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maladaptiveobsession · 5 months ago

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“Jealousy and Isolation”

Synopsis: How might the yandere DOL NPCs isolate the player?

Contains: gn!reader, gn!NPCs, abduction, body mutilation, blackmailing, coercion, death, degradation, drowning, gas lighting, isolation, manipulation, murder, restraints, surveillance, threats of suicide, threats of violence, yandere

Words: 1,050

A/N: Ivory Wraith presents a unique case, so they get an entire section dedicated just to them. I’m not completely satisfied with this, but I can’t bear to stare at it for a second more.

Manipulation

They use your fears against you. Town isn’t safe; you’ve said so yourself. Don’t go anywhere. No harm can come to you so long as you stay by their side. Just let them shoulder your burdens. They’ll support you and take care of you. You only need them.

➥ Alex, high love!Avery Bailey, Black Wolf, Charlie, Darryl, Doren, Eden, Great Hawk, Gwylan, Harper,Jordan, Kylar, Landry, Mickey, Morgan, Relaxed Guard, Remy, high confidence!Robin, Scarred Inmate, Sydney, Quinn, Sam, Sirris, Veteran Guard, Whitney, Winter, Zephyr

Every insecurity is weaponized, reminding you constantly just how weak and alone you truly are. You’re less likely to rebel if you think so little of yourself. Only they won’t abandon you by the wayside. Who else gives a damn about you? Can’t you see how much you need them?

➥ high dom!Alex, Anxious Gaurd, Avery, Bailey, Black Wolf, Briar, Charlie, Eden, Harper, Jordan, Leighton, Mason, Methodical Gaurd, Niki,, Remy, Quinn, Sam, Scarred Inmate, pure!Sydney, Veteran Gaurd, Whitney

They take advantage of your emotions: guilt tripping, love bombing, and holding you hostage using their life. Haven’t they proven themself capable? Haven’t they shown how much they care? Does what you have mean nothing to you? It’s so lonely without you. They need you. Please don’t go. Can’t you see how much they love you? They can’t live without you. Don’t make them do something you’ll both regret.

➥ low dom!Alex, high love!Eden, Charlie, Darryl, Doren, Great Hawk, Gwylan, Kylar, Mickey, River, Robin, Sam, Sirris, corrupt!Sydney, high love!Whitney, Wren

Coercion/Intimidation

It would be a shame if your friends suddenly disappeared, wouldn’t it? One by one, everyone you care about is disposed of in some puzzling manner or another. Who could have predicted this series of unfortunate events? It’s just such a dangerous place, you know?

➥ Avery, Bailey, Briar, Eden, Jordan, Kylar, Mickey, Niki, Quinn, Remy, Scarred Inmate, Veteran Guard, Wren, Zephyr

You can certainly try to get away, but your life will be torn to shambles. Failing school, struggling to find work, and/or suddenly a social pariah? Maybe you were better off with them, after all. Grovel for forgiveness, and perhaps they’ll take you back.

➥ Anxious Guard, Avery, Bailey, Briar, Charlie, Jordan, Leighton, Mason, Mickey, Niki, Quinn, Relaxed Gaurd, Remy, high confidence!Robin, Sam, Sirris, Whitney, Winter

Blackmailing you is laughably easy. There’s so much dirt to choose from! Disobey their commands, and suddenly the whole town will know of your affairs. Perhaps the police will knock on your door, finally having enough evidence for an arrest? If you enjoy your privacy and freedom, you’d best listen well.

➥ Avery, Bailey, Briar, Harper, Jordan, Landry, Leighton, Mason, Mickey, Niki, Quinn, Relaxed Guard, Remy, pure!Sydney, Whitney, Wren

Abduction/confinement

You made them do this; you left them with no other choice. You can’t leave; not now, nor ever. The thought of losing you is unbearable. Don’t worry; they’ll take care of you now that you’re home.

➥ Alex, Anxious Guard, high love!Avery, Bailey, Black Wolf, Eden, Great Hawk, Gwylan, high confidence!Robin, Jordan, Kylar, Landry, Mickey, Morgan, Relaxed Guard, River, Sam, Sirris, Sydney, Veteran Guard, Wren

Much too impatient and suspicious of a person, you’re kidnapped with little to no hesitation. There was too much risk in letting you roam free. You’d have made a mess of things, but that was in the past. Now, nobody could steal what belonged to them. You’d be going nowhere so long as they were near.

➥ Avery, Bailey, Briar, Eden, Harper, Kylar, Landry, Mickey, Methodical Guard, Niki, Relaxed Gaurd, Remy, Scared Inmate, Veteran Guard, Zephyr

It hadn’t been intentional, but there was no turning back. Whether recovering from an injury while under their care or simply utilizing their home as a safe haven, your presence became a familiar constant—intoxicating, addictive, and natural. The reality of you leaving sunk in slowly, despair gnashing at their nerves each time the topic was broached. No, it hadn’t been intentional, but their dependency on you pressed against their throat like a knife. Life without you was inconceivable. You can’t leave yet; they’re not sure they ever want you to leave. They supported you in your time of need. Return the favor by staying, will you? Don’t force their hand; there’s no telling what they might do if you resist—anything to keep you right where you belong.

➥ Alex, Avery, Bailey, Charlie, Darryl, Doren, Gwylan, Jordan, Landry, Leighton, Mason, Methodical Guard, Niki, Relaxed Guard, Remy, River, Robin, Sam, Sirris, Sydney, Veteran Guard, Whitney, Winter, Wren

Restrained with whatever they have on hand: rope, shackles, straightjacket, cages, handcuffs, leashes, and the like. Don’t complain; they’d have no need to do this if you weren’t a flight risk. There’s certainly no hope of freedom when you can’t even sit up or use the bathroom without help. You’re more likely to injure yourself, but if you do somehow manage to undo your restraints, heavily locked doors and windows keep you from going anywhere.

➥ Little to no hesitation: high dom! Alex Anxious Guard, Avery, Bailey, Briar, Eden, Harper, Kylar, Methodical Guard, Niki, Relaxed Guard, Remy, Scared Inmate, Sirris, corrupt!Sydney, Veteran Guard, Whitney, Winter, Wren, Zephyr

➥ Reluctant last resort: Charlie, Darryl, Jordan, Mason, Mickey, River, confident!Robin, pure!Sydney

Your every moment is monitored. The constant surveillance dehumanizes you and fills you with paranoia. They always know where you are and what you’re doing. Your absence will be noted immediately, so don’t even think about leaving them. Temporary freedom is not worth the punishment.

➥ Anxious Guard, Avery, Bailey, Briar, Darryl, Harper, Jordan, Kylar, Landry, Methodical Guard, Mickey, Niki, Sydney, Quinn, Sirris, Vereran Guard, Wren

Perhaps some solitary confinement will do you good. You can only handle the seclusion for so long before the craving for any form of human contact sets in. Well-behaved darlings get cuddles and comfort; disobedience, however, won’t be tolerated. You’ll realize just how much you need them when they’re all you have.

➥ Little to no hesitation: high dom!Alex, Anxious Guard, Avery, low love!Eden, Harper, Methodical Guard, Niki, Relaxed Guard, Remy, Sirris, Zephyr

➥ Reluctant last resort: Bailey, high love!eden, Charlie, Jordan, Mason, River, Sam

They’ll dull your temper by keeping you intoxicated, too junked up to even dream of escape. You’re so much more pleasant and cooperative this way; so eyes void of thought. You don’t even resist when their hands wander, giggly and playful and responsive. While they do miss your authentic self, the power they wield over you is much too appealing to surrender. Why, you can hardly feed yourself! Subduing any fits of clarity is laughably easy when you’re body is unresponsive to your efforts. There’s just no way you could leave with mush for brain.

➥ Little to no hesitation: Anxious Guard, Avery, Briar, Harper, Kylar, Leighton, Niki, Quinn, Sirris

➥ Reluctant last resort: Mickey, Relaxed Guard, Whitney, Wren

Don’t make them hurt you. They’re not above breaking a few bones to immobilize you and send a message. You could even lose your vision or leg entirely. It’s not like they wanted to disable you, but you left them no other choice. Now, you really won’t be able to leave, having to depend on them for just about everything. You should have listened; at least then you’d still be able to walk yourself to the toilet.

➥ Little to no hesitation: Briar, low love!Eden, Harper, jealous!Kylar, Leighton, Methodical Guard, Morgan, Quinn, low love/high dom Whitney, Zephyr

➥ Reluctant last resort: high dom!Alex, high love!Avery Bailey, Jordan, Kylar, Relaxed Guard, Remy, Veteran Guard, high love!Whitney, Wren

Death

If they can’t have you, no one can. You can’t abandon them if you’re dead; you can’t do much of anything, in fact. Fueled by obsessive hysteria, your life is cut short. Viscera paints your skin, body tight from rigor mortis. Though you can no longer kiss them, hold them, or whisper tender affections in their ear, nobody can steal you away from them. Even as your body molds, bowels becoming home to maggots, you’ll at least never leave. Even as your flesh melts to reveal bones, you’re still only theirs.

➥ Harper, Kylar, Morgan

Their capabilities wax and wane with the moon, only ever to call you home when the blood moon dyes the night skies red. Some cycles, you evade them entirely. They so desperately crave your touch, the longing intensifying with each passing lunation. The desire to possess you had since long replaced the resentment. No longer did they seek restitution, but rather your continued company. Though a grave robber you may be, you belonged to them all the same. The wraith owned so very few things—one of which you so cruelly stole—so forgive them if they’re not keen to share. Your departure each moon was torturous and heart-wrenching. It occurred to them that you would only remain if the option to leave was stricken. Mindless tentacles confined you deep under the lake surface, large hands possessively clasping your neck. Grave robber and grave dancer united by death—drowned in the cold depths and buried by water—as two, as one. Bound as malefic phantoms, days mean nothing in the maw of forever.

➥ Ivory Wraith

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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*pokes* oh my god! i really love all of your dol headcanons, the suicidal one admitedly made me cry, it's just that good! :'D not sure if you take request or not, you can ignore this if you aren't, but i'd absolutely would love something related to bailey taking reader's virginity...? his dialogue in canon (before it was removed rip) when he took pc's virginity drive me fucking crazy :)

“Your body was always mine.”

Synopsis: You owe Bailey, but are short on cash. He takes your virginity as payment.

Contains: afab!gn!reader, anal mention, biting, cervix kiss, deflowering, fingering, masturbation, noncon, oral mention, overstimulation, scratching, purity/virginity kink

Words: 2,159

A/N: Sorry this took so long. It’s been a rough month or so. I wish they would have left us the ability to fuck Bailey at least until they had more lewd content to replace it with. I refuse to acknowledge his canon disinterest in the player.

In a town such as this, where temptations festered in the shadow, it was a miracle you’d preserved your purity for as long as you had. He can’t imagine how you managed, though he supposes your affiliation with the church must have contributed. Fat load of good that did against him, though, didn’t it? It hadn’t been intentional, but he’d gradually accrued your virginities, unraveling your innocence thread by thread.

Once in a moment of weakness, driven by frustration. You’d pestered him all that morning with dumb shit, and in a haze of anger and desire, he overwhelmed you, his hands gripping your body as he bent you over his desk and roughly violated your ass. You fought valiantly, but you were just no match.

"You should be putting out more if you're this tight. What do you think you're good for?"

Once with the intentions to torment that insufferable prick, Avery. You may have been that bastard’s date for the evening, but he was your guardian, and it was about damn time he reminded you both who actually owned you. With the right encouragement—threats against that other brat, Robin—he hadn’t needed to lift a finger for your mouth to get to work. The look on that man’s face as you choked on him was the highlight of his evening, though your inexperienced tongue running alongside his shaft was a contender to be sure.

"Don't get any funny ideas. Just take it."

Once more that same evening without thinking. With all the adrenaline coursing through his body, he hadn’t considered the significance before grabbing your hand and thoughtlessly dragging you off to his car. He hadn’t registered the way your hand tensed against his own until long after he’d dumped you off at the orphanage.

Lastly, by your discretion, too drunk for you to realize the “handsome stranger with kissable lips” was in fact your caretaker coming to collect your dumbass after you’d gone and got yourself roofied. You were lucky it was the day before collection; otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered. For reasons unknown to even himself, his resolve to remain indifferent crumbled under your clumsy lips, pulling you close to dress your lips with his and turning that chaste brush of lips into a ferocious battle with his tongue. You probably still think it was that haunting freak you barely tolerate who took your first kiss, but he hasn’t forgotten.

"Surprised are you? You'll learn to kiss better soon."

Now, behind the locked door of his office, he finds himself clawing at the remnants of his self-control, trying desperately to ignore the desire that began to bloom since he first pinned you against his desk. He palms at the ache pressing against his trousers, shame creeping along his spine. He should never have let things get as far as they did. There were lines he had resolved not to cross, and yet here he was, hips jerking to the thought of your warm tongue, soft lips, and tight ass.

The thought that you’ve been sauntering around town with that virgin cunt of yours unprotected, purity vulnerable to any prowling perverts, evokes a possessive rage that has no place invading his thoughts.

He sure as fuck shouldn’t be entertaining the thought that you’re only some doors down, just out of reach. The desire to own you in full has him in a chokehold. Growling, he reclines deeper into his swivel chair, impatiently fishing his cock out from his trousers, leaking pre-cum down over angry veins.

Fuck it, just this once.

With a sense of urgency, he gathers himself in his hand, tightening his hold damn near enough to strangle, and begins furiously pumping his hand. It doesn't take too long before he reaches that precipice, jaw and core tightening as he inhales sharply. Warmth spreads over his hand, pace and grip relaxing as he eases himself down from his high.

Releasing a sigh, he reaches across his desk for a tissue. After cleaning himself off and resituating himself into his pants, he glances down at his wristwatch.

12:30 AM

Right, there was still the matter of your debt. Before he could erase you from his thoughts, he had to collect your payment for this week. It was admittedly early, but the day of collection nonetheless, and he could swing by damn well any time he pleased. He steels himself before pushing the door open and striding up the stairs towards your room. The sound of your laughter mingling with that of another orphan—Robin, his mind supplies to his distaste—pulls at his insides like a vice.

The door swings open violently, the force startling the both of you into silence. The sight before him reignits that possessive rage; your hips straddling his with only a pair of panties protecting you from his exposed length. Underneath you, the boy cringes as Bailey's attention rests on him, eyes widening in bewilderment and terror. The air was thick with tension.

“Get out.” He bites out as calmly as he could manage, nails digging into his palms.

Robin casts a rueful glance between the both of you, torn between the desire to shield you and fear. You assure him that you’ll be fine, gesturing towards the door with your chin.

“But—” Robin begins, but is interrupted by Bailey.

“Did I fucking stutter?” he snarls, the animosity seemingly making the air colder and heavier. Quickly worming back into his night shorts, Robin slinks by Bailey while sending one last remorseful glance your way before vanishing down the corridor.

Silence punctuates his departure. Rage simmers below the surface of his skin, threatening to burn him. The sound of shuffling sheets punctures the quiet, instinctually causing him to look your way. Breath catches in his throat, soaking in the sight of your exposed thighs. As you reach for your bottoms, awkwardly twisting your body, he sees what he believes must be that brat's fluids discoloring your underwear. Lips twitching, he’s overcome with the desire to tear it from your body and have it burned.

Had he arrived even an hour later, you’d have surrendered your virginity to that urchin. Struck with violent impulse, he feels the final strand of resolve disintegrate. He stalks forward, his presence overwhelming as he closes the distance between you.

Scrambling back until your back is pressed against the headboard, you glare daggers, demanding to know why he’s here. The slight tremble of your voice reveals the fear underlining that false bravado you’ve taken to wearing. He makes note of your shifting eyes, frantically searching for an escape, and snorts in amusement. There would be no trouble subduing you, especially at this distance. Perhaps you came to this realization yourself, your eyes snapping back to him with a trace of defeat settling onto your features.

