunts and the frat members' catcalls.

With a triumphant roar, he drives into you with a brutal force that makes your eyes roll back in your head. The pain is exquisite, a crescendo that steals the last shred of your dignity and leaves you trembling with a need that burns like acid in your veins.

Your legs are spread wide, your body exposed to the leering eyes of the frat members as he takes you with a ferocity that borders on savagery. His fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises that mirror the marks of his teeth on your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic and punishing. You can feel him swell inside you, his cock thickening with his approaching orgasm.

The room is a cacophony of male lust and your own muffled whimpers. He leans in, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

“You’re mine, baby. Always have been, always will be. You’re just too fucking stupid to realize it. Now, scream for me. Scream like you mean it. Scream like the breeding bitch I know you are.” His voice is a snarl, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispers the last words, the sting of his bite sending a jolt of unwanted pleasure through your body.

The drugs in your system respond to his cruel command, your body betraying you once more. Your orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of pleasure that's almost too much to handle.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around his waist as you cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you scream his name into the chaotic din of the frat party. Your muscles spasm around his cock, your walls pulsing with each wave of ecstasy that crashes over you, leaving you sobbing for breath.

His own climax follows, the hot spurt of his seed filling you as he buries himself to the hilt with a final, punishing thrust. The crowd's roars of approval meld with the harsh, triumphant grunts of his release, each one a nail in the coffin of your resistance.

Your body hits the sticky, cum-soaked floor, a testament to the depraved spectacle you've just endured. Your legs shake uncontrollably, muscles slack with the aftershocks of forced pleasure.

The smell of sex and the faint metallic scent of your own blood mingle with the stale beer and sweat that hang in the air. The frat members surrounding you jeer and leer, their lustful gazes raking over your bruised and violated form. Your skin is sticky with their cum, your dignity shattered beyond repair. The harsh lights of the stage cast unflinching shadows over the bruises blossoming across your body, each one a stark reminder of his dominance.

He stands over you, the smug satisfaction in his eyes as he zips his pants, tightening your collar with a jerk for good measure. "Good girl," he sneers, the sound of his zipper a grim symphony of your defeat.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up for the next act." He yanks the leash, and you scramble to your knees, the movement sending fresh waves of pain through your abused body. The leather collar bites into your neck, a constant reminder of your servitude.

With a vicious jerk, he pulls you through the crowd, the frat brothers reaching out to grope and slap you as you pass.

Each touch feels like a brand searing into your skin, marking you as their plaything, their shared whore.

He doesn't bother to hide his enjoyment of the situation, his eyes alight with a dark thrill as he leads you into a back room. The door slams shut behind you, and for a moment, the cacophony of the party is muted, a brief reprieve from the horror of the outside world.

────────────

The room is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of stale beer and sweat. A filthy sink sits in one corner, and a worn-out couch occupies the other, stains of various bodily fluids marring the fabric.

He shoves you towards the sink, the leash tightening around your neck. "Wash up," he commands, his voice cold and detached. "You're going to be the main entertainment for the night, and I want you to look your best."

You stumble over to the sink, your legs wobbly from the drugs and the brutal treatment. You can feel his eyes on you, watching every move with a sadistic glee that sends a shiver down your spine. Your hands shake as you turn the faucet, the cold water a sharp contrast to the heat of your skin.

The mirror above the sink shows your reflection—your face is a mess of tears and smudged makeup, your eyes wide with fear and pain. But there's something else in there, a flicker of something darker, something that makes you feel even more disgusting.

Is that arousal?

The drug-induced pleasure from the stage still lingering in your body? You hate yourself for feeling it, for letting him win.

He tosses you a rag, and you catch it with trembling fingers, using it to wipe away the mess that's been made of you. The water stings the bruises and cuts on your body, but you force yourself to clean up, the coldness grounding you in the harsh reality of your situation.

You're his toy, a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

"Look at yourself," he says, his voice dripping with disgust and yet, there's a hint of pride in his tone.

"You're a mess. But you're my mess."

You dare to glance up at him, his form casting a shadow over your huddled figure. His eyes rake over you, a mix of disdain and lust that makes your stomach twist. You want to scream, to fight back, but the drugs have left you docile, a rag doll in his hands.

"Finished?" he asks, his voice a mocking drawl. "Good girl."

You nod, not trusting your voice to do anything but betray you. His hand snatches the rag from your hand, tossing it aside. He takes your chin in his firm grip, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. The smirk on his face sends a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over you.

"Now," he says, his voice a dark promise, "it's time for the main event."

────────────

The room is a cesspool of lust and depravity, the air thick with the stench of sweat and spilled alcohol. The frat boys leer at you, their eyes hungry as they wait for your next act of degradation. Your heart races in your chest, each beat echoing the dread of what's to come.

He tugs at the leash, leading you back into the frenzied sea of bodies. You stumble, your legs wobbly from the drugs and the abuse. The cold floor sticks to your skin, the gunk from the stage still clinging to you like a second, unwanted layer. You keep your eyes down, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, but you can feel their eyes raking over your bruised flesh like claws.

In the center of the room, a makeshift auction block has been set up. A burly frat member with a sadistic smile steps onto it, a megaphone in his hand. "Ladies and gentlemen," he bellows, his voice slurred with drink, "it's time for the main event! Our little slut here is going up for grabs. Who's feeling lucky tonight?"

The crowd roars, and you feel a fresh wave of nausea wash over you. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape, but you're surrounded by a sea of grinning faces and lust-filled eyes. He grins down at you, the leather leash tight in his hand. "Don't worry, darling," he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, "you're going to be the belle of the ball."

With a vicious tug, he yanks you up onto the block, your knees giving out under you. He doesn't bother to catch you; you're just a toy to him now. The cold, sticky floor kisses your bruised skin again, and you can feel the dampness of the cum and sweat seep into your pores.

The burly frat member with the megaphone leers down at you, his eyes tracing the lines of your bruised and trembling body. "Look at this fresh meat," he says, his voice a taunting growl. "What'll you pay to taste her?"

The bids come fast and furious, a cacophony of numbers and lewd suggestions that make your stomach churn. You want to cover yourself, to hide from the lecherous eyes and the knowing smirks that say they've seen it all before.

But your hands won't move—the drug has turned your body into a traitor, leaving you open and vulnerable to their perusal. You're just a commodity, a plaything for the highest bidder.

He stands behind you, a proud owner displaying his prize, his hand resting on your shoulder in a possessive grip. "Remember, baby," he whispers, his voice a dark caress against your ear.

"You're mine to give away tonight. So make me proud." His hand slides down to squeeze your breast, a cruel reminder of your new reality.

The auctioneer's voice booms over the speakers, echoing through the room as he rattles off your 'features'. "Look at her," he says with a leer, "a tight, obedient little slut for the taking. She's been trained to perform any act you desire. And just look at that ass! It's begging for a good hard fucking."

You feel a cold wave of dread wash over you as the frat members hoot and holler, their eyes raking over your naked, bruised body. Your mind is a whirlwind of fear and despair, but your body remains a statue—still and submissive under the influence of the drugs.

The bids start flying, numbers shouted with the excitement of a game show audience, as if you're nothing more than a piece of meat. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't help but look down at the floor, unable to meet any of their gazes.

"Don't be shy, baby," your tormentor whispers, his breath hot against your neck. "Show them what a good little whore you can be." He nudges your legs apart with his foot, making sure everyone gets a good view of your most intimate areas, still glistening from his recent use.

You want to resist, to scream, to fight, but the only sound that comes out is a pitiful whine as you struggle to maintain your balance on the block.

The auctioneer leers at you, his voice echoing through the room like a punch to the gut. "Look at those tight little holes," he says, gesturing lewdly.

"Imagine what they can take." Your face burns with a mix of humiliation and anger, but the drugs keep you rooted in place, unable to do anything but stand there and endure.

"Look at the bruises," another frat member calls out, pointing to the finger marks around your neck. "It's like he's been breaking her in all night!"

The room erupts in laughter, and you feel the heat of a hundred eyes on your exposed skin.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you like a taunt. "Oh, they're just from our little warm-up earlier," he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. "But don't worry, I'm sure the lucky bidder will leave some of their own."

———

The room goes quiet as the gavel hits the podium with a final, echoing thwack. The frat member with the megaphone smirks, holding up a hand to signal the end of the bidding war. "Sold!" he declares, and a wave of nausea crashes over you as the reality of the situation sets in.

You're no longer a person with free will, but a piece of property to be used and discarded at the whim of the highest bidder.

He looks down at you, the victorious glint in his eyes piercing the haze of your drug-induced confusion. "You're going to love this," he says, his voice thick with sadistic amusement. "It's going to be just like old times, baby. Remember how much fun we had?"

With a jerk of the leash, he pulls you along behind him, your bare feet stumbling over the sticky floor as the frat brothers catcall and whistle. Each step feels like a betrayal to your own dignity, but the fear of what he'll do if you resist keeps you moving. You're led through the crowd, the sea of drunken faces blurring together, their leers and taunts a cacophony of degradation.

The room is spinning, the lights are too bright, and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and sex is overwhelming.

You feel a hand squeeze your bruised ass, and you wince, a reflexive cry slipping out before you can stop it.

He laughs, the sound cold and cruel, the hand moving to your throat, squeezing gently. "Keep walking, slut," he whispers, his voice a dark caress that sends shivers down your spine. "You're going to be everyone's entertainment tonight."

────────────

He shoves you through the door of the VIP bedroom, and your knees hit the plush carpet with a thud. The room is dimly lit, the air thick with the musk of male desire and the faint scent of cologne. You blink through the haze of the drugs, trying to focus on the scene in front of you.

The man who won the bid—your new temporary owner for the night—reclines on the bed, surrounded by his eager companions.

They leer at you, their eyes raking over your bruised and exposed flesh with the hunger of predators eyeing their prey.

One of them, a burly man with a scruffy beard, stands up and saunters over, his hand stroking the length of his already erect cock.

"Look what we've got here," the bid winner says, his voice thick with lust. His eyes are the color of rotting leaves, cold and unfeeling. "A fresh little slut for us to play with. How much did she go for?"

