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Where are you? I just discovered you a little while ago and I'd love to see more of you on screen. That smut was super hot and I'd like to see a series about the story

Hey anon! I am glad you like my works :) haha you are the very first to ask for one. Originally, I was going to leave it as a one shot, but I will consider about doing a series on this! Currently, I am a tad bit busy bc of college, but I will be producing more works! Thank you for your support ( ´-ω-)

Imagine! Your yandere step brother visiting you in the middle of the night, seeing you laying there so defenseless and peaceful, his cock twitches and pulses in his pants just wanting to ruin you so bad :( he quickly pulls his throbbing cock out and slips it into your warm cunt moaning :( he doesnt even care if he ends up waking you or not bc he just feels so good with your tight cunt squeezing his dick within every thrust :( hes so pussy drunk, eyelids heavy he licks you everywhere like an insatiable puppy, licking and sucking all over your neck, your face, lips, breasts and armpits moaning in your ear like a horndog, eyes rolled back, himself almost drooling at the pleasure :( you moan softly but he covers your mouth with his large hands whimpering uncontrollably begging for a release wanting to breed you with his baby batter :( he hits your cervix and cums so hard, hips shaking, jerking, moaning and everything, his cock melting in your stuffed cunt then finally slumps into the crook of your neck literally seeing stars :(((

#yandere smut #non con #somnophillia breeding smut #somnophillia #step brother #dead dove do not eat

!! Trigger Warning, the following has dark themes such as:

He gently guides your ragdolled body, his veiny hands stroked your cheeks, admiring your beauty as you slept soundly. He hummed as he travelled his hands to your tank top, his index finger rolled over the little bead that grew stiff before lifting your top, seeing your perky breasts left defenseless. "Shit..so beautiful..." He licks a long stripe of your nipple before greedily popping it into his mouth to suck on your pink bud. Twirling his tongue teasingly around your areola he nibbles your nipples like a depraved madman while he gropes and kneads the other. But that alone wasn't going to salvage his thirst. Leaving your breast with a "pop" he lowers between your legs where your underwear covered your supple flesh. He spreads your legs and grinds his nose against your sheathed cunt, inhaling the musty smell of sex before he sucked on the outline of your clit, dappening the thin material. You softly mewl, unconsciously responding to his pleasurings. Unable to hold it in any longer he removed the fabric and started to devour your exposed, wet cunt, his tongue hungrily circling and tracing all over, repeatedly sucking on your clit. Your hips bucked slightly as your whines slurred, too stimulated by the unknown sensation. He mercilessly lapped, sucked, ate and violated your pussy with his mouth, the sounds of slurping were lewd and sinful. Before you even knew it yourself, your back arched and trembled subconsciously, your cunt twitched as you felt your clit melting against his mouthful torture. He hummed, savouring the sweetness feeling your pussy softly vibrate against his mouth as you came, a string of saliva formed as he separated from your sensitive buds. Luka undid his pants, his hard cunt-craved cock sprung free eagerly, rubbing the beaded precum on his pink tip, he stared at your juicy glazed cunt. His desire surged to a peak where he could not wait a momment longer as he positions himself between your legs, aligning his twitching cock against your entrance. Slowly entering, he seethed a gutteral moan at the feeling of your tight wet hole that enveloped and clamped down onto his member. Feeling your tightness, he gritted an audible "fuck..." chuckling at the leaking liquid that trickled from your bruised cunt as he broke your hymen.

#yandere smut #dead dove do not eat #somnophillia breeding smut #non con

Imagine where your yandere bully locks you in his room, your hands chained to his bed while he repeately pounds into your already abused cunt whispering how he's going to keep fucking you until you get pregnant. He would cum thick white ropes into your full cunt multiple times a day, sometime exceeding 7 and he wouldn't even bother to pull out, he'd just keep whimpering and cumming inside because he just feels so good :(. His whines and moans are all you can hear when you are trapped beneath him, his hands intertwined with yours and just loves to stuff his fat tongue in your mouth desperately kissing you :( you gag at how deep his tongue violates your mouth and throat, eyes rolling back as he moans frantically, pounding faster until he cums for the tenth time, his waist and hips bucking into your cunt as he empty his balls into your sopping cunt :( at this rate you can't even process what is even happening, you just hear him whine in ecstasy as he pulls out, your little belly filled to the brim with all his thick cum is now leaking and oozing out of your puffy pussy, forming a puddle of mess :(((

#yandere smut #dead dove do not eat #bully

glassartpeasants

The Bathroom Stall

Yandere?Bully!Hari Kurono x Bullied!F!Reader

warnings: College AU( With quirks), noncon, harsh bullying, unhealthy relationships, toxic af, yandere tendencies, mention of death, semi-public sex, quirk use, breeding kink

A/N: horny brain go brrrrrrrrrrr

~~~

If there was anything you hated most in life, it was college. That ‘fun’ experience everyone always hyped you up about turned out to be a fucking lie. It was a living nightmare. You were always so stressed and always had so much homework to do. It didn’t help that you were harassed daily by a man who you didn’t even do anything too!

Kurono Hari was his name. He’d bullied you ever since he moved into your grade with that germophobic friend of his. You didn’t even know why he hated you. One day he just decided to bully you. It wasn’t bad at first. Only name calling and such. But as you got older the worse his bullying got. And since he was connected to the yakuza, no one dared to get him in trouble.

Ever since the start of high school he’d actually got physical. It was only shoving you into things at first but as soon as senior year started he’d push you down and kick you. Dump things on your head. Such as water, food, anything he could find really. He’d throw things at you, it didn’t matter what it was. If he could throw it, you better cover your face.

It was only Hari that did this to you too. His friend didn’t do anything, maybe pass a look a pity if you looked hard enough.

It didn’t help that half the people in the school was head over heels in love with him. Hell, if he wasn’t such a dick to you, you would probably be one of those people. Hari was gorgeous, smart, and athletic. The man could have any person he wanted but even though no matter how many people confessed to him, he’d always said he had someone else in mind. Which surprisingly, people respected it. Since he was always so ‘kind’ people were just in love with him from afar. You could go on for hours on how this guy was the worst but no one would believe you, trust me, you tried.

moon-heart22

Make you drown

Merman x reader

Summary: He lures you into the water, stealing you away. There will be no escape. You are lost and fully his.

