#tw implied somnophilia

[merakiui]

Weird stepbrother Azul?? 👀 PLEASE Mera, I’m a shameless degenerate and I’m starving here!!!! 🤲

Your food is served, dearest anon!!

(cw: yandere, brief nsfw/somnophilia, implied non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, one-sided infatuation (azul's just really weird and gross), obsession, stepcest)

When Azul’s mother marries your father, you become Azul’s step-sibling. He’s never had a sibling before, so this is entirely new territory for him. It’s…strange. The atmosphere is far more lively with two new additions to the family. Suddenly it’s no longer him and his mother. Now he has another parent and a sibling. It’s so strange. He startles when he runs into you in the hall or when you appear at the restaurant looking to help his mother out or learn more about the business. At first he’s very suspicious; he doesn’t trust you. You’re too bubbly and sweet. You’re too nice to him and he’s not accustomed to genuine kindness. He expects you to ridicule him because everyone at school thinks he’s a weird, crybaby octo-mer, but you don’t seem bothered by the fact that he doesn’t have a shiny tail like you.

Because of this, Azul becomes attached. And through childhood you are his closest friend (until he meets the twins). The two of you are always there for each other. You protect him and chase bullies away. Azul uses his business acumen to craft contracts for his classmates that get him abilities, magic, and little trinkets or jewelry (the latter of which he hides away in preparation of gifts for you). His mother is so pleased he’s getting along well with you, but then of course he would! You’re the light in his life, the one good thing to come out of the marriage.

Mers in your class note that Azul is a little too clingy. He’s always with you, and if he isn’t then he’s not too far away. When it was first discovered that Azul has a sibling, he was thrust into the limelight for all of a day or two—however long such excitement can last in a class of young mers, where nearly everything and anything is considered exciting. They never bullied you, but they did swim up to you and ask all manner of questions: Is it true he inks when he cries? Is it true he hides in that gloomy pot? Is it true he’s going to marry you once he’s older? You denied all of them, offended they’d even ask such invasive things. But what was more offensive was that last question. Of course you wouldn’t marry Azul! He’s your step-brother, your close friend, your family. You’d never marry him. Where they got that idea, you haven’t the faintest clue. But it was an odd thing to ask, and it felt even odder to think about.

When he was little, Azul got away with holding your hand or wrapping a tentacle around your wrist or clinging to you when he was nervous or shy. The two of you used to crowd inside his octopus pot and count all of the coins in his collection or play pretend with all of the fun things the twins would bring around. Strangely enough, Azul always wanted to play House. In this fantasy you’d play, you and Azul were married and he’d get so particular with details. You recall trying to be a friend of his wife’s rather than the wife herself, but Azul threw a fit and told you it wasn’t fun playing if you weren’t going to play seriously. (The twins were always made house pets in this fantasy; either that, or they had to pretend to be your children). Often, you were always told to “play nice with your brother” when you tried to avoid him or when you had caused him to cry. In the end, you played the wife more times than you would’ve liked.

During one of these games of House, Azul kissed you. Affection is normal for your family. After all, your stepmother simply adores you and she’s always wrapping you up in her eight tentacles for a hug. She always kisses you on the forehead before bedtime. That sort of affection is tender and motherly. The kiss from Azul was…nothing like that. It only lasted seconds, a mere crashing of his mouth on yours, but it left you reeling for minutes. Even the twins were partially surprised, and that’s always news when you manage to shock even them. You were so at a loss for words that you couldn’t even say all of what you felt needed to be said, so instead you asked why. And Azul told you, “When two mers are in love and married, they kiss.” You don’t remember much after that, but you swam off in tears because your first kiss had been taken and it was with your icky step-brother! Later that day, Azul had been lightly scolded, having been told that, though his logic is correct, it isn’t right to do that to another family member. Because family members can’t marry each other. You were comforted by your stepmother and father, both of whom agreed that it was just a mistake, it wasn’t intentional, and Azul was just a little confused. Azul apologized to you the next day, and foolishly you’d forgiven him with a kind smile.

Now that the both of you are older, it isn’t very cute or passable anymore. Azul’s grown a significant amount, and so have you. He’s become somewhat secretive now. Before he used to tell you all of his fears and worries, each one echoing off the ceramic walls of his octopus pot. Now he keeps to himself, always off scheming with those eel twins. You’re not bothered by it. In fact, you’re happy he’s doing well for himself. Since he’s no longer a priority and now that he has friends of his own, things are…normal. Sort of. Azul may be secretive, but it’s no secret he and those eel twins are the reason you’re struggling to keep friends. It’s not intentional; it’s merely a byproduct of the distrust and unrest everyone has when that trio set their sights on someone. No one would dare befriend his sibling because they all know that if anything happens to you they’ll have three cutthroat mers after them. So for most of it, you flit from various friends, each never staying for too long. Except for Rielle. He’s a sweetheart to you, a friend from school. He stays because he chooses to listen to you, not the silly rumors. You like Rielle; Azul does not.

He’s not sure what you see in Rielle. So what if he’s friendly for a prince? All princes are the same: they need a princess. You are not going to be that princess. You’re not going to be the other half to his pair. Azul refuses to let that happen. Try as he might, he can’t get you to stay away from Rielle. But, on some level, he appreciates the distraction. While you’re out with Rielle, exploring shipwrecks and collecting seashells, Azul peers into your life, sorts through the belongings in your room, lies down on your bed and pretends he’s falling asleep with you.

Although leaving for NRC is cause for lamentations, he’s comforted by the fact that Rielle is also on his way to RSA. At least you won’t be able to see him. Azul always misses you when he’s at NRC; you’re always on his mind and you don’t even realize it. He adores you too much. So on the night before he’s set to take that transformation potion and return to the surface, he slips into the space you sleep in and kisses you. He’s done it plenty of times before; you’ve never woken up because he’s good at being quiet. He’s only ever kissed you, fondled bare skin, gingerly traced your slit with the tip of his tentacle. It’s not wrong, he tells himself. He’s just exploring. The two of you would explore all the time as little mers. This is just a different kind of exploration, and you don’t have to know about it. It’s fine. This is just a result of his love for you. He still clings to dreams of being your husband, after all.

Azul has always been greedy when it comes to you, so naturally he’s taken most of your firsts (and you don’t even realize it). If your eyes snap open in the darkness and you begin to squirm, you can’t blame him for holding you still with so many sleek, obsidian-colored appendages. And you can’t hate him when he places his mouth on yours to swallow all of your cries and shouts with kisses that leave you breathless and begging (for him to stop).

You’ve always loved your step-brother; he’s your family, your friend, and your close confidant. But your step-brother loves you a little too much, and he proves it in the shadowed sleeping nook.

[comatosebunny09]

Reposting because Tumblr hates me. Inspired by Anigomi’s Demon!Kyo audio.

Warnings: Implied Somno, Mentions of Scratches, Bruises, Choking, Implied Smut, Bodily Fluids, Modern AU

It was unnerving.

Waking to cold air licking the scratched fat of your thighs. Fresh ones, at that. Shallow and long, splitting toward your calves, welting your skin. Sometimes followed by angry, violet petals blooming on your legs. And your inner thighs were always sticky—with sweat or something else, you could never tell.

You always made excuses, though.

You were a natural furnace, which is why you always awoke in a pool of icy sweat. You were prone to injury, illustrating the random bumps and contusions. Maybe your laundry detergent caused a violent reaction in your skin, explaining the scars.

Yes. Yes, that had to be it.

For the past month or so.

No matter how much you tried to rationalize things, you could never justify the cerulean, finger-shaped marks encasing your throat. Nor could you defend how your body hummed with distant pleasure upon awakening, a wispy memory of torrid fingers and sodden praises pin-pricking your skin.

You gazed at your reflection, soaking in its bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and torn nightshirt around the collar. You admired the handiwork as if entranced before deciding you had to fix yourself prior to work.

You blotted your neck with foundation to conceal the bruises after changing. Spritz perfume behind your ears and onto your pressure points. Smiled prettily despite the unease sinking into your belly.

As you swept an errant lock of hair behind your ear, you heard it. A coaxing rasp that had invaded your dreams for months, swiftly melding them into beautiful nightmares. A voice that always made your flesh tingle, your breath hitch, and your body still.

For a moment, you could feel him whispering those words against the hollow of your neck:

“Mine. All mine.”

And without thinking, you replied through quivering, rouge lips, tone a croaky murmur, gaze unblinking:

“Yes. Always.”

[daisys-gard3n]

Stay High {Yandere! Jonathan x Reader}

warning: somnophilia, drugged sex/tampered drugs, yandere + obsessive behavior, noncon, implied forced breeding

commission for anonymous

It had only been recently since you and Jonathan became an official couple, going on a couple of dates with him and spending more time with him had made you realize that you also returned his feelings. It was like he stepped out of a dream, the perfect man – a gentleman, always asked about your feelings and opinions, always giving you thoughtful gifts and gestures, politely affectionate, and seemingly knowing everything you liked from the mere moments you’ve met him. A dream guy who greeted you with flowers every time he gets invited to your house, like a prince that came out of a story book to your time of need. It seemed too good to be true.

And you were right to think that…It is too good to be true.

Jonathan wasn’t with you because he simply needed something, that was far too harsh in his opinion. In fact. He loves you quite dearly, ever since he laid his eyes upon you. In fact, he might love you a little too much. In a span of a week, he was obsessively researching you and learning your weekly routine just so he could come in at the right time. Witnessing you overcome your struggles by yourself, you needed some relief in your life. Didn’t you? He’s here to aid you, to soothe you, to love you. He was honestly surprised yet delighted when you accepted him so quickly, a few dates and charming words worming their way into your heart. Finally being invited into your home to be surrounded by traces of you, it was simply divine – a heaven that Jonathan would never trade for any of the world’s riches. All those kisses and cuddles the two of your shared should have been enough…But Jonathan kept wanting more and more. Seeing that smile was no longer enough for his desires, he needed something only you could quench him of. But you reject his more sexual advances. He told you he understood your reasoning, since you wanted to take it slow with him and just enjoy what the two of you had. Jonathan simply wanted to be a gentleman and respect your wishes…But oh how you taunt him so. Angelic looks and a body that was carved with the carefulness of Venus de Milo – ravishing and on par with the deities. His patience wearing thin with each long yearning blue gaze at your hips in flattering outfits, throat clamping at the mere sight of your clothes riding up as you rolled around in your sleep. It was simply too much…This game you lured the taller man with. That’s why…It wouldn’t hurt if he simply helped you relax your nerves, yes?

Jonathan didn’t mind that you smoked marijuana, in fact he did occasionally. He had just enough knowledge to pull this off, simply replacing the sativa you usually took with indica. It’s a lot stronger than what you usually smoke, seeing how your week was slowly weighing on your shoulders…You just need to relax a bit, right? Walking inside of your house to smell that familiar scent, a joyous grin on his lips as he walked over to your room – seeing you passed out with your pipe and lighter to the side. Incense burning to cover up the smell. You fell right into his hands after that small push, and Jonathan couldn’t be any happier you did. Inviting himself to sit on your bed, shifting the weight to his side as he gently shook you to see if you would wake up. You always had that nasty habit of making yourself too high, never limiting yourself. How perfectly convenient. Large, calloused hands brushing around the cascade of dark braids that scattered the bed, inching to feel the warmth of your skin with your exposed stomach. The blue-haired man could feel his cock twitching in his pants, intoxicated by the drug that is you. Not wasting a single second to carefully slide his hands up your shirt and revealing your vulnerable breasts, those calloused fingers brushing against your hardening dark cocoa nipples. It didn’t take long for his lips to find their way onto one of those nipples, to greedily lick and suck at whilst he messily ground his stiffened cock into the mattress below.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Jonathan panted, a free hand searching its way down your bare stomach and deep into your shorts. “Oh how you tease me so, my darling…Let your lover take care of your weary body...Like how it’s supposed to be.”