Your bully laughs, his hand still tight around your throat. "Does it matter?" he asks, pushing you down onto the floor. "You've got her for the night. Do whatever you want with her. Just make sure she's in one piece when you're done." His smile is wide, revealing teeth that look too sharp, too hungry. "I've got plans for her tomorrow."

The room seems to shrink around you as the bid winner’s words hang in the air, the reality of your situation sinking in.

Twelve sets of eyes, hungry and predatory, stare down at you, each man licking his lips in anticipation.

You feel the weight of their gazes, the heat of their desire, as they begin to circle around you like sharks in a feeding frenzy. The coldness of the floor against your bare skin sends a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the heat of fear burning in your belly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll share nicely,” one of them says, a twisted smile playing on his face as he reaches out to run a finger along the bruised curve of your breast. You flinch away, the touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The bid winner takes a step closer, his eyes raking over your body, his expression one of cold calculation. His hand reaches out to stroke your cheek, his thumb catching on the crust of blood at the corner of your mouth. He leans in, whispering, "You're going to be our little toy tonight."

The others close in, their hands reaching out to touch you, their laughter echoing around the room like the cackles of demons in hell.

Your body trembles uncontrollably as the weight of the situation crashes down upon you, your knees buckling under the pressure of the frat brothers' eager eyes.

Through the fog of the drug, you manage to stumble closer to your bully, your reason for suffering, and cling to his leg with a desperation that's raw and painfully real.

Despite the humiliation, despite the bruises that already mar your skin, despite the throbbing pain in your head and the heaviness in your limbs, you find yourself pathetically begging.

"Please," you whimper, the word barely audible amidst the cacophony of their lewd laughter.

"Please take me back. I'll do anything—just don't let them…not like this." Your voice cracks as a fresh wave of sobs overtakes you, your body shaking with the force of your despair.

He looks down at you, his eyes gleaming with something dark and twisted. "You want me to save you?" His voice is a sneer, his grip on your hair tightening. "But you're not mine to save anymore, are you?" He yanks your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "You're theirs now. Their little plaything."

The impact of his kick sends you sprawling across the floor, your bare skin scraping against the cold, plush carpet.

You land with a painful thud, your bruised and trembling body offered up to the leering eyes of the thirteen frat brothers.

They crowd around you like hungry jackals, their excitement palpable as they reach out to touch, grope, and claim their prize. Your bully watches from the doorway, his eyes gleaming with a twisted blend of possessiveness and sadistic satisfaction.

You wail in despair, your voice hoarse from the abuse and fear, as their hands clamp down on your arms and legs, tearing at your bruised and torn lingerie.

The fabric rips away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to their greedy eyes and eager fingers. Each frat member seems to have a different preference—some tug at your hair, others squeeze your breasts, and one even has the audacity to spread your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with a sadistic grin.

"Fucking whore," one of them slurs, his breath reeking of alcohol and malice. "You're gonna love this, aren't you?"

Their laughter and lewd comments fill the room, echoing off the walls in a cacophony of depravity that seems to swell with every heartbeat. You struggle against them, but the drug has left you weak, your limbs feeling like they're made of lead. The room spins, and you're dimly aware of the door slamming shut, leaving you at their mercy.

The frat members' hands are everywhere, rough and unyielding, as they explore every inch of your exposed body. They squeeze and maul your breasts, twisting your nipples until you cry out in pain.

Their fingers probe your pussy, invading your most intimate spaces without permission, their nails digging into your soft flesh. They force your head into their laps, their erections pressing against your cheeks as they demand that you service them orally, the taste of their excitement mingling with the bitterness of the drug on your tongue.

Each one takes his turn, thrusting into your mouth as you choke and gag, the tears streaming down your face only seeming to excite them further. They whisper degrading names in your ears—slut, whore, toy—each word a hot knife slicing through your soul.

Your bully watches from the sidelines, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction as he observes his handiwork.

He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the occasional twirl of the leash still attached to your collar. He says nothing, his silence speaking louder than any words could.

This is what you are to him—his entertainment, his property, a means to satisfy his twisted desires and assert his power.

The frat brothers are merciless, their grunts and jeers filling the room as they take turns using you. You're thrown around like a ragdoll, each new set of hands more brutal than the last.

Your body is slick with sweat and tears, your skin stinging from the whip's earlier kisses. You try to keep track of who's next, to brace yourself, but it's a futile effort. They're all the same—faceless monsters in a never-ending nightmare.

One of them, a burly man with a cruel smile, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand after forcing you to service him. "You're even better than he said," he leers, his breath hot and sour on your skin. "What's your name, slut?"

You swallow a sob, the word 'slut' echoing in your mind like a brand. "I—I don't—"

He laughs, his meaty hand slapping your ass. "Don't bother. You don't need a name tonight. You're just his little whore." He grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "Now, who's next?"

The room seems to close in around you as the burly frat boy’s words sink in. Twelve of them, all eager to use your body as they wish. Your heart races as fear and dread coil in your stomach, but the drug’s effect leaves you feeling hazily aroused despite your desperation.

They crowd around the bed, their lustful gazes raking over your bruised and soiled body. The smell of alcohol and sweat fills the air as they jostle for position, eager to claim their prize.

One of the brothers, a tall, lean man with a cruel glint in his eye, steps forward and grabs your chin roughly. “Look at me, slut,” he snarls, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“You’re going to make every single one of us cum, and you’re going to do it with a smile on your face, or it’ll be your ass that pays the price. Got it?”

Your weak struggle is met with a chorus of harsh laughter from the frat boys. The one holding your chin tightens his grip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your jaw as his friends jeer. "Looks like she's still got some fight left in her," he says, his voice thick with amusement. "Let's see how long that lasts."

They waste no time, descending upon you like a pack of ravenous animals. The first two take your ankles, spreading your legs wide and securing them with ropes to the bedposts, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable. Another one grabs your wrists, tying them to the headboard with a vicious yank that sends pain shooting through your dislocated arm.

Your bully watches from the shadows, a dark smile playing on his lips as you're secured in place, unable to escape the horror about to unfold.

———

As you scream for your bully, your voice echoes through the room, desperation lacing every syllable. The frat brothers pause in their advances, their grins widening as they watch your futile struggle. The tall, lean one chuckles, stroking the length of his erection with a smug satisfaction that makes your stomach churn.

“Look at her,” he says, his voice a taunt. “Begging for you like a whipped bitch. Tell her, bro—you’re not here to save her. You’re here to watch.”

The words are a dagger in your chest, but you can’t deny the sickening thrill that runs through your veins at his words. You hate him—hate what he’s making you do—but the fear of his wrath is a constant, throbbing pulse that drowns out everything else. You whimper, tears streaming down your cheeks as the frat brothers resume their advances.

“P-please, don’t do this,” you manage to croak out, your eyes darting to your bully in the shadows. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches with a smug, knowing smile. His silence is a knife twisting in your gut.

The tall, lean frat member, the self-proclaimed ringleader of this vile display, grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. “You know the rules, little slut. You don’t get to speak unless one of us gives you permission. And right now, all you get to do is make us happy.”

He leans in close, his rancid breath hot against your face. “But don’t worry, I’m sure your dear Daddy over there is enjoying the show. Just remember, every moan, every tear, every drop of your degradation is music to his fucking ears.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you as the other frat brothers murmur their agreement, their hands roving over your bound body. You feel a cold trickle of fear run down your spine, realizing that this isn’t just about your bully’s sick pleasure anymore—it’s about proving something to everyone here.

That you’re his to use and discard as he sees fit.

The room fills with the sickly sweet scent of cheap alcohol as it's poured over your trembling body, the cold liquid making you gasp and flinch. It pools in the curves of your breasts and stomach, then trickles down to soak into your already abused pussy. The frat brothers leer at you, their faces flushed with lust and cruelty. You struggle against your restraints, your eyes wide with terror, but the ropes bite into your skin, holding you in place.

"Now, now," the ringleader says, his voice a taunting purr. "Don't be shy. You're going to be a good little whore for us, aren't you?" He grabs your hair, yanking your head back so you're forced to look at the sea of eager faces.

"Open wide for Daddy's friends, or should I say, your new daddies?"

The room erupts in laughter, the sound of their amusement echoing in your ears like the ringing of a death knell.

You feel the first frat member's hand squeeze your throat, his grip tight as he lines his cock up with your mouth. Your bully watches from the sidelines, a twisted smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a mix of arousal and satisfaction. He's enjoying this, watching you be destroyed for his entertainment.

You try to fight, to spit, to scream, but the hand around your throat cuts off your air supply. Panic sets in, and your eyes bulge as he starts to thrust, the head of his cock pushing past your lips despite your desperate attempts to keep them closed. You gag, tears streaming down your face, as he fucks your mouth like it's nothing more than a wet hole for his pleasure. The taste of him is bitter and disgusting, making your stomach heave, but you know better than to try to pull away.

As the first frat member's cock forces its way into your mouth, you feel a wave of nausea, but the fear of suffocation is even stronger. Your jaw is stretched wide, and your eyes water as he mercilessly uses your mouth, grunting with pleasure.

Meanwhile, the other frat members move in like a pack of hungry animals, tearing at your limbs, spreading your legs apart, and pushing their cocks against your quivering asshole and pussy. You're overwhelmed with the sensation of being filled, your body stretched to the limits as they plunge into you without a shred of mercy.

The ring of muscle around your throat relaxes slightly, allowing you a brief gasp of air before the frat member starts to fuck your throat in earnest. You can feel the spit and pre-cum running down your chin, mixing with the tears that refuse to stop flowing.

The frat members, fueled by lust and the thrill of dominance, descend upon your trembling body like a pack of hungry wolves. Their hands are rough, their touch invasive, as they force your legs apart and push your mouth wider, eager to claim their prize.

The pressure inside you is unbearable as two thick cocks are thrust into your pussy simultaneously, stretching you to the brink of pain and beyond. Your eyes water with the effort to accommodate the girth as you feel your insides give way to their relentless pounding.

“Look at her, she’s loving it!” one of the frat brothers jeers, slapping your ass cheek with a resounding crack.

His words are echoed by the others, their laughter a cacophony of depravity that fills the small VIP room. Your bully watches with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light as he takes in the scene of your degradation. He nods, seemingly proud of the performance he’s orchestrated, the leather strap of your collar tight in his hand as he tugs you closer to the edge of the bed.