“You owe me.” A grimace overtakes your expression. Ah, now this was a first. Of all his orphans, you were one of the few that were consistently prompt with their payments. No wonder you were offering yourself to that brat. Now, no guilt would weigh on his conscience; you owed him and he intended to collect. You had only yourself to blame for whatever happened next.

Gathering your voice, you stamper out a retort, voice raising as you speak. “I-I’m a little short, but I ha-have enough to cover Robin! Do whatever to me; just leave him out of it!"

You nervously extend the bills out, and he snatches them, flicking through the stack to tally the sum. Satisfied with the amount, he stuffs the wad of cash into his pocket before glancing back up to you.

“I know just what to do with you. Don’t worry, I have no interest in that brat joining.” Closing the distance between you, he snatches your ankle and drags you towards him before you can resist.

You yelp as he pounces, quickly pinning your arms above your head and adjusting his grip so he can hold them down with just one hand. He doesn’t give you a moment to react before he snatches your lips with his own, silencing any potential objections. His tongue swipes across your lips, thrusting down your throat—domineering, rough, and speaking of suppressed desire. Pulling back, a string of saliva connects your lips.

“Wh-What was that about...?” You gasp out, greedily sucking in air, nearly suffocated by his intensity.

“You owe me.” He begins, hand drifting down to cup your sex. “And you have something I want.”

Tears gather at the revelation, struggling against his hold. “N-no way! Haven’t you stolen enough from me?”

Snatching your cheeks in his fingers, he clenches as a warning and sneers. “You fucking owe me, so unless you want me knocking on that brat’s door for payment, you’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you.”

You sniffle and sob, but otherwise settle down, realizing you have no other choice but to comply. Watching your eyes for any signs of rebellion, he feels assured you won’t try anything and releases your face and arms. You go limp, defeated. He hooks his finger in your panties, impatiently pulling them off your body before tossing them to the floor. He doesn’t bother to take off your shirt.

Though having seen you exposed before, he can’t help but stare in appreciation at your glistening lips. Swiping his middle and ring finger between your folds, he wastes no time before sinking knuckle deep, aided by your slick.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. That brat do this to you?” He begins pumping his fingers and circling your clit with his thumb, enjoying the crinkle of your nose and eyes as you try to maintain composure. “Or do you actually want this?”

You shake your head and try to say no, but your voice breaks into a whine as he curls his fingers against a sensitive spot. He takes the initiative to attack that spot, pressing a hand against your chest to hold you down when you begin to squirm.

"Just relax. I'll handle everything like always."

Feeling your chest rise faster and walls clenching tighter, he pulls away just as you’re about to reach your high. A whine leaves your throat against your will, feeling betrayed at the loss of his fingers. Without warning, his hands grip your waist, pulling you into him and replacing his fingers with something much thicker. The sudden intrusion steals your breath away and sends you over the edge, vaguely registering the pain through your climax. Perhaps he was just impatient, or maybe he cares some semblance to distract you from the pain of being split open by something so large. Either way, he gives you no time to adjust to his size, fingers digging into your skin and leaving crescent-shaped marks.

His eyes and lips pressed tight, overwhelmed by your tight heat. He’s plucked plenty of virgins, but none had brought him such intense pleasure. Melting into you, he sinks his face into your neck, tongue gliding across your skin and savoring your taste. You shiver as his lips trace your collarbone, the nipping of his teeth forcing sharp breaths from your throat.

It’s subtle, but you can hear his muted groans as his hips snap against yours, hungry and desperate. The sounds of wet, heated sex penetrate the thin walls of your room, sure to be heard by all. He can’t find it in him to care when all he can focus on is how sweetly you massage him, bringing him closer to the precipice of pleasure with each thrust. The crown of his cock kisses your cervix, your back arching from the sensation as your hands and legs wrap around him. Your nails dig into his back as that coil in your stomach tightens, leaving deep scratches in their path.

As you push against his thrusts, his hand slips between your bodies, teasing your clit with fervor. You feel yourself slip over that edge, head snapping back against the bed and calling out his name with eyes twisted shut. Feeling you tighten, he loses composure and begins frantically chasing that high for himself. Sensitive, you whine from overstimulation, softly calling out his name to catch his attention. The sound of your soft voice helplessly calling for him and only him lights his nerves and leaves him helplessly gripping the sheets. He bites down on your shoulder to stiffle a moan, spilling into you. His hips grind into yours as he winds down, hands tenderly gliding across your body.

As he pulls back, hot white pools onto the sheets below. He admires the mess he’s made: your bruised skin, neck raw and glistening, and lips parted as you try to gather your breath. His thumb ghosts over your lips, amused by the dumb look settled on your face. Satisfaction thrums through him, having claimed the last of your purity.

"Your body was always mine. Like your first time."

#dol #dol x reader #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity x reader #dol bailey #bailey the caretaker #bailey x reader #afab reader #gn reader #biting kink #virginity kink #tw noncon #tw overstimulation #tw purity kink #scratching kink #mdni #mal.mine

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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How kinky is each DOL NPC?

Also rated on a scale of 1-10.

Basic (1-3)

Charlie (1), Darryl (2), Great Hawk (3), low confidence!Robin (2), Jordan (1), Mason (3), p!Sydney (1), River (1), Sam (2)

Explorative (4-5)

Anxious Guard (4), Doren (5), Landry (5), high confidence!Robin (4)

Kinky (6-7)

Alex (6), Avery (7), Gwylan (6), Methodical Guard (7), Mickey (7), Relaxed Guard (6), Winter (7)

Nasty freak (8-9)

Bailey (8), Black Wolf (9), c!Sydney (9), Eden (9), Niki (8), Scarred Inmate (9), Sirris (9), Veteran Guard (8), Whitney (9), Wren (8), Zephyr (9)

Profoundly disturbed (10/10)

Briar, Harper, Ivory Wraith, Kylar, Leighton, Morgan, Quinn, Remy

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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“Bloody Pussy”

Synopsis: The general attitude the DOL male!LIs have towards period sex.

Contains: afab!gn!reader, anal, blood play, breeding, cunnilingus, menstrual play, noncon, oral, overstimulation, scent kink

Words: 1,456

A/N: I don’t remember much of writing Kylar’s portion. It’s almost as if that stinky crybaby possessed me and personally wrote all the disgusting thoughts he has.

Alex:

Overall indifferent. Unbothered by blood, though rather dislikes the mess. Will occasionally indulge in the shower, but generally prefers oral or anal instead.

“I’ve no strong feelings, but it’s too messy for anywhere but the shower, really.”

Avery:

Cringes when menstruation is even vaguely referenced. Thinks menstrual sex is unhygienic and uncivilized. Oral and anal are on the table.

“Barbaric. Keep that fifth of my dick.”

Black Wolf:

Notably feral for period blood. Your scent shifts subtly alongside your hormones, allowing him to discern your current menstrual cycle phase. He becomes clingier leading up to and during your period. Menstrual blood emits a distractingly thick smell that is attractive to all the wolves. Be prepared for any member to shove their face in your crotch to immerse themself in your scent. Black Wolf is the worst offender, as he’s hardly ever satisfied with just that, often pinning you down to devour or breed you. He’s practically attached to your hip for the entire duration of your period.

“Fertile blood is best blood. Smell is thick; could track you for miles.”

Eden:

He thrives on period sex, the thrill igniting primal urges. The entire concept is appealing, finding every aspect enticing. To be precise, he delights in the sight of his member glistening with the bloody aftermath, your unique scent mingling with the heady aromas of sweat and passion. Additionally, your demeanor seems to soften, often seeking his presence for comfort and depending on him more than usual. To his convenience and your relief, taking his size is less of a struggle. To some extent, he can detect your hormonal fluctuations by smell, leaving him particularly horny that week. Having received poor sex education, he isn’t even aware that orgasms alleviate cramps; tasting you is a selfish desire that just so happens to benefit you as well. Be assured he’ll weaponize that information if he ever finds out. Expect to be severely overstimulated, begging incoherently for him to ease up, yet with your pleas falling on willfully ignorant ears. You will be expected to lick the blood off his skin with your tongue, but he’s likely to reciprocate.

“Funny that you think a little blood is going to deter me. Bloody pussy feels divine. Now quit squirming.”

Great Hawk:

Initially alarmed and remains concerned even after receiving an explanation. As an avian, the entire concept baffles him. He’s overprotective the entire duration. Despite your assurances, he’ll always be concerned for your wellbeing. You’ll need to take the lead when it comes to intimacy, as he’ll be too anxious to initiate. He is indifferent to blood, so he is quick to offer sex once he realizes it eases your discomfort. He'll happily eat you out. With exposure, he’ll begin to notice the signs that your period is about to start and will make preparations.

“If mating will make spouse feel better, husband is happy to help.”

Kylar:

Craves your blood, menstrual or otherwise. He tracks your cycle impatiently, eyes openly lingering on your crotch. Being so well aquatinted with your scent, he instantly recognizes the copper tinge that wouldn’t be detectable to the average individual. Kylar is also likely to shove his nose into your crotch, but his cock and tongue are way too impatient to simply enjoy the moment. His voracious appetite will easily overstimulate you, especially if you’re being held captive. Expect to be tongue-fucked for hours every day, tied up and unable to squirm away. For the duration of your stay or period—whichever ends first—your cunt won’t be empty for very long; if he’s not eating you out, he’s rocking his hips into yours. At some point, he’ll likely fall asleep with his face in between your thighs. There is no reasoning with him so long as he is in that state of jealousy-fueled delirium, so try not to antagonize him on the days leading up to your period. He pockets your used products without shame but would prefer you relied solely on his tongue to keep you clean. Collecting vials of your blood and arousal is a smidge difficult, but he’ll manage; gathering a mouthful and discreetly spitting it into a vial while you’re too blissed out to notice or care, for example. He enjoys tracing designs on your skin, but what he truly desires is to capture your essence in his notebook, sketching your likeness with your blood. He imagines dipping his fingers into you, using your intimate crimson as if it were paint. Overall, he’s messy and gross as per usual. He’ll also corner you at school and drag you to the bathroom. Honestly, he prefers eating you out much more than actual penetration during your period. Most frustratingly is the sulky, tear-streaked face he wears when he realizes your cycle has ended, acting as though he’s being starved. It won’t be long before his overwhelming urge to get you pregnant takes over, aware your fertility surges in the week following your period.

“Please, please, please let me taste you. You smell so irresistible. I just want a taste. I can make you feel so good; let me take care of you, my love. Please?”

Robin:

Understands periods are natural and has researched plentiful, but cannot handle the sight of blood by any measure. The smell alone makes him queasy. Will do his best to help in any other way possible. He’s open to giving or receiving anal and oral so long as you wear a tampon or menstrual cup. Generally, he gravitates towards foreplay and other forms of intimacy that don’t involve penetration.

“Ah, I really don’t like blood. Not that you should be ashamed or anything!”

p!Sydney:

My personal headcanon is that the church considers menstruation a test of purity, and any attempts to alleviate the associated discomfort are seen as sacrilegious. Due to its innate purity, the blood of the womb washes away the sins prior, but the womb bearer must suffer in return. Some religious extremists even claim that the amount of menstrual flow reflects one's purity; as in, the more you bleed, the more unclean you are. Sydney, though extreme in most cases, does not subscribe to this particular belief. He regards menstruation as a natural yet sacred process, though he otherwise doesn't believe suffering to be the foundation for forgiveness. His father is a science teacher after all. Sydney will assist you in any manner aside from defiling the menstrual process with impure desires.

“Blood of the womb is sacred. To defile such a blessing with secular desires is blasphemous.”

c!Sydney:

As stated above, his pure counterpart is opposed to menstrual sex. Corrupt Sydney, on the other hand, has no such inhibitions. Now that you’ve cut him free of his moral constraints, he’s using the church’s doctrine as if it’s a bucket list. Every forbidden desire that once made him feel so shameful now invigorates him. Eating you out is a guarantee. Adorning his body with your essence becomes a form of catharsis. He’ll dip his fingers in to gather your fluids and dress both of your bodies up with blood like empty canvases. He recalls his father’s words about the soothing abilities of orgasms and exploits that knowledge to the fullest. He’s ready to kneel at the slightest hint of discomfort. Sydney eagerly monitors your cycle, immersing himself in the rhythms of your body, often knowing your needs better than you do.

“Let’s make this joint look like a crime scene.”

Whitney:

Whitney likes to get messy; bruises and blood are only a given for him. There’s very little that turns him on more than your messy cunt engulfing his length and staining his skin red. Heightened testosterone courses through you, making it all too easy to provoke you, snarling and bearing your teeth at him for minor inconveniences you wouldn’t usually dignify with a response. That’s just fine with him. Give him a reason to make you cry; he likes a challenge. Your emotions are on a razor's edge, and your body responds with an intensity that leaves you breathless, unraveling at the slightest brush against your clit. Once he enters, he can easily lose himself in the overwhelming heat, far more intense than usual. Your pelvic regions become stained, drenched in your blood. The sounds of your hips making contact are so much stickier. He generally only eats you out to humiliate you or boost his ego. Sometimes, though, he just feels like eating pussy. Making you feel good isn’t a priority, more so a consequence. He’s most likely to help you clean up after when at low dominance and high love. Otherwise, you’re licking the blood off of him with your tongue.

“You didn’t think some blood was gonna turn me off, did you? I’m not afraid to get my dick messy.”

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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“Remy’s runt”

Synopsis: Yandere!Remy becomes infatuated with his littlest, most obedient cow/bull.

Contains: gn!reader, gn!Remy, deep throating, dehumanization, fellatio, dubcon, hospitalization mention, impregnation, lactation, noncon mention, oral sex, overstimulation, yandere

Words: 733

A/N: Remy brain rot is destructive. Don’t even get me started on Remy and Wren as a duo. You cannot convince me that Remy has a has reflex anymore. They might parade themself as a ruthless figure, but put a fine cock in that mouth of theirs and they’ll fold easily.

Remy…

who can’t stop glancing at that cute new bovine on the ranch, so tiny they must be a runt. Yet you carry the largest endowment of all his cattle despite your size.

who so obviously favors you, shocking all the farmhands. They argue that such a small and delicate creature required more attention and care; who could blame them for being a good master?

who becomes increasingly protective, obsessed with your health and safety. They don’t trust those farmhands to properly care for you, handling you themself. It’s only natural, they argue; you’re the pride of the farm and their best producer.

who snaps after getting up early one morning to see you, only to find you trying to defend yourself from being violated by one of the farmhands. They don’t remember what they did, but they know Wren handled the body. They cradled you in their lap, soothing you as any good master should.

who makes preparations to have you settled into their manor. Clearly, the fields aren’t safe for their delicate bovine. Only Wren and themself have access to you now. They can’t risk some perverts harming their best producer. Nothing more to it than that.

whose hands begin to wander beyond the territories of master and prized cattle, always dancing along that line, just too hesitant to weave their fingers through the other side. Keeping you productive and calm is merely their job, nothing more or less. Don’t attach meanings to those lingering touches during baths and milking.

who’s forced to confront their growing affections after nearly losing you to a severe illness. The realization strikes them as they sit by your gurney in the intensive care unit, sedated with a breathing tube down your throat. The thought that they might return the manor without you is enough to make them vomit. Somewhere along the line, you became an irreplaceable necessity. You’re more than just some mindless animal; you’re their beloved pet. No, they can’t afford to lose you.

who loses all inhibitions. No longer cattle; they have no reason to care. The line only applied to beasts, and you’re certainly no beast. No, you’re much too plush and submissive to be anything other than their spoiled pet. As long as you’re with them, you’ll never know stress or need.

who realizes one morning while stirring creamer into their coffee that they have a much better source of lightener waiting patiently at the foot of their chair. It hadn’t occurred to them before that they could sample directly from the source, perhaps aware that they could never be satisfied with just that. They were right, of course. It starts with coffee and tea, milking you directly over their cup each morning, but quickly escalates to them dragging you into their lap to suckle from your bud or setting you on the table to drink from you like a straw. They’re greedy and quickly lose themself in the moment, accidentally filling up on your milk alone. Having a known preference for well-endowed bulls, they’re especially likely to get lost while tonguing your shaft, eagerly sinking down so their nose is buried in your pubes. They turn into a mindless cock addict once you’ve stretched open their esophagus, pinning you down to mindlessly fuck your cock with their throat. They won’t even notice your hands pawing at their hair or your pitiful moos until the third or so time you climax, gushing all over them and soaking their clothes and/or spilling down their throat. They’ll either pull back, cheeks tinged from the embarrassment of losing control, or they’ll decide not to care and keep overstimulating you. Their oral fixation will leave you so sore—nipples puffy and raw, and/or your cock weeping and twitchy.

who, with a cock, doesn’t take long to knock you up if possible. (If they have the ability to get pregnant, I personally believe they’d get sterilized due to a fear of pregnancy.) They sometimes wonder if it was right of them to isolate you, but as they watch your belly ground rounder with each passing week, they feel assured they made the right call.

who cannot imagine a life without you anymore. They will not let any harm come by you, especially after almost losing you. Overprotective and possessive are understatements. You’re their obsession, and their parents never did teach them how to share. You can’t leave them ever.