Thick fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, rubbing your clit with such tenderness to feel you grow wetter. The occasional small groan leaving your lips sent bolts of pleasure throughout the blue-haired man’s body, the risk of you waking up and seeing his true depraved self. It was addicting, much like the smooth territory of your body. Thick fingers slipping inside and feeling your warmth and slick, breathy gasps leaving Jonathan’s smiling face as he flushed pink. The prison of his pants becoming almost unbearable the more he stretched you out with his fingers, being careful enough to make sure he wasn’t moving you around too much. If you had saw him in this unruly state…You would never want to see him again. It would break his heart, the two of you were soulmates after all – not being around you was a punishment worse than dead in his delirious state. Eventually, it’ll be too much for Jonathan. Removing your bottoms completely and carefully removing his hard cock out of his pants, a strong arm lifting one of your legs with ease as the blunt tip of Jonathan’s cock pressed a gentle kiss at the rim of your entrance. Hot breath against your next as you could only slightly stir in your drugged sleep. Slowly and carefully pushing himself into your warm cunt, biting his lips and blue eyes rolling back as he tried to prevent himself from moaning too loud. Feeling you squirm in your sleep yet not waking up as your walls welcomed him so tenderly with pulses and gripping that beckoned him to slide in deeper, till he was almost balls deep inside. One of the Englishman’s large hands caressed the small bulge forming at your stomach while you continued to be prisoned by your sleep, slowly rutting into you with each pulse of your cunt sending his throbbing cock into a frenzy. Drool dripping from the corner of his mouth as he had to latch himself onto the softness of your golden fawn skin, kissing and sucking greedily as the pace of his hips grew faster and sloppier. It seemed that the bigger man had gotten too excited from this encounter, just from simply touching your divine body and getting to smell of your sweat mixing with that fragrant product you always used in your hair made his lust insatiable to properly drag this out.

Moans deep in his throat as he busied himself with leaving a mark that would surely bloom a nasty dark color later, his cock rubbing against your insides and finding that sweet spot with ease due to the sheer length. He could feel your body was going to cum soon, oh to cum inside this perfect body. It was a dream come true for Jonathan. It was rather a shame that you couldn’t be awake to response to his gestures of love…But every relationship had its hurdles the couple need to overcome. Surely this would encourage you to come to him more often when awake, planting the feeling of his throbbing cock inside of your tight pussy and dribbling all around him.

Surely, you’ll come to him. Begging to fill you up with his love like he dreams of. Just like right now while you slept peacefully in your prince’s savage arms.

[terrence-silver]

Could you write something with “  i’ll still be here when you wake.  ” for old man Terry?

---

Terry Silver doesn't sleep. He can do without.

A habit picked up in Vietnam, during long night patrols where the usual adrenaline and stress of nighttime guard duty could render him restless for six months straight and he wouldn't even notice how deflated he was by the end of it, foraging around like a restless reptile in the bush, on alert for every sound, both imaginary and real. In the 80's he'd put together entire weeks going from working to attending galas to working to binge fucking several conquests a day and then working again, like the model Yuppie of the era ought to have. Terry Silver didn't have dreams or nightmares either. Not in the classical sense. He'd never bolt up screaming and trashing or showcase what was happening internally --- preferring not to go about broadcasting his own weakness if it could be helped. He simply learned to take it, in the most Spartan, Green Beret way imaginable. Lay there stiff while the images unfolded in his mind and he'd deem himself to wake up, stoic, laying on his back neatly, in the ultimate act of self control and discipline, opening his eyes and putting a halt to it all whenever he wanted or felt he had enough. Therein lay the ultimate strength he honed for ages, that he tried not to be held down by physiological necessities, perhaps, out of a twinge of pride.

Not a rule imposed on you. Terry ironically relished in your rest.

Sharply scheduled, perfectly maintained, ritualized.

Living vicariously through it.

He loved to observe you do it --- he made a habit of it. The inherent softness of you dozing off tangled in his sheets. Naps and cat naps and long hours of sleep in his bed while he watched and watched, making sure you adhered to his explicit demand of you getting your nightly allotted sleeping time, your eyes falling and fluttering closed, the occasional yawn, rubbing your lids, your breathing calming, chest going up and down, the tenderness of all you were, immaculately his and helpless and exposed to him, under his control. For those twelve hours you slept, you were all Terry's. -“I’ll still be here when you wake.”- He promises with a deep, hushed whisper as the bedframe lamps of his bedroom automatically shut off and he’s left in the darkness with you, in your shared sanctuary.  No, snakes don't have eyelids, so they can't close their eyes (interestingly, they can't blink either). Instead, they have a brille on each eye, a layer of transparent scales that covers and protects the eyes. This means vipers sleep with their eyes open and Terry Silver was much the same. The moon is high in the reflection of the windows overlooking the sea and he feels he still hasn’t blinked, not wishing to miss a thing.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, somnophilia, implied non/con, mentions of knots.

Puppy!Yuuta, who catches your eye the second you step into the shelter, despite the fact that he’s not at all what you were looking for. You need a service animal, and as cruel as it feels to say, hybrids of undeterminable origins with less-than-stellar past homes aren’t known to be very consistent, let alone trainable when it comes to such a high-stakes job. You were supposed to meet a pure-bred, highly recommended husky hybrid whose previous owner was no longer able to take care of him, but it was over for you as soon as you saw those big, dark, watery eyes – nearly hidden entirely by overgrown hair and jet-black ears that seemed to droop even lower whenever you threatened to look away from him. You’re already a lost cause by the time you ask a shelter employee for his name, and the paperwork’s signed within the hour. He leaves with you the same day, eyes on the ground and tail wagging a mile a minute.

Puppy!Yuuta, who was always meant to be someone's spoiled pet. He's shy, at first, scared to talk too loudly or cling too tightly or do anything that'll get him sent back to the shelter (no matter how clear you make it that that's a non-option), but it only takes him a few days to warm up to you, a couple weeks to come out of his shell, just under a month to start sleeping in your bed and trailing you around your apartment. He almost trips over himself when you ask if he'd like to wear a collar, and soon enough, he's more akin to a second-shadow than a dog. He does have some aggression issues, particularly when it comes to human men, but he's an angel with other hybrids, and when he bows his head and pouts, you really can't help but forgive him. With a life like the one he must've had, you can't really blame him for being so quick to bear his teeth.

Puppy!Yuuta, who's more than ecstatic when you mention still needing a service animal. He might not be qualified on paper, sure, but he's already constantly at your side, constantly worrying about you - it'd just feel wrong to go out and get another hybrid for a job Yuuta is more than capable of. He says he likes that idea of being able to take care of you, too - like you take care of him. You want to ask him not to be so sappy, to think of a slightly less sentimental way to say it, but when he's so happy and so, so proud of himself, it's hard to be even that strict.

Puppy!Yuuta, who cums untouched the first time you comb your fingers through his hair. You don't seem to notice, and he does his best to hide his face in your lap, to bite back the little, pathetic whimpers that crawl up his throat whenever you scratch at the base of his ears. He doesn't want to scare you, to be so needy so suddenly when you've been so kind.

Puppy!Yuuta, whose one and only flaw is that he can't seem to stop riffling through your dirty laundry. He can't be left alone for more than an hour without stealing one of your oldest, most threadbare shirts or worse, claiming a pair of your underwear as his newest chew-toy. You really should chastise him for it, but it's such an awkward thing to talk about, and he has such a sweet face - it's hard to believe he could ever do anything deliberately wrong. You've resigned yourself to just trying to limit the damage and salvage the less damaged items, even if those mysterious stains are a little hard to get out.

Puppy!Yuuta, who wishes he didn't have such a big, bulky knot. It's too thick and too heavy and seems to swell up whenever he gets even a little hard. If he didn't have a knot, he'd be able to actually thrust into you, rather than just fucking his fist over your sleeping body and imagining how tight you'd be, how pretty you'd look, how nice it would be to make you feel as warm and as soft as he feels because of you. He does what he can with his tongue, but you don't seem to like waking up with his saliva soaking everything between your thighs, and he always gets too excited when he tastes you. If he has to rut against your thigh that desperately again, he's afraid you might wake up and scold him.

Puppy!Yuuta, who can't wait until he works up the courage to mate with you properly. He knows it's still too soon, that it'd scare you to do it so abruptly, that he doesn't deserve it yet, but soon, he'll be able to to step up and take care of you as something more than just a pet. He's not there right now, but one day, he just knows he'll be the perfect mate for you <3

[queenie-the-court-jester]

pucker up buttercup

Yandere florist x reader

Tw: mentions of physical abuse in sexual settings, implied drugging and somnophilia, stalking, implied possessive behavior and controlling nature, mildly nsfw. Not proofread 🌺

🌷Benny was the quiet kid of your school. You didn't know much about him, except he was a good student and apart of the gardening club. That was all, but Benny? Oh he knew you very well..

🌷you were stunning. You had such amazing hair that he wanted to play with every night before going to sleep, those stunning beautiful eyes that always ghosted over his form in the cafeteria, and your voice that always managed to make him rock hard down there

🌷 recently your family had gotten a wide assortment of flowers for an event. Thinking they were pretty, you asked for the florists name or any social they might have. They handed you a card with the info, and with that you looked up the account on Instagram.

🌷 scrolling through their posts you found a familiar face you'd see every day in the school halls. What was his name again? Benjamin? Beanie? No.. oh yeah! Benny! You didnt know he had such a good eye for aesthetics, especially flower arrangements. But that has to be expected since he spends all his time gardening

🌷the next time you saw him, you walked right up to his table on campus grounds. A bit far from the other outside lunch areas. He froze when he saw a familiar pair of shoes, looking up at you slowly with those big blue eyes

"you're a florist right?"

"y-yes..?"

"how much for a dozen roses and half a dozen tulips?"

🌷you became a regular after that. He'd wait anxiously every day for you in the plant nursery after school. He always gave you such cheap prices, claiming you were his friend and he only did favors for them. You thought he was sweet, so when you heard rumors about him being caught sneaking around the girls locker rooms and stalking a classmate? You shrugged it off,most likely empty gossip

🌷if only you paid attention to the red flags sooner.. you would have realized Benny's real nature. When he asked you out prom night, you agreed, he was sweet and you weren't seeing anyone at the moment. Who knew, maybe this would be the start of a beautiful relationship?

Pros with Benny:

🌹atleast he's a very generous lover. Spoiling you with what he could afford, since he came from humble beginnings he's always wise with the money you both have

🌹 he's completely devoted to you! Never looking at anyone else with love or lust, always worshipping you both in bed and outside it

🌹you learn new things. Like natural remedies, plants and their names, their usefulness to make nearly everything. Even drugs (He's vegan.)

