i write sometimes

filipino/she - her ... I like abusive dynamics (aka yanderes or idk what)

[acquelus-ussy]

I don’t want a love that doesn’t fulfill. I want a love that satisfies my thirst, that satiates my desire to eat fully, to swallow someone whole, to keep them in my ribs so they are closer to my heart, to give warmth to the aching thing—not to cage them from the freedom they deserve, but to show them my heart hungers for one thing, and that is you.

I miss writing gang

[acquelus-ussy]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! Time to be a slut

I haven't got a bayonetta wig yet :'((

[acquelus-ussy]

Sorry y'all I've been inactive i gotta keep up with my scholarship XDD BUT ANYWAYS A HALLOWEEN TREAT

Also fmab readerr

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Tw: suggestive content

Yandere! Jock x "weird"! Reader

You don't really know how this all happened. You got a gist of why it probably happened, but there he was standing right in front of you with flowers. Can you imagine? The school heartthrob having a big, fat crush on you the so-called weird girl? It’s been almost three weeks of him trying to win you over, and you’re honestly just annoyed with him trying to. So, you decided to just play along

"you know i can't accept your flowers" you look at him with pity

"i know but can't you just accept it this once?" he looks at you with pleading eyes

You feel humiliated by the tons of eyes staring at your encounter. You look around and sigh.

"just this once" you admit in defeat

A big fat smile entered his face and he looks at you and your eyes wander a little bit... and you seem to notice a boner, i mean it's hard to not notice with those tight pants he has.

You quickly look another way and he speaks up

"can i walk you home?" he asks

You think for a moment since you do have something to ask him, you agree. Of course, he thinks you’re in love with him too because of that.

"okay fine"

As you lead him the wrong way to your house, and the wind hits just right, you finally speak.

"say you've been doing a lot for me why do you like me?"

"well for starters i love how you preserve the frogs body after we dissected it and also isn't this the wrong way to your house?"

You look stunned that he noticed the wrong route. How does he know? This is your first time walking home together. You stop in your tracks.

"who dared you to go out with me..."

"oh baby don't get me wrong it started as a dare yes but i do genuinely like you now"

You look at him

"carve my name onto your skin and ill give you a chance don't bother contacting me or interacting with me at school if you haven't done it" you say coldly and you leave him there and start walking back to your house

Once you get home, you kind of regret being that mean to him. But you quickly shake off the thought you’re not some zoo animal he can make fun of. Besides, no sane person would even do that anyway.

The next day, you find yourself in the same spot where you usually eat lunch and smoke a cigarette or two until you feel a figure standing behind you.

"the fuck you want didn't i tell you don't talk to me if you haven't done it"

"i did what you asked now will you be my girlfriend"

You turn around to see his wrist with your name carved into it still bloody... wound still fresh...

"what the fuck?!?"

"baby isn't this what you wanted? I did it don't tell me you don't want it" while he takes a step forward

You stand there shocked slowly backing up getting ready to run but then his hands find your wrist his grip bruising

He looks at you with pleading eyes

"baby all i wanted was a chance so you're going to fucking give it to me or find out the consequences"

You're fucked

[leviackermanstoes]

I WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEAR

[acquelus-ussy]

I ALSO WANT TO DO KINKTOBERRRR

[huckleberry-writes]

cw: yandere, insane man, noncon jerk off session in front of your face, facial, minors do not interact otherwise you will be blocked. Inspired by: Gojo Satoru and specifically young justice clark kent

Yandere! Asylum Patient who’s just a little obsessed with his therapist.

Fresh out of school, broke, and desperate, you took the only job that would hire you without experience. An asylum therapist which sounded clinical enough on paper - structured, routine. But in reality, they barely gave you an orientation after you based some sketchy background check. No explanation of the halls, no list of rules beyond a vague warning to “keep sessions short.” They didn’t even tell you what he’d done. Just pushed you into a locked room and left you there with him.

He sits cuffed, wrists bound to the table, but that does little to ease the unease prickling at your spine as you sit across from the man. His cheeks flush every time your gaze meets his, breath hitching like a schoolboy with a crush. Giddy. Almost trembling. And then you notice - despite the restraints - his fingers working against the fabric of his pants. A sick heat curls in your stomach. They stuck you with one of those patients.

