imnotabot28

[imnotabot28]

insomniac bf!sukuna who always struggled with sleep until he starts falling asleep around you. he starts dozing off randomly and you watch his tilting. he's confused and annoyed by this habit until you tell him the fact of falling asleep or being sleepy around the people that you love

he says it's a stupid fact. but it's one he remembers at the tip of his tongue whenever his nephew yuji probes him for a question.

'you fall asleep when you start liking or hanging around the same people too much, did you know that?'

'really?' yuji lifts his head in curiousity, a half coloured lion on the coffee table as he sits with crayons.

'yeah.'

'who told you?'

he shrugs, 'it's from the top of my head.' knowing fully well that you were the one who had told him.

[imnotabot28]

♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,058

You weren’t supposed to be here. You knew that the moment your boots touched the bone-white stone of the forgotten chapel. Sacred ground. Cursed ground. The altar was still soaked in offerings from generations past—dried petals, blackened incense, and the rust-colored smear of old sacrifices.

And him.

He stood at the altar like a ruined god, gauntleted hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword, the other extended toward you. Not in welcome. Not in mercy. But in claim.

"You think this place protects you?" he asks, voice carved in gravel, with a smile like a split wound.

You don’t answer. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But the tremor in your breath betrays you—just a little. And he notices.

Of course he does.

The Hero—what a lie that title had become. Once the lone sword against the dark, now drunk on power, madness, and blood. A man who'd slaughtered temples full of priests just to see if it leveled him faster. He’d learned quickly that pain gave more experience when it was personal. When it broke something inside the target. When they were still alive.

He steps forward, and you move to run. You don’t get far.

The back of your knees kiss the steps of the altar, and you crash down, dress tearing. Cold stone bites through fabric.

"You always had this little spark," he murmurs as he kneels before you, spreading your legs with the edge of his boot. "This light, like you'd never kneel. I’ve been looking forward to breaking that."

You strike out. Nails rake down his face. Blood blossoms across his cheek in five perfect lines. He only laughs.

"Good," he breathes. "The fight makes it better."

His sword clatters to the side—he won’t need it for now. His hands are enough. Calloused fingers dig into your jaw, wrenching your face up to meet his eyes.

“Pretty little thing… always acting so high above everyone. But here you are. On your knees. On holy ground. With your legs spread like a whore."

He slaps you. Not hard. Not soft. Just enough to ring your ears and feel your dignity fracture.

You scream. No one answers. You claw at him, even as he rips the front of your dress open with practiced ease, like looting a chest in a dungeon.

You try to crawl away. He steps on your back and shoves your face into the altar, right where the last sacrifice had bled out. The dried stain crackles under your cheek.

“Let’s see what experience you give me when I ruin you on sacred ground,” he growls.

He doesn’t bother with gentleness. The first time he enters you, it’s with force, violence, a brutal snap of his hips that knocks the breath out of your lungs. He fucks like he fights—fast, hard, cruel. Like he’s cutting through you.

Every thrust feels like an invasion. He’s too big. You’re too dry. Your body protests, but he doesn’t stop. His grip bruises your hips, holding you in place like you’re nothing more than a shield.

You sob. You hate that sound. Weak. Useless. Human.

He moans, deep and guttural. "This is what you were made for. This is your class. Experience fodder."

You feel the blade before you see it.

Cold metal slides along your ribs. He slices just enough to draw blood. You scream again, more animal than human. He groans louder.

“Pain boosts leveling. Don’t you know the mechanics?” he whispers into your ear, licking the tears off your cheek. "Every cut, every cry, it adds to me. Makes me stronger. You're worth more than a whole boss fight."

He pulls you back by the hair, shoving two fingers in your mouth.

"Suck. You don’t get to be dignified now. You’re my altar slut. My sacred sacrifice."

You bite. Hard. Taste blood. He laughs.

“Perfect.”

He beats you. Not to disable. Just enough to hurt. Just enough to make it harder to breathe. Your thighs are already bruised. Your ribs, likely cracked. You feel your own blood dripping down your legs.

Still he doesn’t stop. The rhythm gets faster. Deeper. Your body, traitorous thing, starts to yield. Not pleasure. Just surrender. Just numbing self-preservation.

He hates that.

“Don't go limp on me, bitch. I want that fear. I want those screams. I want your soul fucking breaking.”

He flips you onto your back, manhandling your limbs like they’re nothing. He slaps you again. Spits in your mouth.

“Swallow it. Like the dirty little heretic you are.”

You do. Because he’s choking you and there’s no other option.

He marks your chest with his dagger. His name. Carved into your skin, slow and shallow. Like signing his work. You thrash, but he pins you down.

“You’ll never forget who you belong to now. Every time you breathe, you’ll feel me. Every scar, every bruise, I own it.”

He thrusts again, brutal. There’s nothing human left in him. Just obsession. Just bloodlust. Just the need to consume.

You scream his name—not in lust, never that—but in raw, bitter hatred. That only makes him smile wider.

“That’s it. Give me more. Hate is experience too.”

You claw his back. Draw more blood. Your last act of defiance.

He leans in close, biting your neck until you bleed.

“You can cry, beg, bite, fight. Doesn’t matter. You’re not getting away. You’ll respawn right here in this moment, over and over. I’ll fuck you on this altar every time you think you've escaped."

Tears blind you. Rage chokes you. He finishes inside you with a satisfied grunt, staying deep until you feel the heat of it seeping.

He stays there, panting, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Now you’re mine. Body, soul, and XP.”

He pulls out and slaps your thigh hard enough to make you jerk.

You curl up, trembling. You don’t beg. You won’t. But he sees your eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, kissing your temple with mock tenderness. “We’re just getting started.”

He stands, retrieving his sword.

Blood. Yours. On the blade.

“Next time,” he says, turning back to you with that same hunger, “I’ll see how long you last with the blade in while I fuck you. Dual-wielding.”

You don’t scream anymore. You just lie there, desecrated, bones rattling from pain and the cold.

The altar drinks your blood.

And he levels up.

───────── ♛ ─────────

♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

Ace Attorney: Miles Edgeworth, Godot

Arcane: Silco, Viktor

Blue Lock: Rin Itoshi, Shidou Ryusei

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: Light Yagami, Teru Mikami

Demon Slayer: Sanemi Shinazugawa

DC: Damian Wayne

Dishonored Series: Corvo Attano, Daud

Genshin Impact: Kaeya, Dainsleif, Scaramouche/Wanderer

Haikyuu!!: Ushijima Wakatoshi

Honkai Star Rail: Blade

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Kurapika, Chrollo Lucilfer

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: N/A

Jujutsu Kaisen: Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Megumi Fushiguro

Kill The Hero: Woojin Kim

Love and Deepspace: Caleb

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Alucard, Dyrroth

MONSTER: Johan Liebert, Roberto

Naruto Shippuden: Sasuke Uchiha

One Punch Man: Garou

Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan

TOUCHSTARVED: Mhin

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Dust! Sans, Horror! Sans, Killer! Sans, Nightmare! Sans, Ink! Sans

Wuthering Waves: Calcharo

Your Throne: Eros Orna Vasilios

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @neuvilletteswife4ever , @poopooindamouf , @imnotabot28 , @han11dh , @loserworld , @esthelily

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

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

♡ Book 1. 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 [you are here]. 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.

♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

♡ Book 8. Malum Consilium (MC): Primordial Hunger.

[imnotabot28]

Farmer yan x thief reader short-sunscreen

[farmer yan doesn’t know a lot of things he really only learned how to be a farmer, he honestly doesn’t even know he’s flirting…but when he learns it’s over for reader]

Reader applies sunscreen to their hands before rubbing it into their face.

“Why are you doing that?” asks Farmer Yan, looking confused.

“Putting on sunscreen?” the reader responds.

“Sunscreen…?”

“Ehh!? Don’t tell me you don’t know what sunscreen is! You’re always in the sun!”

“What does sunscreen do?” Farmer Yan asks.

“It protects your skin from the sun so it doesn’t burn and peel.”

Is that what had been happening to him? He thought it was normal for humans to get a little toasted when they went outside. The idea that humans made a cream specifically to prevent this almost made him smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” reader asks.

“You humans are so silly,” he replies, taking off his shirt.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing!?”

“I would also like some sunscreen, please.” He said turning his back to them

The reader rolls their eyes. “Fine.”

They start applying sunscreen to him, though it doesn’t do much since he’s already pretty burnt. His muscles weren't what reader expected firm yet soft, but it felt like something was underneath, that tough almost made them throw up so they decided they weren't going to think about it anymore.

“There, you’re done,” they announce, stepping back to admire their handiwork.

Farmer Yan bends back, cracking his spine with a satisfying sigh the sound was so loud it was almost as if he broke it. “Well done, very well done” he smirks, his voice sending a rush of warmth to the reader’s cheeks.

“What other secrets are you hiding from me, pest?” he asked looking down at them.

“I’m not hiding anything from you. It’s your fault for being a farmer and not knowing what sunscreen is!”

“Well, that’s good,” he grins, rolling his shoulders back. “Because you’re putting this stuff on me every day from now on.”

"What I'm not doing that-" He leans down, his breath brushing against their ear, sending shivers down the reader’s spine. "Really, but you didn't even let me finish? I could shorten your work hours—how's that for a fair trade?"

Well that sucks reader kinda wanted a little...a kiss wouldn't hurt but guess less work was fine too.

“Fine, whatever,” they mutter, pushing his face away stubbornly, trying to shake off the warmth in their cheeks.

"it so easy to convince you, ya know? I'm glad" reader watches as he puts his shirt back on in slight disappointment.

[imnotabot28]

Yandere Farmer x Thief reader- simple instructions

[yeah sorry for whatever is happening, let me know if there’s any trouble]

You wake up with a groan, dreading the morning light that floods your senses like a harsh reminder of your dreary existence—cold, dark, and uninviting. You’d gladly slip back into sleep, surrendering to the comforting embrace of oblivion. But as you turn over, expecting the familiar hardness of an abandoned building’s floor beneath you, you instead find yourself nestled on a soft pillow. Where are you?

You glance around the room, and the sunlight streaming through the window suggests it’s probably mid-day. "How did I end up here? Did I sleep with someone?" you wondered.

Rising from the bed, you stretch your limbs, stepping out of the bed feeling a softness beneath your feet. "Wow, carpeted floors, fancy... oh, and pyjamas damn." Just then, the door creaks open, must be the lucky-.

"Didn't I tell you to get up before seven?" His voice sends a shiver down your spine. "You!? I thought you were... it wasn't a dream?!" you yell in surprise. "I wouldn't call you stealing from me a dream, but I assure you, I'm entirely real." He removes his hat, revealing beads of sweat trickling down his face and a slight sunburn marking his arms—no, stop that!

"So what time is it, then? If you wanted me up, why didn't you just wake me?" you ask. "Half past eleven. Now tell me, if I woke you up, would you have learned?" His accent is thick as he steps closer, his presence closing in. "A dog needs to be trained, doesn't it?" He stops right in front of you, an imposing figure. "Now, back on the bed." Heat floods your cheeks, turning your face as red as a ripe tomato. "W-what?"

"What, you don't understand simple instructions?" He towers over you, commanding. Without a word, you find yourself sitting back on the bed, heat coursing through you. He kneels before you, grasping your ankle with one hand and sliding the soft fabric of your pyjama pant leg up while rummaging through his pocket with the other. You bite your lip you hadn’t anticipated things taking this turn, but if you’re honest with yourself, you aren’t complaining. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes in anticipation.

A soft click resonates in the silence, and you snap your eyes open, realization dawning as you look down. "What is..." You gaze at your foot, wide-eyed. "Did you put an ankle monitor on me?!" Staring up at him in disbelief, he dusts off his hands with a satisfied smirk.

"How else am I supposed to ensure you don’t run away before you repay your debt?" You’re left speechless, taking in the situation, words failing you. "I'll be downstairs. Get ready and come down quickly because you're already on thin ice, pest." With that, he strides out of the room, leaving you in stunned silence. You lift your foot, inspecting the monitor strapped to your ankle. Etched in golden lettering is the name "August."

"I don’t know if I should feel turned on or pissed off... I guess I’ll get dressed." You make your way to the closet, which is a chaotic jumble of clothes none in the same size or style, and most appear to be barely even cleaned. After some debating , you settle on a simple shirt paired with overalls, the only outfit that seems relatively clean.

After getting ready, you make your way downstairs, trying your hardest not to make a sound. Even though he already knows you’re in the house, it’s a habit you picked up over the years of breaking into people’s homes. As you reach the kitchen, the man you now suspect is ‘August’ is busy cooking something unidentifiable.

The air is thick with an odour that hits you like a freight train—reminiscent of rotten meat. You quickly cover your nose, suppressing a gag. "Do you normally make this much noise when you try to sneak up on someone?" he comments without turning around. "Well, it’s hard when whatever you’re cooking smells like shit..." He hums to himself, his demeanour unperturbed. "Should I gag you as well? You seem to run your mouth a lot. Your food is already on the table."

And so it was, a perfect picture of pancakes, bacon and eggs, but again with the smell of...whatever that was in your nose you couldn't bring yourself to eat anything.

"So what are you cooking then?" you move to try to see what was on the pan but he blocks you with his shoulder.

"my lunch, now eat" his tone firm.