The two frat members who had been eagerly awaiting their turn step forward, their erections straining against the fabric of their pants. They waste no time in freeing themselves from their confines, the sight of your ravaged body bringing them to the brink of frenzy.

You feel the coolness of lube as it’s smeared onto your already overstretched anus, the sensation a stark contrast to the heat and pain that follows as the first cock breaches your entrance. You tense, your body instinctively trying to resist the intrusion, but your bully’s hand on the back of your neck forces you to remain still, to accept your fate.

The two frat brothers don't bother with gentle introductions as they push into your asshole, one cock following the other, stretching and filling you beyond any semblance of comfort. The lubricant does little to alleviate the burning sensation as they invade your most intimate space with a brutal sense of entitlement. Your body quivers with each thrust, the pain of their entry a stark contrast to your bully's cruel satisfaction.

He watches with a glint in his eye, the scene playing out exactly as he had planned. His grip on your neck tightens as he whispers in your ear, "You're doing so good for me, baby. Such a good little slut."

The room is a blur of motion and sound as the frat members lose themselves in their depraved desires.

The two cocks in your pussy pummel you with a merciless rhythm, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of what you can bear. The pressure in your asshole is unbearable, the two men inside you stretching and filling you beyond any comprehension of pleasure, the pain a living, pulsing entity that consumes you entirely. The frat member in your mouth fucks your face with a fervor that matches the others, his cock sliding in and out as he groans with each stroke.

As the frat member in your mouth nears his climax, the your bully’s grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back so your throat is exposed to the camera lenses eagerly capturing the scene. His eyes gleam with sadistic delight as he watches the others fuck you mercilessly. He whispers into your ear, his voice a dark promise, “You’re going to take every last drop of their cum, aren’t you?”

One of the frat members in your pussy pulls out, and you feel a momentary relief before another takes his place, his cock thick and unyielding as he drives into you without preamble. The two in your asshole continue their relentless assault, the pain so intense it’s almost a comfort, a stark reminder that you’re alive, that this isn’t a nightmare you can wake from. Their grunts and sighs of pleasure meld with the sickening slap of flesh on flesh, each thrust a declaration of your degradation.

The scene is a whirlwind of debauchery and depravity as the men around you continue to take turns filming your forced submission. The camera flashes pierce through the dimly lit room, capturing every tear, every whimper, every moment of your degradation for posterity. The frat members' eyes glaze over with lust as they watch their comrades claim you in every way possible. The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady mix that seems to drive them all to the brink of madness.

As the frat members continue to pass around your abused body like a toy, the flashes from their cameras become more persistent, painting the room in stark relief of your humiliation.

The sound of their laughter and the snap of their fingers as they take pictures feels like a thousand tiny cuts slicing into your soul. Each flash captures another moment of your degradation, preserving it for all to see. You feel like a mere object, a plaything for their amusement, stripped of all dignity and identity.

Your bully stands at the edge of the room, his eyes gleaming with a possessive lust as he watches the scene unfold. He's dressed impeccably, a stark contrast to your tattered outfit and bruised skin.

He runs his hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with excitement as he watches you being used like a whore. "Look at you," he says, his voice dripping with a dark satisfaction, "You're such a natural at this, baby. Just like old times."

The frat members, driven to the brink by your forced submission and your bully's cruel orchestration, release their pent-up lust in a frenzy of orgasms.

Cum spurts across your face, chest, and stomach, painting your body in a vile canvas of their desires. Some shoot their seed deep inside you, filling your already ravaged holes, while others cover your skin in thick ropes that stick to your flesh, a disgusting testament to their depravity.

Each man’s climax is accompanied by grunts and moans, a cacophony of animalistic sounds that echo through the room as they use you to satisfy their base instincts.

The frat members show no sign of mercy as they continue to use your body for their pleasure. They take turns, each one eager to leave their mark, to claim a piece of you.

Your insides are a chaotic mess, your pussy and asshole stretched and abused beyond what you thought was possible. Each new load of cum feels like a violation, a hot, sticky reminder of your powerlessness. Your body jerks and twitches with every spurt, muscles clenching around them in a futile attempt to push them out, only to be filled once more.

As the frat members continue to pound into you, your body responds with an involuntary wave of pleasure, each new cock triggering orgasms that shake you to your core. Your eyes are glazed over, your mind lost in the haze of pain and arousal as you cum over and over again. The sensation of being filled so completely, of being used so utterly, sends your body into a frenzy of pleasure despite the horror of the situation.

The room is a cacophony of grunts and slaps, of flesh against flesh and the slap of skin. Each new wave of semen that fills you is met with a groan from the frat members, a chorus of pleasure that echoes in your ears.

They treat you like a toy, a living cumdump, and your body betrays you with each shuddering climax. Your legs tremble, your throat aches from screaming and being used, and your pussy clenches around cocks that never seem to stop coming.

Your bully's eyes gleam with a twisted mix of pride and satisfaction as he watches. He leans in close, whispering in your ear, his voice a seductive hiss that sends chills down your spine. "Look at you," he says, his breath hot against your skin, "so beautifully broken. Just like I knew you would be."

His hand comes up, stroking your cheek with a tenderness that feels wrong amidst the chaos. "You're mine," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the path of a tear down your face. "And I'll never let you forget it."

────────────

The room seems to spin as you come back to consciousness, the smell of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Your body is a wreck, used and abused in every conceivable way.

The frat members have long since lost count of their own climaxes, treating your body as nothing more than a vessel for their pleasure.

Each time you slip into oblivion, you're yanked back to the nightmare by the relentless assault of their cocks, thrusting into your pussy, asshole, and mouth with no regard for the agony you're in. They don’t care if you’re too sore, if you’re crying or begging for them to stop—you’re just a hole to be filled, a whore to be used.

———

You come to with a jolt, the pain in your body a stark contrast to the gentle stroking of your hair. Your eyes blur with tears and cum as you see your bully your tormentor, cradling your naked form with a disturbingly affectionate smile.

His eyes are glued to the screen of his phone, the blue light flickering across his face as he watches the recorded footage of your degradation with rapt attention. The sounds of your forced pleasure and their lustful grunts fill the room, a grim reminder of what happened while you were unconscious.

Your body feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, each breath a struggle through the thick, sticky mess that coats your skin. You're aware of the dryness in your throat, the throb in your jaw, the raw sting in your pussy and asshole—each sensation a testament to the brutality of the past hours.

His hand shifts to the back of your head, and he leans down, pressing a soft, almost loving kiss to your forehead. The gesture sends a cold shiver down your spine, the stark contrast between his gentle touch and the horror you've just endured. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to his chest, his hard cock digging into your side.

You can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, a stark reminder that he's alive, that he's the one holding you, watching your suffering with such a disturbing blend of love and possession.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of anger, love, and something else—a deep, dark need that makes your stomach twist. "Look at you," he says, his voice a low growl. "So fucking weak. You think you can survive out there without me? The world's a cruel place, baby. Full of monsters like those frat boys who'd eat you alive if they had the chance."

You want to scream, to fight, to tell him he's wrong, but your voice is gone—stolen by the hours of brutal use. Your throat is raw from the abuse, your body trembling and bruised. The gentle stroking of your hair feels like a lie, a sick imitation of comfort that makes you want to retch.

He seems to sense your internal struggle, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he leans in closer. "But you know what's worse than them?" he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Me. I'm the monster who loves you."

He traces the bruises along your neck, his thumbs brushing over the marks from the collar, his eyes lingering on your swollen lip and the trails of dried tears staining your face. "I'm the one who knows every part of you, who's seen you at your lowest. And you know what that means, don't you?"

He shifts his weight, the erection pressing more insistently against your side. His hands move from stroking your hair to gripping your jaw, tilting your face to meet his gaze. "You forgot who you really are, didn't you? Who you really belong to. You forgot that every part of you is mine to use, to protect."

"You're mine," he whispers, the words a dark promise that echoes through your soul. "Always have been, always will be. No one else will ever love you like I do."

You flinch at his words, his grip on your jaw tightening as his thumb traces your lower lip, smearing blood and spit. "Do you think anyone else would want you like this?" His voice is a soft, taunting murmur that cuts deeper than any blade. "Broken, used, and covered in their filth?" His eyes gleam with a feral light, the possessiveness in his gaze a stark reminder of the monster that lies beneath his human guise.

Then, with a sneer, your bully's thumb traces the curve of your cheek, smearing the remnants of your blood and tears. "Your mother? That cold bitch doesn't have the capacity to love you the way I do."

You wince, his words hitting like a sledgehammer to your soul. The mention of your mother is a fresh wound, still raw and festering from her cruelty. The truth stings, but you dare not argue, fearing it might only feed his ego more.

"And as for Domo," he says with a dismissive wave, his eyes narrowing as he says her name. "That sanctimonious slut? She's a fool. Playing savior, thinking she can fix you. But you're beyond repair, aren't you?"

You whimper at the mention of Domo, the pain of his words resonating deep within your chest. It's a painful reminder of the trust you've lost, the friendship that's been tainted by his manipulation. He leans closer, his breath hot against your face.

"But I love you, even in your broken state. I love watching you squirm, fighting against your nature, your desires. It's so… entertaining." His lips curve into a sadistic smile, and you can't help but feel the warmth spread through your body, despite the fear.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, "You see, no one else could love you like this. No one else would want you when you're broken. But I do. Because you're mine." His grip on your waist tightens, his thumbs brushing against the soft flesh of your hips as he pulls you closer to him. "You're mine to fix, to use, to love."

As his lips press against yours, the gentle caress feels alien amidst the pain and fear that have become your constant companions. His touch is a stark contrast to the harsh reality of your situation, a cruel reminder of the affection he’s twisted into this monstrous form of control.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips, coaxing them open, and you can’t help but respond, his dominance a dark siren call that resonates deep within you. You hate yourself for it, for the way your body reacts despite your mind screaming for resistance, for the way your heart stutters at the softness of his touch.

“Say it,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice a seductive purr that sends shivers down your spine. “Tell me you love me. That you’re mine.”

Tears stream down your face, mixing with the blood from your split lip. Your voice is barely a whisper when you finally give in. “I love you.”