🌹he wants to settle down and raise a family with you as soon as you graduate college! He gets tipsy and love drunk thinking about it too much. He'd make an excellent father. Kind of.

The cons:

🥀 randomly, he'll get very aggressive in bed. Biting you till your skin bleeds, slapping your chest and ass, degrading you with the most vilest words. Not to mention he seems to really like choking you till you almost pass out

🥀he doesn't know how to take no for an answer, he'll go scarily quiet and his eyes will turn dull. A complete contrast to how he usually is. Surely a little intimidation will make you change your mind no?

🥀 he's possessive with your time and love. If he ever notices you staring at anyone a little too long, who isn't friends or family he knows of, you bet there'll be missing person posters by the end of the week

🥀he forbids you from going into the basement. Saying it's his private nursery and you should respect his privacy, even if he doesn't respect yours

🥀 randomly you'll feel sleepy after Eating anything he makes you, growing drowsy and the last thing you can remember is feeling clammy hands hastily unbutton your pants and shirt

[dolliestfairy]

Yandere Vampire Men x Chubby!Nun!reader

𑁍 Tw; Stalking, Monster-Fucking, Obsessiveness, Somnophilia, Noncon/dubcon, breeding kink (?), biting(obv), harshy grabbing, blood mentioned, virginity-take, the words 'rotten', implied murdering & religious theme. dead dove. Chubby Reader Fics With No Skintone Of Reader Mentioned.

This is a dark yandere fanfiction. if you dont like it then just block me ;) ୧₊˚

୨୧💭 thinking abt yandere!vampire!men who is obsessed with chubby!nun!reader. yandere!vampire!men whos freezing heart is now stuck with you. yandere!vampire!men whos colded heart is melting from fluttering once his eyes meet your plump & round appereance. yandere!vampire!men who eats all the other nuns & peoples who talked down on you. no creature ever should tell you what to do or else he'll rip their jaws off and snatched their ribs open. yandere!vampire!men who wants you to be his spouse, he wants you to be with him forever in the dead life! isnt that sound so spectacular my dear? yandere!vampire!men whos hands likes to touch your big ol thighs while you were sleeping, rubbing them softly up and down. at first it was belly, but the way of where he placed his hands is getting lower as he touch your thighs and later on his hands would touch your pussy and rubbing it softly within his fingers. putting his fingers in the middle of the entrance of your pussy lips. yandere!vampire!men who soon enough is inside you while you're half unconscious. whispering in your ears of how he is your savior and later on you'll get to marry him in the after life in which you just nod while your body is basically served his own. yandere!vampire!men who harshly grabbed your waist and stretch it apart, grabbing it so hard you can really feel his claws makes a pattern of it. it was feeling hurt enough to make you yelp until he start to put his fangs into your neck. pushing through your flesh while the blood slowly came out of the holes where his fangs made. slowing his thrust speed as you felt your body go warm and warm, until your vision start to become more and more blur, when your vision was starting to look white as you passed out at the chruch in the middle of the night where you just handed your virginity over someone or some 'creature' that you dont even know about. as your head and vision slowly and slowly become more unconscious, where you heard the creature muttering "finally, you are mine now."

Those Cold-blooded Vampires Are ;

OBITO UCHIHA, RYOMEN SUKUNA, Geto Suguru, Mahito, Nanami, Sasuke uchiha, VLAD TEPES, Hades, Sae Itoshi, Bachira, HOSHIGAKI KISAME, Mikey, Eren, Jack The Ripper, Kuroo Tetsuro, Semi Eita, Tsukishima Kei, Suna Rintarou, ITTO, Dottore, WRIOTHESLEY, Diluc, Zhongli, Kakashi Hatake, EVERY DIABOLIK LOVERS MEN, Buddha, Johan, Tendou, Oikawa & MALLEUS.

[pin-k-ink]

trespass // sakusa kiyoomi

tw ⇢ non-con, somnophilia, unprotected sex, creampie, grinding, public sex, implied voyeurism, getting caught, minor manga spoilers, sakusa is lowkey delulu

wc ⇢ 2.5k

a/n: this was heavily inspired by a mista fic i read

Sakusa's skin crawled as he stared at the bus, a sense of dread rising in his throat. The vehicle loomed before him, its doors open like the maw of some great beast waiting to swallow him whole. Inside, two full teams from Itachiyama awaited, their bodies packed together in a claustrophobic nightmare due to a last-minute transportation issue.

As he stepped onto the bus, Sakusa's mind reeled at the thought of being trapped in such close quarters with so many people, each one a potential vector for illness. He had always prized his personal space, a carefully maintained barrier against the chaos of the outside world. Now, that barrier was about to be breached.

He should've just taken the train to their away games without batting an eye. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to be crammed into another vehicle with strangers, which seemed slightly worse than getting on a bus with people he actually knew. Or maybe a tiny part of him felt uneasy about leaving you, his precious little manager, in a bus full of hormonal and sweaty teenage boys.

Sakusa had sucked it up and gotten up extra early to secure a spot in the back of the bus, already claiming the corner seat as his own. By sunrise, the bus was filled to capacity, the vehicle swaying precariously from side to side. He was sure that the tires were probably inflated to their limits, ready to burst at any moment.

As the rest of the team filed in, Sakusa curled into himself, but you were nowhere to be seen. Were you not coming? Or were you sensible enough to find another way there instead of willingly entering this lion's den?

No, apparently not. You were just as reckless as always. Sakusa jolted slightly in his seat as you suddenly emerged from between two burly basketball players, yelping softly as the imbalance in your overloaded duffel bag caused you to stumble and fall.

Iizuna, ever the attentive captain, quickly helped you to your feet. He dusted you off and checked for any injuries, keeping you close by his side, practically nestled between his legs as everyone finally settled into their seats. It was going to be a long six-hour ride, and there was no way anyone would be left standing, no matter how cramped it got.

Iizuna glanced apologetically at Sakusa as he asked you to sit next to him, closer to the window. But upon realizing there was no space, Iizuna suggested you sit on his lap instead. In a flash, Sakusa reached out and pulled you in, his hands almost aggressively wrapping around your waist as he tugged you onto his own lap, leaving a dumbfounded Iizuna and the other third years staring in shock.

Beside him, Komori snickered, watching in amusement as you awkwardly adjusted yourself on Sakusa's lap, apologizing profusely as if you had committed some grave offense. Sakusa offered no verbal reassurance, instead silently guiding you to sit more comfortably between his legs as he spread them slightly to accommodate you.

Just as Sakusa was about to ask if you were comfortable, the bus lurched forward and began moving. At that moment, he heard the familiar chime of an incoming text message.

Pulling out his phone, Sakusa saw that Komori had sent him a single line: "Make a move on her."

Rolling his eyes, Sakusa shot his cousin a pointed glare before pocketing his phone again. Of course Komori would be aware of his not-so-subtle crush on their manager. After all, you were the only person aside from Komori that Sakusa allowed to touch him freely. He had even permitted you to feed him once, using the very same chopsticks you had just eaten with yourself.

Sakusa's mind wandered to the time he had gotten injured during practice. The team nurse had already gone home for the day, but luckily, you had the knowledge to tend to his type of injury. He vividly remembered how you looked kneeling between his legs, gently hiking up his shorts to press your fingers against the taut, sinewy muscles of his inner thigh.

He had felt his breath catch as you unknowingly leaned in closer, your exhales ghosting over his sensitive skin. Sakusa had to forcibly banish the less-than-pure thoughts from his mind, knowing that any physical reaction would be glaringly obvious given your proximity.

All the moments he had spent alone with you were precious to him. He treasured each and every one, locking them safely away in his heart. So of course he wanted to make a move, to let you know how much you meant to him.

But as he looked down at your peaceful, sleeping face, Sakusa had to stifle a sigh. Somehow, you had already dozed off, a cute habit of yours whenever you were in a moving vehicle with hours to go before reaching your destination. It was adorable, but at this particular moment, rather frustrating.

Gently tugging his mask down to rest below his nose, Sakusa leaned closer and protectively wrapped his arms around your middle. He held you securely against his chest, ensuring you wouldn't slip off as the bus jostled along the highway. Burying his nose in your hair, he breathed in deeply, the soft scent of lavender from your shampoo flooding his senses and awakening a primal urge deep within him.

Almost unconsciously, Sakusa's hands tightened their grip on you as he nuzzled further into your silky locks. His fingertips skimmed teasingly along the hem of your shirt, dancing just underneath the edge of your jacket. He knew that with the slightest movement, he could brush against the bare skin of your stomach.

The thought alone sent a thrill down his spine. Sakusa couldn't help but wonder if your skin was as soft and smooth as it looked. It had to be. Throwing caution to the wind, he finally slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, grazing them ever so lightly over the warm, supple flesh of your belly.

You shivered slightly in your sleep, your stomach dipping at the barest touch. So you were ticklish. That knowledge made Sakusa's heart swell with adoration. Fuck, could you be any cuter?

Emboldened, Sakusa continued to gently rub your lower abdomen, reveling in the velvety softness. As you relaxed further into his embrace, a hum of contentment rumbled deep in his chest.

Tightening his thighs on either side of you, Sakusa held you firmly in place, determined to savor this fleeting moment of intimacy. His fingers ceased their exploration, now simply brushing lazy circles over the enticing curves of your hips.

As the bus rolled on, Sakusa let himself get lost in the feeling of you in his arms. He knew he should probably feel guilty for indulging in this intimate touch without your knowledge, but the temptation was too great to resist. He had waited so long for a chance like this, to feel your softness under his hands, to breathe in your scent until it filled his lungs.

He promised himself that this stolen moment would be the catalyst he needed to finally confess his feelings for you. He would do it right, court you properly until you understood the depth of his affection. But for now, he would allow himself this one transgression, this fleeting glimpse of what could be.

As he held you close, your gentle exhales tickling his collarbone, Sakusa let himself dream of a future where you were his. His to hold, his to cherish, his to love. And with that sweet fantasy playing behind his closed eyelids, he drifted off to sleep, your name a whispered prayer on his lips.

The glaring sun pierced through the window beside him, rousing Sakusa from his slumber. Sweat drenched his body, causing his shirt to cling uncomfortably to his skin. A soft groan of annoyance escaped his lips as he registered the weight on his lap, only for his eyes to flutter open and realize it was you. With a gentle sigh, Sakusa attempted to adjust your position, but a sudden, muffled moan slipped out as he became acutely aware that something was terribly amiss.

Sakusa froze, his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage as the realization dawned on him - the incessant vibrations of the bus, combined with your warm, pliant body pressed intimately against his lap, had coaxed his treacherous body to stir in a most inconvenient manner.

Sakusa's breath caught in his throat, a heated flush creeping up his neck as he desperately willed his body to behave. The last thing he needed was for you to wake up and feel his shameful arousal pressing insistently against your ass.

Clenching his jaw, Sakusa tried to focus on anything else - the passing scenery, the low hum of the engine, the quiet chatter of his teammates. But every subtle shift of your weight, every gentle exhale that tickled his skin, only served to further stoke the embers of his desire.

He cursed silently, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought to maintain control. It was torture of the sweetest kind, having you so close, yet being unable to act on his longing. Sakusa knew he should wake you, put some distance between your bodies before the situation escalated, but a selfish part of him wanted to bask in your warmth just a little longer.