"ah I don't think I can eat right now-" you started to protest, but he spun around, gripping both your shoulders "I had leniency on you in the morning, I made you a full plate for you, lord knows you haven't eaten in a while"

"you don't know that"

"I've watched you on my cameras steal my excitement and sell it off just to get a meal, I quite literally see my logo in the pawn shop every weekend I go back to buy my own stuff, did you not question why you kept taking the same plow every time?"

He seated you forcefully at the table, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions, it felt nice to be here, I mean he was right, the last decent meal you had was well...

"ok fine ill eat the damn food, can you at least tame your 'lunch' to a different room?"

"I already ate" he crossed his arms, a bit of sauce dripped down his chin, you narrowed your eyes at him as you cut into your pancakes.

“So, what am I supposed to do to repay this debt?” you asked, chewing.

“You’ll be working for me, just as I said—feeding the animals, helping me carry food to the stalls,” he replied, leaning forward.

“You don’t really look like you need much help with that,” you mumbled through a mouthful of food.

He leaned over on the table with his hand "And I definitely don't, but I told you I would train you wouldn't I?"

"I guess..."

he took your chin with his rough hands "When you're done come out to the back, but I want that plate to be clean" You feel a knot in your stomach as you nod.

“Good job,” he praised, "I'm glad you can understand simple instructions" Your face travelled with his hand as he walked out through the back door.

You swallowed hard, the remnants of your meal suddenly feeling heavy in your throat. “Holy shit…”

[Please be patient with me I had a rough day, the art is 70% done I’m just not in the right mood.]

[imnotabot28]

thinking a yandere! farm boy with a city girl darling.

your father had always told you to aim for great aspirations in life. you held yourself in high regards, and though you weren’t particularly mean, you weren’t the kind of girl to let people trample over you either.

when he’d suggested a summer in the farm it hadn’t exactly matched your ideals of a ‘perfect summer’. you understood that he only wanted what was best for you, and though you tried to dissuade you, his mind was set. something about nostalgia and visiting a lifestyle he had left behind lingered on his mind, and he pushed you towards it with him.

and so days later you found yourself practically stranded in a place that lacked signal and under the scorching sun. the skin itched and sweat dripped from your forehead, but you tried your best to remain determined, even as he introduced you to an old friend he had in the past, and his son, malcom.

you didn’t care much for his friend, but there was something about the boy that made your heart pause. something about his sun-kissed freckles, and the way his chapped lips would turn upwards into a smile when you entered the room.

he was smitten with the idea of having you around. a bright city girl, with an education higher than he could imagine. more often than not, you found yourself trying to avoid him, but he always managed to find you.

“you’re not used to this place, huh girlie?” he had said once, his tone thick with an accent that you were unfamiliar with. his voice was soft, though held a deepness to it that you couldn’t identify, and when you forced yourself to stare him in the eyes his pupils were a shade the colours of blossoming leaves.

“you think you’re better than us. ‘nd i think it too, but try not to make it too obvious ‘nd upset your daddy, will ya?” he had asked. you scoffed at him, facing away as you wiped another bead of sweat from your forehead, and he lazily tossed a damp towel towards you.

he could be nice. though he wasn’t shy with ogling you he was a hard worker, taking care of the animals and skinning the dogs of their fur in the heat. he had pushed a bald puppy towards you and you screeched, and he only gave you a laugh in response, ruffling his already messy hair before continuing his work.

he wanted you to help. to groom the horses and to play with the sheep, but you were much too privileged to want to waste your time with such a thing. you opted to reside in the room you’d been given instead, a book placed in your lap as you hummed songs from your childhood.

the days of summer stretched and your time together was thinning away. you didn’t mind, happy at the idea of resuming your time in the city. but he wasn’t happy about the idea, and try as he might it only became glaringly obvious.

“pa, surely you’d want her to help around more! in all her time here the girl’s been lazing about doing nonsense! keep the filly here for a few weeks more to toughen her up around the edges!” you’d heard him telling his father one night. your blood had run cold, and you could hear his dad debating the idea, before he agreed to try and speak to your father.

try as you may to convince your father, he agreed with the two. he gave you a kiss on the forehead and told you to be well behaved, promise you that you were in good hands and then set on his way back home. he had work to return to, but he was willing to delay your studies if it meant preparing you to be a stronger and more independent lady.

you had lashed out at malcom that night, cursing him and pushing him backwards once he tried to approach you. the boy was stubborn, and trapped onto your arm and you pulled his hair from its place on his head, trying to hurt him.

he only smiled, a blush on his face as he told you that it was for your own good. the farm needed more help, and a charming lady such as yourself completed the image of a perfect farm, fitted besides him and hanging by his arm.

[imnotabot28]

♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 2,801

They used to call him a hero.

Before the blood, before the sickness rotted his mind, before the world cracked open its gory teeth and gnawed his soul to splinters.

Before he forgot his own name.

Back then, he smiled. Back then, he saved people.

The world he woke into had been stitched together from desperation: a dying kingdom trapped in the endless loop of war and famine, a world that could be "fixed" — if only the right hand were strong enough to seize it.

The System chose him. A blue glyph burned into the back of his right hand when he turned sixteen: "Chosen." A single word that decided the rest of his life.

[LEVEL 1: HERO CLASS INITIATED]

The tutorials came next. Simple fetch quests, slaying harmless beasts, helping little girls retrieve lost cats from trees. Laughable things. Things a child could do.

But the world didn’t stay kind. No, the System made sure it wouldn't.

[NEW QUEST: SLAUGHTER THE INFECTED]

They looked human. Still screamed like humans. Still wept and begged.

He learned to swing a blade into a sobbing face without blinking.

He had to. The System didn't reward mercy.

[QUEST FAILED: -10% HP PER MINUTE UNTIL OBJECTIVE COMPLETE]

Pain taught faster than any teacher. By the time he was Level 50, mercy was a dead language, and he had become fluent in the one that mattered: violence.

He watched his "friends" die one by one. The party that once cheered around campfires and shared stolen bread was torn apart by scripted betrayals, rigged boss fights, "random" events that smelled too much like traps.

"Unavoidable casualties."

He should have died too. Should have followed them.

But when the last of them fell, and the system window popped up —

[YOU HAVE LEVELED UP: +10 ATTRIBUTES ACQUIRED]

— he realized something.

Every death made him stronger.

[NEW PERK: SURVIVOR'S GREED - For every ally lost, gain +5% permanent stat increase.]

He didn't even cry when he buried them.

He barely remembered their faces by the next dungeon.

✦✧✦✧

The final boss waited on the other side of a hundred bloodsoaked floors: the Demon King, the Eternal Calamity.

He reached the black throne alone, broken sword in hand, bones jutting from shattered armor, skin peeled from half his face by spellfire and frostbite.

He killed the Demon King. It wasn’t even hard.

The real challenge had been surviving long enough to get there.

He plunged the sword into the King’s heart, and the world around him began to break apart. Code unraveling. Graphics warping. Glitches opening up like yawning mouths.

