Computah, gimme yandere being absolutely delighted with his horny captive!darling that’s ovulating and allowing him to make her cum out of pure desperation.
You haven’t felt human touch in months since he’s taken you captive and he’s been pretty patient, so when you’re suddenly opening those pretty legs of yours and showing off your slick cunt and we’re fingers, he’s diving in immediately. You’re needy enough to allow it…
He’s eager to show you how much pleasure he can give you if you just give in and let him love you. His pretty darling, babbling out pleas for more when just yesterday you were coldly telling him to go away… it’s music to his ears.
Yandere that’s in LOVE with the idea of knocking you up and watching your belly swell with his seed, but loathes the idea of a little parasite growing inside his darling and stealing precious attention away from him.
warning: nasty yandere, like body fluid collector nasty so beware
Bring back yanderes that are actually obsessed and depraved with disgusting interests in your body.
Aurelian is a pretty blonde elf boy, desired by most men and women. Everyone considers him to be utterly gorgeous and picture perfect boyfriend material!
But they have no idea what goes on in that man’s home.
He’s been obsessed with you for a while now. No one would ever imagine the prettiest guy in town was jerking off to pictures he’s collected of you over the past few months while he breaths into his phone. You always hang up within seconds, but hearing your shaky “… hello?” is enough to get him cumming instantly.
He keeps a sealed bottle of some of your piss on his nightstand. After easily charming his way through your workplace, he snuck into the women’s room to collect your pee when you were done. Yeah, he drank some already… but he’s saving the rest to worship properly!
He has a collection of your hair he’s pulled from your hairbrush, gum he scraped off of concrete, panties you thought you threw away now hung in frame over his bed.
Aurelian doesn’t look like your average creep. He’s polite, opens the door for everyone, and always has that sweet smile on his pretty face. You’re blind sighted by his true nature once the two of you enter a relationship.
And he doesn’t plan on letting you leave once you’re inside his apartment.
Cat hybrid bf that has kitten moments where he just wants to be mothered. He wants to suckle at your breast and knead your belly, to purr loudly and have you coo over him…
He wants you to call him your kit, your little cub, your baby! Isn’t he cute? He’s purring, mewing, butting his head against you affection alt to get your attention…
And his cock is hard and leaking precum.
Won’t you be nice and jerk him off while he sucks on your breast and kneads your belly? Don’t you wanna take care of your sweet kit?
He just wants his mama.
Alright… he may have a bit of a mommy kink. He can’t help that though, so be nice to him!
Just give him all of your love and attention already!
Your brothers best friend has been in love with you ever since you were kids. Silently pining for you and convinced you were creating coincidental run ins for years. What will happen when his car runs out of gas driving you back to campus and you two are stuck all alone?
Yandere!Brother’s Best Friend walks in to your home like it was his. It basically was given he’s been coming around since elementary school for sleepovers. He knows every inch and corner of this place like the back of his hand.
Some might call him an expert on everything to go with your family. But he’d argue he’s an expert on the only thing that matters. You. His best friend’s little sister.
Way back then he was what you’d look at as the trouble kid. Meanwhile your brother was the shiny teachers pet. So naturally their teacher pushed the two together. Thinking your brother might be a good influence or something.
Originally he didn’t plan on sticking around for long. He’d humor the teacher and play along with your parents but it didn’t mean anything. A way to waste time. But then he came over and you offered to share some of your fruit with him.
He’s kinda been gone for you ever since.
“What’re you still going here, freak? Waiting to see me?” He asks you cheekily as he passes you by on the couch from his way in. Reaching down he playfully ruffles your hair and laughs as you try to swat at him.
Just like every week you two go through the same motions. Every time he comes over to see your brother you’re always on the couch. Despite spending most of your time in your room he always finds you here when coming over at the same time every week.
Almost as if you’re waiting for him. At least that’s what he tells himself. Nothing else would make sense based off your college schedule that he’s now since memorized. Even with college courses and work you still somehow make time for him. You must feel the same way.
“You wish! I’m just waiting for my ride to take me back to campus, then I’ll be out of your hair,” you tease back ironically. But your response has his heart dropping into his stomach.
He just got here, you can’t go now. It’s been days since he last raw you, his own work schedule keeping him from dropping everything and following you around like a lovesickfool. He had to provide for you and spoil you somehow.