As if sensing his internal struggle, you stirred slightly, your head lolling to the side to rest in the crook of his neck. Your lips brushed against his heated skin, eliciting a shuddering gasp from Sakusa. He bit back a groan, his resolve crumbling with each passing second.

Sakusa swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing against the shell of your ear. He couldn't take it anymore, his cock throbbing painfully in the confines of his pants. If he didn't do something soon, he was going to lose his mind.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sakusa reluctantly untangled his fingers from your hips. He hesitated for a moment, steeling himself before carefully sliding his hand over your clothed pussy.

Sakusa's breath hitched as his fingers brushed over the damp material, his eyes widening in shock. Was this... for him?

Heat coursed through his veins, his head swimming with lust as he dared to apply a little more pressure. The lewd sound of his fingers dragging against your slick panties elicited a choked whimper from him, his cock twitching impatiently beneath you.

Sakusa couldn't believe what he was doing.

Touching you like this, even if you were asleep, was completely unacceptable. He should stop while he still could.

But when his fingers found your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with agonizing precision, you arched into him, your ass grinding down on his cock and sending sparks of pleasure coursing through his veins.

With a low growl, Sakusa tightened his hold on you, his other hand fumbling to reach his zipper. The metal teeth gave way easily, allowing him to tug the stiff material down, his leaking cock finally springing free.

A shuddering sigh of relief escaped his lips, the cool air of the bus doing little to quell the heat raging within him. He was painfully hard, the head of his cock already leaking precum.

With one final glance at your blissful, sleeping face, Sakusa lifted his hips, nudging his cock against your panty-clad core. His pulse was racing, his breaths coming in short, ragged pants as he teased the soaked fabric.

Unable to resist any longer, Sakusa pushed the soaked panties aside, the swollen head of his cock rubbing tortuously against your aching clit. You moaned softly, arching into him, your body instinctively seeking the pleasure he was so willing to give.

His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, the anticipation almost unbearable.

Sakusa's cock throbbed insistently, his hips rocking slowly against your dripping cunt. The need to bury himself inside you, to feel your velvety walls clenching around him, was almost overwhelming.

He was so close, the tip of his cock poised at your entrance, ready to claim you as his. Just one push and he would be sheathed inside you, buried to the hilt. All he had to do was thrust his hips and you would finally be his.

The bus jerked, throwing you back against him, his cock sliding into your soaked cunt, and Sakusa groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt your warm walls flutter around him. Fuck, you felt better than he had ever imagined.

With a shaky exhale, he sank deeper into your heat, his cock throbbing as you stretched to accommodate him. You felt like heaven, and Sakusa couldn't stop himself from thrusting his hips, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy.

Sakusa knew he should be gentle, take his time and savor every delicious inch of you. But the overwhelming desire to claim you, to mark you as his, overpowered any sense of restraint he may have had.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he rutted into you, his cock massaging your aching cunt.

The air was thick with the heady scent of your arousal, the soft, subtle sound of your slick pussy being stretched by his cock filling the space between your bodies.

Sakusa's head fell back against the seat, his jaw clenched as he fucked into you, the coil of pleasure tightening in his gut. He was close, his balls tightening as he felt his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Just as he was about to pull out, his cock twitching with the promise of release, you came with a soft moan, your walls clamping down on him. With a strangled cry, Sakusa buried his face in your neck, his cock pulsing as he spilled himself inside you, painting your walls with his cum.

As the last waves of his orgasm washed over him, Sakusa let out a satisfied sigh, his body slumping against yours. You were still asleep, your soft breaths tickling his skin, and Sakusa couldn't help but smile, his heart swelling with affection.

He knew it was wrong, taking advantage of you like this. But the feeling of euphoria that came from being inside you, knowing that he had claimed you as his own, was worth any guilt that may come later.

As he basked in the afterglow of his release, Sakusa vowed to confess his feelings once he returned home. No matter what, he would make sure you were his, and his alone.

Sakusa's phone chimed again, abruptly pulling him from his reverie. Glancing down, he saw a new message from Komori: "That is not what I meant by making a move." Confused, Sakusa quirked an eyebrow and turned to his side, only to be met with Komori's appalled expression, though that did nothing to deter him from noticing the very prominent hard-on his cousin was sporting.

[qierxing]

Head empty just yandere Heartslabyul as your imperial harem members

yan!poly!Heartslabyul x Reader

tw/cw: dub//con, gender-neutral reader but referred with masculine terms, drugging, manipulation, implied somnophilia, political machinations

—

you were raised with the expectation that you would shoulder the crown and rule over your people, justly and fairly. because of that, by the time you were crowned, your mindset compared to others your age was mature beyond what was considered normal.

you would be lying if you weren't bitter. Although you've long accepted that no one else could be trusted to rule this land and its people, you often wondered what your life would be like if there were no etiquette lessons and sword practices consuming your childhood.

In the end, it's all foolish dreams. You sit on your glittering golden throne and watch apathetically as the imperial court cheers and raises a toast to the new royal blood.

You were prepared for the responsibilities of a monarch, but what you weren't prepared for was your vassals' obnoxious nagging.

Your kingdom's tradition and laws have long allowed for polygamy, and your previous ancestors were known for their large harems. That day, you finally learned why: to ensure that royal blood would still be carried on, no matter what.

it's distasteful to you. you try to ignore your vassals all talking your ears off about potential consorts and lovers. but it's only so long before you crack.

Riddle Rosehearts was the first one to be by your side.

Not by choice. Duchess Rosehearts was the one who brought up her darling son to your vassals first, who then presented him to you. You would've turned them away, if not for the boy's eyes. Something in those stormy gray eyes makes your heart ache. His mother clutches her son's shoulder in a vice like grip that goes far beyond parental worry. Perhaps he too knows what it feels like to have no control over his life. 

And so reluctantly, you let him join you as a consort. 

It's not bad. Rather, he's so intelligent and diligent that you often ask him for help and advice on the kingdom's affairs, knowing that his strictness with himself and others provides a valuable impartial view that you can hardly find anywhere else. Besides, even if he is too stiff and formal at times, you appreciate his aid in paperwork that threatens to drown you.

in fact, he's so dedicated to carrying out his duty, that you find him nearly unrobed on your bed. Seven above, that nearly gave you heart palpitations. As attractive as he is, you have no intention of forcing the boy to give up his virginity against his will, even if he is married to you. 

you explain this to him as patiently as you can, even when his face scrunches up in hurt and confusion, asking if he wasn't enough–but you shut that down immediately. He is more than enough, and he isn't obligated to do anything he doesn't want to, even if his mother taught him otherwise. the revelation shakes his mind, causing his walls and views to crumble before him in the following days. you would like to think he became less stiff as he realized his true worth.

That is when an unexpected addition to your harem happened.

Actually, it was completely by accident. Your servants had often brought you various snacks and sweets during your work, as you were infamous for being extremely cranky without the motivation of good food. When Riddle, of all people, brings you a strawberry tart while you’re in the middle of some particularly grueling financial budget papers, it gives you pause.

It's not that you didn't trust him. It’s just…this is the boy who refused to eat more than the healthy amount of sugar. Even if you offered him various pastries and cookies, he always shunned them, saying it wouldn’t be right for him to consume them. 

So you spear a fork into the tart and bring it up to your mouth. When the bite meets your tongue, you swear your soul ascends to heaven. The taste is absolutely indescribable: the crust was flaky and light and the filling was sweet and creamy. This has got to be the best dessert you’ve ever tasted in your short life.

When you inquire Riddle about where he had gotten his hands on the tart, he shyly looks away from you and mumbles something under his breath. Not wanting to pressure him, you decide to let it go with a request to send your highest compliments to the patisserie. 

Since then, he is the one bringing you various treats, all unbelievably delicious tasting, each time you’re stuck among paperwork and meetings. You’re grateful, even if it does make you wonder who this mysterious patisserie is. You’re not particularly familiar with every kitchen staff member, but you would think that you would be aware of such talent residing in your walls. 

The truth finally comes to light when Riddle bursts into your office one day, in tears and hyperventilating, as he collapses in your arms. Alarmed, you quickly try to make sense of his babbling words. 

It turns out that the very patisserie wasn’t in your kitchens, as you thought. No, they were humble commoner folk who ran a modest bakery in the shopping district. Riddle had been secretly visiting the bakery whenever he had the time to buy their desserts and to visit his friend, the owner’s son. Problem is, his mother had found out and was furious that her son would debase himself and his reputation like that.

Trey Clover stands behind his parents with wide, frightened eyes as Duchess Rosehearts shrieks on about how she’ll shut down the establishment herself for daring to corrupt her son and so forth. It’s rather annoying that she would go this far in the name of parental love–thankfully she stops screaming once she catches sight of you. 

For once, you’re thankful for the absolute authority of imperial power. Duchess Rosehearts begrudgingly draws back when you block her attempt to defame the bakery. With a disappointed glare searing over the rest of you, she storms out of the bakery, door slamming shut behind her with a deafening crack.

You watch with mild interest as Riddle rushes forward and envelopes Trey in a tight hug that nearly knocks the tall man over. Despite the fact that Trey should be the one more distraught, he comforts Riddle with an ease that is almost suspiciously, dare you say, reminiscent of fondness. You look away before your thoughts dwell on it for too long.

Of course, it’s not all over. Trey’s parents kowtow at your feet with desperate gratitude, even if you beg them to stand up and raise their heads. As you glance over at Riddle in Trey’s arms, thoughts begin to arrange themselves into a proposal.

You and Riddle both know that Duchess Rosehearts would not stop here. Your presence was only a mere temporary hurdle in her plans to bring down Clover Patisserie, and there was no telling what she would do next. So, you propose something nearly unheard of to them.

Your vassals will throw an absolute fit if you openly sponsor their bakery and provide protection without something in exchange. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but this is the only way that Trey and his family would be safe. 

Surprisingly, he accepts the proposal with grace, becoming the second consort of your harem that very day. 

He inquires if there’s anything he should be aware of for his duties, making you laugh raucously and Riddle blush to the roots of his strawberry hair. You wave him off, telling him he only needs to do the things he loves and to bring you more of those tarts that cured your stress during your work times. The smile he gives is radiant and you wonder how it is that Riddle managed to find someone who makes the sun pale in comparison.

The next day, Riddle tells you between paperwork that he gifted Trey his own kitchen to bake and cook, and you nod in approval. It’s too easy to tease him over his obvious favoritism toward the baker, and it only makes you want to bully him more when his face becomes tomato red.

The annual royal banquet comes up and it dawns on both you and Riddle that Trey will have to present himself to the feral noble masses who are itching to know who this new addition is. The three of you are thrown into a hurricane of preparations, not just for the banquet, but to prepare poor Trey, who has never attended such an elite event, for the troubles ahead.

It’s certainly not for naught, you think, as you rake your eyes over your consorts. Their beauty outshines everything, in your personal opinion. When you make the introductory speech, you’re well aware that the audience in front of you is not just dazzled by you, but rather the two handsome men dutifully hovering behind you.

You hope that Riddle is enough of a buffer when the nobles inevitably swarm them with excited and curious eyes. As much as you would like to help, you were stuck with your own battles of greeting various guests and entertaining those who were trying to butter you up.

The Diamond family catches your eye first. 