TW: Minor DNI!, stealing, nearly drowning, manipulation, forced relationship, breeding, P in V, unprotected sex, female atonomy, swearing, biting, marking, mention of pregnancie, smut under the cut, smut

casuallyanidiot

Yandere FarmBoy

[Yandere M. x F. AFAB Reader]

it's a bit longer than i initially wanted this to be, but i had fun writing it! it's a bit more rushed towards the end so sorry if it shows. this was supposed to be for october, but i ended up not finishing it in time, so i'm very happy to have it finally done

TW. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Noncon, fingering, baby trapping, yandere, slut shaming, victim blaming, bullying, non consensual touching, misogyny, gaslighting, manipulation, implied future forced relationship, abuse of power

The local golden boy your father has hired has taken a keen interest in you, an impoverished farmer's daughter, and you can't seem to shake him off. As he doubles down on pursuing you, and you continue to refuse him, the lengths he goes to ensure you'll be his increase drastically with one autumn night and a chase through a wheat field.

7.2k words

You didn’t know why Daniel insisted on working on your father’s farm. It wasn’t like his family wasn’t well off. In fact, out of all the families within the valley, his was the most successful by far. Hell, they were the only ones who could actually afford to employ other people. He drove a shiny new truck just like the rest of his kin, and lived in a big, multi story house at the top of the hill.

Your daddy could only really pay him scraps. The land you lived on was rough to say the least, all overgrazed and tough, untenable soil that had a Ph level that could’ve come straight out of hell in your honest opinion. Basically, there wasn’t shit to be earned, and the only reason why your folks even tried to desperately keep growing crop after failed crop was because if they didn’t, then you’d be flat out homeless and starving. The stock your family produced wasn’t worth a dime, either. Milk too sour, corn too small, eggs so dull and tiny people thought that they weren’t even from chickens; you were surprised people even bought from your daddy at all.

The poor state of your homestead was reflected in nearly everything else around you. You always looked some kind of mussed up: Wild, unkempt hair, dirt under your nails, clothes that looked either too small, too big or way too out of fashion. You got bullied quite a bit by the other young ladies in town. That is if you could even be called a young lady. There wasn’t a lick of lady in you it seemed.

You and your family were always on the edge of going broke, going hungry or some other kind of misfortune, so you found it increasingly odd why the Petusky boy was so keen to get his hands dirty when there was nothing he could get in return.

Daniel Petusky, or Danny as he would so kindly remind you to call him, was by most accounts the sweetest, most eligible young man in town. He was a tall, stocky sort of guy with large, rough hands and a handsome smile. You’d be stupid to say he wasn’t quite the looker, and not to mention he was all muscular and strong lookin from all his time working. When you were in highschool, he’d been the star of the school’s football team, and there were even rumors that he was getting offers from big, fancy schools in big fancy cities. You remembered how blooming with jealousy you were back then because of that. But, as you were so constantly reminded of through seeing his working boots that had to be worth at least a couple hundred bucks, he was wealthy too.

He helped out around town, was sweet to older folks, and made all the ladies swoon with a flip of his sandy blond hair. He charmed your father just as easily, asking him if he could work his land for him, or at least help him with it. Of course your daddy would say yes. He needed all the help he could get, and lord know you weren’t nearly enough to actually keep this place afloat. Plus, who else would accept such low pay? It wasn’t like there was a line out the door for a chance to work at the [Last Name] farm, now was there?

You sighed as you hauled a bag of feed over to the chicken coop. It was mighty heavy, and you grunted as you nearly slipped in the mud. Hands shot out and grabbed your waist, and you gasped in surprise as the bag landed on the ground with a large thud.

“Careful there, wouldn’t want you to take a tumble now,” Daniel chuckled softly. His voice rumbled in your head like thunder on the horizon. He steadied you and pressed you close against his chest. Your heart thumped wildly in your ribcage, though only part of it was because of your little fall. No, it was the way his fingers inched over your curves, toying with the waistband of your jeans. You swallowed thickly.

“Thanks…” You mumbled out before you stooped down to pick up the feed once again. You didn’t miss the way his gaze stuck to you when you did.

“You really shouldn’t be doing heavy liftin’, you know,” He said and pushed you to the side to grab it from your strained arms. He made it look so effortless, and it annoyed you to no end. You followed after him into the coop, an encasement of wire around it. “That’s what I’m here for.”

iceprincehoonpark

idk how to recover… sunghoon let us breathe

Park Sunghoon - 02 line!

lillipuppy

and inspired by said 'new' kink... m!Yandere moaning and whimpering like a slut while fucking you (gn, bottom!reader) short drabble

(not new but I only engage w it when I'm sad lol)

18+ MDNI

You'd always imagined you'd be the vocal one if something ever happened like this. That your sounds would overpower even the sound of skin slapping together in an otherwise quiet room. That you'd have to shove your face into a pillow, silence yourself a little just out of pure embarrassment.

But when he slides into you, and the whine slips from his throat as he hugs onto your waist with a desperate need, everything changes. Your name on his voice sounding like the dirtiest thing in the world in that moment, like you were all that he needed, more than water, life.

And he fucked you like it too, so desperate to be inside you that each stroke was long but fast, his cock sometimes nearly missing your hole as he pulled out and shoved back in, trying to get the best angle to press on the sweet spots inside you, babbling about how he always dreamed about this, about being inside you.

Your own brain feels all fuzzy as he mumbles every word straight in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress with clumsy strokes that somehow nailed every sweet spot you didn't know you had.

Whimpers and nips on your neck as he tells you he wants to fill you up, wants to make your stomach distend with the amount he fills you with, no matter how impossible it might seem. His dirty talk making him whimper even more, getting himself off as his cock twitches and jerks. As all of him spasms as he holds you in place to bruising.

And God, you can't hold back noises either, and yours just amplify his own, two mirrors looking back at each other as you both tear up and whine while fucking like rabbits.

He has to bite your shoulder and stilt his thrusts, his desperation to fuck you through his orgasm problematic. He might just pass out from overstimulating himself inside you, his goal of filling you, of claiming you as completely his addictive.

The idea of seeing the aftermath of it without passing out, even more so. As he tries his best to keep his eyes open as he looks up at you cumming on his cock, as his completely red face winces as you milk him. As his ears ring and he whimpers and drools and tries his best to function so he can press on your stomach and make you leak back onto him just so he can stuff you full again.

Claim you all over.

Make sure you know you're his ♡

lillipuppy

and inspired by said 'new' kink... m!Yandere moaning and whimpering like a slut while fucking you (gn, bottom!reader) short drabble

(not new but I only engage w it when I'm sad lol)

18+ MDNI

Your own brain feels all fuzzy as he mumbles every word straight in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress with clumsy strokes that somehow nailed every sweet spot you didn't know you had.

And God, you can't hold back noises either, and yours just amplify his own, two mirrors looking back at each other as you both tear up and whine while fucking like rabbits.

Claim you all over.