You try to keep it clinical, professional, like the textbooks told you. Open-ended questions. Gentle redirection. But he doesn’t want to talk about his past or his supposed rehabilitation. No, he wants to talk about you.

“Any pets?” he asks, voice light, almost playful, though it drips with a strange intimacy that sets your teeth on edge. He presses his cuffed hands together, wrists raw and red from the metal, and leans his cheek against them like a child posing for a photograph. His eyes - icy and fever-bright - on you with such intensity it feels as though he’s engraving your face into his memory.

On the surface, it’s harmless. Harmless, the way a smile carved too wide across a stranger’s face is harmless, until you realize that eerie smile doesn’t reach their eyes. You think about the years you spent earning your degree, that you should've done a master's, the nights of ramen and sleepless study sessions, and realize nothing, not one textbook or lecture hall, prepared you for this. For him.

You remind yourself that this is just a job. At the end of the day you can't save everyone, and you're doing this just enough to keep the lights on, pay rent, buy groceries. Just a job. If you can make it out of the room each day with your composure intact.

But he doesn’t stop. “Boyfriend?” he drawls suddenly, his tone lilting into a sing-song that teeters between mocking and desperate. Like he doesn't quite want to know the answer but has to know for whatever fantasy he's cooking up in his deranged mind.

You try to cut it off, a tight smile forced onto your lips. “We’re not supposed to be talking about me -”

“Indulge me,” he murmurs, soft but just as suffocating. The gleam in his eyes sharpens, glittering with a manic delight. “Please. I’m here for life. You don’t have to worry about little ol’ me.” He leans forward inch by inch, cuffs rattling like sinister jewelry as his grin spreads wider, bright pearly white teeth on display. “You’re the brightest part of my day, you know… I think about you a lot.” The last words spill from him closer to a moan than a whisper, thick with hunger, and nausea coils tight in your gut.

Then the timer chimes - shrill, metallic - your salvation. Ding, ding, ding. Like a school bell, but more like a warning siren.

“Well, that’s our time for today.” You push yourself up too quickly, pulse roaring in your ears. Relief bubbles in your chest when you glance back. He’s still sitting there, grin stretched wide, eyes glued to you. You reach for the door handle, already tasting escape -

The metal door with a tiny window slams shut. Hard.

The sound sends ripples up your spine, and your stomach drops as the truth sinks in. His hand is free. The cuffs dangle from his wrist like a broken charm bracelet, the skin beneath scored with angry red lines.

“Answer the question, love,” he whispers, suddenly behind you, his breath warm and sour against your ear. The tone is boyish, almost tender, but it quivers with jealousy, with possession. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“I - sit down - ” Your voice stumbles out in fragments, shaking more than you’d like. “I’ll call security. You’ll be sent to isolation. Nobody will ever visit you again. I’ll be assigned a new patient.” You try to sound firm, authoritative, but your voice continues to waver, splintering under the weight of panic. The thoughts race and tangle in your head - How do I get out of this? How did he even get out of the cuffs?

His laughter answers you before you can collect yourself, sharp and jagged, tearing through the room. “They ain’t comin’, love!” His words are giddy, triumphant. And just to add to your horror, his arm snakes around your waist. Tight. Crushing. Like a boa constrictor closing in on it's prey.

“Do you know,” he hisses, voice rasping like sandpaper, “do you know how many girls I killed?” The words drip hot into your ear, each syllable a poison, and you can’t stop the cry for help that bursts out of you, raw and desperate. His manic laughter swells, echoing off the sterile walls, as he drags you back - kicking, thrashing, heels scraping against the sterile linoleum - until your body collides with the cold, unforgiving metal table. He slams you down hard enough that the air bursts from your lungs in a painful rush. The cuffs jingle faintly, a cruel sound, as he pins you beneath him.

His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with a grotesque joy as he leans in, tongue sliding across the salt of your cheek. You feel his breath smear hot against your skin.

But I wouldn’t kill you, love,” he murmurs, softer now that he’s got you trapped, voice low and trembling like the edge of his sanity. “Never you. You listened. You let me into your life.”