It wasn't something positive, per say. But it is quite hilarious as the Marquis introduces you to his family: his wife, his two elder daughters and his only heir and son–only to find the aforementioned son missing. He’s left stuttering in shame even if you don’t particularly mind. It would’ve just been another boring greeting, but at that moment, his eyes dilates in fear, and when you follow his gaze, you see why. 

Cater Diamond is currently flirting with Trey. And very openly, at that.

The sight should make you furious, and yet you nearly burst out laughing. How could there be anyone this daring? Surely the young man would know better than to try hitting on an imperial escort–if he was aware that is, of the man being one. 

You decide to be the merciful mediator, because Riddle is nearly about to blow a gasket by Trey’s side and Trey looks like he’s too flustered to appropriately reject the advances of the eldest Diamond son. 

“Lord Diamond, I do believe your father is looking for you.” His face is full of surprise at the image of you grinning at him in amusement when you gently break the awkward atmosphere. 

After he leaves in a hurry, your two consorts apologize profusely for letting the flirtations happen. You reassure them that it was fine, that whatever they liked to do was not meant to be dictated under your actions. However, their faces still remain guilty and dismayed, as though you had reprimanded them instead.

The encounter remains in your mind as an entertaining memory. So much so, that when your vassals pester you again on adding another member to your harem, your mind immediately goes to sparkling jade green eyes and vivid orange hair.

If anything it was on a whim. Of course, you consulted both Trey and Riddle before sending the invitation, and they both agreed, even if Riddle looked much grumpier than usual. You hardly believed that the proposal would be answered favorably; after all, you’ve learned from recent gossip that Cater Diamond was a rather well known playboy. You doubt that kind of man would enjoy being tied to an imperial harem, even if it was under your lax control.

Perhaps that is why it’s so surprising that when he finally is in front of you, he acquiesces to your proposal with no hesitation at all. You ask in disbelief if he was sure of his decision, and he affirms it with no distaste in his voice. He notes your incredulous face, giving a cheeky grin in response.

Apparently he's been wanting to separate himself from his family for a while. The reason for his scandalous affairs were only attempts at getting his family to send him away, but he never succeeded. He says that your proposition finally gave him the freedom to be away from his family. While you don't want to pry further, it confuses you on how the Diamond family managed to raise such an eccentric young man.

Regardless, he becomes the third member of your harem. There were some small tensions between him and Riddle, but thankfully they resolved rather quicker than you expected–it seems that although Cater acted rather laid back, he has skills in organization and networking that even Riddle had to begrudgingly acknowledge. Ask him on the most recent gossip on the nobles and he's sure to provide you a list alphabetized on the latest trends around the capitol. Besides, it seems him and Trey get along quite well—too well, in a way. You don’t think you’ve seen a pair more prone to exchanging sensual, fleeting touches. Well, that’s not your problem.

You pray that nothing more eventful comes up in the meantime. Trey could only supply you with so much cake and cookies before you simply keeled over from sugar intake.

It seems the Seven were not on your side.

The Knights' jousting tournament was something that slipped your mind. When it gets brought up on the agenda in a meeting you silently curse. In the racket of you ascending to the throne and tending to your harem, you had neglected a big aspect to your royal life.

Personal guards. Normally, you should've had personally assigned soldiers that would accompany you for protection, but you've kept putting it off since you were able to protect yourself just fine with your abilities. And hiring new people, for any reason, was always going to be a long chore of vetting, paperwork, and tests.

The worst part is that Riddle and Trey joined in on the nagging. Going on about how they worried for your safety as if you weren't already trained in self defense and swordplay since your childhood days. Cater just shrugs when you look at him desperately for help and winks while running off to who knows where. Traitor.

Whatever. The sooner you pick, the sooner they'll get off your back.

Somehow this year's tournament is rather disappointing. Your three consorts give commentary throughout the matches, but it cannot stop the boredom starting to overtake you. Trey discreetly offers you a cup of wine and you take it gratefully.

The announcer signals the start of a match, with Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade taking a stand against each other. You hear Riddle faintly murmuring to your side about how they look rather young to be in a tournament like this. But you're rather absorbed in their intense fight, to the point where Cater teases you, asking if your taste included younger men. you roll your eyes and tell him to be quiet.

The fight ends in a spine tingling draw. Both men have their swords knocked out of their hands, but they’re still glaring at each other with such raw passion, that it’s fascinating. You know you will hardly meet any others that could catch your attention.

The end of the tournament ends with the roar of the crowd shaking the colosseum and the boisterous victory announcement. The two of them weren’t finalists, but that matters little to you. The victor was impressive. But they weren’t what you wanted.

“Ace Trappola, at your service, your majesty.”

“Deuce Spade, at your command, your majesty!”

The two greet you with enthusiastic fervor that has you chuckling in amusement. They are just the breath of fresh air you need. 

“Starting from today, you two will be my personal guards.”

They’re left with gaping mouths at your bold statement. Your consorts, too, are sputtering at your side. Riddle is already trying to convince you to reconsider. Trey is gently trying to ask if you’re really sure about this. Even Cater, for all his light-hearted banter, chokes an incredulous scoff, covering his mouth with a fist.

Yes, there’s always the threat of treason, and they might be slackers, but if you were going to have to employ someone, you’d rather it be someone entertaining. 

Regardless, the two are knighted and become your guards in record time. 

For several days, a persistent headache haunts you with how much Ace loved riling up Riddle for no reason, or Deuce somehow managing to blunder his way into destroying several pieces of priceless antique furniture. It takes only two days for Riddle to kneel at your side, begging you to please just switch guards, these two were ridiculously incompetent and not worthy to serve under you, but you only pat his head and send him off back to his chambers to rest. 

Trey and Cater were arguably more agreeable, but you don’t miss their tired looks whenever they had to clean up after Ace pissing off a passing noble or Deuce somehow causing a fire when tripping over an iron poker. It makes you feel guilty, of course, but you still cling on. Call it stubbornness but you didn’t want to let go of the two. It was selfish, you know, and monarchs could never afford to be selfish, but was it so wrong for you to indulge in the only pair who seemed to disregard your status?

The answer came one hot summer evening, when you’re on your balcony trying to unwind. Tonight was the usual designated night to share a bed with your consorts, but you deigned to postpone it since you weren’t in the mood nor did you want to force the other three to deal with your sour attitude. It’s halfway through your third glass of wine that you were a rustle, then after starting your fourth, you hear footsteps, to which you turn and just narrowly miss a dagger aiming for your heart. The blade instead rips a gash through your left shoulder, causing you to grunt in pain, alcohol thankfully dulling most of the throbbing sensations. Unfortunately, your mind is hardly clear enough to have a steady stance to fight back properly, let alone see the assassin’s face. 

You can’t believe you were going to die pathetically like this. If this was going to happen anyway, you should’ve at least finished your glass of wine—

Shouts, then sounds of clanging steel, and a blur rushed into your sight, tackling the hooded assassin and knocking him down. Deuce’s familiar blue hair registers in your blurry vision, holding down the assassin, while Ace’s flaming hair and eyes come closer in view, shouting something that keeps fizzling out to nothing. Your world tilts to its side suddenly, a loud buzzing in your ears, and everything goes black.

When you come to, you find Riddle with swollen, tear-crusted eyes hugging your bedsheets, while Trey exhaustedly sits behind him next to a wash basin and several empty vials. Cater was out cold on the chaise beside him, several papers littering his body. It seems that the assassin was quite thorough, as they made sure that if their sharp blade didn’t manage to end your life, then the quick acting poison laced upon the steel would. Ironically, according to the herbalist and doctor, because you drank a whole wine bottle, the alcohol managed to slow it down somehow just long enough for you to get treatment. A miracle, indeed.

For once, the room is no longer filled with tension with all five of the men together, but a genuine sense of relief. You give the two of your knights soft smiles and a sincere thank you which makes their faces flush like a ripe strawberry. Your escorts don’t protest, mirroring the same gratefulness in their faces. 

Something changes after that night. 

Of course, you’re extremely glad that Riddle is no longer blowing his top off after Ace goads him about being a stick in the mud, but since when did Ace get into pet names with Riddle? Rosebud? The nickname makes you gag internally at how corny it is. Not to mention that Riddle…doesn’t mind being called that?! You watch in disbelief as he preens at the compliment from your knight, trying not to give away your incredulousness. 

Okay…whatever, at least they’re getting along? 

Deuce shows up with your slice of cake with a beaming glow that has you taken aback as you accept the offering. Ace mutters about how Trey must’ve spoiled him again behind you and it takes everything inside you to not spit out your cake mid-bite. Again? Trey was kind, you’ll give him that, and he did tend to baby Riddle and you but—

On second thought, perhaps this wasn’t out of left field.

Cater titters knowingly when you slump in bonelessly into the lounge next to him trying on new earrings and bangles. 

“And what ails my dearly beloved king?” You choke on your spit before glaring at him. He giggles, dangly silver drops chiming in tune with the laughter. 

“Not you too…” It felt like the whole day you felt like you were background to some of the most insufferable flirting, and with your escorts and knights, no less. You raise an eyebrow at the shiny, glittering jewelry scattered on the vanity in front of the man. All imperial escorts did have an allowance, but you don’t remember Cater buying anything like this nor gifting him such things. When you inquire about it, Cater gives you a smirk and a wink.

”Rido and the younger ones have been quite sweet lately.” The sentence makes you nearly fall off the lounge. He chortles and blows you a mock kiss with no shame as you sear him with another heated glare. 

The way they started interacting starts making you feel self-conscious and…embarrassingly enough, left out. Which is such a foolish thought. Of course, who would in their right mind love the person who tied their lives to them, romantically and sexually? And even though they were in such a situation, the fact they all loved each other was a blessing, wasn’t it? How many history lessons did you have where the monarch’s harem wasn’t full of in-fighting? That meant more prosperity and stability political wise, and there wouldn’t be any trouble between you…

Yet, your heart clenches at the thought of Trey’s smile directed at Cater, of Riddle gently caressing Deuce’s head, and Ace slinging an arm around Deuce…none of that affection could ever be for you. 

And it’s best that way. Your father’s voice echoes distantly in your mind. You watched him solemnly on his deathbed as he implored you to not make the same mistakes he did, before his breathing stilled, and his hand lay limp in yours.

Yes, perhaps it was better this way. 

Still, your thoughts are still wandering that you barely jolt back to present to a cabinet meeting looking expectantly at you. 

“Pardon, could you repeat that?”

Riddle watches in worry as a dark shadow crosses your face as the demand for your harem to grow is conveyed. He coughs, causing the members to turn to him instead.

”If that’s the case,” he states with no hesitation, “then I might have some candidates in mind.”

You turn to him with the same expression as the other cabinet members. It drops to shock at Riddle’s suggestion.

As much as you wanted to oppose it, there wasn’t really a good reason to. You sat with your arms crossed as Riddle explained the proposal to your very two personal knights. Ace and Deuce exchange looks, and something between them is communicated before they turn to you and accept, despite your hope they wouldn’t.

And so, your harem became five.

You put your foot down after that. It was already enough to have your heart cracked into pieces with the knowledge you could never have their love. You don’t think it could handle another.