Make sure you know you're his ♡

nyankitty2006

IN CASE SOME PPL STARTED DOUBTING SUBS….. here are my nose results which only took like 2 weeks!! Its a small change but the bridge is way smoother and the tip is a bit more upturned, also my nostrils got narrower. I posted this on reddit before and it kinda “blew up” for a week or smth (milkuuchan1 on reddit) So I wanted to take another a pic from the exact same angle and post it here.

Anything is possible if you believe in it :3c

giyusdarling

──𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 : sebastian

contents: minors & ageless blogs dni, stalking, yandere behavior, somnophillia, sexual fantasies, noncon, dead dove do not eat, possible spelling/grammar errors

pairings: yandere!sebastian x fem!reader

words: 0.8k approx

sebastian used to stay in his room all day, hidden away from everyone in complete darkness— aside from the illuminating glow of his computer. he was the definition of a shut-in. he never went out unless it was for food, his nightly smoke break, or the friday evenings spent at gus’ bar—even then he never stayed long. but, the key phrase being ‘used to’.

now, he finds himself going out more often—still in the darkness of the night, of course—to see you. his mom would be so proud of him if she knew he was going outdoors more. though, he doubts she’d be pleased to know that whilst he was technically going out and seeing you, you weren’t seeing him. he made sure of of it.

you were always fast asleep when he visited, your pretty face so peaceful, and so unaware. unaware of the looming presence inside your house. you really should keep your windows locked, just because it’s a small town doesn’t mean there aren’t any threats. be it wild animals, or even people like himself, it’s just plain stupid to leave them open. you’re lucky that as much as he’d really like to, he doesn’t do anything to you. unlike alex, or even sam, he’s able to control his urges, and doesn’t just think with his dick.

but oh, how he’d love to be able to touch you. to submit to his urges, and creep up into your bed, his slender hands roaming your body until they found solace on the waistband of your pyjama pants. he’d pull them down slowly, as not to wake your slumber, and he’d hover over you in a trance, staring at your covered cunt. even while asleep you’re teasing him, teasing him with that thin piece of fabric separating him from seeing your arousal.

then, he’d pull down your panties with an utmost concentration, unconsciously holding his breath as he did so. he’d take a moment to pause, gaping at the beautiful sight before him, of your exposed folds so pretty for him.

he’d make sure to take his time with you, relishing every moment spent next to you, eagerly drinking up the beautiful sight of you laid out, exposed before him. you were completely unaware, or maybe, just maybe, you happened to be awake. you were just pretending to be asleep, letting him take advantage of you, since surely you wanted this just as much as he did.

regardless, since he does care about you, and your pleasure—unlike alex who would probably just slip his dick right inside you, with no concern for your wellbeing—he’d make sure to prep you beforehand, slipping two of his fingers inside you. the same two fingers he’s used with his mouse, spending a countless amount of time scrolling through porn sights, jacking off to the thought of you.

he’d curl his fingers inside of you, reaching the spongey spot in your pussy that made your folds glisten with arousal. maybe you’d stir in your sleep, subconsciously feeling what he was doing, and almost giving him a heart attack in fear that you’d woken up. though, after realizing you were still asleep, he’d resume stretching you out until he determined you were ready.

taking out his aching cock, angry, red tip leaking with pre cum, he’d gather some of your slick and rub it over his shaft, pumping his cock with soft groans. even just your juices felt so good on his cock, he could get lost in the sensation if not for the real thing right in front of him and so he’d line his the head of his cock up with your folds.

slowly, he’d push himself inside, his hands gripping onto your waist. while he was trying to his best to keep quiet as your warm walls clamped down against him, squeezing his cock like a vice, it was as if you wanted him to cum right then.

finally, once he was fully sheathed inside you, he’d start moving, without care if you woke up since now there was nothing you could do, nothing you could say that would stop him. and so he’d pull himself almost all the way out, only to shove his cock right back into your snug hole, repeating this over, and over again, filling your room with wet sounds.

he would be too caught up in pleasure to realize you’d woken up, not even processing your pleas for him to stop. only after he’d painted your insides white would he realize you were awake.

but, thankfully for you, sebastian wasn’t like that, and his cum only stained his underwear instead of your pussy.

sidewindernight

Not pee related but here's a Somno Fantasy I've had recently.

So content warning for Somnophilia

I have him in a chastity cage for an entire month. Periodically taking it off to edge him a couple times a week. He's so horny he oozes with precum anytime I'm bottomless or even topless. He is just so desperate to cum.

One night I'm extremely tired and wanna go to bed. To test his resolve and planning something for tomorrow. I remove his cage for the night. It's a hot night so I go to sleep naked without a blanket. Getting wet from how desperate he is. I make him cuddle me and fall asleep to him whimpering. He puts his hand between my thighs and can feel how wet I am. Any time his dick grazes me it leaves a trail of precum. I finally fall asleep.

Later I half wake up to him humping desperately. Soft moans and him whispering apologies. He couldn't hold it anymore. I go back to sleep. And he repeatedly cums in me. He spends all night humping and cumming and filling me to the brim. Towards the end I'm just pretending to be asleep. Listening to him go. He eventually can't even cum anymore. He's just humping because of how good I feel.

And when I wake up that morning I climb on top of him telling him that I made him wait all night so we could have really good morning sex. And he's just laying there looking guilty and has to confess.

He failed his task of not cumming so I get to punish him. Probably gonna edge him for 3 months this time.

nwahahahahaa

Yandere butler x f!reader

Trigger warnings: controlling behaviour, non con touching, non con oral (f recieving) somnophylia, fingering, isolation, manipulation

Yandere butler, who was personally assigned to you by your father. You never expected to get a personal butler so suddenly. He's just here to help, your father insists.

He looks extremely attractive. That's for sure. All the maids fawn over him and the ladies can't stop staring at him. While everyone else loves him, you find him a bit strange. A bit . . . Controlling if you must say.

You feel like he's always staring at you. Always following you. You once tried to get to know him better by asking him simple questions like what does he do for fun? Does he have any hobbies? Etc. his only response to you was, "I only enjoy serving my master." A hand carefully placed over his chest, where his heart should be. And his head slightly bowed for you.

You're not wrong when you say that he's controlling. He doesn't let anyone else touch your clothes or even your food. Everything has to be perfect for you, you deserve no less than that. So, he handles all these menial tasks himself. God forbid someone gives less than you what you deserve. Besides he knows all your preferences. No one knows you as well as he does. Your likes-dislikes and even what you do when you think no one's watching you.

He makes sure that you're always safe. Even at night, when you think you're alone but you're really not. You know someone's in your room. You can feel a presence when you sleep. You just don't know that it's him. So, when you try to tell your father that you feel like you're being watched at night his first suggestion is to keep the butler closer. Just for your safety, he says.