You watch as his tongue drags across his lips, wet and eager, before that smile splits his face wide. He keeps you pinned, body heavy on yours, as he frees himself from those paper-thin scrubs. His cock springs forward, flushed and furious, the tip an angry red as it hovers inches from the skin of your face. The sight makes your stomach knot, dread, and nausea twist tight. Suddenly, getting your bills paid seems like an afterthought now. Your mind is already swirling up with the worst that's to come, and his eyes provide no comfort as they bore down through you.

“Spit,” he orders, voice hoarse with want, and you obey because his grip only tightens. Your saliva drips into his palm, and he smears it along his hardened length, shuddering as your spit glides across a thick, heavy vein.

“God, I’ve been dreaming about this,” he whispers, biting back a moan that scrapes raw from his throat. His fist pumps faster, each stroke slick and desperate. “I ain’t no monster, baby. No rapist. Just wanted you to see me. All of me.”

You turn your head, trying to escape the sight of the precum already dripping from the swollen, velvety tip, but his free hand clamps onto your jaw, fingers digging deep enough to leave bruises that'll form early in the morning. You’re forced to face him, forced to watch as he pumps himself in front of your face, every stroke rough and eager. His breath comes ragged, feverish, the sound pathetic - hot and damp - in your ear, until at last his release bursts forth - sudden, scalding - splattering across your cheek, lips, and skin.

You’re lucky he didn’t aim for your eyes, though not lucky enough as his grip wrenches your mouth open, just wide enough that some of the white sticky cum lands hot on your tongue. The taste burns bitter and salty as humiliation floods through you. Tears swell in your eyes, mocking, as you're forced to look into his loving ones. His laughter follows, low and cruel, yet laced with a mockery that almost sounds affectionate. Tilting his head, eyes alight with a madness too bright to be human, he coos in a near-tender voice, “Looks like that’s the end of our session, love. See you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he loosens his hold, lets you scramble up. With a strange calm, he slips the cuffs back onto his own wrists, the metal clinking as though it were part of some twisted performance. His grin never falters as he adds, almost cheerfully, “Oh, and if you don’t show up…” He leans in, voice dropping into something darker, hungrier. “I’ll kill everyone you love. Have a good day, love.”

[huckleberry-writes]

cw: yandere, mentions of noncon (not descriptive), vivid imagery

Yandere! Husband – To the world, he is this perfect man with no faults. A perfect smile framed by a strong jaw, the respectable weight of a steady job, the kind of man who opens doors and remembers anniversaries. Neighbors adore him. Friends admire him. Your family - what’s left of it - still insists you’re lucky.

But at the dinner table, perfection rots. The fork wavers in your hand as the silver pushes peas and potatoes across porcelain, circling but never spearing the slab of meat that bleeds across your plate. Its juices pool like something alive, dark and glistening. You stare until the smell makes your stomach turn, until bile rises like a tide in the back of your throat.

He notices, of course. The shift in the mood. His eyes are not the bright blue the world knows, but something colder when they land on you, a wolf sizing up its kill. They pin you in place, unblinking, devouring. A second ago you were laughing - too loud and happy, like a bee buzzing blind in summer - but the sound has long since curdled. You remember what you’ve tried so hard to forget: you did not marry the perfect man. You married the serpent who wound himself around your ribs and squeezed until you mistook suffocation for an embrace.

He still does. Every night. The sheets reek of iron and sweat, of meat claimed and carved and consumed. He treats you no differently than the steak cooling on your plate: something to be cut open, something to be used until the marrow runs dry. Whether awake or asleep.

The fire in his eyes flickers as you meet his stare, but the hunger never dims. It is endless, ravenous, and it gnaws at you as surely as his teeth might.

Yes, you made a mistake. But isn’t it easier, darling, to keep playing housewife? To let him crown you with pearls, seat you at his table, feed you lies, than to admit the truth - that hell is not some far-off place, but this dining room, this marriage, this man?

You married the sinner. Now eat your dinner.

[chickenraw-deactivated20251129]

Through Silk and Sin

⤷ synopsisノthe emperor owns your name, yet the crown prince whispers it in the dark.

There are rules etched into the bones of the palace. Stitched into silken robes. Whispered between lattice shadows. Rules not spoken aloud, yet every woman in the harem learns them by breath, by bruise, by birth.

The Crown Prince must never look upon his father’s concubines. Not with interest. Not with intent. Not with eyes that wish and desire.

But you feel his gaze long before you meet it.