Then —

[SYSTEM ERROR: REBOOT INITIATED]

He woke up. In a bed too small for his body, surrounded by pixel-perfect flowers.

Level 1.

Again.

✦✧✦✧

"Regression" was what they called it. A "gift." A second chance.

But he knew the truth.

It wasn't a second chance.

It was a second prison.

The System whispered sweet poison in his ears. Promised "happy endings" if only he played "the right way" this time. Help the villagers. Save the princess. Be a "good" hero.

He played along for a time.

Until the betrayals started again.

Until the villagers he saved sold him out for gold coins.

Until the princess he risked everything for smiled sweetly as she drove a dagger between his ribs, trading him to the enemy to "save" her kingdom.

He stopped pretending after that.

He carved through them, every backstabber, every liar, every sniveling "victim" who thought they could use him.

And the System rewarded him for it.

[YOU HAVE LEVELED UP: +25 ATTRIBUTES ACQUIRED]

[NEW SKILL: CULL - Gain double experience for executing those who betrayed your trust.]

He stopped seeing "people."

All he saw were walking bags of experience points, loot drops waiting to be harvested.

Why bother caring?

They weren't real.

They were scripted parasites, programmed to test him, torment him, delay his ascent.

The only thing that mattered was growing stronger.

Strength meant freedom.

Strength meant no more betrayals.

Strength meant no one could hurt him ever again.

He became a reaper draped in rusted steel, eyes dead as old coals. Villages became waypoints for easy grinding. Towns became gold farms.

He optimized himself like a machine.

Poison immunity.

Pain resistance.

Sleep stat: deleted. Who needed dreams?

Charisma: deleted. Who needed friends?

He put every point into Strength, Endurance, Perception.

Nothing else mattered.

✦✧✦✧

At first, the System tried to punish him.

Sent "rivals" — false heroes, shiny-eyed fools armed with plot armor and rousing speeches.

He broke their skulls open one by one.

The System sent "moral consequences."

Famine. Disease. Cursed lands.

Didn't matter.

He consumed it all.

[NEW TITLE UNLOCKED: PLAGUE OF HEROES - Your name is spoken in terror across the world. -20 Reputation Gain. +50% EXP from Elite and Boss-level Targets.]

The world rotted beneath his boots.

The sky blackened with ash and acid rain.

The sun died screaming behind layers of poisoned clouds.

He didn't care.

He kept moving forward.

Kept grinding.

Kept killing.

Kept leveling.

It was the only thing left that made sense.

✦✧✦✧

He doesn't remember his name anymore.

Just the numbers.

Just the stats.

[LEVEL 856]

[STRENGTH: 999]

[ENDURANCE: 999]

[DEXTERITY: 876]

[PERCEPTION: 920]

[VITALITY: 999]

[LUCK: ???]

He thinks maybe it was "Evan" once.

Or "Lucian."

Or "Mikael."

But it doesn't matter now.

He is the sword that cuts.

The hand that breaks.

The Nameless One.

The eyes that see the world for what it really is: a meat-grinder where weakness is a death sentence.

Sometimes, late at night, when the acid rain scours the flesh from his arms and the howling wind peels voices from the dead cities, he thinks he hears them.

His old party.

Their laughter.

Their songs.

The smell of bread baking in the fire.

He tightens his grip on his blade until blood drips from his palms.

He levels up.

He forgets.

He moves on.

Because that's all that's left.

Experience Points. Loot. Leveling up.

That's all that matters now.

And he will keep grinding, keep killing, keep carving a bloody path through this stitched-together nightmare world — until he reaches the System's heart.

And rips it out.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

He sees you for the first time in a corpse-strewn village, standing ankle-deep in mud and rot, your tiny white hands glowing as you try to patch together some dying man's chest with the last shreds of your pitiful magic.

[NEW QUEST ACQUIRED: PROTECT THE CHOSEN ONE]

He almost laughs.

You?

A Level 1 nobody with stats so low they might as well be negative?

You're trembling, your tattered robe soaked in blood and rain, face pinched with exhaustion. You don't even notice him lurking beyond the ruined houses, stalking you like a shadow.

He watches you.

He watches the way you smile gently at the broken villagers, even when they spit at your feet. Watches the way you stitch up the dying for free, wasting what little mana you have, when you could be selling your services like a normal, sane person.

You're so fucking stupid it makes his teeth ache.

You glow, bright and brittle, against the broken world. Some stupid, bleeding-heart angel, convinced you can save a world that's already been drowned in shit and ash and betrayal.

It’s disgusting.

He should kill you. It would be merciful.

Instead, he stalks you.

He watches you slog from ruin to ruin, giving and giving until you're nothing but a hollow shell. He watches you cry when no one's looking, muffling your sobs into your threadbare cloak. Watches you drag your broken body up again and again, to save people who will sell you out the second gold hits the table.

[NEW SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: THE CHOSEN ONE HAS ENTERED THE GAME]

[NEW OBJECTIVE: PROTECT HER UNTIL THE FINAL BATTLE]

He grinds his teeth so hard he tastes blood.

Protect you?

He'd rather gut you and leave you bleeding in a ditch. You’re an infection. A reminder of the idiot he used to be. A pathetic, fragile thing still pretending that love matters, that kindness isn’t just weakness wrapped in a prettier dress.

He hates you.

God, he hates you.

But he doesn't kill you.

Not yet.

Because he’s curious.

Curious how long you’ll last.

Curious how many pieces he can peel from you before you break.

✦✧✦✧

The ruined cathedral looms behind you, a corpse of a holy place, its broken spires clawing at the blackened sky. You’re curled against the rubble, a frail, shivering thing, your breath hitching in weak little sobs. The staff you clutched for so long — symbol of hope, of salvation — slips from your trembling fingers, useless.

When he steps from the shadows, you look up at him.

Big eyes. Wide. Naive.

Hope burning there, so foolish it almost makes him laugh.

Almost.

Massive. Towering. Armor stitched together from the corpses of heroes. A blade longer than your body strapped to his back.

Eyes like dead stars.

Mouth like a scar splitting the world.

He crouches before you, slow and deliberate, until your faces are level.

"Get up," he growls.

You flinch. Your magic sputters weakly in your palms. He swats it away like smoke.

"You're not dead yet, little healer."

He says it like an insult. Like "healer" is synonymous with "whore."

He grips your chin in his gauntleted hand, metal biting into your soft flesh. Forces your face up to his, until you can't look anywhere but those pitiless, gleaming eyes.

He could snap your neck in the time it takes you to blink.

He doesn’t.

He takes his time.

Grabs you by the throat and slams you into a crumbling wall, watching your legs kick helplessly. Your small, pathetic hands claw at his wrist -- your healing magic sparking against his skin, pitiful as fireflies against iron.

"Stupid little bitch," he snarls.