You don't think much about it. You don't know what to do anyway, feeling like you're losing your mind. He's using this as an excuse to follow you everywhere. Any place that you go, he is right beside you. For you, it's supposed to be about safety. For him, it's an opportunity to isolate you. Keep you away from others.

He should be the only one who is allowed to be close to you anyways. You're his master. It's his duty to serve you. It's his duty to take care of you and no one else's. So he'll ensure that he's the only one who gets to do those things for you.

You swear someone's going through your stuff. Your drawers are open at times and your stuff is always moved a bit. Your personal belongings are missing. You notice you're missing a comb, a perfume bottle but worst of all a few pairs of your panties.

Your fear increases and soon you find yourself falling into a sort of paranoia. No one entered your room besides you. No other maids or servants come here. Even your family doesn't come here. The only person who was here besides you was your butler but he's always stuck to your side like glue. He never leaves you for even a second.

That night you can't sleep properly. So you request your butler to bring you some tea. He brings you a hot cup of freshly brewed tea. Something simple to help you calm your nerves. You drink it and fall into a deep and comfortable slumber.

That night he doesn't hide himself. He shows himself freely in your bedroom. There's no fear of getting caught or any need to tiptoe around you. Because tonight, you'll sleep through everything that he'll do to you. Thanks to those pills in your tea. You won't wake up until the next morning.

His hands gently graze at your bare thigh. Your soft lacy shorts that always teased him look so tempting right now. Tempting him to take them off. He slides his hand under your shorts and cups your pussy. He slides your panty aside and rubs your entrance.

With one single pull, he removes your shorts as well as panties down. Your base body is not exposed to him. The sight of you so raw and naked for him makes him feel so turned on. Perverted him, who is already so hard for you.

He lays his head between your legs and allows himself one pick of your pussy. The taste is so exciting that he physically shakes. Not able to hold himself back, he goes back for another and another until he has to forcefully stop himself and take care of his own business down there.

He undies his zip and pulls his dick out. Gently he starts stroking himself until the end when he suddenly picks up pace. With a loud moan he realises himself onto your pussy. He pulls your panties up, careful to keep his cum in place and puts your shorts back on you.

For tonight, this will do.

You wake up feeling strange and groggy in the morning. You're extremely wet down there and there's a huge amount of what you think should be discharge but feels more like semen. This makes you uncomfortable. You're quick to shower and go about your day. Trying your best to ignore any thoughts about what might have happened.

That night you again have some tea to sleep peacefully and again you wake up all sticky and wet down there. This happens a few more nights until you start to doubt your butler. He's the only one who is in this room besides you. You fear that he's doing something to you when you're practically unconscious.

So, that night you don't drink your tea. He refuses to leave you alone until you drink it. It's the first thing that raises an alarm bell for you. So you send him to grab you a late night snack. Knowing how controlling he is, you know that he won't let anyone else but him cook for you.

When he finally leaves, you pour your tea down the sink in your bathroom and go back to sit in your room. The butler's back and he's happy to see your empty cup on the night stand.

You eat a small bite of whatever he brought and went to sleep. He doesn't know that you're faking it. He thinks you're really asleep and in a deep slumber that is. So when he goes on take your clothes off you scream.

At first he was surprised but his surprise was quickly replaced with a smirk. "It will be so much more fun now that you're awake." He places a hand on your mouth and climbs on top of your body. His weight forces you to stay put and his hand keeps you quiet.

With one hand, he pulls your shorts and panties down and without waiting for you he shoves two fingers in. You pull away from his weight at the sudden intrusion into your body but he doesn't budge.

His hands move slowly at first but they pick up the pace quickly. His thumb rubs at your clit. He keeps the pace until you feel your muscles tighten around his fingers and clench them hard. Your organs come suddenly and your body shakes from the pleasure of being intruded. It's not what you want but it's a reaction that he's forcefully pulling out of you.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them one by one. As if savoring the taste of the most delectable meal ever. You try to pull against him again which only makes his hard on rub against your body.

You manage to grab something from your nightstand. It's the same cup that you drank tea from, and smashed it against his skull. He dodges it in time. While he's distracted, you push him off of you and make a run for the door. All the while stepping on the broken pieces of the porcelain cup.

He grabs your arm and you swing at him as hard as you can. He grabs your other arm as well and holds it against his chest.

Behind you, the door opens. Your father enters, completely shocked at what he's seeing. You're thrashing around, trying your best to escape your butler.

Your father pulls you into his arms. He asks what's wrong. But before you can respond, the butler has his story ready. Your paranoia is getting worse, he said. You've gone crazy he said. You attacked him thinking he was an intruder and have even harmed yourself.

Your father looks at your feet in shock. There's blood coming from the various cuts that you've gotten.

You plead with him that the butler is lying. He's not telling the truth. You try to tell him that he was attacking you. Touching you inappropriately. Unfortunately, your father doesn't want to believe any of that. He's seen enough of your paranoia before. This fear of an unknown person watching and attacking you.

He worries about you. So he decides to ensure that you'll never be alone. To ensure that you'll never feel like there's someone who is secretly observing you and touching you.

The butler will stay with you at all times. He says. Much to your dismay and much to your butler's delight.

Now that he has your father thinking you're crazy. He's wondering how far he can take it so that he can get you fully isolated from the outside world as well. So that he's the only one allowed to stay with you.

mic-qw

Yandere! model x Reader

Warnings: yandere themes, stalking, murder (implied/off-screen), emotional manipulation, gaslighting, non-consensual surveillance, possessive/obsessive behavior, isolation, power imbalance, toxic relationship, dub-con (dubious consent in intimate scenes), explicit sexual content, psychological abuse.

He was born for it, to be a model. Everywhere he went, he dazzled with his beauty. His skin, pale and without a single imperfection, seemed to reflect light like polished crystal; every pore was invisible, every shade a work of art. His eyes, an blue so intense it hurt to look at them directly, were framed by thick black lashes that curved with feline grace. His hair fell in dark, shiny strands, perfectly disheveled, as if the wind itself refused to mess it up. His jaw was sharp, and his lips full.

People might say that every time they saw him, he exuded a mysterious yet elegant energy, that with every step he took, you couldn't stop staring. His shoulders moved with an almost hypnotic cadence, as if every muscle had been trained to strut in silence, to claim space without raising his voice. The spotlights, camera flashes, even the dim lighting of any random café surrendered to him: they bathed him in soft halos that outlined the straight line of his nose, the perfect arch of his eyebrows, the subtle shadow under his cheekbones.

And yet, there was something in his gaze that didn't fit the perfection. A cold, calculating glint that appeared when he thought no one was watching. It was as if that inhuman beauty wasn't a gift, but a trap. One he'd woven himself with threads of obsession, ready to snap shut around anyone who dared look at him too long.