The words feel like acid on your tongue, but his eyes light up with victory, his smile widening as he takes in your shattered expression. “Good girl,” he croons, his hands sliding down to grip your throat again, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the pulse point. “You know what happens next, don’t you?”

────────────

The warm water of the hot tub envelops you as he helps you to your feet, the heat soothing your bruised and battered body. The stark contrast between the pain and the comfort sends a wave of confusing sensations through you, but you push them aside, focusing solely on his needs.

You sink into the water, the jets bubbling around you as he sits on the edge, his erect cock standing proudly before you. You lean in, eager to show your love and devotion through your servitude, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

The salty taste of his pre-cum fills your mouth, and you moan around it, eager for more. His hands thread through your hair, guiding your movements, as he talks into the phone, his voice calm and collected, as if he isn’t receiving a blowjob from his bruised and broken lover.

With a mix of fear and forced desire, you deepthroat his thick cock, your throat tightening around it as you try to take in his entire length. You can feel the pulse of his veins, the heat of his desire, and the way he swells even more in your mouth.

His grip on your hair tightens, and you know you're doing exactly as he wants—his little slut, his personal cumdump.

You can't help but moan around his shaft, the vibrations of your voice sending shivers down his spine. His eyes never leave yours as he watches you, the smug satisfaction in his gaze making you feel like the lowest form of life. Yet, you continue, eager to please him, to show him that you're his.

As you continue to deepthroat him, your bully's hips start to buck slightly, the calloused pads of his thumbs pressing into your temples as he guides your movements, ensuring you don't pull away or gag too loudly.

His voice on the phone is calm, as if discussing the weather or the latest sports scores, while your throat is being used as a fucktoy for his pleasure. The salty taste of precum coats the back of your throat, and you can feel his balls tightening against your chin, signaling his approaching climax.

"Ah, yes, she's fine," he says into the phone, his voice deceptively casual. "Just a little… indisposed at the moment. You know how she gets when she's stressed." He chuckles darkly, and you can almost feel the contempt in his tone as he continues to fuck your mouth. "But I'm taking excellent care of her. Don't you worry."

You gag around his cock, tears streaming down your face as you try to keep up with his pace, your throat sore and bruised from the relentless abuse. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, his gaze never leaving yours as he watches you suffer. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing, as if you're a pet performing a trick.

He pulls you closer, his cock pushing deeper into your throat, and you fight the urge to retch, his taste filling your mouth as your eyes water. You can feel the pressure building in his shaft, the pulse of his blood growing more insistent. Your own body responds against your will, your cunt clenching with every cruel thrust, betraying you even now.

With a grunt of satisfaction, he reaches his climax, his hips bucking as he floods your mouth with hot, sticky cum. You can't help but swallow reflexively around his pulsing length, the taste of his release coating your throat. He watches you with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark triumph as you do as he's conditioned you to do—obey without question.

The saltiness of his semen mixes with the metallic tang of your own blood, a vile cocktail that somehow only makes you crave more of his dominance.

With a cruel twist of his lips, he pulls out of your mouth, his grip on your neck tightening as he brings his phone back into view. The screen lights up, capturing your tear-stained face, your swollen, abused lips, and the trail of saliva connecting them to his still-twitching cock.

"Smile," he says, his voice low and demanding. "Show everyone how much you love me. How much you enjoy serving Daddy."

Through the haze of pain and degradation, you manage to force a smile, your eyes glassy and vacant.

You know better than to resist now—his control over you is absolute. You lean into the camera, your cheek pressing against his thigh as you give a pained, exaggerated smile, your teeth stained with blood and his semen.

He snaps a picture, then starts recording a video, his free hand stroking your cheek gently.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice a sickening sweetness that makes your stomach churn. "Now, tell the camera how much you love Daddy."

You know the script all too well—his favorite game of degradation. "I love you, Daddy," you murmur, the words feeling like shards of glass cutting through the tattered remains of your self-respect.

"Look into the camera," he orders, his hand guiding your chin up. You do as you're told, your eyes locking onto the cold, unblinking lens. "And tell me how much you love serving me."

"I love serving you, Daddy," you repeat obediently, your voice hollow, echoing through the quiet room.

The bruises from the previous encounters throb in time with the beat of your heart, a grim reminder of the reality you're trapped in. His hand slides from your chin to your throat, squeezing gently, a not-so-subtle threat of what will happen if you don't play along.

"And tell the camera how much you love when Daddy's friends use you," he commands, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic delight that sends a cold shiver down your spine.

The memory of the frat house, the leering faces, and the feeling of being used by those strangers is still fresh, like a festering wound that refuses to heal.

With trembling lips, you force the words out, "I love it when Daddy's friends use me." His grip on your throat tightens just enough to remind you of the price of disobedience. The camera captures it all, a visual diary of your descent into his twisted reality.

Your bully's hands are rough and insistent as he yanks you to your feet, spinning you around to face the cold, unforgiving wall. You stumble, your legs unsteady after the brutal use you've just endured, but his grip on your hair is firm, guiding you with a cruel efficiency.

With a swift motion, he pushes you down, your palms slapping against the painted concrete. The room spins around you, a dizzying dance of humiliation and pain, but his voice is clear, a dark symphony in your ears.

Your bully's voice is thick with lust and satisfaction as he leans into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck. "Do you love me, baby?" he whispers, the question a dark promise that sends a tremor down your spine. You feel his hardness pressing against your ass, his erection a stark reminder of his power over you.

You hesitate, the words feeling like acid on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath is stronger. "Yes," you force out, the syllable barely more than a whimper. "I love you."

His grip on your hair tightens, his fingers tangling in the mess of your hair. He pulls you back, forcing your body to arch, your breasts pushing against the wall, your ass up in the air for his taking. The room is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and submission.

As your bully holds you against the wall, his cock pressing against your bruised and swollen pussy, he taps away at his phone. The glow of the screen casts an eerie light across his face, highlighting the sadistic smile that plays upon his lips. The anticipation builds, a toxic blend of fear and unwanted arousal, as you await the next degradation he has in store for you.

He sends a zip file to an unknown number, the vibration of the device briefly interrupting the sickening silence of the room. The file's content is a mystery to you, but the cruel glint in his eyes tells you it's something that will surely tighten his grip on you even further.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a dark caress against your ear as he pulls back just enough to enter you. The pain is intense, a stark reminder of your lack of consent, your body stretching to accommodate his monstrous size. "Everyone's going to know what a slut you are."

You whimper, the word 'slut' feeling like a brand seared into your soul as he starts to fuck you, his hips slamming into you without mercy. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he uses your body for his own twisted pleasure, each thrust a punishment for your perceived sins. You try to struggle, but the effort is futile—his strength overpowers you, your body a mere plaything to be used and discarded as he sees fit.

"You're mine," he growls, his breath hot against your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. "Mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to love."

Each word is a declaration of ownership, a promise wrapped in a veneer of affection that feels like a prison around your heart. He knows exactly what he's doing, his every move calculated to keep you trapped in his twisted world of power and control.

Your body, so recently abused, responds against your will. You can't help but whimper as he hits that spot deep inside you, the one that makes your toes curl despite the pain.

The pleasure is a betrayal, a reminder of your deepest, darkest desires that he's managed to coax out of you.

You hate him for it, for making you feel this way, for turning you into the very thing you fear most—his obedient little whore.

Yandere! College! Bully & Loser

Novella 1 : Torn Between Us

In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

🔞A night of hedonism becomes your worst nightmare.

♡ A/N #1 (Jan 2). First of all, it’s very nice of you to say all this. Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to read the RULES and enjoy my work. :)) That’s already a lot in my book. Along with this carefully written and thoughtful message, like not rushing me and giving me freedom to have fun and work at my own pace. I’m honored that you feel comfortable enough and enjoyed my work to ask me to do this. Especially. For the first time. So, thank you. Words aren’t enough to express my genuine gratitude. Thanks so much for supporting each work so far, it's much appreciated :))

♡ A/N #2 (Feb). Finally. I finished this. One of my first wholesome messages and requests from a very loyal Reader. No words, except thank you for all the support. Whatever work I've posted, thank you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. Really. I appreciate it. Honestly, you're one of the really committed Readers and it surprises me. Because I'm shocked when people actually read everything. I'm not that committed haha. So anyways, hope you enjoyed this. I'm not very good with talking about personal emotions, but I hope you enjoy it :)) When it comes to requests, I always work extra hard to not submit crap. And, this isn't the ending yet. Also, no worries, I only do non-con yandere stories.

♡ A/N #3 (End). I'm proud of this work. Really good stuff. No gore, but I do believe I aced the psychological torment, especially as a woman. Mhm, very nice quality. Glad I took a break from horror writing, gave me time to refresh myself. And this is cooking. Also, yes, scumbag ML, berry nice. Not unhinged, but realistic enough. Took a lot out of effort to write, but it turned out high-quality. Also, yes, cool practice for my 1K Follower Special for you all. Oh and don't worry the Gang Rape 1K Follower Special will be more intense and better than this one. This one's for those who like more psychological torment. The 1K Special is for those who love erotic horror content. Also, low-key want to make a poll about which yandere you'd shoot or hate most ahahahahahaha. Anyways.... I do need more practice in writing gang rape, still needs a lot of improvement before absolute perfection. This is basic so far.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld , @imnotabot28 , @ncsltgic , @aishiyaa , @scotchhopin , @queenmimis , @yandreams-storageblog , @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni , @iris-arcadia

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1 [you are here]. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

[calypso-apologist]

could i pls have headcanons of yandere Antinous x princess of Ithaca/daughter of Pen n Ody reader 🙏🙏🙏

antinous oh antinous the things i'd do to you

Yandere!Antinous x Princess of Ithaca!Reader ♡

cw: mdni. nsfw mentions. non-con/dub-con implied. yandere. antinous starter pack: manipulation and questionable consent. murder. pregnancy. non-descriptive birth. i have issues.

The queen was a stubborn wretch, refusing to pick a new king. She believed Odysseus was still out there, that he'd come back. Antinous might not be a chosen of Athena, but he's not a fool, either. He knows she's stalling.

And while other suitors insist on trying to get to Penelope somehow, Antinous figured that there might be an easier way to secure his place in the royal family.