So you tuck your heart away as you smile with them over dinner, bantering over whether flamingos can play croquet or dancing with them at various balls, heart racing as the chandelier lit their face with a warmth you’ve never seen before. If it means you won’t get hurt or distracted, then that’s all you could ask for.

One fateful day, a letter out of numerous piles is hand delivered by Cater and changes your entire world.

It’s sealed with the crest of the fairest queen in the seven realms, meaning only one person could have sent this—Vil Schoenheit. Inside the elegant letter details a marriage proposal that listed all the benefits of taking him as a spouse. With all the pros listed out so cleanly, it was clear that the queen already knew that you couldn’t reject it so quickly.

But you must dissolve your harem. I do not take kindly to those who are not loyal to me and me only.

Something in your heart cracks at reading the condition. You should feel elated, somewhat, that you no longer had to drag around escorts for formality. And for the others, it meant being freed from a duty they were all forced into. But tears threaten to bubble over your eyelashes, and when Riddle asks you if you’re alright, one manages to overflow and trail down your cheek like a traitorous banner. 

You don’t want to let them go.

Trey asks for the nth time if you’re sure you don’t want him to be with you or if you want some tea before you shoo him away. Ace and Deuce were meant to guard your chambers, but you wave them off too, saying you’ll find stand-ins for their places. Riddle and Cater were harder to shake off, but even they, too, were finally shut out when you closed your bedroom doors in their worried faces.

In the end, like a coward, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them what that letter was, despite them asking nonstop about it. You’re not sure what to tell them either—that they were being discarded of their positions, no longer needed, but it wasn’t out of maliciousness—oh, who would even believe you?

When Vil graces your halls, the looks your escorts give you is enough to fill you with burning hot shame. 

Cater doesn’t have his usual mischievous smile when he greets the queen, his emerald eyes sharpening to pin pricks whenever Vil speaks. You should’ve scolded him, reigned him back, but the guilt eating away at you made you hesitate. It didn’t help that Riddle, for all his perfect etiquette, suddenly seemed to forget what formalities and niceties were around the queen. The regal queen gives you a strange look as Trey sets down a plate of pastries a little too hard in front of him. Your gaze darts away as you sip the tea in front of you nervously, flanked by Ace and Deuce, their scowling faces too apparent.

They’re not dumb. Royals don’t visit other realms willy-nilly often. And it’s clear what Vil is here for.

The next day leaves you lethargic and sluggish, but you try to pull through, if only for appearances. While you stroll through the gardens with Vil, you try to avoid the burning stares of your guards behind you, no doubt dissecting each and every bit of your conversation with the queen. They pull you away as soon as the clock hits the afternoon hour, stating you had duties to attend to and so on and so forth. You excuse yourself and hope you don’t look like a mess to Vil, whose appearance is still immaculate despite the heavy winds and hot sun.

You try to focus on the stack of papers in front of you, despite the edges of your vision blurring and your head spinning. Taking the last sip of what remained of your tea, you squint uselessly at the words as Riddle murmurs something to your right about dinner and farewell banquets. The last thing you remember is the smell of chamomile and poppy flowers and the last document regarding international treaties. 

By the time you wake up from your ill-timed nap, it was midnight and it had been decided that you were too unwell to properly receive the fairest queen, and thus Vil would be sent back, to come back another time. Cater explains with a tight smile while Riddle nods along. Behind them, Trey pours another cup of warm milk and offers it to you with a sympathetic smile. You take it, despite the guilt threatening to swallow you alive. 

The days following are a haze of routines that you thought you once knew but couldn’t process. Nothing had changed, right? It seemed like you couldn’t recall what Trey made for you for yesterday’s tea, nor whenever Cater asked you for an opinion on his outfit. Before, you remembered the guards’ shifts to the letter, and yet, you completely forgot when Ace took over to guard you. Riddle smiles at you like usual, helping you with paperwork as usual, and yet…why couldn’t you remember what you had signed yourself?

Some nights you wake up to Trey or Cater, running their hands over you, despite the fact that they weren’t there before when you went to bed. Sometimes, it would be Ace and Deuce, bickering in hushed whispers before they shut up seeing you awake. And every time morning came and soreness set in your body, Riddle would greet your groggy face warmly, wiping away sweat and a strange stickiness that clung to your skin. 

The thought of marriage is erased from your mind, and slowly, but surely, you can’t remember why you thought of breaking apart the men who treated you so fondly. 

Perhaps you should have heeded the tales of those who ended up being puppet kings.

[merakiui]

👀 bad endings for the idol au you say? I am intrigued~

-🦩anon

👀 allow me to share with you the bad endings.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, implied dub/non-con, somnophilia, captivity/kidnapping, mention of baby-trapping/pregnancy, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, murder, drugging, mention of torture, implied female reader for some of the scenarios)

For all seven, I think they would find a way to get Rollo out of the way, whether that's by killing him, threatening him, or making you look like a cheater. Rollo is essentially powerless against seven rich and famous idols, who could easily bribe any authoritative figure to keep quiet if he tries to go to the police about any of them.

As for individual endings:

Riddle

✧ he invites you to his hometown under the guise of gathering inspiration for a new song. as his manager, you decide it wouldn't hurt to accompany him. riddle is always pleasant company. he's polite and respectful and quite knowledgeable. he goes into detail about the history of his hometown throughout the flight (which is on a private plane). he tells you of this bakery that you absolutely must visit with him. he tells you how the roses look prettiest in the spring. he tells you of an annual summer festival (something he was never allowed to take part in) that he hopes to enjoy with you. there is no mention of songwriting or inspiration. it truly feels like a date, and when you awkwardly bring this up to riddle he insists this is his creative process. apparently, his creative process also involves you getting kidnapped by a strange man with purple hair and yellow eyes, who relocates you to a house riddle has prepared specifically for the life he'll share with you.

Leona

✧ he'll send his secretary (ruggie) to keep tabs on you as his interest in you continues to grow. it will be ruggie who breaks into your home to kidnap you, and it's ruggie you see when you wake in a nicely furnished home. leona comes home from an interview later that evening, pleased to find you (unwillingly) waiting for him. you'll be kept safe in leona's home. he won't do anything to hurt you, but he does get irritated when you cry and struggle. when ruggie comes to visit babysit, he'll keep you company and cook delicious meals for you while also informing you of how good you have it here. how lucky you ought to feel. it's also ruggie who pays rollo a visit with not-so-kind intentions...

Azul

✧ azul will send his two confidants (dangerous men who have taken over their father's business) to collect rollo. azul's offer is simple: be his for all of eternity and rollo can live. he's even willing to let him leave wound-free. isn't he so generous? depending on your answer, rollo is free to live another day or he's disposed of before your very eyes (a gruesome lesson that burns itself into your retinas forever). if the manager is female, azul definitely baby-traps you. the twins are the ones who punish you when you act out of line or attempt defiance. azul hides his ties to the mafia well. to think he's been a dangerous individual all this time and you never suspected a thing... you get better at begging each time you find yourself at the mercy of the twins. they know just how to mold you to azul's vision.

Kalim

✧ without meaning to, kalim sinks both his and your careers when he publicly announces he's in love with you. his secretary (jamil) had adamantly advised against this very outcome, so now he's left to pick up the pieces and assure the public that kalim is just joking and this was all one big social experiment. when things manage to quiet down (you've been bombarded by media and fans, all threatening you to come forward with the truth, to stop seducing the idols you manage, that you're only after kalim's fortune... these accusations are enough to wear you down, so much so that not even rollo can cheer you up). when jamil approaches you and claims that you should lie low for the time being (it's what kalim's doing), you think it's a good idea. for this reason, you don't think twice when you accept the all-expenses paid tropical vacation kalim gifts you. the island is small, but isolated and owned by his father. you think nothing of the dangers until you find that the only ones who exist on this island are you and kalim, and his secretary doesn't intend to help you no matter how much you cry and beg.

Vil

✧ he ruins your life. new years is an important time. the housewardens were invited to perform for a new years eve celebration and with any party there are bound to be plenty of snacks and drinks. you think nothing of it when vil offers you your beverage of choice, and throughout the evening you drink, and vil offers another glass, and you drink some more. it isn't until your every nerve is alight with hot, sticky desire that you begin to suspect something's wrong. but you're so far-gone that when vil hands you off to his secretary (rook) who brings you back to the hotel you're staying at you can only think of the discomforting heat that overwhelms you. vil has the key to your room and he pays you a visit once the new year has arrived. you've fallen asleep, twisting and turning in bed, and vil slowly peels back the covers. when you find out you're pregnant, you think it's rollo's child. you go the entire pregnancy thinking this. it isn't until you're holding your child and they open their brilliant purple eyes that dread chews through you. maternity leave is the perfect time for a certain mr. hunt to collect his dear vil's beloved.

Idia

✧ he's been cyberstalking you this entire time. there are cameras and microphones scattered throughout your house. he's been privy to every conversation, every late-night tryst, every morning spent wrapped up in rollo's arms. he sees and hears it all, and his envy consumes him. idia will find a way to fake your death so that, while everyone's mourning the untimely loss of their manager, they won't suspect that manager is actually being held captive in idia's house, shackled to his bed. idia's so pleased to have his manager all to himself. there's a lot he's been wanting to tell you and do to you. he seems almost shy when he speaks to you, but he's quick to become giddy the more he talks. rollo is a variable he's considered, but it's best if rollo suffers alone in his grief, never truly knowing what happened to his precious lover. if the manager is female, idia probably gets you pregnant without intending to because he never wears a condom. he thinks doing it raw is so much better. you learn all about idia's gross fantasies the longer you spend in captivity.

Malleus

✧ he'll leave everything behind for you: his career, his companions, his fame. and he'll start anew. malleus will move you into his childhood home, a gothic mansion that sits deep in a desolate part of the forest. you'll be kidnapped by lilia (malleus's secretary and father figure) and when you come to you're lying in a king-sized bed and malleus's bodyguards are standing just outside the door, preventing you from leaving. they keep telling you malleus will be back soon and that's when you'll be free to roam the house at your leisure. you're completely lost. who are these people malleus knows and why is he confining you to this room? you'll later learn malleus is just doing it to protect you and because he's found that fame is meaningless if it excludes you from the picture. from now on, you and him will live happily in isolation. no one knows what became of the idol who mysteriously vanished overnight, but fans and media are fraught with grief. another one who baby-traps manager; lilia is pleased to know he'll get to help raise another young one!

[blarshwritezz]

Yandere Ex x Reader

M yan x AFAB reader

TW - general yandere behavior, implied NSFW, somnophilia, drugging, pregnancy/baby trapping, stalking

Things have been...strange since you broke up with your now ex boyfriend. Things in your house were moved, and sometimes cleaner than how you left them. Not only that, you've been feeling sleepier and sleepier. Especially after all your meals. You swear you'd fall asleep at the table only to wake up in your bed...

And worse, for the last month or two, you've been feeling really sick. And not only that, you've missed your last two periods.

So naturally, you went to your doctor in hopes of finding an answer. And well...you certainly found one.

"Pregnant?! But- but that's impossible! I haven't had sex in months!" You haven't exactly been sleeping with many people since your breakup 6 months ago. Well, any people, actually.

"Ma'am, don't you think you're a little old to be acting like this? If you haven't been sexually active, there would be no baby." The doctor talked down to you, as if you didn't know how babies happen.