#gn reader #dol #remy the farmer #remy x reader #yandere remy the farmer #yandere x reader #yandere #dol x reader #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity x reader #tw dubcon #tw dehumanization #impregnation #lactation #overstimulation #dol headcanons #mal.mine #mdni

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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“That cute guy is kissing me!”

Synopsis: The reader is intoxicated, doesn’t recognize their partner, and says something along the lines of the post title. Alex, Eden, and Bailey are the focus for this post, all being gender neutral.

Contains: gn!reader, alcohol, medical sedation, noncon drugging, noncon reference

Words: 1,053

Alex:

The two of you had broken out the liquor that night, dancing and overall goofing off. It hadn’t taken long before you were wasted, barely able to hold yourself up. With a faster metabolism, Alex was only moderately drunk. Helping you to the couch, they laid you sideways just in case you couldn’t hold your dinner.

They left shortly to fetch an empty bucket and some water. Handing you the water, you sipped absentmindedly. Watching you struggle with coordination, spilling water all down your shirt, they found the sight adorable and leaned in to peck your lips.

You tilted your head so their lips only grazed your chin. “Oh… You’re really cute, but I’m not available.”

Flattered but tinged with worry, they encouraged you to explain further. “Taken?”

“Mhm! I have a partner. They’re so cute and strong—oh, and they smell really, really nice. I’m so happy we’re together.” You gushed about this mystery partner. Alex’s mood fell, stung by your words.

“Is that right...?” They mumbled rhetorically.

“Yeah. Can I tell you something?” You pause to glance around as if someone else could be listening, not waiting for their response to continue. “I stole their body wash so I could still smell them even when we’re apart.”

That was you? Wait, then that means you were talking about them. Breathing a sigh of relief, they’re reassured knowing you rejected their advances only because you thought they were an admittedly cute stranger.

“My lips are sealed.” Settling beside you, they begin to quiz you. “Why don’t you tell me about this handsome, strong, and good-smelling partner of yours?”

They couldn’t wait to tease you once you sobered up.

Eden:

The procedure had gone well; simple but necessary. Eden’s hatred of hospitals was a well-known fact, but what they hated more than that was the thought of you being in a hospital alone and too doped up to protect yourself. So, here they were, waiting by your bedside for you to wake up. They cradled your hand in their own, rubbing their hand across your knuckles.

Blearily, your eyelashes fluttered open, unfocused. They smirked ever so slightly, noticing a similarity to how you looked out right now and how you looked blissed out on their dick/strap-on.

You swiveled your head around aimlessly before your eyes connected with their own. Your mouth fell open, eyes filling with an emotion they couldn’t determine.

“Whoa… Who’s the cutie?” You looked to a nurse for answers.

Eden felt their cheeks warm, unable to stop the small smile from forming on their lips. Chuckling, they leaned in and captured your lips with their own. You really were too adorable to resist.

You stared at them in a daze, blinking cutely with those wide eyes of yours. Words seeming to have finally found you, you blurted out, “Th-the cutie kissed me!”

From behind, they heard the nurses chuckling. Suddenly aware you weren’t alone, they bowed their head to hide their reddening face. This only prompted more light-hearted laughter.

You still thought they were cute even though you didn’t recognize them? Well, they wondered how you might react once they told you they were your spouse.

Bailey:

They had been about to retire for the night when they received a call to come pick up their ward. Apparently, the drugs some guests slipped into your drink were too strong for you to handle, and they didn’t fancy fucking an unconscious orphan.

They arrived not long later, visibly disgruntled as they pushed through the throng of bodies. The air was thick with the scent of sweat as laughter echoed around the excessively lavish mansion.

When Bailey finally arrived at the room you had been cooped up in, they found you sprawled naked across the bed, looking pale and disoriented. Your skin had turned a sickly hue, making the bruises and ejaculate littering your body all that much more apparent. This wasn’t exactly the scene they had envisioned when those rich freaks approached them to purchase you for the evening.

“Who knew it would get this messy?” they muttered, peering down at your pitiful form. With a grimace, they took off their jacket to wrap you with. You jerked at the sudden contact, peering up at them with tired eyes.

“Who are you?” You mumbled, squinting beneath the harsh fluorescent light. Whatever they gave you must’ve really fucked you if you couldn’t even recognize your tormentor.

“Quit squirming. I’m taking you home,” they snapped as they scooped you into their arms and trudged out of the room. People stared as you passed, some trying to catch a feel but ultimately shrinking back under Bailey’s glare.

“For someone so cute, you’re not very nice.” You slurred, eyes struggling to stay open as you nestled into their chest.

Bailey blinked, taken aback by your unexpected compliment and sudden surge of affection.

“Shut up,” they grumbled before kicking the front door open; the night air nipped at their now exposed arms.

They barked at a straggling partygoer to open the passenger side car door. As they settled you into the passenger seat of their pristine car, you took advantage of the moment. Without warning, you grabbed the front of their shirt, pulling them in close. Stunned, they felt a rush of warmth flood their cheeks as you stole a fleeting kiss.

They pulled back with a growl, the warmth of your lips sending shockwaves through their body.

“Sorry, just couldn’t help myself,” you giggled with a lopsided grin. “Your lips just looked so kissable.”

Slamming the car door shut, they stomped to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. The drive home was quiet, marked only by the soft hum of the engine and the muffled sound of your breathing beside them. You leaned against the door, your eyelids drooping as exhaustion overtook you. Fucking great, not only was their jacket stained with cum, you were drooling all down the side of their door interior.

Bailey gripped the wheel tightly, desperately trying to shake the thoughts that clouded their mind. Your lips—how soft they had felt against theirs. They shifted in their seat, recalling the brief moment of contact, fighting against the heat creeping up their neck. “What the hell was that?” they muttered to themself, resolutely avoiding looking at you for the rest of the drive.

#gn reader #alcohol #noncon drugging #forced drugging #sedation #tw noncon #tw drugging #dol #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity x reader #dol x reader #alex the farmhand #alex x reader #eden the hunter #eden x reader #bailey the caretaker #bailey x reader #mdni #mal.mine

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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“Pubic thoughts”

Synopsis: How the DOL LIs prefer the player’s pubes to be.

Contains: afab!gn!reader, male!LIs, cunnilingus, power dynamics, scent kink, shaving kink, trichophilia, watersports

Words: 1,926

A/N: I will write the preferances for more of the NPCs at some point or another.

Alex

Alex genuinely does not care. Pussy is pussy. If he’s dominant enough, though, he’ll have you ask permission before you do anything to it. He might absentmindedly run his fingers over your hair or lack thereof during the middle of the night. There’s something mesmerizing about a freshly shaved cunt, but he also finds it soothing to have something to run his fingers through. He might raise an eyebrow at dyed pubes, but ultimately won’t care.

Avery

He likes his pussy bare or tastefully trimmed, finding shaped hair to be particularly charming. In general, he’ll want consistency. He is averse to stubble. Bare pussy really highlights the power dynamics in your relationship. However, he does appreciate the elegance of well-taken care of hair. He would rather you didn’t dye your pubes, but he won’t mind too much as long as it’s done in a tasteful manner. He’s far more lenient when your choices don’t affect his reputation.

Black Wolf

Being a wild animal, he’d naturally expect his partner’s hair to be as wild as his own. Any notion of shaving greatly confuses and disturbs him. Much of one’s natural scent is stored in the hair, pubic hair especially so by trapping one’s sweat and oil. Scent is a vital aspect of wolf communication, aiding in recognition and claiming. Black Wolf himself has a tendency to shove his face into your pussy and deeply inhale. This isn’t inherently sexual; he just occasionally gets an urge to be engulfed by your scent, especially after long periods without you. To withhold this from him is a tragedy. If you become acquainted while bare, he’ll be confused and perhaps a tad saddened but will ultimately overlook it. Upon discovering that you can in fact grow hair, he will either feel overjoyed or betrayed, depending on how long you hid your growth. He will demand for you to stop removing it. Feel free to explain yourself; he just won’t care. Wolves don’t care for aesthetics or societal demands. He’ll throw an adult wolf-hybrid-sized tantrum if you remove it ever again, even just to shape it. I’m talking moping, howling, and crying. He will give you the cold shoulder until your hair grows back. You might be able to get away with trimmed pubes with some convincing. Refusal to compromise could result in him pissing on you to correct your scent. Will raise hell if dye your pubes; the dye smells weird.

Eden

While Eden appreciates pussy regardless, he has a strong preference for bush. Thick, wild hair ignites his primal urges. He likes the feeling of the coarse texture against his hands and face. It gets all we, warm, and inviting during intimate moments, brushing against his thighs and driving him to pound you harder. His sense of smell is unusually strong, so much of his preference is also based on scent. Similar still, he’ll shove his face into your pussy during heated moments and deeply inhale; something about your intimate scent gets his dick throbbing. He likely won’t say anything, but he’ll mope after you shave or trim. Now, he can appreciate bare pussy to an extent. Your soft, smooth skin against his own rough skin and unkempt hair really highlights the power he holds over you; he truly feels like a predator claiming his prey. The clear view is also a bonus. Being who he is, he won’t fully appreciate the artistry of shaped or trimmed hair, but his cheeks might heat up if you’ve shaped it into a heart. Eden will only ever comment on your pubes if you’ve deprived him of bush for long enough, in which case he’ll demand you let it grow out. Refuse, and he might chain you to the bedpost until it grows back. You’ll be released with the promise of being caged if you even so much as touch a single hair. Would also not appreciate dyed pubes. He doesn’t like how it smells.

Great Hawk

Great Hawk genuinely does not care. Whatever you prefer, he prefers. He’s a wild animal and therefore not swayed by societal preferences. The notion of hair removal confuses him in general. He won’t know what a heart symbolizes, but he’ll feel flattered once you’ve explained it to him. He’s still confused as to why it’s depicted so incorrectly, however. Be prepared to receive a literal heart he ripped out of some creature's chest as a gift later on. It’s his attempt at reciprocating. He actually really likes when you dye your pubes, finding the bright colors extremely attractive. He thinks it’s your way of trying to seduce him. He doesn’t have a favorite color, but he’d especially like it if you dyed your pubes to match his wings.

Kylar

It wouldn’t be right to say he simply doesn’t care how you presented yourself; rather, he’s obsessed with your pubic hair in general. Each look has its charm. He wouldn’t be happy without variety. Involve him in the process. In fact, let him take care of it entirely! Don’t lift your pretty hands. Let him take care of you. He’ll do as you please, but he’ll fall to his knees in worship if you give him control over the outcome. Given the chance, he’ll likely shape your hair into his initial or a heart; he’s concerningly skilled with a blade. He finds the act of shaving intimate. He loves your bare pussy; he loves to feel your smooth, soft skin. He wants you to grind on his leg or face, especially. He likes your stubble as it grows back and likes to run his hands over it. He fucking loves your wild bush. Kylar is yet another who has a strong sense of smell, specifically attuned to your scent. He wants to drown in you. Whether you let him assist or not, he’s collecting your pubes in tiny resealable baggies with the dates and occasions marked in red ink. If you dye your pubes, he’ll want to match. Dye your hair his favorite color or the color of his eyes to receive earth-shattering head. If you wear skirts or dresses, he’ll steal your underwear so he has easy viewing access during the day. If you wear pants or shorts, he’ll be stuffing his hands down them to cup your pussy and play with your hair. Once you’re alone, forget about any clothing below the belt; nothing is getting between him and the sight of your pretty pussy.

Robin

Another member of the “whatever makes you happy” club. Robin loves your body, regardless of how your hair decorates it. He does, however, find it exceptionally cute when you shape your hair into a heart. With some light convincing, Robin will discover he actually likes helping you shave your hair. He’s averse to wax on account of how much he dislikes hurting you. He’ll help you apply hair removal cream, though. It will quickly become a type of foreplay for the both of you. He finds it relaxing and greatly appreciates the trust you have in him; it makes him feel more confident overall. The view is definitely a bonus. An insecure Robin will wait for you to initiate, but a confident Robin will offer to assist. He will also occasionally make light suggestions for how you wear your hair. He greatly respects your autonomy and will never pressure you or make you feel bad for rejecting his offer or suggestions. Outside of worrying you might irritate your skin, he thinks dyed pubic hair is pretty cool. With your assistance, he might like to dye his own at some point.

p!Sydney

For as long as he can remember, the church has preached that true purity can only be achieved in a natural state. In other words, to remove or alter one’s body hair is erotic in nature and therefore sacrilegious; facial hair and pubic hair are the only exceptions to this rule. Facial hair is regarded as ungraceful; therefore, members must be clean-shaven. Members of the church are encouraged to maintain neatly trimmed pubic hair—natural yet graceful. To alter one’s natural barrier beyond basic maintenance is lewd. Now, this rhetoric is only pushed by the older, stricter members of the church. Jordan will overlook the state of your pubic hair. He may lightly scold you if Sydney expresses enough concern, but this is only if you are currently dating, also a member of the church, and struggling to maintain grace. Otherwise, he might just tell Sydney to lighten up, but in church speak. Pure Sydney, on the other hand, being notoriously strict, will repeat this rhetoric to you, especially if you don’t attend church yourself. He’ll flush at the sight of any hair peeking out from your bathing suit when accompanying you to the beach, entirely focused on maintaining pure thoughts. He may offer to clean up your bush if you’ve become close, pestering you with scripture until you concede. He’ll likely never admit it, but part of his insistence was a selfish desire to touch you intimately without guilt. He quietly hopes you’ll continue to ignore his guidance so he can assist you more. Pure Sydney is especially strict if you’re also a member of the church. If you are not a member of the church, he’ll begin to view your alterations as a secret only he is privy to. With enough exposure and hands-on experience, he’ll grow to appreciate it all.

c!Sydney

Corrupt Sydney fucking loves your pubes. As referenced above, he takes great pleasure in the maintenance process. This is most true when the goal is to remove all the hair. What once was to heal his guilty conscience now makes him feel dirty and lewd—and he loves it. Waxing especially so; something about the heat and pain feels remarkably lewd. He tends to get distracted when using a razor and ends up eating you out before he’s done. Wax and cream force him to finish the job before shoving his face into your cunt. He often stuffs his hands into your pants or up your skirt/dress to play with your pussy and hair—or lack thereof. Due to his upbringing, corrupt Sydney becomes downright feral for a wild mane or hairless cunt. The smoothness of your skin is tantalizing, but he likes how wild and mature your bush makes you look. He’s not shy about his preferences, nor is he above begging to get what he wants. He encourages you to spice things up with different shapes and colors, holding a particular fondness for a brightly dyed landing strip. He likes to run his tongue up and down the strip while teasing your clit. He doesn’t mind finding stray hairs in his teeth; it’s all part of the fun. Jordan is unlikely to regard your hair or lack thereof during chastity examinations as long as Sydney is content and your vows remain in tact; the taboo of body hair removal is hardly enforced anyhow.