After all, Telemachus wasn't necessarily the only choice for the king. There was also his twin sister. Odysseus never named his heir, so it could be either of the twins.

Or rather, the son or the daughter's husband. So why not become just that?

And while at first it was just about the throne, the more he watched you, the more he followed you around... the more he started to crave you.

The need to possess you was no longer just his desire for just the throne, no... he wanted you.

He wanted the princess of Ithaca to be his. He wanted to tear her dress to shreds, to see her naked body shaking and she whimpered and squirmed under him in bed. He wanted to see pretty tears running down her soft cheeks, maybe even watch her struggle a bit as she tried to keep her dignity at first, before surrendering to him.

And even if she tried to fight, tried to get him to leave... He could simply hold her down, could he not?

But, since she seemed like such a sweet young thing, he decided to play it safe. After all, if she falls for him genuinely, it'll all be so much easier.

Besides, with young, kind souls like hers, it really didn't even take that much effort. Antinous was a charismatic bastard. And the princess was innocent, lacking experience when it came to romance.

Of course, there was hesitance at first, but all it took was a sad little act about how he let himself get lost in his ambition and the young princess immediately looked at him with a more merciful, understanding gaze.

With that, obtaining her friendship and affections was just a matter of time and charm. Say what you want about Antinous, but he could be one charming motherfucker if he so wished.

He didn't even need three months before sneaking into your bedroom at sunset, his words wrapping around your heart and brain like constricting snakes around their victims.

And despite how hesitant the princess was about giving up her precious innocence, she really didn't need much convincing. She loved him, after all, and he loved her. She shouldn't overthink things, she should simply give herself to him, let him ravage her.

Did it really matter that it hurt? It was supposed to, she was a smart girl, she should know that. She should trust him. Love him. He loved her, after all, he kept whispering so into her ears as she sobbed softly, her whole body trembling from the rough yet oddly delicate treatment. It seemed to be something only he could do, to violate her so lovingly.

And of course, he couldn't just stop after the first time, no... He had to visit her each night, fill her up, make sure his seed would take, binding the two of them forever.

Once the pregnancy was confirmed, he was quick to rid the palace of all the other suitors, one by one, before he finally asked Penelope for her daughter's hand in marriage, bringing the shared "love" to attention and saying he even made all the others leave to prove himself.

And even despite how hesitant the queen was, she gave in to how much the princess insisted.

And for the first few months, he seemed like a dream husband, always by his wife's side, helping her through the pregnancy, willing to make every wish come true, not even a flash of irritation on his face despite how ridiculous the princess's whims might've been.

But when the faithful day came, he was late. By the time he finally appeared, the mother of his child was too vulnerable to question the blood on his hands as he cradled her face, offering hushed reassurances before the room was filled with the sound of a newborn baby crying as it was forced to greet the world, torn out of its mother's womb.

The princess only found out why her husband was late and bloody a few days later, as Antinous was crowned king. He used the chaos that surrounded the birth to kill Penelope and Telemachus. Fortunately for him, his precious wife was too far gone in his manipulations to even try to rebel against him. Instead, she remained by his side, forever faithful with his firstborn in her arms.

And she'll have more. His previous little queen.

[neuvilette-tea-party]

(Do ignore my ask if this makes you uncomfortable)

I'm OBSESSED with your Steb fics 💜 I already request for another author to make this scenario but Idk how this works and how long it will take sooo - Imagine this, reader is a selkie and was found beached near Steb's patrol area, he used his medical knowledge to aid them.

Now the fun part is, this fishman is a Yandere - he heard of selkies and hid their seal skin and used the excuse of "sorry it was hard to patch you up with it in my way" (I'm thinking of Steb who speaks sign language and reader automatically understands him). Since he's the quiet type no one, not even Caitlyn suspects him or his crimes. You can do whatever you want with the ending if you're comfortable to take my ask 💜

How did you know I wrote Yandere? Can people smell it on me or what 🤣? Sorry for the delay, here's your Yandere Steb anon!

▪──── ⚔ Steb x Gn!reader ⚔ ────▪

Tags : Yandere behavior and tendencies

Steb wipes his hands, turning back to you, sleeping peacefully under the drug influence. He silently observes, entranced by the vision. 

You are magnificent... Simply magnificent... 

He found you on the shore of Piltover, passed out on the sand, at everyone’s mercy... As a medic, he immediately jumped into action, jumping over the guardrails and sliding down the sand dune to reach you.  

No life was yet lost under his care, and he did not intend to start losing some now! He just wished Maddie was here to help, depending on your state he could have needed a second pair of hands for assistance. He kneeled next to your still form, searching for open wounds on your flanks and back before gently rolling you, revealing your face to his gaze. 

And that he should not have... 

The second he laid eyes on your face he went still like electrocuted, shocked beyond belief. 

Was it possible?  

Was such perfection truly of this world? 

Could so many wonderful features melt into the perfect face? Bringing to life what artists pained to illustrate on canvas and carve into stone? Centuries of artistic research for the most pleasing face are now useless and dated for he found the most beautiful being on Runeterra 

In his daze, Steb managed to get a hold of himself and check the rest of your body for possible wounds, leading him to take a weird layer of fur off your hips and legs that he intently detailed, a murmur in his head prompting him that it was important. 

And it was... 

Memories of old stories flooded back into his mind, his grandpa narrating to him stories of lost sailors to sea succubs... 

A Selkie 

A seducer from the seas. 

Trembling in fear and excitement, he brought the fur to his face and buried his nose in the hair to inhale deeply, letting the notes of salted water and musk invade his lungs so deeply, making his head spin with pure pleasure. 

A well-adjusted person would kick you back into the sea or strangle you on the spot. But any person laying eyes on a selkie’s face ceases to be well adjusted, for their will is now bent by the sea creature. 

And Steb laid eyes on your face, bringing doom upon himself... 

He smiled to himself, a wonder of the sea washed on the shore to grace his life... To illuminate his days and flavor his years. 

What miracle, what bliss, what- 

“Steb? Are you all right down there?” Maddie’s voice resonated, calling him back brutally to reality. 

He looked over his shoulder to see Maddie and Caitlyn, back from their own patrol and ready to finish their shift in their usual cafe. 

“Do you need help? Are they okay?” Caitly asked, already hoping over the guardrail to join him. 

Steb hastily and modestly covered your naked body with his blue jacket and hid your face with your fur. 

He... He cannot let them see! Let them see his pearl, his treasure! They would try to separate you two! To tear you both apart! 

They would lie and say it is for your good but they would keep you for themself! He... He must protect you! At all costs! From everyone! Anyone! 

He snaked his arm under you and lifted you up bridal style with ease and climbed the dune back under Maddie’s and Caitlyn’s attentive gazes. They rushed to him, already craving you for themself and ready to steal you from him! 

He had to maintain his self-control to not sprint away with you secured in his embrace, they would have definitely known what precious package he had. 

“Dear gods, are they... dead?” Caitlyn demanded discovering your limp form. 

Steb was about to hiss at her to make her back down, but... 

He gravely nodded to his superior, stopping her from taking the jacket off your face. 

“Oh... That’s why you covered their face... What a tragedy... I am sorry you had to discover them Steb, it is never a nice experience...” She let her hand fall back to her side with a pained expression, “Those waters are so treacherous...” 

Steb nodded once again before clearing his throat. 

“Of course, Steb. Take them away, you know what to do. I hope we will find their family quickly, the news will not be easy to bring.” 

He felt his cheek fins waving uncontrollably before forcing them still. He slightly bowed to his two partners and turned away from them, walking away with his heart in a frenzy. 

He did it! 

He protected you! 

But now he has the entire city to cross and as many dangers...  

He will protect you! Until his dying breath! 

Steb takes a deep breath and sits down next to you, observing you with delight. Behind him the open fire burns bright, illuminating the room and offering a nice warmth. He immediately locked the door of his house and locked all the shutters. He laid you down on his own bed... 

Well, your bed now! You will share it from now on.  

He puts his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and just... observes, looks, details, takes in all the magnificence of your appearance, feeling his mouth stretching into a satisfied smile. 

Oh, you are just so beautiful... And also so fragile, he will need to watch over you all the time! To keep you safe and sound. So many people rotted to the core run across the city, he cannot let your purity get soiled by evil and ill people! 

You must be protected at all costs!  

For now, you need to heal! He checked your entire body with great application, he saw no wounds and detected no internal bleeding.  

Somehow, someway, you lost consciousness. 

Maybe a blood disease? He will run some tests later. 

He spins his head toward his door when a soft purr starts to close until... He almost burst out laughing! HE is purring! He is so overjoyed to have met you he forgot himself! But it is also so pleasant to purr without restraint, especially after meeting his true love. 

He is sure now, that you are made to be together! Two forever, against everyone else! You will be his treasure and he your shield. 

He gently takes your hand and brings it to his lips and tenderly kisses your fingertips reverently. Oh you are so cold, mon amour! You will warm up soon enough! He intertwines your fingers together and admires your two hands locked together. 

So simple, so beautiful, a promise... A vow. 

His fins wave as you let out a moan, slowly awaking. He tenderly caresses a strand of hair behind your ear as you frown in discomfort, blinking your eyes. 

He pushes his chair closer, his heart pumping like a machine, you’re about to lock eyes for the very first time! He... He is not ready! He needs to...! He has to...! 

His heart skips several beats when you pour your gaze into his ocean eyes. What a wonderful color... He never saw such a shade in someone’s eyes before, you are incredible! Simply wonderful! 

You gasp as you discover Steb, looking at you like a lovebird, your hand locked with his. You harshly take it off in a desperate attempt to protect yourself. Instead of getting mad, Steb keeps smiling, his fins waving like crazy, prey of an intense inner turmoil. He immediately starts signing, explaining how he found you lying on the beach, unconscious and defenseless, and how he immediately rushed to you to help and... 

You lose interest in his gibberish and look around the room, illuminated only by the fire, and you... Wince 

It smells horrible in here! Like... burnt hair! Like...! 

You immediately lift the covers off yourself, searching frantically until Steb grabs your face between his two hands, with a gentle smile and sparkly eyes. You gulp as his third eyelids blink, he appears so pleased. 

He gently turns your head toward the fire... And you cannot refrain the scream escaping you. 

Your fur! Your fur! Your liberty! Your freedom! Your... 