That night, you laid in bed thinking about how the hell this could have happened. Sure, you randomly woke up some mornings with a sticky mess between your legs, but you thought you'd just had an increase in wet dreams or something.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sound in your walls. Damn mice. You needed to get rid of them. No matter how many traps you set out, they never seemed to go away.

You sighed and got up. You couldn't sleep. Maybe a snack would help, or a cup of water. Arriving at your kitchen, you opened the fridge. Now what did you want? You actually weren't that hungry.

You spotted a little bottle of water and grabbed it. You just liked the taste a bit better than tap water. You opened it and took a swig, taking it with you back to bed.

Laying back down, covering yourself with the blankets and closing your eyes, you thought about your breakup oddly enough. It was so weird. You told him you never wanted to see or hear from him again, and he just...agreed. He had been acting extra possessive and you couldn't take it. You expected to have to fight tooth and nail to get away from. You thought you must have just gotten lucky as sleep finally took you.

And he stuck to his word, really he did. You hadn't seen him. You couldn't, not from inside your walls. Thanks to the total lack of security cameras in your house, he was able to sneak out whenever he wanted to drug your food and drinks while you weren't looking. You would never notice how he tapped your phone to listen to you wherever you went.

He was elated at the news from today. You had to be his again now that you were having his baby! Maybe soon, he'd come out of hiding and you three would be a happy family! And it'd be a lot easier to give that child siblings. As many as possible, preferably.

Until then, he'd be content with watching you from a distance, only able to get close when you were asleep. And after a few months, he'd be able to start taking proper care of you.

This would have been better if I finished it closer to when I started it lol

[on-leatheredwings]

Baby-trapping you say? 👀

baby trapping i say!!!

maybe i should say its specifically stealthing [picks nose]? he doesnt really care to 'trap' you because he literally just believes you're endgame

sneak peek bc god im tired of writing:

tw: weird ideals about fertile (cis) women, intent to stealth, implied/tangential somnophilia (???) and other yandere-typical behavior

18+ only, Damian Wayne is 21

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that. 

A part of him, a part that’s been planted in him since his childhood, quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood. He was taught that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals – Bruce Wayne the Batman and Talia al Ghul, Daughter of the Demon’s Head. 

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. He indeed sketched, as he did everyday, but he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. Damian opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder.

When opened, inside is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. The days are simply blank or highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window. 

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. He doesn’t ask anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.” 

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one, his One, he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a sample from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision –  Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He remembers being proud. As expected, you were perfect in all things.

[autumnywinter]

Im crazy for this blog! Do you mind writing for yandere Baizhu or some hcs? Maybe a modern au?

Baizhu's more just a clinician than a pharmacist here because I'm obsessed with yandere doctors. It's been a while since I wrote for him, I'm not very confident in this but I hope it's still good ^^

Yandere!Baizhu x Reader

TW: Heavily implied noncon somnophilia, drugging, doctor/patient, gaslighting

You had been seeing and hearing things. It started with little noises outside of your window at night, rustling and shuffling. It scared you, but not enough to do anything about it. Next thing you knew, you swore you were seeing white flashes through your window at odd hours of the night. You'd look out the window, and there'd be not a thing in sight except for the stillness of the night.

It got worse.

Items of your possession began to go missing, mostly clothing, oftentimes dirty. You told yourself it was probably due to your own absent-mindedness, but you knew deep down that something was wrong.

The thing that set you off was when you'd wake up sore and hurting. There'd be scratch marks on your arms and back, and bruises you swore were hickeys on your shoulders and neck. They were in places you couldn't have reached yourself. Your mind had jumped to the worst case scenario, and you were terrified.

Yet your trusted doctor brushed it all off, saying you were getting hallucinations and stressing yourself out far too much. He claimed what you were so sure were hickeys, were actually just bruises. He said you were likely a sleep walker due to your increased stress, hence it made sense that you'd unintentionally hurt yourself while asleep. You'd bought into his reasoning, because he'd always been so trustworthy and reliable.

He gave you medication to help you, but you couldn't help but feel like what he prescribed made it worse. You found yourself more groggy than usual, and often having nightmares. You felt physically sick most days.

But Doctor Baizhu was so trustworthy, you felt like it was the right choice.

You noticed how his fingers would linger longer than they should whenever he took your pulse. You noticed how his eyes would dilate when staring at you for just a bit too long. You noticed how his touch felt wrong, like there was something else behind it. But you were just being paranoid, just as Baizhu said.

"Feeling sick again?" Baizhu's cold hand pressed against your forehead. The touch sent a shiver coursing through your body, the sharp contrast in temperature setting your nerves on edge.

"Yeah," you managed. Your voice was barely a whisper.

"That's unfortunate," Baizhu sighed. He clicked his tongue a few times in thought. "Well, if you continue taking this medicine, you should start feeling better soon. Although I'm starting to worry the side-effects are a pain. I have something else to try, so if you would just give me a moment..."

Baizhu walked off to the other end of the room, leaving you alone. You swallowed hard, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling. Your throat was always dry lately, and you found yourself struggling to swallow, let alone eat. You wished you could sleep, but the nightmares always left you a groggy mess. You could never remember them, only that they were terrifying.

"Ah, here we are," Baizhu smiled, snapping you from your thoughts. He had a bottle of pills, shaking out one singular white one. "It'll dissolve in your mouth. It's to help ease your nausea. I know you haven't been keeping anything down well lately. Hopefully this should help."

You extended a hand, to which he placed it in your palm. Were doctors even allowed to give out pills directly? You weren't sure, but shrugged it off. You popped it into your mouth, and Baizhu was right. It quickly dissolved, and you were surprised that it didn't have a funny taste. You were expecting something bitter or awful, but there was nothing.

"It'll take some time to kick in," Baizhu assured you. "I'd like it if you stayed here until it does. It might make you a little dizzy."

"Sure," you nodded. You had no reason to distrust Baizhu, despite every fibre of your being telling you something was wrong.

The medicine kicked in quickly. Within ten minutes, you were feeling a bit weird, like you were floating. Your head was lighter. Baizhu noticed you swaying and pushed you gently onto the examination table.

"Dizzy?" he asked.

"Uh huh," you replied dumbly.

"Stay lying down," he instructed. Your vision was spinning and your head was empty, so empty you could hardly process the fact he was digging into your belongings and then leaving the room. You wanted to ask him where he was going, but couldn't find the energy. Instead, you let yourself lay there, staring at the ceiling as it spun round and round.

Baizhu came back, rolling in a wheelchair. He lifted you up with a quiet groan, and set you gently into the seat, draping a blanket over you. It was scratchy and thin.

"We're going for a walk," Baizhu said. He wheeled you out, and as loopy as you were, a spike of hazy panic hit you when you saw him leading you to a car in the parking lot that wasn't yours. You tried to protest, but Baizhu cooed, petting your hair and whispering sweet nothings.

"Shhh, it'll be okay. Everything is fine. We're going home."

Baizhu opened the passenger side door, pushing the chair close. He lifted you out with a low grunt. You felt weightless in his arms, like a feather. He buckled you in, and his minty breath ghosted across your face.

"I love you," he murmured.

You passed out before his lips could even touch yours.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, gn!reader, somnophilia, oral sex, victim blaming, implied stalking, and obsessive behavior.

Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

He knows he's not the best guy out there, but if he's given a choice between saving a cat from a tree and pushing a stroller into oncoming traffic, there's a good chance he'll choose the cat. His students might give him a hard time, but he knows better than to take it to heart when Megumi says the only useful thing about his dutiful guardian in his platinum card or Maki claims he could be replaced with a low-level curse and they'd struggle to tell the difference. He's not a saint, sure, but he doesn't entirely miss the mark.

That's why you felt so comfortable tag-along with him on a mission that took you to the other side of the country, why you didn't panic when you found out the higher-ups expected you to share a single (admittedly, still bigger than he'd like for it to be) bed, why you didn't think twice before stripping down to a tank-top and sleeping shorts and passing out - too exhausted to care about sorcerer decorum. Because Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing. Gojo can normally, generally, almost always be trusted to do the right thing.

It's just that he can't be trusted to do the right thing right now.

It's not his fault, Gojo reasons as he stares unblinkingly at the mold-stained ceiling, doing his best not to let his eyes drift. He's a hot-blooded man in the prime of his life, and you're... well, you're you - beautiful, smart, oblivious you. It's not his fault that you looked so pretty in the dim light filtering in through cheap curtains, that the stuffy motel room was too hot to justify using the paper-thin bedsheets, that all your tossing and turning meant your shorts were starting to ride up your legs in a way that wanted to make him dig his teeth into your thighs and--

And look at you. With a shaky breath, he sits up and rakes his fingers through his hair. Looking never hurt anyone. That's what he tells himself, at least, as he shifts onto his knees and lets his eyes rake over the length of your body. You'd rolled onto your side since the last time he could bring himself to check - your knees pulled up and your head tucked downward. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest for a moment, than another, before letting his attention fall lower - to where the waistband of your shorts had drifted below your hip, leaving a strip of supple flesh just a touch lower than what even the lowest-set of your jeans revealed. Both straps of your tank-top had managed to fall off of your shoulders sometime during the night, and careful not to touch you and cross a line he'd only half-heartedly set for himself, Gojo catches the flimsy fabric of your top between two fingers and tugs it downward, just enough to expose the swell of your chest and draw the material taut. Your nipples are already hard, he notes with just a little too much satisfaction. You wouldn't have been happy if you knew what he was doing, but your body might've been.

He feels his cock twitch, and he's palming it before he can stop himself. Touching himself wouldn't hurt you, either, and he wouldn't leave a mess, not if he could help it, not if he could summon that much self-restraint. Cursing under his breath, he shrugs his sweatpants down to his thighs and spits into his palm before wrapping his fist around his shaft. He's already stiff - had been from the second you started to undress, as hard as he'd tried not to acknowledge it. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pumps his hand over his cock to the tempo over your breathing, letting his mind wander to the space between your thighs. He couldn't, not without waking you up. He couldn't, but..

His attention drifts back to your lips, wet and ever so slightly parted. It wouldn't compare, but it'd have to do.

He positions himself carefully, his knees sinking into the mattress next to your head. Arousal beads at his tip, dripping down his shaft and filling the cramped room with a soft 'click, click, click' as he brings the head of his cock to your mouth, resting it gingerly on the crook of your lips. He does what little he can to swallow down his voice and smother the movement in his hips as your warm breath fans over his cock, as his fist tightens in a weak attempt to imitate how tight your throat would be, if he ever got the chance to fuck it properly.

He's thinking about how hot it would be inside of you, how adoringly your body would welcome him when his self-control snaps, when his hips buck forward and the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You gag sharply, your eyes snapping open and find his in an instant, expression a mix of shock and confusion and horror, pure and unadulterated. He wants to draw back. He wants to apologize. He wants to do the right thing.

Instead, he cums. His free hand falls to your head, and he holds you in place while he fucks shallowly into your mouth and rides through his orgasm. Your reaction is a pitiful thing - all choking and betrayal, but he can't seem to stop himself from grinning.

When he really thought about it, this was all your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself.

After all, Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

This time, you just didn't give him another choice.

[bunny-yan]

Yandere king pt 2???

I was definitely afraid to write this one after the first, but I hope you like it!