At the Chrysanthemum Banquet, beneath lantern light and strings of flute music, you sit three steps behind the Empress. Your spine does not bend despite the weight of gold on your crown. Your face remains serene beneath painted rouge, though your fingers ache from stillness.

Across the hall stands the heir to the throne.

Xu Wen.

Untouched by court or vintage. Yet his eyes stray where even older men would not risk glancing.

His gaze brushes against yours in a silence that cuts deeper than sound. And though he is surrounded by ministers and generals, it is you he sees. As if the rest of the court were dust, and only you had form.

You lower your gaze. You smile at nothing. You do not meet his eyes again.

That night, the Emperor calls for Lady Yun. Not for you.

You sleep alone beneath gold-dyed muslin, the braziers burning too hot, the loneliness pressing too close. The silence of your chambers stretches out like silk on a loom. Endless and fine, but threaded through with something tight.

You dream of being watched.

You wake to a peony, fresh and dewed, laid upon your pillow.

No one saw who placed it there.

It begins slowly.

A brush left slightly out of place. A new comb in your jewelry box. Your favorite tea brewed perfectly, though you never asked.

The older concubines whisper of palace spirits. Playful ghosts of eunuchs who died without name. You pretend to believe them. You pretend not to see when someone brushes too close behind the screens. You pretend not to feel when your name is breathed on a voice you know.

One night, the scent of ink wakes you. Faint. Delicate. Lingering.

A slip of rice paper rests beneath your pillow.

A poem. Flawed, but reverent. Written in a hand untrained, but burning.

You read the lines:

The moon was dull until I saw your face. Even the spring pauses at your passing grace.

There is no signature. But you recognize the ink. The rhythm. The heat beneath the syllables.

And when you walk through the southern gardens days later, you feel his presence behind the lattice screen. You do not turn to look. But your fingers brush the hem of your sleeve where the paper rests, folded tight.

He begins to appear in places where he should not.

A quiet path in the eastern gardens. The corridor behind the silk-weavers’ chamber. A glance in passing; never held too long, never caught. But always felt.

One day, your sleeves brush near the koi bridge.

His hand does not touch yours. But it could have. It almost does.

He says nothing.

Neither do you.

Later that night, a servant arrives. He does not look you in the eye.

"A message from the Crown Prince," he whispers, placing a wrapped scroll upon your table.

Inside, no words. Only a sketch. A single line drawing of a figure in repose. The angle of the face is unmistakable. Your own.

He is subtle. Careful. But not enough.

One of the concubines begins to notice. Lady Shu. Her tongue is sharp, her mouth quick to court favor.

She mentions you at court. Softly. Offhanded.

She says, "She carries herself with elegance, that one. No wonder the Crown Prince stares."

You laugh when the Empress brings it up to you. You pretend to be flattered, then dismissive.

You do not sleep well that night.

Lady Shu is found days later with her tongue split and her wrists bound in red ribbon.

“Suicide,” the ministers declare.

But no court lady dares utter your name again.

At the Mid-Autumn Festival, the moon is full and the night glows with the hush of lantern light. You leave the banquet early. You do not mean to go to the Jade Pavilion. And yet somehow, you are there.

So is he.

Xu Wen stands on the upper terrace, alone. No guards. No attendants. Just him in silver robes, moonlight washing his features pale and holy.

You should leave.

You do not.

He does not look at you when he speaks.

“They all say I am young,” he murmurs. “That I know nothing. That I should wait.”

He turns, gaze slow and deliberate.

“But I have waited. I have waited in silence. I have waited beneath your shadow.”

You do not speak. Your pulse speaks for you.

“They want me to want power. To hunger for conquest.” His mouth curves slightly. “But I want to understand how it feels when your hair is unpinned. When your voice is not measured. When your name is said with nothing but breath.”

You say softly, “You should not speak this way.”

“And yet I do.”

He steps closer.

“My father does not see you. Not truly. He calls you beauty. I call you scripture. He sleeps beside you. I would worship at your feet.”

The wind catches your sleeve. The silence trembles between you both.

His hand lifts, not to touch, but to hover just above the edge of your wrist.

“I will not take what is not given. But know this — I would give up the crown to hear you say my name without fear.”

You close your eyes.

“This is sin,” you whisper.