Whitney

Whitney doesn’t have any strong preferences; pussy is pussy. You’re his slut regardless of what you do with your hair, though he does like a variety of looks. Surprisingly, he appreciates the artistry of shapes and dye the most, encouraging you to be creative. A Whitney at high dominance might make you ask for permission to do anything to your hair. His favorite look is a lightning bolt dyed the color of his eyes, or his favorite color. You’ll have this man hooked for life if you shape your pubes into his initial. Upon discovery, he’s running his hand over the letter with a strange look in his eye before fucking you senseless.

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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“Magic pocket pussy”

Synopsis: DOL NPCS acquiring a magical pocket pussy synced to you.

Contains: afab!gn!reader, discipline, multi penetration, noncon, overstimulation, somnopihlia, toys

Words: 588

A/N: I only differentiated yandere!sirris from his normal conterpart as he is the only character I can imagine having drastically different behavior for this particular prompt. You can’t convince me Gwylan isn’t cooking up magic (probably illicit substances as well) in their shop. Something about them feels underlined with nefarious intent. I’d like to flesh out this concept with some of the characters at some point; there’s so much nuance and potential.

Abuses the hell out of it

With access to your cunt at all times, your pussy will be consistently puffy and raw from abuse. He’s stuffing you with cock whenever the urge strikes, torturing you with toys when his dick can’t keep up with his libido. He purposely teases you at inconvenient times. Watching you struggle to maintain composure in public is his favorite pastime. Most nights you wake up to the feeling of an invisible cock dragging along your gummy walls. If for whatever reason he can’t torment you at night, the pocket pussy is being stuffed with a vibrator so you wake up drenched in the morning. He’ll insert random objects throughout the day of various sizes and shapes, all to watch you squirm. Sometimes he’ll cram the largest dildo he can find inside to see you waddle around town in discomfort. He��s likely to fill the silicone hole with a dildo or vibrator of some sort—possibly both or even multiple of each—and then fuck you for real with the toys still inside. Really though, seeing your reactions is his favorite part of all. While your real pussy will always reign supreme, there’s a charm to watching you break apart without even actually touching you. The fleshlight is just so convenient.

➥ Anxious Gaurd, Briar, Kylar, C!Sydney, Leighton, Morgan, Quinn, Scarred Inmate, Whitney, Wren, yan!Sirris

Generally only when you’re not available

He doesn’t usually care for toys (why bother when he has you), but this one is an exception. It’s hardly a replacement for the real thing, but he can at least admit the convenience is alluring. It’s not all too often it gets used, but there are times when he misses you and can’t resist. It’s just so easy to punish you for being away for too long or simply to remind you of them. He could always just shove a vibrator inside and forget about it if he feels like it. Watching you fall apart without touching you proves enjoyable, as well. There’s a possibility he could even order a custom dildo, a replica of his length, to stuff the silicone cunt with, so you seek them out sooner. No chance you can forget about him when you can’t even sit. This opens the possibility of double stuffing you using only their dick. The longer you avoid them, the less patience and willpower they’ll have, therefore being less likely to wait.

➥ Alex, Avery, Bailey, Black Wolf, Eden, Great Hawk, Gwylan, Harper, Landry, Methodical Gaurd, Niki, Relaxed Gaurd, Remy, Veteran Gaurd, Zephyr

Only once in a moment weakness

He’s rather unlikely to use any toy, let alone a magical onahole. Just owning the thing feels like a breach of trust, but they can’t risk having it fall into anyone else’s hands. It sits in a drawer, hidden away until he eventually forgets about it. It’s not until he’s humping a pillow in the pitch dark of his room that he remembers it exists. He’ll scold himself, suddenly too ashamed to feel horny. Days will go by, constantly plagued by curiosity. When he finally concedes, apologies will spill from his lips as he rocks his hips into the silicone. It feels so good, and he wonders if you’re feeling the same. More than that, he wonders if the real thing—the real you—feels this good. His orgasm is the most intense he’s ever felt, electricity taking over him and his essence flooding the silicone imitation of you. The post-nut clarity is potent, mortifying. He’ll avoid you for some time after that, unable to even look you in the eye for even longer. Shame creeps along his spine like a parasite, vowing never to lose control like that again. Below the guilt, desire grows and bites at his willpower. Who knows how long it’ll be before he gives in again?

➥ Charilie, Darryl, Doren, P!Sydney, Jordan, Mason, Mickey, River, Robin, Sam, Sirris, Winter,

Bonus

The likely creator of said pocket pussy

➥ Gwylan

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

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“Misundersanding”

Synopsis: Yandere Rusty Nail x female reader. You’re a waitress at a local diner and find yourself enamored with one of the regulars, a trucker who goes by the name of Rusty Nail. It seems he’s grown rather fond of you as well, perhaps more so than you’d be comfortable with.

Contains: afab!fem!virgin!reader, breeding/impregnation kink, cervical penetration, corruption kink, dacryphilia, deflowering/purity kink, degradation, domination, dumbification, fuck or die, implications of murder, manhandling, noncon, praise, sadomasochism, size difference, stalking, stomach bulge, threats of violence, vaginal penetration, womb fucking, yandere!rusty nail

Words: 4,366

A/N: I noticed there was a severe lack in Rusty Nail appreciation, so I thought I’d help fill that void. I recognize that cervical penetration is beyond unrealistic, but so is the fact that this man has the strength to drive a metal pipe through a human skull. All in all, this entire post is self-fulfillment.

This was written specifically for Rusty nail, but I left out his name so you could insert just about any big, mean fellow you please. May I just suggest the following:

Eden the hunter (DOL), Uvogin (HxH), Toji (JJK), Evan Macmillian (DBD), Aizawa Shota (MHA)

The waitress at a local diner caught his eye. Cute little thing that you were, not to mention so sweet. Why, it was hardly a surprise.

Always so attentive to the needs of customers, going above and beyond your pay grade. Your smile and laugh were contagious. Attractive couldn’t even begin to describe you. You certainly made quite the impression.

That diner quickly became his favorite spot. Whenever he was in town, he made it a point to stop by. He’d spent hours picking at his meal and sipping at his coffee, just watching you interact with other customers, cataloging your behavior. You were quite open with others, sharing much about yourself. It didn’t take long before he knew more about you than you’d likely be comfortable with.

Yet for as much time as he dedicated to you, hardly the same was extended to him. For whatever reason, you avoided him. The reasoning escaped him. Perhaps he had been too blatant with his observations. Regardless, your body language made one thing clear: you were uncomfortable around him. Knowing all that he did about you made this all the more insulting.

How was he to handle this transgression then? He wasn’t exactly the type to overlook, however minor it may be. Despite your blatant disrespect, it would be a shame if he didn’t at least get a taste of those pretty lips before doing you in. To hell with it then; his cock was long overdue for some action.

So here he found himself, a distance behind you and your coworker. He had no trouble working out your schedule and had intended to intercept you in the distance between the diner and your car. Unfortunately for him, your coworker’s shift ended unusually early this evening and had parked not far from yourself.

Waiting was no issue. So he watched as your coworker and you chatted, ever the people-pleaser you were. Never so chatty with him, though. No, never with him. He chucked his cigarette onto the ground, roughly grinding the filter into the pavement with his boot. You’d atone soon enough for that.

Peering from the cover of darkness, he attentively listened in on your conversation. Mundane topics, but he latched onto every word you spoke.

"So, did that trucker visit you again?" Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you inhale deeply.

"Same time as usual." You pick nervously at your jacket sleeve.

"Well, how did it go?" Her hands latch onto your shoulders, squinted eyes staring you down.

"Oh, well…" Smiling bashfully, your eyes dart off to the side, unable to maintain eye contact.

Groaning exasperatedly, she shakes your shoulders with fervor. "Seriously, girl? What did we talk about? You’ve gotta take a chance! With your pretty face, what guy would decline? You’ll lose your chance if you don’t act soon!"

You’ve certainly caught his attention now.

Ears growing hot, you throw your face into your hands.

"I know, okay! I know! It’s just... every time I think I’ve gathered the courage, he opens his mouth, and that voice reduces my brain to mush. I can hardly form a thought, let alone hold a conversation. I’d just make a fool of myself if I tried. I stand no chance! No man should wield a voice that attractive," you ramble without breath. "It’s just not fair! Don’t even get me started on those eyes of his! Why, I’m too nervous to even make eye contact. In comparison—" You drop off suddenly, furrowing your brows and frowning.

"In comparison, I’m hardly worth noticing."

Your coworker crosses her arms, appearing rather unimpressed. "That’s hardly true. You’re rather good-looking yourself and a delightful conversationalist."

"While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m just not quite sure that’s all true. I’m not much of anything."

He doesn’t quite catch the rest of the exchange, heart pounding and thoughts racing. Here he was thinking you thought yourself better than him when you really were just shy. Not just that either; shy because you found him attractive. A simple misunderstanding.

Feeling giddy like a little kid on Christmas morning, he watched as the exchange rounded up, eyes never leaving you as your coworker settled into her car and drove off. Leaning against the hood of your car, you sigh exasperatedly and light a cigarette, unaware of the force stalking closer.

"Well, if it isn’t the pretty little thing from the diner." His voice rumbles as he strides up to you. You choke on smoke, nearly dropping the cigarette. Trying to gather yourself, you cringe from the embarrassment.

"Careful now, girl. Caught you off guard, did I? Forgive me. I caught sight of ya and simply couldn’t contain myself, you see." His voice rumbles low, sending shivers down your spine.

You nervously wave off his concern, unable to find your voice. Pressing closer into your car, you find yourself torn. This wasn’t exactly an ideal scenario to meet your crush. The area was ill-lit and silent. Though you found him attractive, you weren’t a fool. The circumstances you were currently meeting under were suspicious at best and malicious at worst. What was he doing here at this time of night? Did he actually stumble across you? Why not announce his presence until he was only a few feet away? If things went sour, chances were you wouldn’t be able to get in your car in time.

"What, I steal your breath away?" Though you could hardly make out his face, that grin pierced through the darkness. Shivers ran down your spine. No, something definitely wasn’t right. Shaking, you slowly reach for the pocket that held your keys.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Don’t go making things difficult now. I’d hate to have to hurt ya." Hands jerking to a stop, you began to shake. He didn’t sound like the type to give empty threats. Worse yet, he towered over you, intimidating and imposing. You hadn’t actually realized just how stupid big he was; you’d only seen him sitting. Despite his baggy jacket, you could tell he was strong. Yeah, he could manhandle you with ease. Could probably pin down with one hand.

Slick dampens your panties, and goosebumps travel across your skin. Shit, now is not the time to get aroused. You were in legitimate danger, yet that thought made the heat in your stomach grow warmer.

He stalks a little closer. You can clearly see his eyes now—dark and predatory.

"That’s a good girl. You gonna behave, or do I have to get rough?" You stand there dumbly, quivering under his intense gaze. "Well?" His voice lowers threateningly. You jump, dropping the cigarette in your hand, and hastily nod. He closes the gap between you both, leaving hardly an inch. From this close, you can smell his cologne, deep and rich.

"I’ve been watching you for some time now. Couldn’t help myself. Found myself enamored the first time I laid eyes on ya." Lifting his hand to grasp your chin, he raises your head to look him in the eyes, looking like he wants to devour you. You find yourself stricken with fear and lust, unable to look away for the first time.

"I had thought you were ignoring me. Fortunately, I hear that ain't the case. See, I was waiting for you, and I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation." He was waiting for you? He planned this, then? Worse, he overheard you. You feel faint.

Your feet give out, nearly falling to your knees if not for the trucker. He catches you with ease, setting you on the hood of your car.

"Easy now. I've gotcha." Latching onto his arms, you try to sit up, but the weight of his body pressed up against yours prevents you. One of his hands rests by your head while the other begins to wander. Squirming as he explores, you quickly realize you’re trapped and hopeless, so you press your eyes closed and try not to let his surprisingly gentle touches arouse you further.

"I was worried you were gonna be feisty, but you’re a docile thing, ain’t ya? Yeah, you’re a good girl." He notices the way your thighs press tighter against his waist, grinning darkly. "You like that, huh? Dirty girl. You like being held down too, don’t ya? You been thinking about this? Been thinking about me forcing myself on you? Fuck, it’s certainly all I’ve been able to think about since I met you."

Anybody else would cry or beg or fight after hearing such a disturbing admission, but you find yourself unable to do anything besides shake and sniffle, paralyzed from fear, lust, and shame. You’re not sure you want him to stop, having been imagining such things as he said. Part of you wants to scream, but the other part wants to find out what else he’s been thinking about you.

He licks his lips, surveying your face for reactions. His hand crudely squishes your cheeks, seemingly satisfied with what he’s found. He’s more than satisfied, in fact. The attractive waitress he’s had his eye on is just as sick in the head as himself. That look in your eyes, though rightfully fearful, was anything but animosity. If the heat of your cheeks is anything to go by, he’d be willing to bet you were soaked. No, you’d cause no trouble. Not as if you could.

Whimpering, you can feel something pressing into your pelvis. Tears gather in your eyes, intimidated by the sheer size. Fuck, you suspect he’s not even all that hard yet. Lacking the strength or will to struggle, all you can do is hope he cares enough to not skip the foreplay.

He watches you with a sick grin, chuckling darkly as tears trickle down your face. If you’re already crying now, you’ll be sobbing by the time he stretches you open. Hell, not like he can blame you. He’s well-endowed, to be sure, but more damningly is your size. Tiny thing that you are, made to feel even smaller against a behemoth like him. You’ve every right to be afraid; you ought to be, in fact.

Large hands grab your waist, damn near able to encompass every inch, seemingly for no other reason than to remind you just how insignificant you are in comparison. They drag up your shirt, exposing your bare chest.

"Oh? How naughty of you." He teases, setting aside his cap before leaning down to blow on your nipples, hair tickling your neck. His breath is warm compared to the evening chill.

You stutter out a response as he cups a breast—engulfing it—and jolt as he gives your nip a tug. "I—I was in—mmngh... a r-rush this mo-morning."

His other hand sneaks down to your waistband to unbutton your jeans as his lips envelop your breasts, tongue fluttering against your nipples. A cry tears from your throat, your hand flying to his hair to tug him off your sensitive bud. He merely groans in response, the vibrations creating shockwaves of pleasure.

He greedily laves away, kneading your breast for a moment more, before pulling away to lift your waist while the other tugs off your jeans. You think you hear the fabric tear at the force, frowning at the possibility of not having any pants to wear afterwards—if you live, that is. Still, you’d rather die with pants on at least.

His hands glide across your skin, teasing your stomach and thighs with featherlight touches. You squirm, a giggle escaping your lips before you can stop it. One travels back upwards to your chest while the other lowers. His fingers find your pelvis, lightly snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin.

He pulls back with an audible pop, saliva covering his chin and your breast, making the air feel all that more chilly. Eyeing your panties, calloused fingers drag along your clothed lips.

"Fucking soaked. I knew you were a nasty freak. You enjoy being touched against your will?" He holds his finger up where you can see them, glistening in the moonlight from your arousal. Your thighs tighten around his waist as you watch him lick off the slick.

Not wanting to waste a drop, he greedily ran his tongue along his fingers to lap up your juice. Fuck, you tasted as good as you looked. He nearly dropped to his knees and shoved his face in your pussy, but his cock twitched painfully against his trousers in protest. Fuck, what a dilemma. He supposed he’d have to wait to dine on you. At least then he could tie you to some motel bed and feast without interruption. If you behaved well here, maybe he could forgo the restraints and have you sit on his face and hold you down until you begged for mercy.

Groaning at the thought, he pulled aside your panties and slipped a finger inside.