The street was a chaos of flashes and shouts. Kai ran with his hood up, his black coat billowing like a torn flag. The paparazzi chased him in a pack, cameras slung over their shoulders, voices barking his name like he was a prize dog.

“Kai! One photo!” “Smile, king!”

He turned the corner without thinking. Pushed the first door he saw.

A rusty bell jingled. It was a neighborhood store: crooked shelves, a cat sleeping on cans of tuna, the smell of stale bread and cheap detergent.

You were behind the counter, counting coins for closing. Gray uniform, dark circles you didn't hide, and a bitter smile with every good morning.

Kai stood still by the drink fridge, barely panting.

You didn't even look up. You kept counting. One… two… three…

He waited. Waited for you to recognize him. Waited for the gasp, the phone, the selfie, the “Oh God, it's you!” But nothing.

Just the sound of coins clinking. Then you spoke, without looking:

—“If you're gonna stand there, you have to pay, friend. Boss's rules.”

Your voice sounded tired, like you hadn't slept in a long time.

Kai blinked. Friend?

No one had called him friend in years. They called him god. Icon. Millions of compliments and praises. But friend…

He approached the counter. Slowly. You kept counting. Four… five… six… He pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, placed it on the scratched glass.

You took the bill without looking him in the eyes. Not once. Gave him the bottle and his change.

—“Thanks” —you said, automatic. And went back to the coins. Seven… eight… nine…

Kai stood there, bottle in hand.

The feelings he had in that moment—he couldn't explain them even if he wanted. Incredulity? Shock? Or maybe… hurt.

Kai stayed a few more minutes, still as a stone, staring at the cashier in front of him. Meanwhile, she kept counting.

The paparazzi pounded on the window from outside. You didn't flinch, and he slipped out the back door.

But before leaving, he glanced at the name on your badge.

He memorized it. And on the street, amid the flashes, he smiled for the first time in months.

Not like a model. Like someone who'd just found his one flaw.

You'd started noticing him a few weeks ago, though at first, you didn't think much of it. He was just a shadow across the street, a figure that always appeared during the dead moments of your shift: when you restocked the cold drinks and the hum of the fridges filled the silence, or when you wiped the counter with a rag that smelled of cheap lemon and built-up sweat. He was there, leaning against a wall, or sitting on the bench in the plaza across the way, or under the awning of the closed pharmacy. Black hood, long coat, hands in pockets. Motionless.

He didn't cross the street. Didn't come in. Didn't buy anything. He just watched the store. Or, more precisely, watched you.

You felt him before you saw him: a weight on the back of your neck, like the air thickened when he arrived. The store cat, that fat gray one that curled up on the tuna cans, started hissing every time the figure showed up, arching its back and hiding under the counter. You pretended to ignore it, serving customers with your automatic smile—the one you used for complainers about bread prices or kids begging for gum. But inside, the knot in your stomach grew.

One afternoon in a light drizzle, while sorting the back shelves, you called your friend in a low voice, cupping the phone so the boss wouldn't hear from the storage room.

—“There's this guy who shows up every day. Across the street. He doesn't do anything, just… stands there. Watching.”

—“Does he follow you when you leave?” —she asked.

—“No. He stays until I close, then vanishes.”

—“Take a picture, idiot. Or tell your boss.”

—“What's the point? He doesn't cross. Doesn't talk. Cops won't come for someone who stares.”

You hung up, but the knot didn't go away.

As the days passed, he got closer. First the closed bakery, then the light pole, then pressed against the window. Always at the same distance that let you see him without details: the hood hiding his face, the coat soaked on rainy days, hands that never left his pockets. The corner streetlamp flickered and died when he arrived, like the light itself rejected him. You started closing earlier, making excuses to the boss: “Headache,” “Doctor's appointment.” But he was still there, patient, like time meant nothing to him.

You talked to your friend again one night, walking home fast, glancing over your shoulder.

—“He's still there. Getting closer. Yesterday he was so close I saw his reflection in the glass. Gives me goosebumps.”

—“What if he's a creep? A thief casing the place?”

—“I don't know. But the cat hates him. And I… don't want to close alone anymore.”

She said you were overreacting, to switch shifts, file an anonymous report. But you did nothing. You needed the job. The pay barely covered basics, and the boss already had you on edge for “being late” even when you arrived fifteen minutes early. You stayed quiet, biting your lip until you tasted blood, because what could you say? “There's a guy who stares.” It sounded ridiculous.

And so the weeks passed: a constant, silent presence that slipped into your thoughts even at home. You checked the locks twice. Peeked out the window before bed. Dreamed of cold eyes under a hood. But you said nothing at work. You couldn't risk the job over a shadow.

The boss started changing, like something had snapped inside him overnight. At first, it was small things: side-eye glances when you counted the register, mutters about “lazy employees” even when you arrived early and stayed until the last customer left. But soon it escalated.

One morning, he stormed in furious, eyes bloodshot, breath reeking of cheap booze. He yelled at you in front of a customer buying cigarettes:

“$500 missing from the register! You stole it, for sure!”

You checked the logs three times. It was $50, and he'd taken it the night before to “pay a supplier.” But you didn't argue. Bit your lip, tasted the metallic blood, and kept mopping the floor even though it already shone.

The following days were hell. He blamed you for everything: the “dirty” floor even if you mopped twice a shift, the “messy” shelves even if you aligned them with a ruler, the customers “who stopped coming” because of your “sour face.” He made you stay late for “inventory checks,” just to yell more. Once he shoved your shoulder hard as he passed, muttering:

“If you don't like it, leave. But no one will want you with that attitude.”

You didn't cry in front of him. You stayed silent, because the paycheck was the only thing keeping you afloat: overdue rent, empty fridge, landlord calls. You talked to your friend on the phone, hidden in the store bathroom during a five-minute break:

“The boss is unbearable. Yells at me for nothing. I think he's gonna fire me.”

“Because of the guy outside? Did you tell him?”

“No. It'd be worse. He'd say I'm paranoid.”

And the figure was still there, outside, getting closer. But now the boss seemed nervous too: glancing at the window, sweating, lighting cigarettes one after another. One night you saw him talking to himself, kicking the curb.

Until one morning… he didn't show.

The store opened late. You arrived at 8, as always, but the shutter was down. You knocked. Nothing. Called the landline. It rang empty.

By noon, the police came.

Two officers, one tall, one short, with routine faces. They asked neighbors. You.

“See anything weird last night?”

You shook your head. But you remembered: the boss stepping out for a smoke at 10:30, as always. The figure approaching. Shadows. Nothing more.

They found him the next day, in an alley two blocks away. Throat slit. Clean, professional cut. The fingers of his right hand… severed. Tossed around the body like fake coins.