Steb immediately presses you against his tall body in a soothing manner, caressing your hair and kissing the top of your head as he feels your sharp nails digging into the flesh of his arms to let you go. 

You struggle in his embrace with sobs and fury, but he doesn’t let go, welcoming your scratches and bites as many delicate and soft caress that he will forever hold close to his heart... 

Oh mon coeur... Jamais je ne te laisserais partir, c'est toi et moi jusqu'à la fin...

[deepestnightcolor]

Hey there friend,

I hope you don't mind me saying I am looooooooving this influx of Sam content. Your writing? Inspired. Characterisation? Wonderful. A true blessing to all Samson enjoyers out there.

I don't know if you've ever played with the Yandere Sam mod (which I highly recommend trying out Yoba preserve me) but he has a piece of dialogue where he talks about "taking you up against the windows tonight" for everyone to see and now exhibitionist (and perhaps just a smiiidge possessive?😊) Sam has me in a chokehokd, the poor, lovesick thing just needs an outlet for his feelings. If it interests you and you feel comfy doing so, your take would be appreciated!

Posi vibes to you!

ᴀ/ɴ: Hehe...So! I honestly see Sam as a softie...but aren't still waters deep? Yes! I really enjoyed this prompt, and I hope you will enjoy reading it, that I got it up to your liking!

Thank you for all the compliments, they really mean loads to me!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2577 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampie, name calling, dirty talk, spanking, dominant Sam, possessive Sam

☾ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ☽

You had just wanted to piss him off a little, not much more. Tease him a little, rile him up – see what buttons you could push before he would snap on you. You did know that Sam was… a little possessive over you. His eyes darkened whenever you talked to someone else, suddenly becoming attentive when you left his side to strike up a conversation with someone else, whole body tensing as if he was about to strike whenever someone dared to touch you.

That’s why you didn’t want to push it too far, but it was just so tempting. Sitting across from Eliott, the two of you were chatting about his latest book. You could feel a pair of blue eyes burn into the back of your head, and you were pretty sure if looks had the possibility to kill, the author across from you would have had already dropped dead.

Surely Elliott had noticed, hadn’t he? Poor man, really, but it was working so well, and besides, you were genuinely interested in what he was saying! How could you know that your cleavage was revealed by this simple movement and that the male’s eyes lingered for much longer than necessary?

Maybe you showed that a little too much, leaning forward to hear him better over the loud sounds of the saloon. If Elliott had noticed your guard dog watching over you, he wasn’t showing any sign of it; soft smile sparkling at you, he reached out and patted your exposed knee. Uh-oh.

It didn’t take long – steps soon approached the two of you, and an arm snaked around your waist with ease, pulling you into a warm, tense side.

“Sorry,” Sam pressed through gritted teeth, the daggers he had stared at the other man now outright swords. His fist was clenched by his side, the smile that was on his face just as forced as his composure was. “We need to go now, babe. Bye, Elliott.”

There was no chance to refuse the pull that was inflicted on you, so you just waved your goodbye in the bustling of the room, following the fast-paced steps of your husband.

“Sam, that wasn’t really poli-“

“You know what? The fuck I care if it was! And since you like showing off so fucking much, how about I fuck you against our window, huh? Show everyone how good you can take my dick? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

He certainly wasn’t wrong, but there was no way you could possibly say that out loud, right? There was no way you could just lower your head and whimper like you just did, was there?

A chuckle sounded above you, like thunder in the distance. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he hissed, the smack that landed on your ass causing a stinging sensation, skin warming up against the fabric of your skin. “Now go. When I come home, I want you fuckin’ naked and ready for me. I will give you five minutes, no more.”

You took the sharp shove forward as a head start, your feet pounding against the rough gravel of the road to your farmhouse, the snickering behind you only spurring you on more.

The front door opened with a creak of complaint, and soon after, you could hear Sam’s sneakers being kicked off. The door slammed shut, and your heart immediately began pounding in your ears. Excitement was swelling in your chest as you squished your thighs together in the dim of your room. Your clothes were scattered all over the place, mindlessly discarded in the rush you had been getting them off. But you sat there, naked and ready for your husband, cunt already embarrassingly wet. Sam always had such an impact on you; it was like he had casted a spell on you when you had moved to Pelican Town, luring you in with these precious blue eyes, wrapping you around his finger with such ease-

“Look at me,” a voice from the doorway, goosebumps running down your spine. It filled the room, took it in. It allowed no contradictions.

You looked up at Sam from your kneeling position on the bed – you knew Sam liked you kneeling – fluttering your lashes at him as a soft pout way playing on your lips.

“Finally listening to me, are we?” He cooed; the sound of his belt being unbuckled joining his voice. The doorway behind him was dark, and you could barely make out his movements, but Yoba did that sound of the buckle turn you on.

“Turn around.”

You did so immediately, the rush you were in almost caused you to lose balance and topple over, fingers curling in the soft sheets of your bed as you regained balance. The blond behind you chuckled quietly, the floorboards beneath him announcing that he was approaching you. You bit your lower lip, anticipating his next move as you wiggled your ass in the air, trying to tempt him more, trying to enchant him in your usual spell, yet the smack that landed on your round ass cheek made you yelp out loud. It was hard, and now, without the protection of your jeans, it stung like hell. Fuck, did it make you wet.

“Look at that dirty little pussy. Gettin’ so wet from one little spank, huh? Pathetic. Or…did it rile you up to talk to Elliott?” The last part came out as a growl, another hard smack landed on your ass before you even had the chance to answer. You whimpered lowly, your back arching into the mattress as if you tried to escape Sam’s rough hand landing on your ass, but you wanted more. You wanted your husband, fucking some sense into you, just so he could fuck it out of you again.

“I think I asked you a question.”

The sound of his hollow hand smacking down on your ass, followed by the painful pleasure shooting endorphins and adrenaline through your body made you stutter back to life. “The spank, sir! The spank felt good!”

A hum. Low sounding, almost contemplating.

The pads of his finger danced over your butt, eyes admiring the newfound red colour in the shape of his hand on the squishy flesh.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, smacking your ass once more. “That doesn’t mean I will let you off the hook, though.”

His thumb had found its way to your folds, tracing through the slick that coated your sensitive lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he watched your toes curl, the way your cunt contracted as if it tried to suck him in already. It was so, so hard to not just give in and rut into you now like an absolute bitch in heat, but he had promised you something, hadn’t he?

“Get up and go to the window. Hands against the glass. Look forward until I tell you otherwise.” His orders were clear and short, there was no room to argue, only room to get up and do as you were told.

Your ass was stinging while you got on your legs, your head lowered in submittal, but you made sure to shake your hips with every step. You weren’t able to look back, but you just knew Sam was fucking you with those pretty eyes of his, dick already buried deep inside your cunt in his mind.

The cold glass heated up quickly beneath the warmth of your palms, yet it still made you shiver, just like the silence that had fallen over the room did. The only thing you were able to hear was Sam’s heavy breathing that mixed with yours, which was much quicker. You felt like a prey animal in a trap, with the predator about to pounce. And really, there wasn’t much difference with your husband staring at you like you were going to be his last meal.

You were so beautiful, you pretty little thing. So well-behaved, too, now that he had you where he wanted you, with his hands imprinted on your ass. You would definitely feel that one tomorrow, yet you had taken it so well. His good whore.

“S-sam?”

He must have been quiet for too long he realized. Your body was quivering with anticipation, your thighs squeezing together. Yoba, they probably were already covered in your sweet, sweet juices. His hand had wandered to his cock, fingers wrapping around the girthy shaft. He wondered if you would still follow his order if he kept quiet. And you did.  Lowering your head against the glass with a shaky breath, you spread your legs for him; clinging to the hope that that would be enough to get him to fuck you.

 Fuck, you looked so hot; so ready to be mounted. And if anyone would dare to step on your land, they would see how he fucked into you.

A grunt left your husband as he ran his thumb over his pierced tip, feeling the pre-cum wetten the pad of it.  It was pathetic how horny he got just from seeing you, but then again, Sam didn’t give a fuck. Couldn’t, really, with the way you possessed his mind, took over it and  filled it up.

“Sam, pretty please.”

Poor little thing. So horny, and yet left out in the open, all bare for the world to see. Wasn’t it a shame? A waste? He just had to do something – he was pretty sure you were on the verge of tears already, hearing how your voice was quivering.

“Look at me.”

You were quick to turn your head, big round eyes wettened with the tears of despair, cushioned lips pouting at him. So fuckable. So easy to ruin, and he fucking would.

His hands on your hips were the only warning you got, his pierced tip already aligning with your entrance. You wanted to moan, but that harsh shove forward caused by his hips bucking into you pinned you against the cool glass of your window, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You had been quivering and waiting until now, and all of a sudden you were completely full, feeling like you were tearing at the edges.

“Sam!” You sobbed out, making his breath hitch in his throat. He wanted to wait, seriously, he did. He knew you were straining to accept his size, so suddenly filling you completely. Yet… You were just too good to not fuck into. He pulled back slowly, watching your cunt just barely release his cock, just to let it vanish within your cute pussy again.

The breath you let out was laboured, your forehead sinking against the glass again. Holy shit, the sight from outside must have been delicious. Seeing your perfect tits pressed against the glass, your face scrunched up in the pleasure his dick caused you.

“That’s my good fucking slut,” he panted, his hips fucking into you at a fast pace now, enjoying the fact that your body was forced further against the glass with each thrust. He loved having this power over you, hearing your moans as his fat dick bullied into you, seeing how he made your body shake.

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you? Being fucked against the window like a filthy fucking whore, ah. Feel how you just clenched around me? You love this. Do you hope someone comes by? That someone sees these perverted tits pressed against the window? Sees how I fuck you?”

His words were a low hiss against your ear, his hips smacking against your already aching ass with his rough thrusts. Your world was spinning while he bullied into you, the metal of his cock ring bumping against your walls just right. And yes, you hoped someone would come by. Hoped someone would see the things Sam was able to do to you, how much you needed this man to pound into you like an animal.

His lips were all over your neck it seemed, though you couldn’t quite figure out where exactly. Only the painful sensation when he sunk his teeth into your tender flesh gave you a clear indication what spots he was abusing.