"Fuck, you’re awful tight. You a virgin or something?" He chuckled but paused at the sight of your trembling lips and tearful eyes. The sight is strangely beautiful to him; he can’t wait to see those tears running down your pretty cheeks of yours, all dumb on cock.

"Answer the question." You nodded weakly, choking back a sob. His dick throbbed painfully, pre-cum staining his boxer briefs. Of course you were. Hah, should've known you were just some inexperienced virgin with a crush and not some haughty whore.

"You better not be lying to me. I don’t appreciate liars." The dangerous drop in his voice has your head shaking no vigorously. You shake, both from fear and the cold nipping at your exposed skin. He doesn’t say anything more, his heart racing at the anticipation of deflowering you, but that evil grin and wild look in his eyes tell you all you need to know.

Without warning, he tears off your underwear, leaving you gasping at the friction. No time is wasted as he hurriedly pulls down his own pants, accidentally sending the button flying off in an unknown direction in the rush. His trousers fall to the pavement with his briefs not long after. Pressing himself back up against you, his cock rests against your stomach, nearly reaching your naval. The heat radiates through your core, pre-cum wetting your skin.

"Feel that, darlin’? That’s your fault, right there. You gotta fix it." His timbre resonates in your ear, reminding you why you fell hard for him in the first place, but does nothing to soothe the anxiety bubbling in your gut.

"Please reconsider! You’ll break me with that thing! There’s no way it’ll fit! Please!" You beg, voice raising an octave in desperation. Shame creeps along your mind. Though you had entertained thoughts of such scenarios like this, you really had been saving yourself for someone special.

He laughs, making you feel ever more helpless. "Oh, I’ll fit just fine. You’re taking every inch, you hear? I don’t care how long it takes or how much it hurts; you’re gonna lie there and take it all like a good girl." Sobbing, you push against his chest, knowing it won’t do a damn thing.

"Knock it off. Don’t make me break your arms." He snatches an arm with one hand, tightening in warning before letting go. You withdraw your hands before going limp in defeat. "That’s a good girl." Despite the free-falling tears and imminent danger the man pressed against you possesses, you still can’t stop the twinge of arousal chewing on your guts from being praised.

Dragging you closer, nearly falling off the car, his body presses your thighs to your chest. The stretch is bearable, but noticeable all the same. The weight of his body is the only thing keeping you from sliding off the car. You tense as his cock slides down your stomach and between your folds. He spends a few minutes savoring the sensations and gathering slick, creating shockwaves with each rock against your clit.

When he feels like you’re just wet enough, he lines himself up with your entrance, then gently grasps your chin and forces you to look him in the eyes.

"I ain’t gonna lie to you; this is gonna hurt something fierce at first. Try not to tense up; you’ll only hurt yourself some more. Now take a deep breath for me, darlin’." Shaking, eyes screwed shut, you inhale with trembling lips. This is it; you were gonna die—dicked to death by the behemoth from the diner.

He quickly catches your lips with his own before sinking into your warmth, your cunt pulsing violently around him. You scramble to ground yourself, one hand entangled in his hair and the other tightly grasping his bicep for support. The stretch is intense, your gummy virgin walls tensing up against your will, trying to push out the sudden intrusion. You whimper into his mouth, pain overriding your senses. He’s too thick, too large, too warm, too much.

Your hips wriggle away unconsciously, but he sharply pulls you back, sinking him deeper and pressing him up against a sensitive spot. You cry out, head thrown to the side and eyes pressed shut.

He finds himself nearly overwhelmed by your pussy, so tight and warm and inviting. He’d always dreamed of deflowering an innocent, pretty little thing such as yourself. Unfortunately, all the women he’s had access to thus far have been prostitutes and common whores. Claiming your untouched cunt wasn't enough, though; he intended to ruin you.

He drags himself out, slow and tantalizing, before slamming back in harsh and fierce, brutally kissing your cervix with his tip. A violent wave of discomfort rolls through your body, tensing up in his hold. You choke on shattered breath, not expecting such sudden aggression.

"O-Oh, god! Ple-eeease!" You’re not sure what you’re begging for, but he clearly takes it as a plea for rougher treatment.

He sets a rough but unhurried pace, almost like he wants to hurt you. He releases your lips, eyes wandering down to watch your pussy stretch around him. His cock strikes your cervix without mercy, cruel and hungry to go deeper. Each A dull ache radiates throughout your lower stomach, pleasure distant but tangible. He was still an inch or so shy of bottoming out, and he’d meant what he said; you were gonna take all of him, even if it took you wailing from the abuse all damn night.

Thankfully for him and unfortunately for you, he could feel your cervix softening up, the tight hole giving way with each snap of his hips. If he just used a little bit more force, then—

He groans as he splits open your cervix, stuffing it with the bulbous, hot crown of his cock—so damn tight it was damn near painful. With his hips flush against yours, he paused to enjoy the feeling of your pussy clamping violently around him, the neck of your uterus desperately trying to push him out.

Leaning into you, he can feel his cock

bulge against his own stomach, the tip poking him with each shift of his hips.

He’d been too caught up in the moment to watch your face, but he can imagine it must've hurt something fierce if your limp body is anything to go by. Sure enough, having something so large bully its way past the neck of your uterus and slam sharply into your chamber walls proved to be too much for you. You couldn’t even make a sound before your eyes fluttered shut.

Deciding it’d be no fun to continue without you, he waits, using this time to leave hickies all over your tits and neck, nipping at your skin. He can’t help but grind his hips into yours, mapping out your uterus with his cockhead. You begin to stir as he does this, whimpering as he touches depths no one should ever have been able to touch. The place is so sensitive and unused to being touched that even just the twitch of his crown feels like being drenched in warm water.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." He laughs, capturing your lips with his teeth. Still in a daze, you groan incoherently, vaguely trying to kiss back in search of any comfort against the radiating ache in your belly. Clarity strikes through the lust and sadism as he realizes he could get used to this. Well, Momma would have said he ought to make an honest woman out of you. He’s been thinking about settling down, anyhow. Imagining you in a white dress and round with his kid, he’s made up his mind.

Locking you in a kiss, he rocks into you, hungrier but surprisingly gentle. His pace is unhurried, but his thrusts are strong; they have to be with how tightly your pussy is clenching his cock. The way your cervix sucks him in as he tries to slide out—impossibly tight hole audibly losing suction with a wet pop each time—leaves him breathless. Getting the stupidly massive thing inside proves easier with each plunge, aided by the blood and arousal drowning his cock.

You find yourself pushing against his thrusts without meaning to, your body moving on its own accord.

He reaches between your body and rolls your clit between his fingers. His lips never once leave yours, hungrily devouring. Sloppily returning the kiss, you allow him to explore your mouth, tracing your teeth and circling your tongue with his own. Drool splotches your cheeks, messy and sticky, though you’re both too lost in the moment to care.

Feeling your walls tremble and thighs quake, he works your clit faster. He also felt that coil in his loins tighten, pace stuttering and jaw clenching.

He pulls back to take a look at you, laughing breathily as you whine. He marvels at your droopy eyes, tear-filled lashes, cheeks wet with drool, and lips parted and panting.

"Be a good girl and cum for me, babygirl." He releases your thighs, plants his hands on either side of your head, and grinds his pelvis into yours. The encouragement and light tickle of his pubes against your clit is all it takes for that heat to uncoil, gripping his jacket as it radiates throughout your body. As your walls tightened around him, he too reached his crescendo, sucking in a sharp breath with his hips jerked erratically.

“Good girl. Such a f-fuuucking good girl.” He bit out through gritted teeth; a breathy low gravel.

Feeling his release spill up into your womb, hot and thick and so much, you briefly feel a twinge of panic before his convulsing cock overwhelms you and sends you over the precipice once again, gushing over his cock and stealing any coherence from you.

Neither of you moved for a moment, content to simply be, or in your case, too overstimulated and hurt to move. His hand ghosts over your belly, admiring the noticeable bulging of your stomach, your womb stretched by his cock and copious amount of cum. His length acts as a plug, preventing any from seeping out. The sight makes him giddy; no chance you don’t pregnant, not with all that cum planted directly in your womb. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to see you round with child. It’s be nice to have a settle down with a cute, plump wife and obedient children.

He absentmindedly presses down on your stomach as he imagines your future together, feeling the outline of his cock. Your breath catches in your throat at the sensation.

Still with his hand planted next to your head, he stares deep into your eyes. Suddenly, despite the fact that he had just cum inside you, you couldn’t help but feel bashful under his intense gaze and look off to the side.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, cradling your face in his hands. "You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m balls deep in your cunt, but you still can’t handle some eye contact? Don’t you look away from me again, you hear?" Having learned your lesson earlier, you readily nod in agreement.

"C-can I go ho-home now?" Your voice cracks, raw and dry from screaming.

You shrink under the intensity of his eyes, attempting to look away out of habit. He tightens his hold on your face in warning.

"No, I don’t think so. You’ll be coming with me."

You gape at him incredulously.

"I told you already. I’ve had my eye on you for some time now. If I recall correctly, you’ve felt the same." He leans in real close to your ear, cringing as his cock presses into the deepest part of you. "Something about my voice turning you mute, wasn’t it?"

He stood up, pulling out an audible, wet pop. You shiver as the large intrusion exits. Strangely, the emptiness leaves you feeling sad.

He gathers himself, tucking his length back into his briefs, and pulls up trousers. He frowns as he realizes he’d ripped off the button. You sit up, going to slide off the car, but find yourself suddenly thrown over his shoulder, bare ass hanging in the air, shielded only from the bite of air by a hand cupping your cheek.

"H-hey!" You shout, clinging to him for dear life. You're not sure you’ll be able to get up if he drops you.

"Don’t struggle. Your ass is mine." He warns, lightly slapping your ass. As he walks off into the darkness to who knows where, you cringe as you feel his seed jostle in your stomach. You wished he'd have at least let you put your pants back on.

Dejectedly, you watch as your car slowly fades into the distance, face fallen. You caught the handsome customer’s attention, but it turns out the handsome customer is actually a handsome stalker, rapist, and kidnapper. You feel gross for still being attracted to the same person who defiled you against your will.

You release a quivering sigh, too dehydrated to cry anymore. You’ll get away somehow. For now, you can only hope he’s not some violent serial killer.

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

Note

*pokes you politely*

How would bailey deal with the pcs suicide death? Loved the headcanons for the LI's (I almost cried) but what about or detested dearest?

“Too little, too late” pt.2

➥ pt. 1

➥ Synopsis: Bailey’s reaction to the player’s suicide.

➥ Contains: gn!reader, male!bailey, yandere!bailey, suicide by hanging, descriptive death

➥ Words: 905

➥ A/N: Again, do not take the content warnings above lightly. Bailey’s sentiments and the player’s death is described in detail. His feelings are quite complicated and couldn’t possibly be explained in short excerpt format, so this entire post is dedicated to him. Unfortunately, it seems that every character I write for ends up obsessive and infatuated. Still, I hope this is to your liking.

Assuming you’re a dependent, nothing more or less, he’s not all that distraught. More so annoyed. You wouldn’t be the first of his orphans to off themselves, and you certainly wouldn’t be the last, but fuck if the paperwork wasn’t infuriating. Being honest, he had grown partial to you. Of all the little shits, you were his favorite. Really, he thought you were tougher than this. What a shame. He’ll remember you, though with less clarity over the years. He very occasionally entertains thoughts of who you’d have grown into given the chance. Additionally, he might sell your body if the demand is high enough.

Now, having developed a deeper bond than that of caretaker and charge, he’s certainly not taking your death well. For so long now, he’s handled difficulties with violence and retaliation. Had you simply been murdered by an overzealous pervert, he’d have an outlet for his aggression. But no, as your own killer, there's no culprit to make pay. There’s nobody to blame but perhaps himself.

Your entire relationship had been new territory for him. It had been so long since he had felt anything beyond exhaustion and annoyance, even longer since he had developed genuine attraction. There was much struggle navigating the terrain. Despite his fondness of you, you still owed a debt. Regardless of whatever feelings he harbored, he still had a job to do. Attachment was weakness, and fuck if he didn’t have enough enemies sniffing about for any sort of leverage. His outward indifference was protecting not only himself but you and that other little shit you cared for.

Really though, his attitude towards you swung violently. When his feelings first began manifesting, denial crept in. He cracked down on your payments, showing no leniency. You were auctioned off into increasingly worse and worse circumstances. Yet there were times he was neither the ruthless extortionist nor the iniquitous instigator that had recently surfaced; rather, a disturbingly gentle caregiver took his place. This sudden disruption in his behavior confused and alarmed you.

A long while passed before he returned to clarity, reluctantly accepting his growing obsession. He reflected on your relationship, and his stomach swelled with jealousy, heart heavy at the thought of anyone else touching you. To your disturbance, he became increasingly more controlling and possessive, isolating and restricting you.

At some point, the money no longer mattered to him. He stopped advertising you to his patrons long ago. You belonged to him, and nothing would change that.

His sudden, inexplicable infatuation scared you. Though he'll never know for sure, you must have come to the conclusion that your freedom would only be granted through death.

By no means was he a good lover—something he was well aware of. He didn't need to be told just how unhealthy your relationship was. He doesn’t feel much remorse; you were his to do whatever he pleased with. He was selfish at times, but he always acted in your best interest, regardless of how violently you fought against him.

For all his faults, he kept you safe. He was willing to do whatever it took to keep you unharmed and in his grasp, even if that meant hurting you.

The only fault he acknowledges is that he didn’t pay enough attention to you.

Had he seen past your aggression, he'd have known you were a suicidal fool and would have locked you away where only he had access. There, death would only visit you in your dreams.

Familiar numbness engulfs him after you pass. He won’t lower his walls again; he can’t afford the heartache and betrayal. The townsfolk notice his increased bitterness since your passing. The orphans whisper amongst each other about how much more ruthless he’d become since then.

Bailey works himself to the bone, desperate to forget. He never thought he’d miss anyone, least of all you; he never thought he’d need to. You’re supposed to be here, but he got careless.

He grieves silently. Everything reminds him of you. The weight of your death crushes him, leaving no room for even contentment. He'll spend the rest of his life regretting, always wondering if you might have reciprocated given the time.

He won't cry, but the grief in his eyes is indicative of his misery. He misses your voice, your smile, and your laughter. He regrets not taking more pictures. Above all, he misses the calm moments you shared: sitting in his lap, cheek pressed against his chest with his hand cupping your waist, as you tried not to nod off while he diligently read through stacks of paperwork. At night, he dreams of you; sometimes memories of your laughter. Most nights, he's reminded of the way your body hung limply. He remembers the struggle to cut you loose, revealing raw rope-shaped bruises across your neck. He remembers gathering you in his arm—still warm but growing colder—and nearly crashing his car in the rush to get you to the hospital. He doesn’t remember much of what happened after, but he knows there’s a fist shaped-hole in the waiting room, and Harper is noticeably more on edge around him.

Years go by, and your death still plagues him. Your absence has left him hollow and void, more so than ever before.

His carelessness cost him everything. How could he let the comfort and security you brought him cloud his judgment? What a fool he had let himself become.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #bailey the caretaker #gn reader #tw suicide #tw hanging #tw death #mdni #dol x reader #bailey x reader #yandere bailey #yandere x reader #mal.mine

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maladaptiveobsession · 6 months ago

Text

“Too Little, Too late”

Synopsis: How the DOL LIs react to the player’s suicide

pt. 2

Contains: gn!reader, male!love interests, suicide by pill overdose, death, necrophilia, alcoholism, self-deprecation, dissociation, depression

Words: 1163

A/N: Do not take the content warnings above lightly. The character’s sentiments and the player’s death is described in detail. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, please take care. I had intended to write for some other NPCs as well, but quickly realized I was not in the mental space to continue. I was using my personal experiences as reference, so my personal feelings and the feelings of the characters blended together and I just got overwhelmed.