The news spread through the neighborhood: “Murder in the area.” Police questioned everyone. They held you for an hour:

“Enemies? Debts?”

You knew nothing. Just that the boss had no family. No partners. No one who wanted the store.

By the third day, the sign: CLOSED DUE TO DEATH.

The landlord took the keys. They auctioned what little there was.

And you… unemployed.

The cardboard box with your things: wrinkled gray uniform, prickly cactus, broken mug they gave you on your first day. You walked under torrential rain, the box falling apart in your arms, water soaking everything. The neighborhood felt emptier. Colder.

The tears came without warning, hot against the cold rain lashing your face. At first you tried to hold them back, swallowing sobs as you slogged along the slippery sidewalk, but it was useless. The weight of it all crashed down: rent you couldn't pay, empty fridge at home, sleepless nights from that stalking shadow, and now this. The boss dead—throat slit, fingers cut off, rumors poison through the neighborhood. Why? Debts? A botched robbery? You didn't know, but the void was brutal. That job was your anchor, even if it sucked: the yells, the shoves, the made-up blames. Now nothing. Just you, alone, with a box disintegrating like your life.

You cried hard, hiccups shaking your chest, tears mixing with rain until you couldn't tell what was what. What am I gonna do? How do I pay this month? What if I find nothing? You thought of your friend, who'd say “cheer up, there are other jobs,” but she didn't get it. Thought of your mom, far away, who'd worry if she knew. Thought of the gray cat that ran off, how everything faded. The cactus pricked your hand, but you didn't let go; it was the only green thing, the only living thing in that cardboard box turning to mush. Your shoes splashed in deep puddles, icy water rising to your ankles, cold seeping into your bones, but the crying was stronger: a knot in your throat that wouldn't loosen, sobs coming out hoarse, like screaming at the gray sky without a voice.

You walked head down, hair plastered to your face, the world a blur of hazy lights and cars splashing more water. You saw nothing. Didn't want to see. Just keep going, get home, lock yourself in and let the world end.

Crash.

Your shoulder slammed into something hard, solid. The box flew from your arms. You fell into a huge puddle, water splashing like a cold whip that soaked you completely. The cactus rolled along the sidewalk, sinking into a puddle. The mug shattered into a thousand pieces, the uniform unfurled like a dirty rag on the wet ground. Your things… destroyed.

You looked up, through tears and endless rain.

It was him.

No hood now. Black coat open, white shirt translucent from the water, clinging to his body, outlining every perfect muscle. Dark hair dripping, but impeccable, as if the storm didn't touch him. Blue eyes fixed on you, intense, absorbing your crying like a private show.

He offered his hand.

You didn't take it. You kept crying, sobs louder now, shock mixing with pain. You hiccuped, wiping your face with your soaked sleeve, but the tears wouldn't stop.

He crouched slowly, ignoring the rain pouring down his face. Picked up the cactus with delicate fingers, like it was precious. Placed it in your trembling palm, pricking you just a bit.

His fingers brushed yours.

Cold as ice.

—“Don't cry” —he said, voice low, soft, but with an edge that cut through the storm's noise.

You hiccuped again, vision blurry.

—“You… do you have something to do with this?” —you blurted between sobs, voice broken, the question burning from deep down: the stalking, the boss's yells, the death, the closure. Everything.

He smiled.

Slow. Not like in magazines. Like someone who knew everything.

—“Now you never have to count coins again.”

He stared at you, eyes trapping your tears.

—“Job. For me. Personal assistant. Triple pay. An apartment. Close by.”

You blinked, rain washing new tears, but the crying didn't stop. The cactus weighed in your hand. Your things destroyed at your feet.

—“I… I don't understand” —you murmured, voice drowned in sobs.

—“Kai” —he said, like the name explained it all.

And he extended his hand again.

Waiting.

The rain kept falling, relentless. You still crying, cold piercing you, but his gaze… stopping the world.

His blue eyes pinned you, deep, hypnotic, like they could see into your chaos and order it with one blink. Perfect lashes caught drops, sparkling like diamonds on a face that didn't belong in this gray neighborhood. His smile was subtle, patient, the kind of someone who always got what he wanted without raising his voice.

You trembled. The cactus pricked your palm, a sharp reminder of your broken life: the ruined box, soaked uniform, shattered mug. What choices did you have? Rent, hunger, loneliness. And him… he was the way out. Or the trap.

You took his hand.

Cold. Firm.

He lifted you effortlessly, pulling you close but not too close: a hug that wasn't a hug, a professional gesture with an intimate edge. His black coat draped over your shoulders, heavy, smelling of luxury and something metallic underneath.

—“Good” —he said, voice low, calm, like a boss approving a report—. “No more crying. I'm taking you home.”

Home?

The black car waited, engine silent. The driver opened the door without looking at you. You got in, cactus in your lap, tears calming in shock. Kai sat beside you, at a respectful distance. Pulled out his phone, typed.

—“Look.”

He showed you: your bank account. In the red… now $15,000.

—“Advance. So you start easy. Rent paid. One year.”

You blinked, hiccuping.

—“How… how do you know my account?”

He pocketed the phone, expression serene.

—“I research my employees. You're efficient. Real. Not like the others.”

The car pulled away. Not to your old apartment. To a tall building, glass and lights.

—“Your new place. Temporary, until you sign. Close to my studios.”

They rode a private elevator. The apartment: minimalist, cold at first. White floors, views of the twinkling city below. Kitchen with empty fridge, but a note: “Delivery tomorrow. Whatever you want.”

He left you there.

—“Rest. Tomorrow at 8. Suit in the closet. Right size.”

—“Suit?” —you asked, voice small, confused. Why did he know your size? Why pay everything like a savior… but talk like a distant boss?

—“For the shoot. Assistant. Schedule, coffees, emails. Triple pay. Digital signature. I sent the link.”

He left. Door closing with a soft click.

Alone. You explored: closet with office clothes—blouses, pants, all new, expensive tags. Bathroom with basics. New phone on the table: “For work. Contacts preloaded.”

Notification: transfer $5,000. “Initial expenses.”

You tried calling your friend with your old phone: dead battery. The new one: only “Kai team” numbers.

Confused, you sat down.

The next day: he arrived on time. Impeccable suit.

—“Good morning. Coffee ready?”

He treated you like an assistant: dry instructions. “Organize my schedule. Answer emails.” But… paid for your online groceries. “So you eat well.”

Days like that: real work, but money flowing. $10,000 more. “Productivity bonus.”

Your old bank: closed. “Transferred to secure account. Protected.”

You tried buying something personal: approved. But statements went to his email “for audit.”