Leaning over the back of the couch he peers at your profile, noting the way you tense up and purposefully avoid meeting his gaze. Like you’re waiting for him to do something about it. Hoping he gives the reaction you might be craving.
“That’s such a waste when I’m already here. Call ‘em and cancel. I’ll drive you back,” he offers casually while on the inside he’s nearly buzzing out of his skin.
You resist the urge to look over and meet his eye, knowing his face would be way too close to yours if you did. Making it harder to resist him. The idea of him taking you home instead is an intriguing offer. One you can’t help but want to accept despite everything in your head telling you otherwise.
Peaking up at him through your lashes he looks as infuriatingly perfect as always. What you’re unable to see is the excitement coursing through his veins or the thrill of success thrumming in his chest. So you try to appear as nonchalant as he seems to be.
“Alright, fine, if you’re gonna be so pushy about it,” you respond like you couldn’t care if he does or doesn’t drive you back.
Not wanting to look too eager you force yourself to wait a few minutes before cancelling your ride. Because you’re not, obviously. You couldn’t care less.
And that decision somehow leads to you being stuck on the side of the roar at night after Yan!BBF ran out of gas halfway through the ride. Now you’re holding a flashlight from your dying phone onto his trunk as he rummages around trying to look for the can of gas he swore he kept in his car.
“We’re gonna have to call a service, I don’t have any gas in here and I don’t think there’s a station around for miles,” he explains, flashing you a sheepish smile from over his shoulder.
“I never would’ve been in this situation if I just went with my original ride,” you complain through a long groan as you turn your back to him. A shiver runs through your body as you fight the chill in the air, rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself.
Seriously, there’s no way you can even look at him right now. Yet from the corner of your eye you see him snap back up to full height and look over at your words.
“Sure, sure… would’ve been a lot less fun though,” he muses, his voice getting closer till it’s right against your ear. His words trying not to sound panicked at the thought of you preferring someone else.
“What the hell is fun about this?” You grumble, a pout playing on your lips. Feeling the warmth of his presence you subtly lean back into him.
In the blink of an eye Yan!BBF has you in the back seat, back arched, and rising his dick like your life depends on it. His girth plows through your slick velvety walls, molding your hole to the shape of him.
The wet slapping of bodies echos throughout the car and your panting breaths fog up the windows, giving you both a weak sense of privacy and an obvious explanation over what’s happening inside.
“How you likin’ THIS ride, babygirl?” He breathes out heavily, nails digging into your thighs, marking up your skin.
Using his hold he starts picking up the pace until you scream out in response. That annoying smirk of his plays on his lips.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
The ecstasy is blinding as you guides you up and down his big dick, the force causing the car to rock with his thrusts. Every time he bottoms out inside you, you can feel his angry throbbing tip kiss at your cervix, pushing the barriers of your sex and stretching you out further than you thought possible.
Gasps tears at your chest from one sensation rocking through your frame and the next. You can’t keep up with his hands that are worshipping your body like it’s all he’s been waiting for.
Or his mouth as he sucks dark purple bruises along your throat and chest. Making sure that any college boy can see you’re clearly taken.
“Try and talk now, honey. There ain’t nothin’ to complain about here,” he growls against your throat.
Broken babbles jumble out of your mouth as you try to fight and talk back but nothing sensible comes out. A smirk curls at the corner of his mouth as he actually starts mocking you. Mirroring your hopeless attempts at managing words through your noises of pleasure.
You immediately whine, tears pricking at your eyes. You wish you could hit him where it hurts by sliding right off his lap and denying him going any further. But the idea of stopping right now may break you completely.
So you do all you can and clamp down hard, rhythmically moving in time with when you go up and down his length. His choked moan and the way his smile drops brings you a sense of great satisfaction.
“That’s right, keep milking me nice and good. I can take it,” he grits out even as his balls tighten with the need to cum. He’ll hold off for as long as he has to.
Reaching between your bodies he delivers the most cruel and glorious form of payback as he finds your clit and flicks the sensitive bean over and over in time with his thrusts. Your body lurches forward into his chest.
Dammit. You wanted to torture him a little longer but the brutal slapping of his hips against yours and the way he works your clit sends you crashing over the edge. You scream his name as you clench around him, your body shaking with the force of your release.
He follows right after you, burying himself to the hilt and finally letting go. Marking you full with his cum until it creates a thick white ring around where your bodies are joined.
From that night on it becomes routine for Yan!BFF to drive you the decent distance between school and your family home. Just as it became routine to stop halfway through to… fill up… on gas.