His voice is quieter than the breeze.

“Then let me dwell in it, if only for a breath.”

That night, the guards posted outside your room are gone.

The door does not creak. The braziers burn low. The air smells faintly of rain and ink.

He enters without a word.

You do not rise. You do not speak. You do not stop him.

Xu Wen does not touch you. He lies beside you like someone who has dreamed too long. He rests his forehead against the side of your stomach, barely breathing.

“I would set fire to my lineage,” he murmurs, “if it meant you would look at me once without restraint.”

He does not ask. He does not claim. He only lies there, trembling with what he dares not do.

chickenraw notes .ᐟ

this lowk corny asf

there may be some errors as im still getting used to tumblr so i apologize in advance

criticisms are always welcomed!

yes the header is jing yuan

[acquelus-ussy]

YEARNING!!!!!

[acquelus-ussy]

You've been paranoid these past few days, and you can't shake the feeling of being watched again.

You're a school teacher, which means you deal with a lot of people from colleagues to little children. You've been so careful with your actions: you changed schools and went to a different city heck, you even changed your name and appearance.

Ever since his incident, you grew to be cautious, always waking up at the dead of the night to double-check the locks.

"Don't worry, he's in prison. He surely won't know where I am... right?" you mutter to yourself while cooking dinner. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

The colleagues make fun of your story, saying that you're just making things up. Who would even stalk you? Why would they?

"You're still paranoid after all those years? He's in "prison" you don't have to worry" your co-worker laughs.

Maybe it is time to let loose! having your guard up 24/7 is exhausting.

And so you did! You smiled more, laughed more, and even went out more with your co-workers after class!

How great...

You're making this too easy for me, my love.

You swear there was something in the bush.

"Come on, you walk so slow! The food's not going to wait!" a coworker teased.

"Alright, I'm coming!"

Then something unexpected happened you and another teacher started to date. Hey! It's worth a try, right? And besides, you assure yourself that he's far and locked away.

Your lover hasn't responded or come to work? That's odd he would always update you...

You scream as you drop the box with the severed head of your lover. You clutch yourself. Is this a prank? What psycho would do this?!

You hear footsteps...

"Honey, I missed you so much."

He kicked away the box and hugged you.