Alex:

He’s confused and distraught. Why didn’t you confide in him? Was he not enough? He thought you were doing better. What did he miss? What could he have done differently? There’s nothing he wouldn’t have done if it meant keeping you.

He’ll never recover. The farm is neglected, unable to handle the grief. Everything reminds him of you. He blames himself and spends every moment missing you. Alcohol is his only solace and perhaps his demise as well.

Avery:

He’s initially enraged. You repay him by attaching a tragedy to his public image? Above all, he feels betrayed. Anger eventually morphs into bitter acceptance. He tries to pretend otherwise, but he’s affected deeply. He’s not sure how to feel, but it’s wrong all the same. Never before had he grown so fond of any of his arm candy. It was too little, too late by the time he realized he wanted more than a transactional relationship. He continues to attend functions, but his smile is tighter and his eyes are weary. Any attempts to replace you fail miserably. Nobody smiles like you or laughs like you. Nobody is talented enough, smart enough, or obedient enough.

He won’t forget you, but he can’t afford to lose his image, so he grieves in silence. He wonders if things might have been different had he realized how he felt sooner. What might things have been like had he put a ring on your finger? It’s only now in your absence that he understands the joy you brought him. He should have paid better attention to his plaything.

Eden:

Inconsolable is the only way to describe him. Little has brought this man to his knees or made him tear up, but discovering your cold, lifeless body broke him. He’s pissed at you for leaving him. He’s pissed at himself for not noticing the signs; he should have known better than any other. Among the anger, he’s confused. Why didn't you ask for help? There’s nothing he wouldn’t have done for you. What could have been so bad that you would want to kill yourself? Was he so awful? He begins to reflect on his behavior towards you. He knew your initial meeting was unsavory at best, but he had changed since and thought you were healing. He spends every waking moment criticizing his past actions, wondering what might have been had he treated you better.

He considers taking his own life but chooses to live through the anguish as punishment. He tries his best to overcome, but nothing is the same without you. He misses you deeply; the comfort you brought him left so easily. If only he had cherished you more and taken better care of you. If only he had just listened. You should still be cozying up against him on the loveseat, but you’re not and never will be.

Kylar:

Kylar initially denies your death. You’re not dead. You’re just sleeping. As time goes on, he becomes hysterical. You must be ignoring him to get his attention! You’re okay! You’re fine! Nothing is wrong! He’ll defile your body, having convinced himself you’ve entered a deep sleep. The smell will force him into clarity. He knows that smell well; he would recognize the stench of rotting flesh anywhere. He’ll fly into hysteria, falling to his knees and wailing. His darling is gone forever. Why did you do it? Was he not good enough? He must have neglected you or upset you somehow! He should have paid attention. You would be here otherwise. You were unhappy, but he was too selfish to notice! This is all his fault!

Unlike all the rest, Kylar cannot live without you. He takes his own life shortly after, collapsing over your decomposing corpse. If you squint, it’s nearly a romantic sight.

Robin:

Finding you in your bed, cold and stiff with pills spilled haphazardly across your desk, was the worst moment of his life. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t break down and cry. There’s no confusion. There’s no need to ask why; he knows. He’d spent ages wondering how you managed to keep yourself together. How you smiled so brightly in such disturbing circumstances escaped him. It’s only now that he realizes just how much you were suffering, quietly enduring for his sake. He should have seen the signs—the smile that never reached your eyes, the flinching, the lethargy. Things you couldn’t hide that he should have seen but simply didn’t want to acknowledge. It wasn’t a conscious decision by any means, but rather a subconscious attempt to avoid uncomfortable truths in hopes they’d resolve on their own. Had he reached out to you and comforted you, he’s pretty sure you’d still be here. Your blood is on his hands.

Robin will never be the same, and there’s a chance he’ll follow your example. In another timeline, he decides to keep fighting, leaves town, and never looks back. Another version is swallowed up by grief and grows darker and vengeful. Regardless of his path going forward, he lives in your memory. Time heals, but the scar won’t fade.

Sydney:

He is beyond distraught. Why did you do it? Why did you leave him? Was he not enough? He misses you severely. Every waking moment is torment without you. Your loss sends him plunging deeper into the church’s grasp, regardless of purity. If the church is responsible for your passing by any measure, Sydney severes ties completely. Unlike all the rest, Sydney has a loving parent to comfort and guide him through the grief.

Ultimately, Sydney will move on. He carries your memories with him. Your death still haunts him, but he’ll eventually find somebody to start a family with. He’ll convince himself he’s happy, but he can’t help but wonder how things might have been if you were by his side instead.

Whitney:

Numbness engulfs Whitney. Nothing feels real anymore. Is he even real? How can you be gone? He still has the bruises you gave him from your last encounter, so how can you be gone? Anger bites at his mind, but the static sorrow washes it away. Without you, nothing matters. He blames himself. He was a terrible person to you. Of course you would choose death over somebody like him. Even if he was changing for the better, that doesn’t take away what he did to you.

He washes down the grief with liquor. He doesn’t live; he drifts, too tired to even take his own life. He’d spend the rest of his life punishing himself for failing you. With enough time, he might snap out of that fog. Of all the rest, he is the most likely to use this trauma to make much-needed changes around town. He’ll stay single, too afraid of failing yet another person, of being hurt, or of betraying you. Whitney will ultimately be okay, even if every day is a challenge and every memory is overwritten with regret.

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maladaptiveobsession · 1 year ago

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day 15 ; keeping quiet

↠ billy loomis x reader x stu macher

fandom: scream word count: 3.9k warnings: nsfw 18+, gf!billy and stu, DUBCON, semi-public sex, homoerotic undertones, mentions of gore, cheating, degradation, dirty talk, thigh fucking, double penetration, knife play if you squint, gagging, unprotected sex, creampies, cumplay, cum eating, fingering, my stu bias definitely shows sorry guys

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You weren’t really much of a party person, and all of your friends were aware of that. It was why none of them gave much resistance to the idea of you slipping away.

Stu’s house was insanely crowded, more than his usual parties. It was obviously because of the recent killing spree by the mysterious masked killer who had yet to be caught. Your general anxiety in loud spaces mixed with that of the unknown killer running around had you even more paranoid.

“Be careful!” Sidney calls out and Tatum waves as you make your way up the staircase. You send a small smile back as you weave your way through drunk teenagers stumbling all around, looking for more drinks.

You’ve been in Stu’s house plenty of times, having been friends with him for years at this point. You make a beeline straight for his bedroom, hoping that no one was in there hooking up so you could have a quiet place to decompress.

You knock loudly on his door, pressing your ear against it as the loud music and teens make it hard to hear inside. There’s no answer to your knowledge, and you slowly peek your head in.

No one is in the room, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You shut the door behind you and plop down on Stu’s bed, laying yourself out in a heap of exhaustion.

A bang from somewhere inside the room startles you, making you jump up from your seat. You notice that Stu’s closet door is slightly ajar, and figure that something inside fell down. You make your way over, the closet creaking as you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips and you step back after seeing what it was that fell.

It was one of the ghostface masks.

You slowly back away, eyes wide in disbelief with what you were seeing. No. It wasn’t possible, right? Stu couldn’t have been the killer; it made no sense. You bend down and cautiously pick up the mask.

It looks like your average store-bought cheap costume accessory. You inspect it closer, but bring a hand up to your mouth and almost drop the mask when you see what’s stained on it.

Small flecks of blood, all spattered across the edges.

The sound of the door creaking has you throwing the mask back into the closet and slamming the door, chest heaving as you pretend as though you weren’t searching through it.

In walks Stu, his trademark grin spread wide across his face.

“Now what are you doing in here?” he teases suggestively and wiggles his eyebrows. He closes the door and leans against it.

But clearly you’re not very good at hiding your emotions, because the smile instantly drops from Stu’s face. “Have you been…snooping in my things?”

You bite your lip and can feel your heart drop in your chest. “What? No! I just came in here to rest.” Your voice sounds incredibly shaking and you know there’s no way he’s buying it.

Stu’s eyes narrow, and he stalks closer to you. You back away in return, but his long strides make it difficult to put distance between the two of you. “I think you’re lying to me.”

He utters out your name in a warning tone. At this point, you know, he knows you know, and you know he knows you know that he’s the Ghostface killer. You make a feeble attempt to duck past Stu and make a run for it, but he grabs your arm and pulls you against his chest, completely restraining you.

You try your best at escaping. You pound on his chest, wiggle in his grip, and even try biting him. That fails miserably and Stu slaps his large palm against your mouth, preventing you from screaming for help.

He drags you over to the bed, and you start to kick your heels against his legs. You aren’t sure what he’s capable of anymore. Is this the moment you die? Is Stu going to kill you? You let out a choked sob underneath his palm, clawing at his hand but to no avail.

You push back against him with all of the force of your body, yet Stu remains solid. “Be quiet,” he mutters in your ear.

And then you feel it. On your backside, you can feel Stu getting hard. You whimper in fear, and your body goes limp. But he clearly notices that you could feel it, and he chuckles darkly.

“Got me excited with all that struggling, babe.” He shamelessly rubs himself against you, his erection fully hard beneath his pants now.

Despite the terror that you feel in that moment, you couldn’t help but moan silently.

You would be lying if you said you never thought of hooking up with your friend. Stu was hot, he was funny, and if Tatum was a reliable source, he also had a huge dick.

If fucking Stu could save you from death, you would gladly let him use you however he wished.

You quickly concoct a plan in your head—a lame one, but a plan—to seduce Stu in an attempt to hopefully convince him not to kill you afterwards.

Before you can even attempt to put your plan into action, the bedroom door creaks open. “Shit,” you hear Stu mutter under his breath. Both you and him turn together, and in walks Billy, sauntering as he usually does.

He pauses and raises an eyebrow as he surveys the position you and Stu are in.

“Did I interrupt something?” Billy smirks, his eyes going dark. You look up through your eyelashes at Stu, who presses you closer to him, as if warning you not to signal for help. He shakes his head at Billy.

“She knows, man.”

Your body goes completely rigid in Stu’s grip. A chill runs down your spine.

Billy was involved in this Ghostface shit too? Well, that actually surprised you less than Stu. Billy was kind of a horror junkie in secret, even rivaling Randy, and he always had this strange look in his eye whenever he thought no one was looking.

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Oh?”

The tone in his voice is sinister, much different than what you’ve heard from him before.

He strides over, pulling out a knife from his pocket and holding it out towards you.

You shriek, but it comes out all muffled. You try to tilt your head away from where Billy points the knife to your chin, but Stu keeps his hand solid, forcing your head forward.

He clicks his tongue at you, teasing you for your failed attempts to escape.

“I really didn’t want to kill you now, sweetheart, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to fall. You still helplessly struggle against Stu’s grip, choking back sobs. You so desperately want Stu to release his hand, want to beg the two of them to keep you alive. You’re two seconds away from sounding like you belong in a bad porno that the boys rent from the video store where the woman says please! I’ll do anything!

But you don’t need to do any of that. Because before Billy starts slicing and dicing and stabbing at you. He backs away and looks Stu up and down. He then barks out a laugh.

“What, did chasing her around get you all stiff?”

Stu grins cheekily and grinds his erection up against your butt. You let out a surprised moan under his palm, grabbing onto his forearm. “You know I’ve always wanted to fuck her, man.”

Billy eyes shift between you and Stu, before pausing on you. A smirk slowly grows across his features until it morphs into a toothy grin. You can see the way his cock begins to twitch in his jeans and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“I’m not going to let you fuck her alone tonight.”

As if Stu was waiting this whole time for Billy’s approval, the hand that was restricting your mouth moves off and down to his jeans. Before you can even think about opening your mouth, Billy brings the knife back up your face, right under your chin forcing you to keep your mouth closed and head tilted up to meet his eyes.

“If you say a word I’ll cut your throat open and stick my cock in it.” He imitates the motion of slicing the knife across your throat.

You swallow harshly and can’t control the way you tremble under Stu’s hold. But the depraved part of you has your core throbbing, at the carnal lust that fills his eyes, so desperately wanting them both to get to fucking you sooner rather than later.

Scoffing in his face, you try your best to put up a calm front. “Are you guys all bark and no bite? All I hear is talking but no action.”

“Oh you’ll be getting action soon, baby.” You can feel Stu’s erect cock rubbing against your backside and the way that his arousal stains your shirt. His hand holds it at the base as he guides it between your legs, slowly fucking you between your thighs. You look down to see the bulging red tip of his cock leaking beads of precum as it penetrates the plush skin of your legs with every thrust.

Billy takes his knife and slices your skirt right down the middle, the two pieces falling to shreds at your feet.

“Yeah, there it is!” Stu yells as his long fingers poke and prod at your pussy through your underwear until it soaks the fabric through. “All nice and wet for us now.”

He moves the material to the side of your puffy lips and without so much as a warning sticks his cock right inside.

“Oh fuck,” you moan out as quietly as you can with the intense pleasure. It slides in easily with how wet you’ve gotten over the past couple of minutes. You arch your back into Stu as his long cock bullies its way inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Stu begins thrusting immediately, the sounds of your skin slapping together being the loudest thing in the room.

“Such a dirty little slut,” Stu’s voice teases, laughter evident in his tone. His arm around your waist holds you up as he pounds into you at lightning speed, bouncing you up and down his cock. Your feet lift off the ground ever-so-slightly as he pulls you up. “But I guess I’m kind of a slut to. Always wanted to fuck you like this.”

Through your lust-filled haze, you can see Billy stroking himself through his boxers, jeans already unzipped and pulled down. He stares at both you and Stu and where the two of you connect.

“You gonna join man?” Stu lifts you up under your thighs. The action lifts your feet up in the air and exposes your pussy directly in Billy’s line of view. Stu pulls his cock out enough so just the head remains inside, and starts fingering around your lips.

You gasp at the sensation, your arms gripping his own and your walls clenching down desperately onto him. Stu’s fingers make a v shape and pull your lips open wide. “There’s plenty of room for you in here.”

“N-no!” You sob out, clawing at Stu and kicking your legs. The implication is not subtle at all, and the fear has you clenching even tighter onto him. There was no way that you could fit both of them in your pussy. Stu’s cock is already thick and fills you completely; you don’t think you could take another one without breaking.

Billy continues to palm himself above his underwear, the head of his cock poking out from the elastic band. “Fuck yeah, now your speaking my language!”

“No! Billy!” You shake your head wildly, tears threatening to fall from your swollen eyes. “Stop! It won’t fit!”

He rolls his eyes and takes his hard cock out of his boxers, pumping it with a few solid strokes. “Stop complaining.”

“He’ll make it fit,” Stu giggles from behind you.

A strangled sound leaves your lips, a mix between a choke and a sob. You’re powerless in Stu’s hold as he moves your limbs every which way he pleases. He never lets up in his thrusts, his stamina completely insatiable, and it doesn’t feel like he’s stopping any time soon.

You have no choice but to lay helpless as Billy guides his cock into your wet hole, pushing against Stu’s. The stretch from the two of their massive lengths is painful, and you bite the outside of your hand as an attempt to soften your cries.

“Fuck,” Billy moans, slotting himself fully inside of you. His eyes squeeze shut and his head is thrown back in pleasure. Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself.

Your eyes roll back as you start moaning audibly, his cock stuffing you full alongside Stu’s.

“None of that.” Billy slaps a hand over your mouth and digs his fingers into your cheek. “If any one of those sleazebags outside hears those moans I’ll have to kill them and fuck you over their dead body.”

His voice is deep, gravely, and completely serious—you believe him in his entirety. You nod rapidly under his hold. You don’t want the death of anyone to be on your hands, no matter how annoying they are.

“Good. Now stay quiet.”

Billy and Stu take turns fucking themselves up into you. They give you any chance for a break, when one pulls their length almost completely out, the other shoves it in. They take turns pounding themselves into you. Your walls clench hard around them, being stretched to the brim. It takes all your power not to cry out from the pain and pleasure, but the fear from Billy’s unpredictably overpowers all other emotions.