You whimper. Try to summon a barrier. Try to pray.

He backhands you before the spell finishes, watches you crumple to the ground, white robes blooming crimson where your lip splits open.

"Still hoping?"

He laughs. A terrible sound. Like a sword sliding into something soft.

You don't pull away. You couldn't, even if you tried.

He leans close, lips brushing your ear.

"This world doesn't need your kind," he hisses. "It doesn't need bleeding hearts. Doesn't need martyrs. It needs monsters."

He kneels, dragging you up by your hair so your battered face is inches from his.

"So why," he breathes, voice low and dangerous, "does the System love you?"

The System pings.

[NEW TITLE UNLOCKED: CORRUPTOR OF HOPE - Special questline initiated.]

His grin splits his scarred face.

Perfect.

He drags you into the ruins. Chains you by the throat to a broken pillar. Watches you flinch every time he moves, every time his boots crunch closer across the shattered ground.

"You're disgusting," he sneers. "You heal scum who'd rape you. You cry for traitors. You pray for a god that isn't listening."

You squeeze your eyes shut, whispering desperate prayers.

Your status pings in the System. You barely register it through the fog of terror.

[NEW STATUS ACQUIRED: BOUND]

He rises and crushes your staff under his boot with a sickening snap. The noise rips a ragged sob from your throat, more instinct than thought — like he’s shattered some last, fragile piece of you.

Good.

Pain is the first lesson.

He grabs your hair, jerking you to your knees. Your body obeys numbly, every joint screaming, every muscle trembling.

The system dinged softly in his ear:

[NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: DOMINATOR - Subjugate a fellow player. +5% to Physical Damage Against Player Targets.]

He laughed. A low, broken sound.

His gauntlet drags across your lower lip, slow, mocking.

"You wanted to heal the world, little priestess? Heal this."

He unfastens his belt with deliberate slowness. You know what's coming. Horror freezes you, but your body betrays you — breath quickening, heart pounding.

You try to pull away, a last pathetic protest. He yanks harder, making your scalp burn, forcing your face up.

"Open."

You shake your head weakly, tears spilling down your cheeks. He chuckles darkly, cruelly.

"Still so proud," he murmurs. "Good. I like it better when you struggle."

He slaps you. Hard.

Stars burst behind your eyes.

Your mouth falls open on a sob.

He wastes no time.

He shoves himself into your mouth, rough and unyielding, until you gag around him. You try to pull back instinctively, but he holds you there, his gauntlet tight in your hair.

"Take it," he growls. "Choke on it."

He fucked you like a punishment, hammering you against the broken stone until the only sounds were your sobs, his ragged breath, the wet slap of skin against skin. Every thrust drove you deeper into the filth, deeper into your humiliation.

"Trash," he spat. "Pathetic. Look at you. Can't even take a real man's cock without crying."

The degradation is constant, a battering ram against whatever shreds of dignity you still cling to.

"Slut for salvation."

"Pretty little angel, gagging for redemption."

"You're so good at this, aren't you? Born to be used."

He laughs when you gag particularly hard, pulling out just enough for you to gasp a shuddering breath before forcing himself back down your throat.

You’re crying freely now, face a mess of tears, drool, and dirt. Your arms are too weak to fight him off. Your body is too broken to flee.

And you still think, somewhere deep in that crumbling mind, that if you just endure it, he'll spare you.

He won't.

A system notification flickered faintly in the blood-tinted air:

[NEW QUEST INITIATED: CLAIMED - Keep your bed warmer alive for 30 days. Reward: +10 Strength, +5 Vitality.]

He laughed, a deep, broken noise.

Of course the System approved.

Of course it fucking did.

You whimpered something—a prayer, maybe. A plea.

"Holy little slut," he spits, voice dripping venom. "Was this what you prayed for? Huh? Was this what you begged your gods for? To be nothing but a filthy cocksleeve for the likes of me?"

Tears flood your eyes, hot and shameful. He thrusts into your mouth with brutal rhythm, each push making you choke and splutter. Your nails dig weakly into his thighs, but it only makes him laugh, a low, savage sound.

"Look at you," he sneers. "On your knees like a good little altar whore."

He uses you mercilessly, hips snapping forward with increasing ferocity. The metallic taste of his armor, the copper sting of blood from your split lip, the choking, suffocating heat of him — it’s overwhelming. You can't breathe, can't think, can only sob and retch around him.

"My perfect little whore priestess," he groans, the words dripping with venom and possession. "Good for nothing else."

You want to scream. You want to disappear.

Instead, you kneel there, tears and spit dripping down your chin, a ruin of a girl.

Your holy robes, torn and stained, offer no dignity. No protection.

He forces himself deeper, holding you there until you convulse, your throat spasming helplessly.

"Swallow," he orders, voice deadly.

You do, because you have no choice.

You always thought surrender would be like falling.

It’s more like drowning.

When he finally pulls out, you collapse forward, coughing and gasping, saliva trailing from your bruised lips. You’re too broken to hide the wreck you’ve become.

He watched you for a long moment, breathing hard.

Then he crouched down, fisting your hair and forcing your head back.

"Remember," he said, voice low and venomous. "You live because I allow it."

You flinch as he crouches beside you, wiping a thumb across your ruined mouth with mock tenderness.

"So pure," he murmurs. "Even in the dirt."

[NEW STATUS EFFECT: BOUND - You are bound to the Nameless One until death.]

His gauntlet catches your jaw again, forcing your head up. Forcing you to look at him.

"Say thank you."

You sob.

You whisper it.

"Thank you."

He smiles, and it’s a terrible thing.

[NEW STATUS: CORRUPTED]

[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: BLOODBOUND]

You slump forward, your light flickering, guttering.

He wraps his bloodstained cloak around your naked shoulders like a noose.

Drags you into his chest, an obscene parody of comfort.

"You’re mine now, little angel," he whispers into your filthy hair.

"Mine to break."

"Mine to use."

"Mine to keep."

The System dings again, a soft chime of damnation.

[NEW ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: FALLEN ANGEL]

Your soul fractures like stained glass under a hammer.

You’re still sobbing, but he only holds you tighter, breathing in the scent of your ruin.

He’s not finished with you.

There are no more gods here.

Only him.

Only the System.

Only survival.

And you?

You're just another experience point in his endless, bloody climb toward the heart of it all.