You knew this was going to happen. It's inevitable.

~~~

Hehe not one of my best works (i don't even know if i have good works) I HOPE YALL LIKE THISISISIS any thoughts about this would help me very much :3

[acquelus-ussy]

Hear me out...

Yandere!husband × wife!reader

You already know he would do anything and everything for you. So when you woke up in the hospital bed, Yandere!husband was already crying.

Hold on who is he? You look around, confused, slowly sitting upright. Then you see a man crying near you. He must be a family member or something.

He looks at you, and the moment he feels that you don't recognize him, his heart drops.

"Honey? Are you okay? It's me, your husband."

Hold on husband??? Since when? Your head starts to hurt again, but before all that... You got into a car accident. You were driving back from the grocery store when a drunk driver hit you.

At least, that's what they told you. But heck, having amnesia hurts a lot.

Every day since you regained consciousness, your so-called "husband" brings you flowers and food, staying by your side until the day of your release.

"So, if you're my husband, where did we meet? How did our love story begin?"

"Of course I'll tell you anything you want to know, anything for you, honey."

He talks about your relationship while driving you home. Once you arrive, you see proof of your marriage blossoming in every corner of the house you supposedly share pictures of the two of you, from your engagement to your second anniversary. You can't believe it... You got married so young.

But don’t worry a silly thought in your head its a reminder that your husband loves you very much. He provides for you, and might I say, he pleasures you. In fact, he's so addicted to you.

While you and your "real" husband were driving home from the grocery store oh, silly! It's nothing he just crashed into you both. And well...

He's the one who drove the truck.

He disposed of your husband’s body, got rid of your friends, redecorated your house, and convinced the doctors and nurses that he was your husband. Don’t worry about anything. He has connections for everything and anything.

So don’t move an inch. Because he will provide.

He knew from the start you were his wife.

But don’t worry, baby.

You won’t remember a thing if I keep fucking you this good.

Heck, you can’t even remember your name when I make you orgasm.

---

I really love this trope so bad i need more people to write about this 😭😭😭

Again i hope you guys like this one heheuwhwuwheh

[acquelus-ussy]

WAIT WHY IS THIS REACHING 4K 😭😭😭 GUYS IM GOING TO CRY

[acquelus-ussy]

Trigger Warning

"Hmm..."

"what?"

"You're so cute, I could eat you right now."

"You're weird~"

"you know i love pomegranates right?"

You smile at your lover and giggle. You hold his hands and plant playful kisses on his cheek.

The next thing you know—

You're in a wheelchair.

"Baby~ I never knew your legs would taste so good."

There he was, sitting in front of you, eating your roasted leg with a side of pomegranates and wine of course, while the other leg rested in the fridge.

"Don't worry about anything, baby. You have that lovely wheelchair of yours to help you get around."

----

i wanted to write something with the pomegranates as a symbol of cannibalism

[acquelus-ussy]

I feel like this is w1wd coded (i just found out about that game today) also dont search up w1wd if you're not okay with more disgusting themes

[acquelus-ussy]

[NSFW!!]

I'm thinking of... Minotaur!Husband x Wife!Reader.

Imagine him coming home from a hard day at work, just to fall into your arms. The moment he sets foot into your home, you better know that he'll be touching you left and right.

Although, after dinner, you best be prepared because he's eating you out as dessert. Not for your pleasure, but his. :3

The way this Minotaur of yours gets pussy drunk is top tier. This is the way your husband copes with having a bad day with you all sprawled out on the bed, one hand gripping the sheets while the other’s on his horns, begging him to stop because this is the nth time you've squirted on him and you're almost about to pass out.

God forbid your Minotaur!Husband takes pleasure in eating his wife out.

HI MY LOVESSS i was really thinking about how good a minotaur husband sounds... And i wrote something this isn't yandere but if you want it to be let ur imagination go wild mweheheheh i hope yall enjoyed it!

[ozzgin]

While sound travels better underwater, it's still a hassle to detect it with your scuba gear on. It's vital to have an established sign language in order to communicate with your diving partner!

[acquelus-ussy]

I LOVE THIS

[acquelus-ussy]

Hey babygirls and pookiebears i haven't been that consistent with writing and ive been gone for a few weeks (sorry about that) so i offer you guys...

Yandere!emperor x jester!reader

Tired...

You were so tired

You were supposed to be just an ordinary maid but what happened?

You made him laugh once, now you're his designated jester.

You never wanted this, but you're the only one who could make him laugh. You can't get out...

You can't retaliate, and you can't complain he's the emperor for fucks sake.

The last time you tried sneaking out, you saw your family getting beheaded in the town square in front of you, while you were forced to laugh and make jokes for the emperor.

"why me?"

"why not you my love? Didn't you want this in the first place?"

"i only made you laugh once..."

Then you hear it... That damn fucking laugh

"You're such a funny cute little thing you know"

"You're mine only... You're the only one who made me laugh and the only one who made me cum so hard... So suck it up"

He grins at you so widely... Your emperor is becoming a mad man because of you maybe you could take advantage of it? Once he goes cr-

"dont fucking think about it"

"you can never leave me my dear jester"

IM SORRY MY POOKIEBEARS THIS ISN'T THE BEST WRITING IVE DONEEE

[acquelus-ussy]

I'm so in love with the yandere!Priest x reader trope! Like, yes?! Worship me like I'm a god and yearn for me, but you can't have me because you vowed yourself to the church. And now you're jerking off, imagining what it would be like to fuck your nun inside the confession room. And its like omg pookie you're breaking your vow to celibacy for me? that's so cutee!