One night, he dined with you. “Informal meeting.” Served you pasta, brushing your hand.

—“You're doing well” —he said, eyes gleaming—. “Stay.”

Boyfriend? Boss? He kissed your cheek as he left. Casual. Confused, you smiled. The money soothed.

But… locks changed “for security.” Card tracked. Friends messaging “Lucky you with that boss!”

Kai smiled perfectly.

—“All for you. Star employee.”

And you… doubted, but stayed.

Because who leaves a life like that?

Months had passed since that night in the rain, months in which Kai had woven you into his web with infinite patience, like a craftsman molding virgin clay. At first, you were his “star assistant”: flawless schedules, perfect coffees, whirlwind trips to cities you'd only seen in magazines. “Black coffee, no sugar,” he'd say, voice firm, blue eyes fixed on his reflection as a stylist adjusted his perfect hair. But then came the gestures that didn't fit: a hand on your waist passing through narrow doors, a “good job” whispered too close to your ear, an “accidental” brush in the elevator that left your skin tingling.

You earned his trust—or so you thought. He started sharing “personal details”: how he hated the crowds that adored him, how his beauty was a prison. “You're different,” he'd say, looking at you with that intensity that made you look away. “You don't see me as a god. You see me as… Kai.” He bought you “practical” gifts: a gold necklace that “matched the work uniform,” fancy dinners where he served wine and brushed your knee under the table. Strange things popped up: notes in your bag—“I watch to protect you”—that he dismissed as “team jokes.” Or nights you woke feeling watched, but he swore it was “work stress.”

The money flowed: bonuses for “outstanding performance,” bills paid, clothes arriving unasked. Your friends, skeptical at first, now sent envious messages: “Kai's perfect! Don't let him go!” Your mom got “anonymous” transfers. You doubted, but luxury wrapped you like a warm blanket. Employee? Friend? Something more? He never crossed the line… until he did, with a cheek kiss that lingered too long, a “celebratory” hug that pressed you against his hard chest.

And then the day came.

It was a charity gala night, Kai in a black tux, you in the outfit he chose: red silk clinging to your curves like a second skin. “My muse,” he called you to the cameras, arm around your waist, flashes exploding. They returned to the penthouse—your “temporary home” that already felt permanent. He poured whiskey, eyes shining brighter than the city lights below.

—“You've been perfect” —he said, voice low, stepping closer—. “Months watching you grow. Trusting me.”

He took your hand, cold as always, but this time he didn't let go. He led you down a hallway you'd never noticed, a biometric door opening with his fingerprint.

—“I want to show you something. Proof of how much I… value you.”

The forbidden room.

It was a hidden chamber, black walls, dim lights illuminating an improvised altar. Photos of you everywhere: stolen over months, from the store, in the rain, sleeping in the apartment. Enlarged, framed like art. A jar with strands of your hair, labeled “First day.” Another with dried drops: “Rain tears.” Videos on screens: you crying on the sidewalk, you sleeping, you showering—cameras you'd never seen. A mannequin with your underwear folded carefully. A notebook: dates, times, “Day 47: She smiled for me.”

—“Kai… what… what is this?”

He closed the door with a final click. Pressed against your back, arms wrapping you, hands sliding up your stomach, pressing your body to his. His hardness already evident against your ass, hot breath on your neck.

—“Obsession” —he murmured, lips grazing your skin, nibbling your earlobe softly—. “Eternal love. I've desired you from the first second. Every photo, every video… it was for this. To have you. Completely.”

He turned you, blue eyes burning, jaw tight with months of repressed desire. He kissed you with pent-up hunger: lips crushing yours, tongue invading deep, cold at first but warming with your muffled moan. His hands, expert, unfastened your clothes in seconds, red silk cascading to your feet like a waterfall. He left you in lingerie, exposed under the dim lights, his gaze devouring you like living art.

—“God, how I've waited for you” —he growled, voice hoarse, shattering his perfect facade. He lifted you against the photo wall, legs wrapping his waist, his sculpted body pressing yours. Kisses trailing down your neck, bites leaving red marks, tongue licking your racing pulse. His cold fingers sliding under your bra, pinching hardened nipples, twisting until you arched with a gasp.

—“Kai…” —you whispered, confused but burning, months of subtle touches exploding into fire.

—“Say it again” —he ordered, ripping the bra with a yank, mouth descending: sucking one breast, teeth grazing, tongue circling slow and torturous. His other hand lowered, tearing panties, cold fingers finding your wet heat. He parted you slowly, one, two fingers plunging deep, curling, rubbing that spot that made you tremble.

—“Kai… please…”

He smiled against your skin, eyes dark with lust. He carried you to the central bed—black sheets, mirrors above reflecting everything. He laid you down, stripping you bare, his body covering yours like a perfect shadow. Kisses everywhere: stomach, hips, spread thighs. His mouth between your legs: cold tongue licking slow, savoring every fold, sucking your clit until you screamed, hips bucking on their own. Fingers inside again, three now, stretching you, preparing while his tongue never stopped—circles, sucks, soft bites taking you to the edge over and over.

—“I've dreamed of this for months” —he confessed, voice vibrating against you, rising to kiss you, sharing your taste—. “Your flavor… your scent… all mine.”

He stripped fast: shirt flying, pants dropping, revealing his inhuman body—defined muscles, pale flawless skin, hard, veined erection ready for you. He entered slow at first, inch by inch, eyes locked on yours, watching every reaction.

—“Look at me” —he ordered, thrusting deep, filling you completely. You gasped, overwhelming pleasure. He started the rhythm: slow, torturous, pulling almost out to slam back, hitting that spot again and again. Hands on your hips, marking you, mouth on your neck biting, tongue licking sweat.

He sped up, passion unleashed: hard, deep thrusts, bed creaking, mirrors showing it all—you arching, him dominant, dark hair cascading. He switched: you on your knees, entering from behind, hand tugging your hair gently, other rubbing your clit in fast circles.

—“Moan for me” —he growled, voice broken with desire—. “I've waited months for your sounds.”

Climax after climax: he made you come once with fingers and mouth, another with savage thrusts, a third riding him, your nails raking his perfect back, leaving marks he kissed later. Sweat mixing, cold and hot, his chill contrasting your heat. He filled you once, twice, but didn't stop: flipped you, legs over his shoulders, thrusting deeper, eyes never leaving yours.

—“You're mine” —he repeated with every thrust, pent-up passion exploding—. “From the beginning. Forever.”

The end was eternal: he held you tight, thrusting erratic, your name on his lips like an obsessive prayer. He exploded inside again, you following in an orgasm that left you shaking, vision blurred, body limp.

He collapsed on you, kisses soft now, fingers tracing your marked skin.