───────── ♛ ─────────

♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

Ace Attorney: Miles Edgeworth, Godot

Arcane: Silco, Viktor

Blue Lock: Rin Itoshi, Shidou Ryusei

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: Light Yagami, Teru Mikami

Demon Slayer: Sanemi Shinazugawa

DC: Damian Wayne

Dishonored Series: Corvo Attano, Daud

Genshin Impact: Kaeya, Dainsleif, Scaramouche/Wanderer

Haikyuu!!: Ushijima Wakatoshi

Honkai Star Rail: Blade

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Kurapika, Chrollo Lucilfer

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: N/A

Jujutsu Kaisen: Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Megumi Fushiguro

Kill The Hero: Woojin Kim

Love and Deepspace: Caleb

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Alucard, Dyrroth

MONSTER: Johan Liebert, Roberto

Naruto Shippuden: Sasuke Uchiha

One Punch Man: Garou

Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan

TOUCHSTARVED: Mhin

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Dust! Sans, Horror! Sans, Killer! Sans, Nightmare! Sans, Ink! Sans

Wuthering Waves: Calcharo

Your Throne: Eros Orna Vasilios

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

♡ A/N. So much video game inspirations...

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @neuvilletteswife4ever , @poopooindamouf , @imnotabot28 , @han11dh , @loserworld , @esthelily

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

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

♡ Book 1. 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 [you are here]. 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.

♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

♡ Book 8. Malum Consilium (MC): Primordial Hunger.

[imnotabot28]

fun fact about serial killer sukuna, since i can’t add this on to the recent chapter without tumblr hiding my post for another hour:

he makes decent money since he owns an autoshop and charges people up the ass, he also doesn’t spend it because he doesn’t do anything but work and that other thing (😉). so he has a huge savings on top a good salary, which is more than enough to keep reader happy and occupied while he’s out being sukuna

also, trying to isolate her by getting her to quit her job after moving in backfired on him. she loves it there 😭 she doesn’t even ask for money, she just takes cash or a card out of his wallet

i can imagine him trying to confront her about it

“you know you could ask, right? woulda given it to you anyway.”

“why would i ask if you were just going to cough it up?”

“because it’s polite”

“i didn’t have to ask my wallet for money when i was working?? this is a huge life change for me and now you want me to beg on top of it all???”

“I didn’t say tha— never mind. enjoy your fucking day”

“thx 😘”

you can’t say she’s a gold digger either, she’d literally run someone over for flirting with him.

[imnotabot28]

BRAZILIAN SUKUNA YOOO w a soccer team shirt!

[imnotabot28]

yes pplss

Lover

[imnotabot28]

6'1...

You should’ve known something was up when Sukuna wore the boots. Not the casual ones. The loud ones — black leather, combat-style, definitely adding unnecessary height to his already skyscraper frame.

The group outing was supposed to be chill. Your friends, their boyfriends, some drinks, good food. You didn’t expect war.

“Hey, how tall are you again?” one of the boyfriends asked, half-smiling, trying to make small talk.

Sukuna sipped his drink, leaned back in his chair like he wasn’t 6’5 of muscle and chaos. “Me? I’m like 6'1.”

You immediately blinked. “What—?”

But it was too late. The room shifted.

One boyfriend, who claims to be 6'1, suddenly adjusted his posture. The other two were already side-eyeing each other like it was a standoff.

“…Wait. I thought you were taller than that?” one of the girls said, tilting her head.

“Nah,” Sukuna said smoothly, eyes locked on the guys. “Everyone says that. Must be my energy.”

One guy fake-laughed. Another subtly kicked his shoes off under the table like the inch mattered now. Someone even stood up under the guise of “stretching,” clearly just trying to gauge where they stood next to Sukuna — and failing.

You leaned over and whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

Sukuna didn’t look at you. “Shh. Watch.”

The girlfriends started questioning everything. “Wait… you told me you were 6'1?” “Yes I am!” “Are you sure?” “Why does Sukuna look taller than you by like, a lot?” “Babe… were you lying to me? Hold on, stand next to Sukuna. Stand up right now.”

One guy pulled out a phone and typed something in a panic. Another tried to slouch next to Sukuna, then realized that made it worse.

“I swear I’m 6'1!” one finally snapped.

“Same,” Sukuna said, not even blinking, sipping his drink like it was tea and not the blood of his enemies.

You're just sitting there in secondhand embarrassment, fighting the urge to say something, while your man caused a full-blown masculinity crisis.

Later that night you asked, “Why’d you do that?”

Sukuna shrugged, smug. “They needed to be humbled.”

“Do you feel better now?”

He kissed your cheek smiling. “Yeah. A little.”

Unhinged. Irredeemable. Insane.

[imnotabot28]

♡ TW: NSFW-ish, self-harm (not reader), light self-harm-shaming-ish, morally-grey/freaky reader, bullying/teasing/fucked-up flirting

♡ GN reader

Thinking about loser e-boy. A complete shut-in. Hood up at school, hiding his red eyes. 

Of course, you’re in his lap, already wearing his hoodie and basking in the scent of insomnia—like worn bedsheets. You grab his prison-striped long-sleeve shirt, making him lift his arms while you tug it up and off over his head, revealing black tattoos on paper-pale skin. 

He doesn’t pull his arms to himself while you turn them veins-up, gently tracing his stripes—red and white, old and older. 

“How dumb are you?” you say it like you’re flirting, sultry yet teasingly, as you lift his wrist and lick upwards like you’re snorting a line.

He doesn’t say anything—face set in its designated jaded depression. But his eyes follow your movements like a Renaissance painting as you drip off his lap onto the floor. 

“You wanna talk about it?” you ask—coy twist on your lips. “Or maybe… I’d have better luck talking to you down here?”

Lying your cheek against his thigh, you look up at him with a twinkle in your eye. 

He’s undecided on whether it’s saintly or devilish. But he hasn’t picked up the razor since you came into his life. So, whatever it may be, he’s willing to make a deal.

“Both, maybe?” you say, poised like a question, but you’re already unbuttoning him and zipping him down. 

“Come on, beamer boy, tell me all about it.” Using your nail, you scrape the stiff line of him through his boxers, breath hitting him hot and damp as you speak, making him think of ways to make you stay with him forever. 

“I promise, I’m the best shoulder-cry you’ll ever have.”

♡ BNHA – Shoto, back2black Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, young Aizawa, Shinso, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Geto, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Kenma, Suna, hmm Tendou... ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – dramatic Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[imnotabot28]

big brother sugu facetiming his best friend satoru when he’s bullying your cunt, you cry and plead for him to hang up — so embarrassing!

he’d put the camera at the perfect angle too, your sobbing face being the main focal point as he fucks your sloppy cunt from the back. and satoru would only show his dick to the camera, big and veiny as he strokes it at a fast pace, mumbling something along the lines of ‘if you were his sister he’d never be out of your cunt.’

suguru would talk satoru through what’s happening, explaining that for a sobbing mess you’re dripping. and you are, you’re basically soaking the bedsheets as your brother ruts into you at an unruly pace for his best friend.

suguru would tell satoru he can always watch but never touch, never would he be allowed to touch his baby sister. and satoru would beg and plead to know what you feel like inside as he cums all over his hand!!!! suguru would cum then, inside of you, collapsing on you, and smushing you into the bed, to hang up the phone.

big brother suguru and his best friend satoru always inseparable even when suguru is fucking himself into his little sisters cunt!