Billy seems to be caught up in the haze of his own arousal, fingers digging in the skin of your hips as he thrusts his cock in and out of you rhythmically. He groans. “Forgot what it’s like to fuck a tight, wet hole. Sidney still hasn’t put out yet.”

Your body instantly freezes at Billy’s words. In the midst of all the chaos that involved finding out that two of your friends were active serial killers, both of them have been wanting to fuck you, and both of them actually proceeding to fuck you, you were ashamed to admit that you completely forgot about your the rest of your friends downstairs. Sidney and Tatum, two of your closest friends, were partying just below you and were blissfully unaware that you were in fact not resting from the partying, but instead getting your hole absolutely destroyed by their boyfriends just a couple hundred feet away.

The reality of your situation comes back to you and the dread starts to sink in. Instinctively, you begin thrashing your body all around, causing as much commotion as you can. Your nails end up scratching Stu on his arm. “Ow!” he whines out, but it’s a cross between a whimper and a turned on moan. He bites your neck in retaliation. “I like ‘em feisty, you know. Really gets my dick goin’.”

Billy, on the other hand, doesn’t take your failed act of defiance so lightly. His hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks as he pulls your face close to him, not letting up with the pistoning of his hips.

“Not. A. Word.” Every syllable is spoken individually, heavily gritted out through clenched teeth. At that moment, an array of muffled voices is heard right outside the bedroom door. Billy and you turn to the source of the noise at the same time. Billy turns back to you first. “You know what happens if they walk in,” he trails off darkly, and out of the corner of your eye you can see the glint of his knife as it rests on the side table, within an arm's reach from him. If he wanted to, he could easily slip himself out of you and kill the unsuspecting partygoers within mere seconds.

He buries himself back inside of you as you say that, the two of their cocks fighting for their spots inside of your restrictive walls. Billy and Stu moan in unison at the feeling, both of you gripping onto them and the way they feel pressed up against each other.

As hopeless as your situation may seem in the end, you try to make due with what you have and not let the guilt consume you. There’s nothing you can do about it now unless you want multiple people to wind up dead. It’s fairly easy to erase your mind of anything other than the two guys currently surrounding you, whose relentless thrusts make your vision go white and limbs go numb.

Stu attaches himself onto your neck, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys that’ll last for days. You lean your head back into him, giving him more access to the area. His long tongue licks all around the area, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth eventually makes its way up to your own and Stu covers it, kissing you with great fervor. His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling it around with your own tongue. The kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, but it feels perfectly like him. It’s intimate as he massages your tongue and brings his hand up to cup your jaw. In that single moment, you can pretend like your new revelation didn’t exist and that this is just a sensual moment between you and your friend, who’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

But that’s not the case, as Billy brings you back to reality once again. He spanks your ass which has you gasping into Stu’s mouth and your eyes opening wide.

Spit dribbles out the side of your mouth as Stu finally lets up, moaning into your jaw. He gives your neck a big kiss before sucking another hickey into it. “I can be romantic sometimes,” he whispers teasingly into your ear, causing you to shiver.

Billy and Stu pound into you, even harder than before if possible, their hips snapping up against your body.

You know that your orgasm is fast approaching, the various simulations making you feel desperate for a release.

“Please, please, please, please,” your voice is hoarse as you whisper out in a breathy tone to keep as quiet as possible.

“Yeah? You want our cum inside of you?” Billy coaxes you, but you can tell that he’s just as close to reaching his peak as you are given the uneven rhythm of his ruts, pushing slightly against the pattern he had set with Stu.

You nod your head as much as you can, your vision going blurry with the speed you move it. You can feel Billy’s cock throb furiously in you and it's enough to make you reach your own orgasm before him, clapping a hand over your mouth as to not alert your presence to anyone outside.

Billy’s orgasm follows your own soon after, with a strangled moan leaving his lips as his hot cum releases all inside you. The mix of your two juices allows for easier movement within your walls, and after he’s done climaxing Billy slides out of you with ease.

But Stu is nowhere near stopping.

With the result of your’s and Billy’s releases aiding him, Stu ruts himself even further into you. He manhandles you so that instead of your previous position of being twisted in the air as Stu stands behind you, he throws you down on top of the bed and climbs on top of you, humping into you from behind with a newfound vigor.

“Finally get you to myself for a bit,” Stu grits out of his teeth as his hips piston at an immeasurable speed.

You can’t speak at this point, completely cockdrunk from the brunt of the thrusts you’re taking. Stu’s broad body completely engulfs your form as he pounds you into the bedsheets. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, only low whimpers and droll being produced from it.

You can hear the squelching of your pussy, the result of Billy’s cum and your juices, as Stu pounds his cock as far as it reaches. You can feel the release escape the sides of your pussy lips with the brunt of Stu’s thrusts and you can’t help but whine softly as some of the warmth and fullness from the cum leaves your body.

Stu’s hand runs through your hair until he grabs it at the base. He pushes your head down completely into the bed, using much more pressure than what was needed. The force of it causes your ass to arch further into him as he presses his front fully against your back, curving his form as if morphing to the shape of your hunched and fucked out form.

“Now that’s a nice view,” he groans out, one hand at the root of your hair and the other pawing at your ass.

Animalistic grunts leave Stu’s mouth and you can feel as he reaches the cusp of his orgasm. Curses leave his lips as he finally cums, pushing himself inside you as deep as he can and hitting parts never reached before. You can feel the jets of his hot release inside of you as it comes out in huge, thick spurts.

When Stu finally leaves your walls, the mix of all three of your orgasms comes flowing out, making you moan at the loss of the fullness from all three of you.

“C’mon now, push it all outta you,” Billy’s voice calls out from across the room, speaking up from his previous silent observer role as he recovered from his own peak.

You obey, squeezing as much as you can with your weak body. You can feel globs of cum escape your entrance, cooling as it runs down your thighs and onto the sheets below you.

You flinch as you feel Stu’s fingers scoop some out of you, and the smacking of his lips indicates he tasted it. You moan, only able to picture what the scene looks like.

“Oh? You want some?” Stu’s fingers hastily appear in front of you. The fingers from his other hand pull your mouth open and he shoves the cum covered ones inside, making you gag instantly. He rams them in and out of your mouth, barely giving you any time to properly suck on the cum. Flecks of the fluid fly out of your mouth along with your own saliva. Tears fall without a warning, your gag reflex working overtime.

Stu’s fingers fuck your mouth until all of the cum is virtually gone from them. When he finally pulls them out, your body completely collapses. It trembles furiously from all the overstimulation, unable to hold itself up.

Stu gives you a big wet kiss on your cheek and slaps his now-limp cock onto your bare ass. You can only whimper in response, your body too heavy to move any part of it right now. Your vision is blurry, but through it you manage to make out Billy, with his sweaty complexion and rumpled clothes back on his body, talking down to you.

“You stay put until we can get everyone to piss off. We’ll be back for round two.”

#ghostface #ghostface x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader

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maladaptiveobsession · 1 year ago

Note

What if charlie found a soul that came to the hotel but had already sold part of their soul to some other overlord and this time sue actually fights the overlord and gets your soul back... But why would she give it back to you its safe with her anyway

“safe and sound”

yandere charlie x reader

contains: gn reader, obsessiveness, manipulation, brief implication of violence, brief mention of abuse/exploitation, charlie is slightly disturbed

word count: 867

a/n: i actually cackled when i saw this prompt. hope this is to your liking!

Your arrival at the hotel sparked great interest and intrigue for all the guests. Charlie was noticeably invested in your growth. Such unwavering support would have been alarming in any other context, but Charlie was well known for her compassion and commitment. You happily disregarded all concerns, taking her dedication as a testament to her caring nature. Above all, you felt grateful to have captured the attention of such a well-known figure in hell.

Charlie was most thrilled to have another guest, especially one who showed such promise. She took every opportunity to share her excitement, showering you in praise every step of the way. You were doing so well, after all! It was clear to all just how significant an impact you were making, not just to Charlie but to the entirety of the hotel’s occupants. Her unwavering enthusiasm and support were a constant source of motivation, fueling your determination.

It was evident to all who knew Charlie just how fond she had grown of you during your stay. The bond you’d built had become a dependency in a world filled with uncertainty and fear. As your redemption neared—so close you could almost taste it—something dark and heavy twisted in Charlie’s gut. The growing unease forced her to confront the harsh reality of eventually losing you. Disturbing thoughts clawed at her mind relentlessly, and guilt gnawed at her conscious. What was happening to her?

How could she claim to care for you yet still entertain the idea of sabotaging your progress? She grappled with the conflicting emotions. If you love someone, shouldn’t you let them go? Yet the thought of losing you made her heart heavy with ache, perhaps more so than the betrayal you’d ultimately feel.

With each passing day, her longing for you grew. You consumed her every thought, driving her to the point of desperation. She yearned for the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch, and the comfort of your presence. Each moment without you became unbearable, leaving her feeling incomplete and adrift—lost in a sea of uncertainty and longing. The separation felt like a cruel and unbearable punishment. She had an insatiable hunger for your love and affection; her yearning for you only continued to escalate, a deep and unrelenting ache that threatened to consume you both whole.

Alastor, ever the silent menace, observed Charlie’s growing obsession with great delight. Who knew Charlie had such darkness under that joyful exterior? Such lovely entertainment you were turning out to be! He supposed she just needed a push to take initiative. Alastor was more than happy to provide that push.

How curiously she responded when informed of your well-hidden ordeal—your soul entangled with another overlord. He marveled at the unraveling emotions—the depth inconceivable—as she realized the extent of your suffering and how you endured abuse and exploitation with minimal complaint. The devastation and disbelief ignited a fire neither knew could burn so bright, quickly replacing those overwhelming feelings with chilling rage.

You’d been suffering this whole time in silence! Could she have been any more blind?

She’d refrained from using the power she wielded and had always disliked issuing commands, but now the desire to make your abuser pay consumed her. Alastor was more than happy to assist; the unfolding entertainment was more than satisfactory as payment.

The transfer of your contract was a simple ordeal, with the promise of sparing your abuser from her wrath. Of course, she happily neglected to mention Alastor in her deal. Whatever agony he had planned was beyond her control. The dark satisfaction she felt as she listened to their screams sent a tight grin to her lips. The sight sent a shiver down Alastor's spine and momentarily unsettled his demeanor. He wondered just how deeply that obsession was rooted and how far she might go to protect you. How entertaining indeed!

She hadn’t anticipated that once she had your soul securely in her possession, those sinister cravings would intensify.

Won’t you let her hold onto it for just a little while longer? It’s only until you’re redeemed, okay? There’s no safer place than by her side! No one would be able to take advantage of you again. She could protect you and treat you well! You trust her, don’t you?

Charlie had always believed in sacrificing her own happiness for the ones she loved, but now she couldn't help but entertain that selfish desire to keep you close. Together, you can build your own paradise—heaven in hell. She can offer you the same solace and peace you so crave. And in her passionate plea, she hopes you might come to understand the depths of her affections and the lengths she would go to protect you. Especially if protecting you means never letting you go.

She may have been hesitant of her creeping darkness at first, but has come to embrace it. She’s convinced herself she’s only doing what is best for you. Though she’s delusional, her affections are genuine. You’ll come to find comfort in her obsession; you lost that choice the moment you stepped into the hotel.

Make yourself comfortable; you’ll be a guest at the hotel for all of your enteral afterlife.

#yandere charlie x reader #yandere charlie #charlie x reader #charlie morningstar #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: manipulation #gn reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel #image description in alt #described #mal.mine

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maladaptiveobsession · 1 year ago

Text

Green

F!Reader X Strade

Really original name for this one, major kudos to me for that one. B)

Here’s another little Strade thing. I remember reading somewhere on Gato’s blog that his fav color is green so this was born from that. I honestly may have made that up in my head though so if I did just pretend it’s true. :)

Anyway, it’s just another little ficlet while I work on some little stuff. I hope you all enjoy and thank you, as always, for reading. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

THIS IS 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Warnings: Mentions of noncon, torture, abuse, (briefly) suicide, and imprisonment.

Green was your favorite color.

You can’t really remember what originally attracted you to it, whether it was that you genuinely enjoyed the shade or if you were just trying to be cool and not pick a color that was overly ‘girly’. But after years of placing it on a pedestal, dubbing it your favorite amongst all other colors, your affection for it had remained solid.

Whenever you bought an item, whether it was something little or an object that was pricier, you always checked to see if it came in green. The walls of your childhood bedroom were coated in the color, and when you moved out on your own and were in charge of your own interior decorating, green was what you chose to paint most of the rooms. You adorned yourself in it, green being the prominent color in your wardrobe and jewelry collection. Sweaters, dresses, pants- at least one of each came in green. Even a vast array of your makeup was dedicated to the color, matching perfectly with whatever outfit you donned yourself in should you feel the urge to get a little more gussied up.

And on the night you met Strade green was one of the first things you talked about.

After he introduced himself you complimented his shirt. Or at least that’s how you remember it, the night itself had become a bit of a blur. You were shy by nature and not used to people ambling up to you for conversation, let alone at a bar (someplace you only went because you were meeting up with friends and just happened to arrive the earliest). You awkwardly tripped over your words, flustered by the man who had welcomed himself so easily into your space, taking the seat across from you so naturally it was as if he was the friend you had been waiting for.

After a preliminary exchanging of greetings and light pleasantries, an uncomfortable silence lingered between the two of you. He seemed perfectly content just being in your presence, sipping his beer with a twinkle in his eye as he watched you fidget and squirm through the forced interaction. You must have checked your phone at least a hundred times in hopes of an update, grimacing when one finally arrived in the form of a text stating your friends were stuck in traffic and probably wouldn’t be at the bar for at least another thirty minutes.

Your new companion’s unwavering stare coupled with the suffocating and boisterous atmosphere of the bar was starting to do a number on you. You contemplated hiding in the bathroom, but you weren’t too keen on sitting in a dimly lit, poorly maintained stall for a half hour while you waited on your friends. And if you dipped in there for a little bit just to find some reprieve, you’d still be facing the same situation when you came back out.

So mustering your courage, you decided to try and take some initiative in an attempt to make things a little less awkward.

“Um, I like your shirt,” you spoke just loud enough that he could hear you over the noise of the other patrons. Though you were overcome with nerves, you figured it best to lead a conversation with a compliment. Who doesn’t like to receive praise, even for something as trivial as a garment? “It’s a nice color, green is my favorite.”

Instant embarrassment caused your cheeks to flush. The words sounded a lot less childish in your head, and you chided yourself over how silly it sounded as soon as they left your lips. What kind of adult starts a conversation at a bar by talking about their favorite color? What were you, five?

But he laughed warmly, genuinely pleased by your comment, dispelling all feelings of bashfulness. At the time you liked the way his laugh sounded, warm and inviting as it fooled you into thinking that maybe he actually could become your friend.

“Thanks, and good choice,” he shot you a lopsided smile, raising his half-full mug to you. “Green’s my favorite, too.”

It was funny in a tragic sort of way, how something that you used to enjoy so much now just filled you with cold, deep, dread.

Now you could only associate green with pain. Green reminded you of his arms, constricting and choking you, squeezing you within an inch of your life as he dragged you away from the last semblance of normalcy you’d ever experience. Green reminded you of his chest, smothering you, muffling your screams as he tested out his newest weapon on you- the green handle of his knife getting stained with red splatters, your blood coating it as he carved into you with reckless abandon.

Green reminded you of the carpet in his bedroom, where he would hold you down after he finished brutalizing some poor soul in his basement, still high off his kill as he fucked you long and hard, getting off to your cries of pain as he spilled himself deep inside of you. Green reminded you of the bedsheets you would snatch off his bed, cocooning them around your body for a false sense of security, creating a flimsy shield against the rest of the world. Every night when you fell asleep nestled inside of them, Strade not far from your side, you wondered if one day he may use them to strangle you. You wondered if maybe that would be for the best, if you just never woke up again.