“Perfect,” he whispered, his blue eyes satisfied. “My eternal muse.”

And in the mirror, you… smiling. Surrendered.

But the room watched.

comfortkiss

Stop, look at me

Yandere nepo baby: Who you became aware of at an introduction ceremony to one of the country's most prestigious universities.

Yandere nepo baby: Who paid no mind when he elbowed through your friend group spilling coffee all over your laptop, "HEY! What's your problem!?"

Yandere nepo baby: Who simply scoffs and continues ahead with his minions in tow.

Yandere nepo baby: Who you especially don't like. Actually, you hate him with a burning passion. He ruined your laptop and you don't have the funds to get it fixed, you settle for a temporary aid one given so generously by the University. (It's years old).

Yandere nepo baby: Got in because his parents paid for him to be let in. With a CEO mother and a politician father, they are all scum, but they pay people to see otherwise...

Yandere nepo baby: Where he can be somewhat intelligent when he puts his mind to it, but most lectures result with him shopping for new expensive items costing more than the years tuition fees your scholarship covers.

Yandere nepo baby: Who doesn't study the same course as you, but you regrettably pick a semester module he also happens to take.

Yandere nepo baby: Who's sitting a row behind you during a Friday lecture, he's been whispering and laughing with his submissive followers the whole two hours.

Yandere nepo baby: Who is a shameless bully, "What kind of laptop is that? It's ancient". They think it's the funniest thing ever.

Yandere nepo baby: Who's confused when you ignore him, no-one ignores him, where do you think you're going? "Didn't know she was so sensitive". He's deflecting.

Yandere nepo baby: Who follows you out, shamelessly hollering and mocking you. Until… splash.

Yandere nepo baby: Who is stunned silent when an ice cold coffee gets splashed onto his face, soaking his expensive cotton white hoodie. The gasps his followers let out reverberating off the walls.

"It's your fucking fault, you broke mine. You think you’re the fucking king cos your parents are rich? Don't be so shocked, I'm just returning the favour".

Yandere nepo baby: Is staring in stunned silence as you storm away with mean, pent up stomps. His little followers desperately trying to rip the hoodie off him as he blinks in disbelief.

Yandere nepo baby: Who's a narcissist, he's been spoon fed his whole life and people would gladly lick the bottoms of his shoes. He's in denial that this just happened.

Yandere nepo baby: Who vows to get back at you. How dare you throw at drink in his face? This face that the press loves so much, that modelling companies compete to have on their magazine covers.

Yandere nepo baby: Who feels rage, shame, and humiliation. His ego is fragile, and he works hard to maintain his public image. Deep-down you've shattered the thin glass wall he hides behind.

Yandere nepo baby: Who drains himself mentally, putting in all sorts of effort to twist the events, overexplaining to people who weren't even present. He was the victim, you got so emotional over nothing. And of-course his minions would advocate for him.

Yandere nepo baby: Who tries to start a smear campaign against you, spreading half-truths in attempts to damage your reputation, though much to his sensitive frustration it barely works.

Yandere nepo baby: Realises you're not as popular as him, people don't even take second glances at you so anything he says is forgotten shortly after.

Yandere nepo baby: Is frustrated that you dismissed him so fast, not even looking in his direction like you've rubbed his face out your mind. He's raging that he can't seem to forget you though.

Yandere nepo baby: who can’t help but pause when he sees you walk by on campus, or perks up at hearing your frustratingly recognisable voice.

Yandere nepo baby: Who sits staring daggers into the back of your head every lecture, you choose to ignore it.

Yandere nepo baby: Can't help it anymore, he feels disrespected and walked all over! No, no, ignore the part were he was poking fun at your financial situation, that was just a joke!

Yandere nepo baby: Who ends up confronting you in the library as your sitting in a booth studying by yourself. Your surprised to see him alone for once, not being praised around by his entourage.

Yandere nepo baby: Struggles to understand your nonchalance at being confronted, like hello? This is a big deal! But no, you simply give him a bored look and tell him to go yap to someone else. You don't have time for petty arguments.

Yandere nepo baby: Cant wrap his head around the fact you like to keep your peace, you have a future to worry about and want to make your parents proud, you don't have time for daily, pointless confrontations with shallow rich kids.

Yandere nepo baby: Despises this feeling, for every time you ignore him his want to gain your approval becomes stronger. He's never been rejected so blatantly before and it irks him, how can you be so sadistic? Woe is him…

Yandere nepo baby: Hates to admit that he's slowly come to "like" you. Well, he's drawn to your good qualities, stuff he wishes he had naturally without faking it. Your smarts and your thick-skinned self-reliance, maybe even your beauty… but you're not better looking than him.

Yandere nepo baby: Who burns with jealousy at your traits. While he has to fake it, to keep up a tiring façade to keep people on his good side, it seems to come so naturally to you.

Yandere nepo baby: Who's slowly growing obsessed with "winning" your attention, and you, like your some trophy to be earned. He finds himself laughing too loud in your presence. Gloats with exaggeration about the new car he got, just because…

Yandere nepo baby: Just needs a chance to talk to you, but either your always with someone or he's with his gang, and he can't be seen hanging out causally with someone of such low status…

Yandere nepo baby: Who feels exhilarated to be put in the same group as you for the end of semester group project.

Yandere nepo baby: Who makes sure to sit next to you in discussion rooms, and while you try focus on taking notes on what the others are saying, he continues to relish his rich lifestyle while talking your ear off. He thinks he's impressing you…

Yandere nepo baby: Who's getting on your nerves, you know he's not attempting to apologies, he'd never apologies. You two hate each other, so what's his motive?

Yandere nepo baby: Who only feels more desperate for your approval when you flat out tell him his rich lifestyle doesn’t impress you. Just like that, another slap to his face.

Yandere nepo baby: Who needs to try something else, maybe if he shows you the ways of his life you'll finally understand his superiority, why he's the perfect person people should look up to!

Yandere nepo baby: Who's sure you'll understand how cool he is when he finally treats you the same as his friends. That’s probably what you where wanting all along! Love-bombing is his speciality after all…

Maybe he can start by replacing your laptop with the next best thing… surely you'd appreciate it.

lillipuppy

and inspired by said 'new' kink... m!Yandere moaning and whimpering like a slut while fucking you (gn, bottom!reader) short drabble

(not new but I only engage w it when I'm sad lol)

18+ MDNI

Your own brain feels all fuzzy as he mumbles every word straight in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress with clumsy strokes that somehow nailed every sweet spot you didn't know you had.

And God, you can't hold back noises either, and yours just amplify his own, two mirrors looking back at each other as you both tear up and whine while fucking like rabbits.

Claim you all over.

Make sure you know you're his ♡

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