So that no accident like that first night ever happens again. And totally not so that he can pound your pussy into oblivion for hours on end, get his weekly fix of you, and mark you up enough so that everyone knows you’re fully claimed.
Organized!Yandere gets off on how careless you, Messy!Ready are while at the same time is desperate to control you. Every time you manage to slip away into the chaos it only turns him on more. Till he realizes he can only control you when he’s fucking your brains out. And he uses it to his utmost advantage.
Organized!Yandere has never once loved someone as much as he loved you, his Messy!Reader. While he always thought he’d need someone like him to keep him sane, he’s found insanity yo be quite a refreshing feeling.
While he plans down his days to a T, even scheduling off time to fuck you, every time that he calls for you, you simply come on right over. No matter what time it’s like you drop everything for this. He just has to ask while throwing your leg over his shoulder, squeezing the flesh of your thigh, and feeding his dick right into your tight silken core without hesitation. Bottoming out with a hard wet plap.
“What were you doing before hah! coming here?”
Organized!Yandere moans wantonly, eyes rolling back as he picks up pace when you tell him you left a business meeting early. Made up some excuse and left mere minutes after ending the phone call with him. Possessive satisfaction thrums through his veins. You chose to be with him, throwing away your plans for him.
He asks what plans you have for the rest of the day, wondering if you plan to go back to work. But when you say simply say ‘nothing much’ his hips buck and he nearly paints you with his seed early. Fuck, you were so unhinged. A dark part of him ached— longed— to control you. To keep you pretty under his thumb where he could admire you and always know where you are.
His hand slips between your sweat-soaked bodies and he rubs you toward completion. Controlling your orgasm down to the very last second. When he utters a choked, ‘Cum, ffffuuckin’ cum now— mmph,’ your body listens.
You clamp down tight around his cock as if begging for him control. He’s sure of it. The thought sends him right over the edge with you, filling you up with his hot seed to the point your belly distends with the hefty amount inside of you.
Organized!Yandere tries to do just that not long after. Control you. Plan a daily schedule for you to follow without exception. Still somehow you’re nowhere to be found the first time he tries to check in on you. No matter what tactic he puts in place to control you, you always find your way out of it. Ending up at the most random places he never would’ve thought to look.
The more he tries to control you the more you end up slipping away from him. Disappearing like a magician performing their greatest trick. Of course you’re just going about your day as normal.
Deciding nah, you don’t wanna workout that day, or maybe you’ll take this meeting next week instead, that you’re feeling more Italian than BBQ for lunch, maybe a new movie caught your eye on the way home from work so you go there before heading home.
Totally casual and normal things to you but to him it was a nightmare.
Organized!Yandere has to track you down, he has to, whenever you go tragically missing (are out of reach for more than twenty minutes). Eventually he ends up losing complete control over not only your schedule but his own too. Making his already spiraling mind tumble down into actual insanity. While he appears to hate it, every rational thought left in my mind supporting that fact, in actuality he loves it. Craves it!
Because all of that frustration and twisted lust funnels straight back into you. Each time he calls on you and you come right away. He can fuck out his emotions into your willing body for as long as he desires. It’s the only time he has any real control over you and that is the hottest damn thing anyone’s ever done for him.
You’re perfect.
The next time Organized!Yandere manages to get you in his clutches he fucks you till you’re nothing but a slobbering babbling mess, too fucked out to form a proper coherent thought.
Your eyes probably permanently crossed as he pounds away at your sloppy cunt, refusing to let you cum. Not yet, not yet. But you were so messy already, new waves of your slick gushing out of you every time he mashes his engorged cockhead into your spongy cervix.
Whenever the pressure rises in your belly he feels the fluttering of your walls, how close you are, and slows down till it ebbs away. Leaving you a begging sobbing mess with every denial. By now he can’t make out any of the begging no matter how much you keep going.
“What, Bunny, you wanna cum?” He asks you, his voice the picture perfect example of mocking sympathy. You garble and whine over a few choked moans and he raises a brow, leaning in closer as if he’s actually trying but it’s only fault of your own that he can’t understand. “Hmm? Said that again, I couldn’t quite hear you.”
Another harsh round of hiccups wracked through your chest as you cry, opting out to just nod along desperately. Talking was no use.
A faint smirk pulls at his lips and he presses his body close to yours, faces mere inches apart. Denying you even now as you ache to kiss him. His lips brush against your own as he says, “Then cum for me.”