[imnotabot28]

Yandere Head Canons: Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

Yandere Conman x Rich Married Fem Reader x Yandere ‘Neglectful Tycoon’ Husband

TW: Yandere themes, a man trying to get you to cheat, manipulation, neglectful husband, dark themes, and unhealthy relationship dynamics that should not be romanticized

Glen Magenta had always been a conniving individual since childhood. A natural born flirt who always got his way. Hell, he hardly ever heard the word no.

He was charismatic and romantic so it was easy for him to scam rich, lonely women trapped in loveless marriages. All he had to do was say pretty words and keep them company and he was able to drink the sweet nectar of their riches…

This time, he set his sights on the wife of a wealthy business tycoon named (your name). A delicate young woman with such sad eyes. She would be such easy prey… or so he thought

He introduced himself to her as Magnus Markley, a starving artist who has been utterly bewitched by her… but rather than fall instantaneously for his charms, she simply glanced at him like he was nothing. Was she not flattered by his good looks? By his sweet words and charming smile? How? She was known to be neglected by her husband in social circles.

(Your name) was the beautiful wife of Salvatore Urso. The wife Sal hardly gave any time to and yet she had no interest in an affair.

“I’m flattered, but I’m married.” Her soft voice replied to him as she showed that expensive ring that bordered on being gaudy. Magnus thought it was hideous… he never understood why the upper class had such awful taste, but at least Mister Urso had decent taste in his woman. (Your name) was going to be more difficult to catch than he thought… but he’d make the effort. After all, he enjoyed the hunt.

Glen truly committed to the character of Magnus Markley he created. He was a romantic and easily charmed (your name)’s closest friends in her social group. They were far easier to charm like his many conquests before (your name) yet she was the big fish he wanted… she would be the richest of any woman he’s seduced over the years. If Glen was able to capture her heart, he’d be set for life! He’d never have to work again… plus her husband was never around!

All Glen needed to do was work his way into her heart… even if he had to go through other women in order to do it. His greed had no bounds

Magnus was now often in the same circles (your name) ran with. She now saw him at every social gathering as he slowly wormed his way past her defenses by getting into her friend group to find out her hobbies. She enjoyed book club? He just joined to try to find inspiration for his art! She adored bird watching with the girls? Well, he was there to find an idea to paint!

Months went by into his plan. Hours of work went into his attempts to chip away at the walls around her heart and he finally made a crack… it seemed (your name) enjoyed having a genuine friend. Not that he was truly genuine.

(Your name) sat with him as they discussed books and music. Her sad face lit up warmly as she’d shyly talk of her interests. He’s never met a victim of his that was so cute.

He could see himself genuinely being with her. She was so sweet! How could someone be so sweet? Her husband was a fool for not being with her all the time!

The more he learned about her the more he began to falter with his goal. She was once a waitress at a restaurant before Sal married her? He never knew that… he had always thought she came from money since she was so prim and proper. Sal often bought her extravagant gifts? He had assumed her husband didn’t care much for her… but it seemed he did care. Sal cared far too much for his wife to the point it was terrifying.

(Your name) shared how most of her friends went missing after a while and that it was lonely, but her husband always cheered her up. That he’d take her to the best Italian restaurants each time and then he’d take her out on their balcony and make her limoncello to sip with him as they watched fireworks together.

It seemed he stumbled across a rabbit hole he should have never went down the more he learned. This young woman wasn’t a simple business tycoon’s wife… her husband was a part of the mob.

Glen couldn’t help but want to save her. She had no idea she was associated with the mob… that she was in danger!

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to be selfish. He had enough to be able to relocate them to another country, he just had to convince her to flee… but he didn’t cover his tracks fast enough. Sal already caught wind of him.

Before he knew it, he was gagged and bound in a metal chair on the back of a ship on the sea. Cinder blocks were tied around each of his legs with heavy metal chains. Sal stood above him with a cigar in hand.

“I looked into you, Magnus or should I say… Glen.” Sal told the conman as he exhaled his cigar smoke. “Real piece of work, you are. Did you think I would let you try to take my wife?”

Glen gulped as Sal held up a pistol to him.

“I-I had no idea you cared so much for your wife-“

“Care for her?” Sal chuckled as his heavy accent dripped with venom, “I’m obsessed with her. She’s my darling wife and I’ll be damned if I let some schmuck get his greasy little fingers on her.”

Glen felt tears well up in his eyes. “Please, Sal. I’ll skip town, I’ll never talk to her again-“

“Yeah right, I found your little diary filled with love notes and your plan to convince her to run away with you.” Sal stood up with the gun still pointed. “Like hell I’d let you live. Rats like you need to be exterminated early.”

Glen felt tears roll down his face as Sal shoved the barrel into his mouth.

“Such a shame I have to get rid of another one of her friends, but she’ll be okay. I’m all amore mio needs.”

A gunshot rang out in the empty sea before a loud splash followed.

[imnotabot28]

its lunch break when nanami receives the mugshots of his 3 year old daughter.

as he was eating the delicious bento you made for him, he saw his phone ping with the special notification sound he set for you. instinctively bringing a smile on his face since he was just thinking about you (when was he not)

he thought you sent him the daily random i love yous you always send or pics of you dressing up you guys' daughter in animal onesies (both of which never fails to fill his heart with warmth and turn him into a mushy mess)

however, the thing he didn't expect was mugshots of his little daughter

and oh it was a mugshot alright, with the monochrome filter, her holding her slate which read 'female, 3"11' and looking adorably guilty. there were total 3 photos taken from different angles too. captioned 'guilty'

the oddity of the.. situation made him laugh. whatever could his 3 year old daughter, who cant go to sleep without her papa tucking her in and who wouldnt stop crying when hurt unless her papa kissed her boo-boo, do to deserve this treatment?

he texted, why are you holding my princess in remand?

shes found guilty of eating the chocolates i planned on adding to the cake for dinner tonight. you replied

he chuckled. do you have any proof? surely, my daughter wouldn't do it.

i have proof! with that, you sent him a picture of a chocolate which had a bite mark of a certain 3 year old

see? your daughter is guilty and will be facing charges soon, unless you bail her out. you replied

he raised his eyebrow. how?

by bringing a new cake from the downtown bakery of course. i also could use some of their other sweet treats :D

he let out a snort. is that so? im starting to think this is all just a plan of yours to bag those sweets by using my princess.

he saw the bubbles going on and off for some time and smirked. he got you there

careful now, i could still imprison her for life. the choice is yours )):<

he huffed. you are impossible, he thought amused

alright, you will get what you want. so i expect my daughter to be released.

scarcely after a minute, he received a selfie of you both smiling innocently as if nothing happened done. we will be waiting! love you<3

he let out another chuckle. you both sure do manage to light up his life. he lovingly smiled at the picture you sent him, eyes full of affection. love you both too❤️

well, looks like he will be paying a visit to the bakery, after all he cant just let his daughter be jailed.