TW: descriptions of death, implies non-con, implied somnophilia, violence, domestic abuse, gaslighting, minors DNI

—

The king was possessive. It wasn’t out of the ordinary and it made sense considering you were more of a possession than a person, being pampered day and night by his hands although it wasn’t deemed appropriate for someone of his status. It would’ve been nice if it didn’t mean that you would get no time to yourself. 

No time to mourn the death of your family. To sit in silence by yourself and think anything different from the things he whispered in your ears. To wonder if you were anything without him. 

Even if you could escape this prison, you would have nowhere to go. No one was waiting for you, your childhood home probably collecting dust if it wasn’t already sold by now. You remember you’d been home to visit, your mother greeting you with a warm hug, proud that you had been chosen, favored by the prince at the time. That hadn’t changed, but it’d been so long that you had began to forget the interior. And their faces. 

They haunted you at night. You closed your eyes and watched as warm smiles melted to gaunt expressions. Blue and purple bulging heads, eyes appearing as if they’d pop out of their skulls at any moment. 

Through death, they’d travel to whisper, It’s your fault. It’s your fault. Your guilt shielding the realization that their voices sounded strangely familiar, like the one that greeted you every morning. 

He whispered sweet nothings, sick honey clogging your ears as you opened your eyes to face another day. 

Your mornings were often the same. 

A steaming bath drawn for him that he’d always be so kind to share. Taking his time, though he was no stranger to taking your clothes off before pulling you to rest against him. The servants would offer to wash his back and he’d decline. You were no stranger to serving him. 

There was no point in being embarrassed. The servants had plenty of occasions to become familiar with the shape of your body since the king loved showing off his possession. He liked others to know how well he could please you, often allowing them entrance even on the mornings he’d claim he couldn’t help himself when you awoke to the feeling of him pressing inside of you. 

The servants could be trusted not to speak. 

One had been so bold to look down on you. You’d become accustomed to dirty glares, sneers, and hushed whispers. It was oddly refreshing to have someone be upfront about their disdain for you. She was jealous, another who felt they could serve the king better if they were given the chance. She called you a cheap whore, one undeserving of the same king who was listening on the other side of the bedroom door. 

The servants didn’t speak about the tongue that was nailed to their quarters’ door. They didn’t warn you as her head was served on a plate to you at dinner. You looked to your king, a gleeful smile on his face as you were presented with his gift. He warned others about approaching you in a malicious manner, lest they wanted to join the rest of her in the pigs’ slop.

Your king was many things, but wasteful he was not. 

Such a gift couldn’t be ignored, so choking down the bile that rose at the sight of the decapitated head that made your nightmares reality and rotting smell of flesh, you thanked your king. 

You thanked him for defending your honor. Thanked him for ruining your appetite and making sure her face would appear whenever you closed your eyes for the rest of your life. Thanked him for isolating you further and making sure no one would dare approach for fear that they would suffer the same fate. 

With him, you were lonely. There was no point in thinking of a life without him. Every time you tried to make it a reality, something terrible happened and you were left in the golden wreckage, your chains tighter than before. 

There was no need for physical restraints. You had nowhere to go. Yet, he was always afraid that he’d look around and you would be gone. 

He didn’t say this. You were a possession. You wouldn’t be able to go beyond where he allowed. 

But he didn’t have to. 

You knew in the way his hands would search for you desperately in his sleep when you managed to escape his iron grip to go to the bathroom or simply gain some space. You watched his distress, wondering if he was capable of feeling the same things you did. Fear, sorrow, guilt. 

On the days you allowed yourself the satisfaction of his despair, you had to deal with his unease.

It translated in a number of ways, primarily in the form of your misery. 

If he woke up, finding that you weren’t next to him, he’d drag you to bed after laying eyes on you, but on those restless nights, nothing could ease his worries. His crazed eyes would look at you, betrayal bleeding from them as he accused you of trying to run away from him. Hands wrapped around your neck and squeezed until your vision had spots, desperately clawing at his hands for air. 

He’d stop when the haze filled fog would lift from his brain, either with time or an injury you inflicted, snatching his hands away from your neck to allow you to breathe. 

He’d hold you closely, not saying a word as he pulled you to him. It felt like a fever dream, the way his hands would hold you tighter as you swallowed ragged breaths, still struggling despite being incompletely freed. 

Baths were spent in silence. He couldn’t claim ignorance when you flinched away from his touch, especially considering there were purple hand shaped bruises around your neck, but he wouldn’t stand for you to avoid him for too long. 

He’d grip your hand tighter when you pulled away from him during dinner. You were rendered unable to eat meals, fingers squeezed between his as he refused to let you go no matter how foolish your looked attempting to feed yourself with one hand. Pulled you closer when you shied away from him during meetings. It was not a servant’s place to join the King and his advisors, and yet he’d pull you into his lap, hand wrapped with faux laziness around your waist as he ordered them to start the meeting, paying no mind to the others as he caressed your sides or placed kisses on the nape of your neck. You could tell you weren’t the only one who was uncomfortable. The king practically chased you into the garden when you were trying to gain a moment to yourself, slamming you against the cobblestone flower decorated wall before his arms encased you so you couldn’t escape. 

He tried to ask why you were acting so shy, leaning closer and snapping your chin up to face him. It wasn’t like you to avoid him. The two of you were well past the stage of playing hard to get and yet you insisted on denying him. 

You wanted to tell him that you weren’t playing hard to get. That you still felt the air scrape against your throat with each breath you took. Being in his presence only constricted the little air that you managed to give yourself and looking into those eyes, you couldn’t stop imagining the way his hands felt as they forced life out of you. But you couldn’t. 

The king hadn’t apologized for his actions, choosing instead to help you pick out a nice outfit that covered the discolored misunderstanding. 

You couldn’t speak, it being difficult only aiding your dilemma. You couldn’t stand to look at him and know that no matter what you said, this obsession would never end. What was there to do but avoid him?

The longer you remained silent, the greater his unease grew. His cool and composed facade was beginning to crack. You were able to catch glimpses when he breathed in to calm himself down. His hands grabbed at your shoulders and squeezed as he laughed, pulling you into a crushing embrace. 

You told your body not to squirm. That it would only cause him to hold you tighter, but you couldn’t move when you felt his breath brush against your ear as chilling words caused your spine to lock. 

“Are you thinking of leaving me?”

You were too afraid to turn and look at him, but you instinctively knew that he wasn’t smiling anymore. 

You wanted to tell him that the feeling of his fingernails clawing into your shoulder blades hurt, but despite the fact that his hands weren’t around your throat you felt it constrict. 

He was choking you. 

“It was my mistake.” he said, surprising you as he admitted fault. It didn’t take long for him to ruin any hopes that he matured. “I shouldn’t have killed them all at once. Now that there are no hostages left for me to hold over you, you’re getting bold again.”

A thumb caressed your cheek. He studied your horrified expression before his hand slid to wrap loosely around your neck. 

“There’s always special training if you can’t learn to behave, my love.”

You shuddered at the thought. 

Training. 

The word he used to describe his endless tormenting when the two of you were younger. The only time you had to endure it was when you consistently denied him and tried to escape. 

It’d been a long time since he’d touched you in that way, but you were afraid of the wretched torture his mind had grown capable of. 

You were sure he wouldn’t kill you, but it was undeniable that what he would do to you, if you didn’t find it in your heart to cease your useless struggles, would be much worse. 

Your trembling hand pressed over his. You tried to calm the tremors racking through your body and the uneasy sensation that pricked the tips of your fingers as you looked into the eyes that were studying you. 

“I’m yours, my King.”

His eyes widened slightly, lips quirking up before a crazed grin stretched his expression to the brim of madness. 

You had only told the truth. 

No matter how much you wanted to deny it, you were nothing more than a possession in his eyes. 

You were his. 

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Shalnark x fem! reader

Just a little blurb about Shalnark being a dick <3

Tw: kidnapping, exhibitionism, voyeurism, patronization, facials, forced facial, weird power dynamic, sort of implied somnophilia? It's definitely straddling the line, ugh shal is so slimy and creepy but i love him, fem reader, MDNI

Shalnark makes you sit down in front of him on the bed, so that you're facing each other, and talk him through touching himself.

It's not as dominant of a position as you think it is - not when he's looking at you like that, all expectant and patronizing and wide, like he's expecting you to fail at this before you even start.

He'll follow your every command, shamelessly spreading his legs so that you get the full view of his pretty pink cock and the set of balls with a few blond hairs nestled behind it, a thin layer of precum already making his tip shine and glisten in the light. He's been thinking about this all day - when he was watching you wake up this morning (laying next to you, of course, with his hand tucked under his head and a wide, unnatural grin on his face because you're just so damn pretty, and seeing you all vulnerable like that really gets him going).

He's watching you the whole time, this infuriating little giggle coming from him with every command you make.

Stroke yourself slowly.

His eyes twinkle at you as he does what you say, a fake pout coming to his lips. His hand is moving almost on autopilot, not a single strain or wobble to his voice. This doesn't feel all that good, you know, it's much better when you're doing it for me.

He doesn't want you to touch him, though - not yet, at least,

He'll tell you that this isn't quite how I'd do it with every command you give, though he executes them exactly as you say.

He'll make you keep going, too, for as long as it takes him to come - you won't be given any sort of timeframe, any warning when he's getting close, only left to be scrutinized and relentlessly laughed at while he fucks his fist and fondles his balls just as you instruct.

But while this is all fun and games for Shalnark (and he fucking loves the attention, your eyes all on him and your cute, shy, bashful little expressions because aw, you're embaressed), the real fun begins when he's right on the edge of coming.

Because you don't get any sort of warning, it's very, very jarring when he's suddenly scooting forward, one hand flying up to grab the back of your head and yanking you down, stopping you so that your face is only an inch or so above his cock, his own hand still tugging and twisting and pulling just like you said.

But then his orgasm hits and he's coming, warm cum splattering up onto your face, his trembling fingers angling his tip up directly against your cheeks and nose so that it'll get all over you - so that you'll get a face full of him while he gets the visual of your pretty head bent over his crotch.

(If he's in a particularly good mood, he'll even rub his tip along an expanse of unsullied skin on your face, just to make sure he's gotten everything he can offer onto you - he might even hum your name or compliment you for being so obedient while he does it.)

He's berathing heavy and staring down at you, his smile for once managing to fall away because he' just enjoying you, the sight of your pretty back all arches, your pretty hair, the feeling of your warm breath brushing against his cock, all sensitive and wet and needy, still.

Once he finally lets your head go he'll grin at you and pat your head, telling you in a breathless voice that just barely gives away how strongly his orgasm affected him that you're not too bad at that, but I'm sure you could do better with your own hand. Why don't you show me?

Shalnark just thinks it's so, so cute the way you flounder and get all embaressed when he's looking to you for pleasure, how you clam up because he just won't stop staring at you or talking to you or touching his damn cock. It's cute to see you so overwhelmed.

And the way you never seem to learn your lesson, never seeming to realize that he'll always throw some last minute wrench in at the end is really the crowning jewel - you're way too trusting, and he's not a good enough person to ignore that.

And luck, lucky you get a face full of his cum, his fingers groping at you and his cock impatiently nestling between your folds - what more could you possibly ask for?

(Because really, say anything - aside from your freedom - and Shalnark will give it to you. He'd give you the world if you asked it of him.)