[acquelus-ussy]

Thoughts guys?

[acquelus-ussy]

Trigger Warning

"Hmm..."

"what?"

"You're so cute, I could eat you right now."

"You're weird~"

"you know i love pomegranates right?"

You smile at your lover and giggle. You hold his hands and plant playful kisses on his cheek.

The next thing you know—

You're in a wheelchair.

"Baby~ I never knew your legs would taste so good."

There he was, sitting in front of you, eating your roasted leg with a side of pomegranates and wine of course, while the other leg rested in the fridge.

"Don't worry about anything, baby. You have that lovely wheelchair of yours to help you get around."

----

i wanted to write something with the pomegranates as a symbol of cannibalism

[acquelus-ussy]

Hear me out...

Yandere!husband × wife!reader

You already know he would do anything and everything for you. So when you woke up in the hospital bed, Yandere!husband was already crying.

Hold on who is he? You look around, confused, slowly sitting upright. Then you see a man crying near you. He must be a family member or something.

He looks at you, and the moment he feels that you don't recognize him, his heart drops.

"Honey? Are you okay? It's me, your husband."

Hold on husband??? Since when? Your head starts to hurt again, but before all that... You got into a car accident. You were driving back from the grocery store when a drunk driver hit you.

At least, that's what they told you. But heck, having amnesia hurts a lot.

Every day since you regained consciousness, your so-called "husband" brings you flowers and food, staying by your side until the day of your release.

"So, if you're my husband, where did we meet? How did our love story begin?"

"Of course I'll tell you anything you want to know, anything for you, honey."

He talks about your relationship while driving you home. Once you arrive, you see proof of your marriage blossoming in every corner of the house you supposedly share pictures of the two of you, from your engagement to your second anniversary. You can't believe it... You got married so young.

But don’t worry a silly thought in your head its a reminder that your husband loves you very much. He provides for you, and might I say, he pleasures you. In fact, he's so addicted to you.

While you and your "real" husband were driving home from the grocery store oh, silly! It's nothing he just crashed into you both. And well...

He's the one who drove the truck.

He disposed of your husband’s body, got rid of your friends, redecorated your house, and convinced the doctors and nurses that he was your husband. Don’t worry about anything. He has connections for everything and anything.

So don’t move an inch. Because he will provide.

He knew from the start you were his wife.

But don’t worry, baby.

You won’t remember a thing if I keep fucking you this good.

Heck, you can’t even remember your name when I make you orgasm.

---

I really love this trope so bad i need more people to write about this 😭😭😭

Again i hope you guys like this one heheuwhwuwheh

[acquelus-ussy]

Im thinking of...

Yandere!jock x wallflower!reader

Yandere!Jock is a fucking playboy, but you chose to ignore that. You've seen him do good things when his friends aren't around.

That's why you had a crush on him...

For a jock, he's pretty smart. He's a frat leader, a social butterfly, and would probably graduate with Latin honors. However, the only downside to him is that he can be a bully.

So, during the time you had a crush on him, he was the first to interact with you. But he wasn’t flirting or anything he was just asking if you were done with something.

And you being the wallflower that you are you blush you think to yourself

"is he really talking to me?"

And him, being the playboy jock, noticed the hue in your cheeks and decided to "play" with you.

"i can't believe you're blushing just because i talked to you wallflower haha cute"

It was a long time of banter between the two of you, and you thought there was something. But of course, reality strikes when a close friend of yours tells you his true intentions.

But...

Ever since you ignored our handsome jock over here He cant seem to get a hold of himself

He goes to nightclubs almost every night, trying to find a girl who looks like you, smells like you, and talks like you. But no matter how hard he tries, he knows he needs you.

The next day at school, you were in the library with a classmate, working on a school project, when he barged in. Oh yeah, he had been asking around if anyone had seen you it's not like he's in love or anything.

He pushes your classmate out of their chair and tells them to get lost. Then, grasping your arms, he looks at you and asks,

"Where the fuck have you been? We need to talk. I'm the most wanted man on campus, and you just ignore me like that? Doing that won’t make me give you more attention, you know."

"so what i don't fucking care i don't like you anymore"

Pang

What you said hurt him, but then again, why is he acting like this? A lot of girls love him and want to be with him, so what’s up with you? He knew you liked him but what the fuck happened?

Later that night... You wake up to glass shattering

Intruder?

A hand suddenly cups your mouth and you feel something hard on your back then you hear

"shh baby you got me all bricked~ up there's no use in fighting me i know how much of a fucking slut you are~"

The last thing you remember was passing out

You wake up to a soft, comfy bed but hold on… Why is there something heavy stopping you from moving? You turn your head and see him.

"You know, my love, a lot of girls dream about this… but you're the only one I want. I'm done being a player." He kisses you on the forehead.

"And also, don’t worry about school and your parents I called up some old buddies," he says, continuing to hug you like there's no tomorrow.

It sucks being a wallflower no one would look for you but don’t worry because he will~

---

This is probably the most longest fucking thing i wrote