[imnotabot28]

'you're just like a cat, kuna'

this comes out of your mouth randomly, disturbing sukuna from scrolling on his phone. you're both tucked away in bed after deciding to spend the day doing nothing.

your words come out as fact rather than a silly suggestion to him, you've been thinking about this statement and find it rather fitting towards him.

'what do you mean?' he frowns. this is one of your weird quirk moments he thinks. this is where some random shit just spews from your mouth.

'you're like a cat.' you state again but this time you go into a little more depth. 'you're grumpy when you're not fed, comfortable or if I don't end up giving you any attention.'

'lies.'

'it's true.' you say so matter of factly. 'and you always wake me up early just to spite me.'

he snorts. 'only because you sleep in till midday if I don't wake you, you're the type to sleep 20 hours.'

ignoring him, you continue on. 'and you're feisty and follow me around the house when i have errands. you miss me when i'm not here, you always have to fiddle with something or be chewing on something to stop you from being restless.'

'okay fuck- I fucking get it, I'm a stupid cat, just shut up now.' he swears, his ears turning pink. he didn't realise how perceptive you were of him, picking up on his habits and listing them with such an ease it almost scared him.

'what animal would I be?' you prompt, shifting over to him. he grunts at you but fails to stop you from shifting your legs over him and becoming intertwined with him.

he swears under his breath before giving you his answer. ' a mosquito because you're annoying and you don't know when to leave me alone'

'thank you kuna, you're so romantic.'

‘whatever.’

[imnotabot28]

if there was one thing at the tokyo jujutsu tech branch that would send the kyoto branch into a coma, it was the shameless pda. gojo satoru was a man in love — and absolutely nothing could stop him from broadcasting it, no matter how obscene it might seem.

where utahime ran her students with silent, disciplined rigor, gojo thrived in chaos. in fact, the tokyo campus always seemed to hum with the sheer force of his enthusiasm alone.

today was hand-to-hand combat training again. you stood at the sidelines, arms crossed, observing as your second years sparred with the first years — dominating them so well that you hardly needed to step in.

a familiar presence drifted up behind you. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. your husband had an uncanny talent for finding you exactly when he was supposed to be doing anything else.

“new uniform?” he whistled, low and appreciative. even with his blindfold, you could feel his gaze dragging over you. “seriously, it should be illegal for you to look this good during work hours.”

you didn’t answer, trying your best to steer him back to work by simply not engaging. after much trial and error, you’d discovered that ignoring him was the most effective method.

predictably, gojo pouted when you didn’t respond. then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

“you know,” his voice drops lower, silkier — the kind of tone he thinks is persuasive. “the students are so busy right now. they won’t even notice if we sneak off to my office and have some fun.”

“satoru,” you warn, already bracing yourself.

he grins like a fox. “it’ll just be ten minutes.”

“you say that every time,” you mutter, shooting him a sidelong look. “it is never just ten minutes.”

“boo,” he pouts, blowing a dramatic raspberry before slinging an arm around your waist with zero hesitation. “you’re being so cruel to a man in love.”

“satoru—”

but he’s already nuzzling his face into the side of your neck, his blindfold grazing your jaw as he whines, “just one kiss, then. one kiss and i’ll go right back to doing paperwork.”

you sigh, pretending to resist — but you lean into him all the same.

of course, one kiss turns into two. then three. then gojo is spinning you around, arms wrapped around your waist as he dips you in the middle of the training field.

“don’t make me get a spray bottle,” megumi grumbles, sparking a chorus of laughter from the others.

gojo just beams as he pulls you back up, shameless and unbothered. “sorry, can’t help it! my wife’s too hot for me to act normal.”

you swat his chest, cheeks warm. “you’re the worst.”

“and yet, you still married me,” he says, kissing the tip of your nose.

“only because you tricked me into it.”

he grins, “one of my greatest accomplishments.”

and just like always, he wins.

i

[imnotabot28]

Yan "Cheater" Husband blurb

Suggestive Themes. "Infidelity", Masochism, Crossdressing

-

Your husband is a boring man.

Simple, courteous, predicable.

Wakes up bright and early everyday for works, returning to the haven that is your love nest by dusk- If he has enough time in the morning, he'll prepare breakfast for the two of you. Variety is key to fulfilled existence, but he didn't see things that way. If you didn't remind him to broaden his horizons, he'd eat the same handful of fruit and sip his black tea each morning until the day he died.

After work hours, he spends every waking hour by your side, silently relishing in the domestic bliss. As he lays down to rest, your love is his blanket. When your out on the town, hourly updates are mandatory. When he's gone, you're left with schedules of where he should be at any given time.

The bubble of independencacy from one another had bursted years before you were wed. Hardly a day you goes by without you seeing each other -Which strengthens the question of how he came into contact with his new.. friend.

She's beautiful.

You'll give her that.

You like to think that she is. You know it. The photos she sends too blurry to make out - almost like she knows she's doing something she shouldn't. For his part, your husband has never responded to the obvious hints sprinkled through their conversation. You doubt he'd get the memo if she flat out begged him to bend her over his desk - but there were still signs.

Lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt. His briefcase hidding in plain sight. That saccharine, floral scent so strong you can almost taste it- He would've gotten away with it longer if he hadn't used something you yourself purchased for him last spring.

Their final text was the nail in the coffin for her... rather his identity.

"You don't deserve someone like them."

Even while playing the part of a flirty workmate seeking attention of a man who'd never give her the time of day, your husband still had to push forth the narrative that you are, and always will be out of his league. Come to think of it, most of their conversation wound up back to mentions of you. It was always about you.

"You didn't think I'd recognize my own phone number, Hector?'

It hasn't been yours in years, but you used it long enough to forget it so easily. Why should an upgrade put an old device to waste. Especially one holding so many memories. So generous of you to unknowingly gift him that old phone to use as his work number.

"Forgive me, Y/n. I don't know what was going through my head when.."

"When you were flirting with yourself? Dolling yourself up and never letting me see that side of you in the flesh? What did you expect was going to come from this, Hector? What were you hoping for?"

Jealousy-

Your hands around his throat as you reminded him, that woman - everyone, who he belonged to. Blood from his broken skin used as the paint to decorate his lips as you break him apart and mold him at your whim. He needed your rage, but he did not want to be the direct cause of it. If you hated him for real his heart could not take the rejection, but if he can have a taste of your resentment in the form of every bite you adorn his skin with-

Your faithful, loyal husband. Your toy to play with and take apart.

Is it there a world where he can be both?"

"Work has been pretty slow these past weeks. I hate to bother you, so having someone else to talk to about you helped. I suppose it got out of hand."