His hips never seemed to falter, the sounds of your skin against skin and the moans filling the room intoxicating you. “My good, pretty fuck toy…Taking my dick so well, aren’t you?” He groaned in your ear, his lip bitten as he forced your legs open wider, trying to reach you deeper.

Your cunt was sucking him off like your life depended on him, a ring of wetness around the base of his shaft. Your core squelched in protest whenever he pulled out just to ram back into you and Yoba did it turn him on. You were his. His, his, his, and the world needed to see.

His hand reached for the smaller window above the two of you, twisting the handle with a swift motion and pushing it open.

“If you hold back,” he panted in your ear, nipping at the lobe, “I will immediately fucking stop.”

You nodded with a quivering breath, moaning his name loudly as his previous humping against your gushy wet walls picked up again, tip bumping and bullying into you while you were pressed against the window. Your nipples ached from the pressure, only adding to your arousal. You were close, and you knew if he kept up this rough treatment, you would scream loud enough for the whole Valley would hear.

Sam did have no intentions of stoppin, even though his balls were pulling tightly, legs quivering. His own hands were against the window; an attempt to steady himself for his advantage.

His tip was kissing your cervix, and it was driving you crazy.

“Sa- I am gonna cum- Fuck,” you cried out, shivering when you heard it echo through the silence of your farm.

Sam’s breath hitched, a whimper leaving his throat. You were so hot, and the whole town would figure out how good he was fucking you; it made his heart swell, and his dick throb.

“Cum for me, pretty princess. Cum,” he cooed, forcing his stuttering hips in a steady rhythm, pierced dick pinning you against the window with its rough thrusts, making your eyes roll back in your head.

The orgasm that rocked your body was hard, your knees quivering as you tried to hold yourself up. Wetness gushed over his throbbing cock, slickening it even more.

“holy shit- you are,” he wheezed, his body tensed up when he finally felt his own orgasm. Globs of cum painted your clenching and spasming walls white, but even as you struggled to keep yourself up, Sam was making sure he was pumping you full.

Panting filled the room, your husband’s dick still throbbing inside of you as his forehead sank against the window next to your head. “Next time it will be the balcony,” he whispered in your ear, smiling to himself when he felt you clench around him, his cock throbbing in anticipation.

“What happened up there?” Sebastian asked, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Up where?” Sam asked, eyes following to where his friend was looking. A blush spread on his cheeks when he saw to pair of handprints on the window, alongside the outline of your body. If he looked closely, he could even make out the imprints of your tits.

“Uh…Must have been a bird.”

“Yeah. Sure. Nicely shaped bird, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up, Seb.”

[yandereunsolved]

Tumblr nerfed the quality of the board. 😔 These are the only characters I feel confident that I could write in character right now. :) Can't wait to get confident and write Kaz and Ocelot. <3 (maybe even some Otacon and Jetstream Sam...?) Thank the anons that got me into Metal Gear Solid.

[acetrappolaxeveryone]

For my Valentine's request, How about a Overblot Jamil and Ace Lemon, please?

Warnings: Smut and lemon, dick in butthole, yandere sex and yaoi sex.

Jamil has been overblotted to take control of the Scarabia as a new dorm leader or sultan, but he also finally has Ace who is under his power also get hypnotized.

In Jamil’s room, Ace is on the bed also naked and sweating and panting while blushing when Jamil is naked and just starts thrusting his dick in his sultana’s butthole in and out. Jamil purrs, “Now… call my name, Sultan Jamil.”

Ace gasps and pulls his head back on the pillow, “Ah…! Sultan Jamil…! Ah!”

Jamil is enjoying to hear him moaning and calling him, he smirks, huffing and sweating as he touches Ace’s cheek, “I love to hear your voice, so beautiful~”

As he starts thrusting more, Ace widens his eyes and lets out a moan, trembling and his legs hug around Jamil’s waist and he blushes so hard, sweating.

“My sultana, you will carry my child with you. You and our child are mine~” The Overblotted Snake says, keeps thrusting more and more until his seed finally inside his sultana, stopping thrusting and huffing, licking his lips and take a look at Ace, Ace is huffing and look so mess with his hair, is messy too and look exhausted. He gives his sultana a kiss, saying gently, "We are sleeping together now, my sultana."

Jamil pulls his dick out of his sultana's butthole, he lays on the bed with him also pulls the blanket as Ace soon closes his eyes and says, "Good night my sultan..."

"Godd night, my sultana." Jamil closes his eyes and they are sleeping together with the blanket on, Jamil hugs him close as if Ace is his now.

[yanderecrazysie]

Tentalophobia (Yandere Azul)

Please don’t request any phobias. I just felt like making this for fun.

Be kind to me, I'm still not good at writing NSFW

Title: Tentalophobia

Pairings: Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Azul in octopus form, tentacles, degradation, NSFW, NON-CON, mindbreak, choking

Phobia: The fear of tentacles

“Don’t swim out too far, you two!” One of your friends called out. You rolled your eyes- you were a professional swimmer on your way to the olympics. This was a piece of cake.

You swam around a large rock, obscured from your friends’ view. You were more concerned with finding a super cool cave than drowning.

You heard someone splashing up behind you and you turned to look. When you saw the person who followed you, you rolled your eyes again.

“What do you want, Azul?”

Azul Ashengrotto was your ex-boyfriend. He had been too harsh, too cold for you and you had dumped him about a month ago because of his personality.

“I just wanted to be near you,” Azul said. His eyes were dark with some emotion you couldn’t read. It was strange for him to be so straightforward with his intentions, as he was normally so manipulative and secretive. That was some of the other reasons you had broken up with him.

“Well I don’t want to be near you. Fuck off,” You snapped.

His frown faltered before it slid into a deranged smile. You had seen him like this only once before, when he had overblotted, causing him to go nearly insane.

Suddenly, you felt something brush against your leg. You jerked your leg away from whatever it was, assuming it was seaweed. At least, until it wrapped around your ankle and harshly pulled you toward Azul.

“What the fuck?” You kicked your foot, trying to get your ankle free. Then, the same unknown object wrapped itself around your waist, dragging you forward until you were even closer to Azul.

You looked down through the clear water and saw what was holding your body in place. It took you a second to realize that it wasn’t some huge black snake, but a tentacle. Your eyes traced back to where it ended and, to your horror, you saw that it was connected to Azul’s lower half.

Azul’s crazed smile only grew wider, his pupils becoming pinpricks, “Will you take me back if I can make you feel good? Better than any normal human could ever make you feel?”

Another one of his tentacles slid under your shirt, its suction cups attaching themselves to the fabric and ripping it off.

“What are you doing?” You asked, fear starting to take hold of your body, “What kind of sick joke is this?”

“It’s not a joke,” Azul replied softly, “I loved you and you broke my heart. Now, I’m here to make sure you won’t want any man as much as you want me.”

You couldn’t understand what he meant, your brain not comprehending the situation you had been put in. But once he pulled off your pants and underwear the same way he had torn off your shirt, you began to put two and two together.

Azul was about to rape you.

You began to kick and scream, hoping to land a solid hit to his chest as you fought against the tentacles. The one holding your waist tightened its hold, but that didn’t stop your hysterical fighting. The tentacle that made its way up to your neck and cut off your air supply, however, did.

Azul’s horrifying expression melted away, leaving him as his normal, stoic self. “Stop fighting,” he commanded.

You tried to keep kicking your legs at him, but the tentacle around your neck started to squeeze. It didn’t take long for your vision to start to go dark around the edges. Finally, you let your legs and arms relax, no longer lashing out at him.

Thankfully, as soon as you stopped, Azul released your neck, leaving you gasping for precious air. You lifted a hand to massage your throat, sure that you had bruises where he had squeezed.

You felt something creeping up your thigh and it finally hit you that you were naked and helpless in Azul’s grasp. 

The tip of one of his tentacles slid down your stomach before it teasingly ran along your entrance. For one horrifying moment, you were sure it was about to plunge inside of you, but it instead searched up a little higher. A moment later, you realized it was aiming for something potentially worse.

It found your clit and you jerked in his grasp, trying not to give into your instinct to punch Azul in his smug face. The tip of his tentacle circled around your clit, teasing you, before it began to rub at your pearl. You squirmed in his hold, gasping, but Azul only held you tighter until it started to hurt.

Hot pleasure started to spread up your body and you bit your lip, trying not to moan out loud. Azul’s eyes shone as he began to rub faster, until a borderline pornographic moan slipped through your lips.

“Give me every sound you make,” Azul purred, “I want to hear just how good I’m making you feel.”

You felt guilt twist your stomach along with the pleasure. You knew you couldn’t help your pleasure, that it was a natural reaction, but it still felt like an arrow to the heart. You had never expected to be in this position. You had thought Azul didn’t care about you, but you were clearly wrong.

The pleasure built up until you felt that familiar knot in your stomach. “Stop!” You tried, “Please, stop!”

Azul just grinned, the tip of his tentacle working harder at your clit. 

The knot in your stomach snapped and you screamed out your pleasure as you came.

“What a good little slut,” Azul laughed, “You even squirted for me. Has anyone else made you do that? I bet they haven’t.”

The water had gotten a little cloudy from your cum and you felt your face heat up at the realization. To tell the truth, no one had ever made you squirt before, but you’d never tell him that.

“Let’s go another round,” Azul said cruelly, continuing his ministrations. 

You were oversensitive, trying fruitlessly to squirm away from his tentacle as it began rubbing at your clit once more. You wailed out as you felt yourself begin to approach your second orgasm much quicker than the first.

You could no longer hold back, moaning like a bitch in heat. Your hips bucked against the tip, silently begging for more.

Azul laughed, “Don’t worry, little slut, I’ve got more in store for you.”

Suddenly, you felt something at your entrance. You didn’t have to look down to know it was another tentacle. You shivered in anticipation, wondering if it was possible to feel even more pleasure.

The tentacle slid into your cunt at top speed, slamming into your cervix in one go. You squealed as it rammed home, surprised at how deep it was inside you. 

It was different from a cock in many ways, but the most noticeable was the fact that the tip was the smallest part, with the tentacle becoming more girthy the farther up it you went. your entrance struggled to stretch around the top part of the tentacle while your cervix had to deal with the tip searching for an entrance.