Green used to be yours, a color that loved ones and friends used to associate with you. A color you used to look at and see yourself in. A color that used to bring you joy.

Now all it reminded you of was Strade and just how much of yourself you had lost to him.

#btd #strade x reader

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maladaptiveobsession · 1 year ago

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Hiii! May I request something for Kazan Yamaoka?

During a match at the Yamaoka Estate where Kazan sees from a distance survivor reader is gonna go to a gen that's in one of the houses but she catches herself before she steps inside. She takes her shoes off and leaves them at the door before going to the gen. Despite it being a realm different from the real world she still respects Japanese culture. And she does this every time she goes through any houses in his realm.

Idk I'm just curious how Kazan would react to this since none of the other survivors or killers (besides him maybe) respect this. But if not that's totally ok!

omg, I can't explain how much I love this request! I know it took me ages but I'm here! I'm looking to write more on Kazan because there's hardly anything on him.

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warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, life-threatening situations, swearing, i hate editing so obviously it's not edited but i'll probably go over it one day

trope summary: fluff, slow-burn

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You were the last one left. Did you know that?

It had never crossed your mind--- so no, you didn't. You had learned long ago not to care about those types of things when you were facing killers like The Oni. He was a devourer. Your teammates never stood a chance to begin with.

But you didn't know that.

The first time The Entity threw you into The Oni's world, you took off running. That's what your other teammates did, anyway. There had been a collective groan when the fog cleared and you all came to terms with where you were--- then a grim caress of fear that seemed to possess all of you. The sight of your teammates so flighty had struck you the wrong way and you weren't going to go about asking questions about it.

The primal roar in the distance said all that you needed to know.

What was this place, anyway?

It was like you'd time-travelled to Edo-era Japan. It was beautiful and antique and you'd never seen anything quite like it. But you'd always wanted to travel to Japan.

The Entity took that chance away from you.

You found yourself reminiscing over all those lost opportunities. You were never going to get them back. You should've gone even when you were sure you were going to be dirt poor afterwards. You should have taken the chance and travelled everywhere as soon as you got the money for it. You didn't even know what you were saving for. Everyone else was doing it, so you supposed you were supposed to as well. But what was the point of having so much money if you couldn't even use it to buy the things that would make you happy?

If you could go back, you would leap at the chance to travel somewhere here. But you supposed that 'here' wouldn't really exist in the real world. Not like this. Not at the peak of it's grandeur.

Ha! The irony.

Could you even call this a privilege when you were only here to die?

You heard Kate cry out in the distance. You flinched; you needed to wake up. Work on some gens. You were still running aimlessly, trying to get away---

Kate had just died, and here you were.

Admiring the scenery.

Idiot.

You'd always been little airy-fairy. Not quite there, sometimes too much in the moment, sometimes a little too far off. It meant you had a lot of delayed reactions, such as now.

Right now, you needed to be thinking of how to stay alive and keep your teammates that way, too.

So you headed for the house, running faster than ever. The doors were open and you could already see the gen.

"Quick," you muttered to yourself.

Before he catches up to you.

You hadn't seen The Oni, but you'd heard stories about him. Gruesome stories of his brutal, unforgiving nature, his mistaken dignity and honour. A true warrior who had been corrupted by his blood thirst.

You wondered how a samurai of all things learned such villainy. Weren't they all about honour? That's what you'd read in your books, at least. Now you weren't so sure.

Before entering the house with the gen in sight, you paused. You know you shouldn't of. You know that he was the last person in this hellish world deserving of respect when he was literally out killing all of you, but---

But this was different.

"It's the bare minimum," you reassured yourself. It helped comfort your warring fear that you were crazy. That you were empathising with a killer.

You took off your shoes and aligned them neatly outside before heading in and working the gen.

Too easy.

It was all too easy. Sometimes so much so that it got boring very quickly--- the same chase, the same screams, the same mindless fury that Entity infused him with. It wasn't as though he cared about the survivors in any way. He couldn't care less if they had families, let alone worth it personalities. But there was no more motive behind the kills. No more drive.

It was the ultimate disgrace to his honour---

But if Kazan admitted that, what would the Entity do?

It would be an insult. It would risk his life and extended existence, and there was so much he hadn't done yet. So much he was already doing that he had vowed to finish. One day the Entity would release him and he would resume his life and old purpose. Or maybe he would start all over again and honour his father better.

That was his secret hope.

You were the last survivor. He hadn't met you yet. Hadn't even heard of you, but he knew that you weren't fresh of the boat if you had eluded him so easily. You must have heard things or been smart to ask if it meant that it was your first instinct to run.

"Shoes...?" He muttered to himself.

He could hear you working on the gen. You were so diligent. So focused.

So naive--- how had you not heard him?

Well, Kazan had been taking his time with you. He didn't attempt to be quiet often. The kills were usually so quick that it didn't even matter. He was fast and they were prey and he would consume them before they even knew they were food.

But that was a thought for another day, because---

Because---

You had put your shoes outside. You had set them up neatly. It was a custom he had almost forgotten about and learned not to apply to the survivors. He never bothered to hold it against them, either. In this game of life and death, customary traditions were the last of any of their worries, even his.

And yet you had remembered.

Something dead twitched in his cold, hollow heart. It was small, but so significant that it barrelled into him--- a short breath escaped him in a husky puff.

Warmth.

He was feeling... warmth.

He looked up from your shoes. He watched you gently, the hardness receding from his gaze for that moment alone--- he observed your fixated frown, the nimble work of your fingers, the way you were still too absorbed to notice him...

Kill.

The Entity's voice startled him, even if it didn't show. It had been a while since she had spoke to him at all, and it was only at the start when he'd been summoned to this cruel arena of death.

Her voice was sharp. Cutting.

A warning.

Kill.

Was this all they were meant to do? To kill and consume, to die and be reborn, only for the cycle to continue until the end of eternity?

Could he really kill you now?

He would never admit it. Not allowed, unless he wanted to die. But the Entity's voice, it had disgusted him. It probably knew that. Somehow, even a fraction of his hesitance had amounted into something significant enough for the Entity to speak--- it knew all.

It knew he wanted to spare you, just for this small gesture.

But it knew he wouldn't.

Kazan killed you in cold blood.

He thought about you long after.

The Oni was said to roar when he killed. It was loud and brutal and everyone knew about it--- you became a sacrifice in his hands, and you died with honour.

Did he hate you?

Why had he killed you so silently?

One moment you had been working on the gen. The next you were dead. All you saw was a flash of a grotesque mask. It was drenched in blood but you were still able to make out the curving and elongated features of it, the bright red eyes that shone through and burned through your soul. You hadn't even had time to scream. To feel scared. He had grabbed you and killed you from behind and all you'd seen was the blur that the last seconds of living had afforded you--- in that way, you felt betrayed.

Had you insulted him by doing what you had thought would appease him?

You hadn't even intended to win his favour. That gesture had been out of respect for his culture. It had been more for you than anything.

Did he think you were shitting on his culture instead? What the fuck?

You were more angry about it than you had right to be. Jake was out doing his alone-time things in the woods when you bumped into him, kicking twigs and punching trees.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," you grumbled. Jake didn't believe you, and you were terrible at hiding things. You sighed. "I hate killers! I hate them! What the fuck!"

Jake's usually impassive face betrayed the hint of a smile. "I know."

"Why are they such heartless pains in the ass?"

"They're built that way."

"Were they not people, once upon a time?"

"Hardly." Jake shrugged. He tried to end the conversation there, but you kept following him around and eventually he was forced to sit when you clung to his sleeve. "They have inhuman backstories. So I've heard."

"And what's The Oni's?"

Jake snorted. "He's bothering you?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

"He's not worth a backstory," Jake said. "Trust me. He's purely in it for the kill."

Somehow, that made you angrier.

You clung to Jake's sleeve harder when he tried to stand, and he looked at you, slightly irritated.

"Can I go now?"

"No," you said flatly.

"What do you want?"

You stopped. He sighed.

You let go of his sleeve and sat there, fighting tears. They fell anyway.

Kazan didn't understand you.

You didn't understand Kazan.

You kept unintentionally respecting him, and he kept killing you. he didn't really know how to react, actually. You were too...

Too-

Too kind.

He caught himself stalking you outside of trials. He covered it up by banging on the boundary that separated the killers from the victims and acting like he was trying to come after you. At first you were scared. He regretted scaring you.

Kazan did it again and again anyway. It had been a while since he'd felt anything. The more trials he had with you, the more things he was left to grapple with. He hated it.

He yearned for it.

So he kept seeking you out.

You were kind. A bit stupid--- how could you not see how the other survivors abused your purpose and skillset? Or did you know? Why did you let it happen if you knew?

You seemed to like the other survivors, though. He couldn't understand why.

He quickly learned that you were sentimental. Ah. That made sense. No wonder you bothered with things such as cultural customs.

Sentimental was not good. It meant emotional.

To be emotional in a place like this was to kill yourself over and over, and everyone knew it. It had established the natural order of kill or be killed. Survive or die. And yet you were there, uprooting it.

No wonder everyone borderline disliked you. You showed too much interest in doing more, being more. Connecting.

How long had it been since he'd connected?

He supposed he had Rin. His descendant. But that was a bit different, wasn't it?

"What the fuck is your problem?" You'd yelled out once. You'd startled him by coming right up to the boundary and screaming in his face--- he'd stopped trying to break it just to let you speak. "What the fuck do you want? Why do you want to kill me so bad? Are you okay? Are you good?" You paused to take a breath. You were panting, hot in the cheeks, sweat beginning to bead in your hairline. "Are you fucking okay?"

He should have been angry. Who gave you the right to talk to him in such a way?

Who?

Who gave you a right to make him feel like this?

Feel anything?

And who the fuck gave you the right to make him feel bad of all things when he caught you crying?

He wouldn't have seen them if you hadn't turned your head that slightest angle, the sun hitting the thing glaze of your tears. They were shining.

You seemed to realise you were about to fall apart the same time he did and retreated. Why were you embarrassed?

Why was he contradicting himself?

Kazan watched you run away into the woods. He growled when he saw that black haired one who often pretended to ignore you sigh to himself and then run after you.

He shouldn't have stalked the both of you as far as the barrier allowed him to. Shouldn't have hid when he heard you sobbing out loud, shouldn't have stayed hidden when that stupid survivor took you into his arms--- pretending to hate it--- and let you cry there as he battled with his red cheeks.

The next time he had a trial with Jake Park, he brutalised him again and again.

Jake didn't know why, of course. And would The Oni ever tell him?

No.

Because how would he even begin to explain what he was feeling when he didn't even know himself?

You'd had enough.

The Oni had made you his obsession over and over, saving you for last. It had made his kills twice as brutal and twice as painful because know you were always ready for them.

And recently he'd been coming on to you with a vengeance, like you'd done something wrong.

You were going to sort this out for once and for all. Somewhere along the way it had become incredibly personal and this undiscovered connection and had become intimate, even if it was mostly comprised of him killing you for more than just that, killing you. Somehow that alone made it all the more emotional, all the more addictive.

You couldn't run away; there was nowhere to go.

So the next time you had a chance, you went to his realm on your own. You hunted him down and yelled in his face--- he hadn't expected you, clearly.

He had been meditating in his temple and suddenly you had come flying out of nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" You shouted. "Why do you keep doing this? I don't get it. What have I done to hurt you so personally?"

The Oni scrambled--- ungracefully-- to his feet and stood up.

"Are you seriously going to kill me again?" you wailed. "Outside of a trial of all things? I just came to talk! Because you're a bully! A mean fucking bully!"

The Oni hesitated, his hand uncurling from his katana.

"I hate you!" You yelled.

He said nothing. Of course he did.

Now you just felt embarrassed.

"I hope I never get put in a trial with you ever again!"

That prompted the Oni to take a step closer to you. You were already walking away, though, and was surprised to find the Oni close behind, trailing at a modest distance away. You walked faster. So did he.

You walked slower.

So did he.

"Go away," you mumbled, shoving your feet back into your shoes. "You make me so mad. I don't know what I've done to piss you ff this much, but I hope it's worth it!"

The Oni kept following you.

It was quickly becoming aggravating. You stopped and turned around, probably to yell at him, but seeing him just standing there made you too mad for words and you turned back around to walk. You stomped your foot and screamed at the sky.

You hated this.

It made no sense.

You jumped at the feeling of a hand curling around yours. It was big and meaty and riddled with scars and veins. It was a human hand. The Oni's hand.

And he was touching you gently, like you could break at any moment.

Like he was sorry.

But Kazan would never say it.

"...Stay," he said.

You gawked. You hadn't even realised he could talk. You'd been sure his only language was punching and letting out battle cries. Still, over the revelation, you glared at him. "Are you crazy? What if you kill me?"

"I won't."

He held your hand slightly tighter. Was that a threat?

You pulled away your hand to test it; he didn't try squeeze it harder.

Not a threat.

"Um..."

Oh.

What did you do now?

You hadn't expected this.

"Stay," he said again.

"Why?"

"For tea."

You felt like laughing. Was he serious? Was he actually genuine? For tea? He wanted you to stay for tea? Huh? What? Why-

"Yes," you said. "Okay."

You were staying for tea.

The Oni was... Not what you expected. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was choked and gruff like he wasn't used to talking. And maybe he wasn't.

You were skeptical the whole time, but not once did he move to hurt you. He didn't even poison the tea that he made--- hand ground and the water boiled over a fire. He showed you his every move with distinct slowness like he knew you were watching.

"Does it ever get lonely here?" You found yourself blurting. "All alone. I mean, I heard you're related to Rin. Is that true?"

All you got was a nod. You weren't sure whether that was to the first or the second question, but you ran with it.

"Do you often make tea?"

He shook his head.

"Am I annoying you?"

The Oni looked at you again--- this time sharply, and you tensed and held your breath. You weren't expect the flash of deadpan attitude in his eyes when he sighed and turned away.

"So... I'm not?"

"Drink your tea," he said.

You did.

You should have never come back.

But the tea...

The tea was good.

Yeah, the tea.

So... Kazan may like you more than he thought.

It wasn't intentional; it had just happened. You kept coming for tea, he kept listening to you babble, and he started to crave your company the second you left. You had managed to fill a gap in his chest that he hadn't even realised had been vacant to begin with.

You were just so beautiful.

It had caught him by surprise. One day you came to his realm, took off your shoes and waited for him to pour you a cup of tea and it had struck him that you were the most stunning thing to exist in all his millennia of living, and could spend a millenia more of just admiring you if you allowed. But you never did.

You always thought something was wrong when he stared at you for too long. Always took it as your cue to leave.

Kazan regretted killing you over and over again.

Maybe if he didn't, you'd be more willing to trust him again.

"Yamaoka Kazan," he said one afternoon. It had slipped out. You were in the middle of talking and then he'd just said it.

"Pardon?"

"My name."

"Oh, well if I'm right, you introduced yourself with your last name first. Out of respect, should I call you Mr Yamaoka?"

That alone sent a shudder down his spine. Kazan barely managed to hide it. The only thing stopping him was his need for you to say it again, say it more intimately. Say it like you meant it. And not his last name.

"No," he said.

You were past that. You deserved more. Deserved everything.

But selfishly, he wanted something from you first.

Hesitantly, you tried his name in your mouth. "... Kazan?"

Kazan.

Suddenly he was just a man, not a killer. A man who had lived and breathed and felt things, and now he felt them for you.

"Well, if we're on that level, my name is Y/n."

"Y/n."

You looked away from him, and he smirked beneath his mask.

It seemed he affected you just as much.

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I swear to the universe the only thing i could think of with 'you were staying for tea' was that meme from mulan like 'would you like to stay for dinner' and then the grandma yelling out 'would you like to stay forever' but it's rin

I wanna write a pt. 2 for this but would you be interested in that?

As always, please reblog!

#kazan yamaoka #kazan yamaoka x reader #dbd

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