The tentacle pulled out just to slam home again. Another tentacle still played with your clit, making the girth much easier to take with how wet you had become. 

You bucked your hips, throwing your head back as your mind went blank with another orgasm. 

You could hear the smirk in Azul’s voice, “My little slut wants more, right? Well, I’ve got more to give you.”

He pulled halfway out, letting the tip search for something. You moaned loudly when the tip bumped against your g-spot. Grinning that horrifying grin once more, Azul slammed his tentacle back in, aiming for the spot that made you see stars.

It didn’t take long for you to cum, screaming your lungs out. All you knew was pleasure, you could barely take it. 

Azul stopped moving his tentacles and you tried to grind against them.

“Tell me what you want?”

“More… please, Azul, more, more,” you whined.

“Alright, my little slut, I’ll give you more,” Azul said, “If you tell me you love me.”

“I love you, I love you,” you wailed, “I love you so much. Just give me more!”

Azul’s insane grin grew, “Tell me I’m the only one that can make you feel this good.”

“You’re the only one,” you cried out, “I love you, Azul, just give me more.”

Azul let one of his tentacles wrap around your breasts and laughed. “Gladly.”

[r0-boat]

Heyy, may I request just a grusha x female (or gender neutral if you’d like) reader smut fic? You can do whatever you want with it, creative freedom’s all yours!

🥺🥺 bestie

Creative freedom?! For me??

Don't mind if do!

Warm me please

Cw: cock warming, temperature play ish, Yandere behavior, toxic behavior, stalking, horror

Yuki-onna!Grusha x Gn!reader

Blankets of snow cover the ground, trees covered in frost, twinkling spears of ice dangle from its delicate branches. Beautiful yet harsh; a silent killer for those who do not know the dangers among the seeming pure white.

The wind carries the snowflakes pelting you in the face. You raise your arm in hopes it would stop the onslaught to no avail. Your body screams for warmth but you will yourself to keep going. With each breath you take, the snowfall laced with deadly cold air chokes you. But you had to keep going.

For the thing that lurks in the snow and the blizzard is coming.

Having just escaped your icy prison, you’re on the run. And your captor is chasing you.

And this winterland is his hunting ground. He knows the snowy mountains like the back of his hand.

Your heart stops as the snow fall begins to pick up into a blizzard. The wind whips the snow so hard it’s very difficult to keep moving.

In the howling wind, you hear a crunch, the sound of snow falling onto the ground.

Don't look behind you.

Don't look behind you.

Don't look behind you!

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you slowly turn your head, taking just a glance behind you.

A figure, a silhouette coming for you.

Your heart jumps in your stomach turning fast. The snow is thick and you’re freezing but you force your legs to move hoping that the adrenaline of being caught is enough strength.

However the silhouette is far faster. At first glance it appears so far away but in no time you feel a hand grabbing the back of your throat. Enough strength stopping you dead in your tracks. His voice, his breath, his hand snakes around the front of your throat, you feel as hot breath against your neck. Well it's called fingers dig into your flesh.

"You didn't think I'd catch you did you?"

You try to stifle your crying but it only makes the hand around you tighten.

"Answer me." He whispers in a threatening tone. All you could do is shake your head.

Your answer satisfies him.

"Do you know how dangerous it is out here? You aren't wearing anything you would have froze to death if I hadn't found you." His grip tightens once again. It’s getting harder to breathe. But he doesn't care, lifting you up in his arms. You see his warm smile, his icy blue eyes and his blue hair.

"Let's go home," with no more oxygen you black out.

Only to wake up wrapped in a black blanket on a rug warm fire in the same cabin you tried to escape from. Your head is killing you and your body feels numb as you try to sit up, gazing ideally into the fire. Your body shakes, not because you are cold, but because you notice the metal chain attached to your leg, bolted against a metal plate screwed into the floor. A pair of arms wrap around you.

"I had to. You disobeyed me and escaped, I did this for your own safety."

His fingertips, ice cold, move underneath the yard blanket, caressing your naked skin. You haven't even realize you were naked.

"Stealing my coat and scarf too? I have to admit it looked cute on you, but not when you are 10 ft away from me. You won't be needing them anymore or any clothes for that matter…" The ice demon purrs before grabbing your blanket and ripping it off you. Grusha lifts you with ease, placing you in his lap. It's cold body against your warm one.

"Mmh. Your warm body feels so good. You gave me quite a scare. You felt so cold, as though you were going to die." His breath quickens.

"Don't. Ever do that to me again."

"I'm sorry.” You could only murmur. His eyes widen until he busts out into laughter, a crazed laugh.

"Your pathetic apology isn't enough, my dear. As priceless as it was, I have to punish you." Grusha pulls you closer to him; your back pressing against his bare chest

You feel his cock press against you, naked, it’s the only realization that you aren’t the only one without clothes.

His fingers play with your heated core, cold clashing with warmth, making you squirm, but he holds you in place firmly. He won't let you escape not this time. Not ever.

Besides his inflamed hot cock, his entire body chilling you.

"So warm" Grusha mumbles. Your warm body is intoxicating but it wasn't enough; Grusha needed more. Obsessed with how warm and soft humans are. He craves the heat between your legs. To be inside you and envelop himself in your hot body. To burn himself up in your wet warm walls and fill you with his own warmth.

The ice spirit rocks himself against you, his fingers digging into your thighs. He wraps an arm around your legs, lifting you up, his other hand stroking is cock, maneuvering it underneath you, his tip now prodding you open.

"Fuck…" He mutters, his breath tickling your ear, as his cock finally pushes inside you.

Grusha's breath hitches, his cock is twitching inside you, feeling you squirm in his lap.

"Stop, don’t move…this is supposed to be a punishment. Sit here and keep me warm."

You obey, staying still, his rigid cold body against your soft skin, aching cock deep inside you. Pressing so tightly against you. You could feel every ripple of his muscles.

Your eyes try not to focus on his dick stretching you out and instead focus on the huge scar on his pale skin. Trying not to focus on how close he is to you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his hands all over your chest rubbing your sides, cold fingers tracing over your nipples. His teeth and tongue occasionally nipping and tasting the shell of your ear.

"Your heartbeat… I can feel it; I can hear it.

So alive, so warm. Been so long since I've had one so comforting. Never leave me again."

"Never leave me cold again."

[xxxevilfilms]

🔪💔🩸⛓Yandere Prompts🔪💔🩸⛓

The Tekken men react to their S/O trying to run away from them :P

C/W: Noncon/Dubcon, Domestic Abuse, Knotting (Devil Jin has a knot), Spanking, Crying, Dacryphilia, Dead Dove, etc.

Jin Kazama

In a reality where Jin lets his Devil influence him, he is very selfish and cannot understand why you are doing this to him. For the briefest moment, Jin wonders if your leaving is his fault, but his inner beast works quickly to convince him that their mate is simply having an emotional episode. Jin has no time for these childish games of yours however and reprimands you once Tekken Force soldiers bring you back to him. In your shared bedroom, you are subjected to punishments brought on by an eternally evil man who will stop at nothing to claim you as his own.

Your hole flutters and clenches around the bulbous knob of flesh that fills you, hurts you, and tries to expand within you, and yet it's too big for you to take. You cry out for some kind of mercy from Jin then, trying to placate him with sweet words and humble apologies, but it only incites more ire from him. Instead, he pushes you to the bed, hand tugging at silken locks as he forces you to take the rest of his thick cock in your ruined hole. "Let it be known that this will be the last time I will let this happen." He punctuates his threat with a deep roll of his hips that has you clawing at the sheets. "This worthless little hole will bleed red by the time I am done with you."

Hwoarang

A ticking time bomb conceded enough to believe that he's too good of a boyfriend for you to do this to him, Hwoarang isn’t too pleased to find your things gone when he returns to his apartment. Unfortunately for you, Hwoarang knows these streets like the back of his hand and catches up with you with no problem. Before you know it, you're back in the apartment, forced to strip naked and grovel for a man who will promise you basic human decency again once you manage to earn his trust back.

You snivel and shake when you peel your underwear off, shuddering under the unmoving eye of your "lover" as he shamelessly ogles your body, as if proud of what he's made of you. "I swear, I dunno why you bother," He cups you, fondles you like a whore, manipulating a trimmed cunt he took great joy in molesting. "If you're gonna act like a dumb bitch, I'll treat you like one." His grip tightens, pulling at unshaven hairs that make you yip. "A sweet little puppy bitch who ain't gonna leave her kennel till I find her a new muzzle."

Sergei Dragunov

Quiet, calm, and contemplative; deadly like a snake in the grass. He already keeps tabs on you, has taken many hours out of his week to remember all of your points of contact and potential destination spots, so for you to do this to him is of no concern to him. Your routine has been carefully memorized, documented, and laminated in crisp manilla folders; such a sudden change in such a dull schedule is bound to attract his attention. You don't even make it out the door when he catches you. Instead, you are greeted by a scarred face and clenched fists wielded by the white-skinned brute who silently menaced you with them.

Dragunov leans over you, treating your grievances like whistling winds as you blubber like a child in his lap. He grazes the red and ruddy hand-shaped bruises on your skin with creeping fingers that quickly grope your swollen flesh, kneading and squeezing, drawing pained noises from you that make the bulge pressing into your stomach twitch in anticipation.

A/N: Please be advised that I do not do reader-insert/OC content. The "you" in this context is whatever Tekken character you imagine seeing in this scenario. While I am more than happy to do more fucked up prompts like this between certain couples, do not ask me to do prompts/ideas involving reader-inserts/OCs, I will just ignore/delete them. Thank you!

[cold-kitty]

Author I wanan draw a more detailed version of ur Naga yandered but.

HUH???? HOW DO I EVEN WHERE DO I START THE SHINY JEWERLIES I CAN'T EVEN SEE THE OTHER HALF IS HE NAKED AM I UNDER HIM GIVING HIM A BJ???

Okay another freaky lil conversation starter!! Can I put his little snake thing inside me yes or no say yes Say yes SAY YES

for one , I FUCKING LOVE YOU AND I WOULD DIE FOR YO-

For two, here's the original image

Third, if you make it NSFW I will sacrifice my blood for you

Fourth, YES.

But most importantly, please don't feel pressured about this.

anyway I'm taking you on a da-