For once you listen instantly, coming with a strangled cry. Your body warps and hopelessly you try to meet his controlled thrusts. He works you through your orgasm, sliding into your battered fuck hole over and over. Talking you through it too, demanding you keep coming for him.
Organized!Yandere keeps going and the realization dawns on your mushy mind that he intends to keep going. Moving from one round right into the next. He hasn’t even cum yet and by the look on his face he doesn’t plan to for a long time. Not when he can ruin you first.
Weakly you whine and try to squirm away. The constant sensation already too much. You don’t know how much more you can take. His laughter makes something in your chest twist before he grabs your hips and slams you back down his length.
“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. Where d’you think you’re gnngh! g-going? I’ve got the whole day scheduled off so I can play with you, baby.”
His hands slide up and down your sides, soothing out the tremors as his hips snap forward, burying himself within you so hard it sends you sliding up the bed a little. Your screams of pleasure pierce the air and you know you won’t be sneaking off any time soon.
By the end of this you’re not even sure you’ll be able to walk for the foreseeable future. Keeping you right in place where he wants, where he can see you, where he can check in on you at any time and know you’d still be there.
Organized!Yandere leans down and nuzzles into your neck, peppering kisses along your feverish skin. Worshipping you as he always does when he can slow down and get a real good look at you.
okok this has been living rent free in my head but like nonsexual nudity with an angel bf who like, loves wrapping his wings around your body to cuddle n stuff cus he loves the close proximity n he knows u get cold easily so like i just think he'd be super sweet abt it
on the other hand i just love the idea of him enjoying early morning cuddle fucking sjfkshffjdj
I like to think that your angel bf always starts out with nonsexual, nude cuddling.
The most natural state for an angel is nudity, they are not ashamed of their bodies at all. His bare skin is warm against you, and he enjoys the sensation of your naked body against his.
His wings are large and soft, the downy feathers keeping you from getting cold due to your lack of clothes.
It’s pure intimacy, being able to hold each other like this with only love on your minds.
Though, at some point bodies naturally react to stimuli. It’s innocent, and completely natural to be on hard when your partner is pressed against you.
He’s not embarrassed at all, he’s just happy to be close to you. He buries his cock between your thighs and fucks them softly, continuing to cuddle you close to him.
It’s instinct, simple as that. There’s nothing sinful about a being as pure as him using your thighs to warm his cock… right?
It’s all new to him, the feeling of your body, the way you clench around him when he pushes into you. He always gets butterflies in his belly when you’re around, and you temp him with every embrace.
Being inside of you is just a new form of intimacy, a way to be close to his beloved. Pleasure isn’t the only thing he seeks when he’s fucking into your cunt and kissing along your neck. He wants to be closer to you than anyone else, for his love to be the only one you ever know…
And when he cums inside you, everything just feels… right. This is how some humans show their love, isn’t it?
note: I have a Patreon and Kofi where I post fics early and exclusive content if you’re interested!
The male siren who works at the same bar as you can only transform through skin-on-skin contact with a human. The bar has become twice as popular ever since he was hired, which is great news for your boss. The task of helping your coworker shift between forms is entirely up to you, and touching his shoulder or arm is usually enough.
Lately the transition time has been taking longer and longer, leaving the siren drained of energy and panting by the time he transitions into his human form. You can tell something is wrong, so you ask. He's visibly embarrassed as he tells you that he needs more contact to shift properly, and all the previous times he's been forcing it.
You let him know you're more than okay with it, and end up hugging him awkwardly over the edge of the blowup bathtub that's been set up for him in the backroom. He's in his human form almost in the blink of an eye, and you share a triumphant laugh. A week passes just fine, but by the eighth day, he's having a hard time once again. It doesn't help that he's supposed to go on stage in ten minutes.
He's stressing out, tugging at his hair and chirping in distress. You've never heard him make that sound before. You decide to clamber into the bathtub with him. Water splashes everywhere as he flails in confusion for a second, but he calms down the moment you wrap your arms around him. A small trill of content escapes him. After a minute he taps you on the shoulder, and you realize it worked. You get out and let him get ready while you squeeze the water out of your clothes as best as you can.
He brushes his cheek against yours affectionately, thanking you before he dashes onto the stage. His voice is particularly enchanting that night.
pink indicates heavily suggestive sexual themes & red indicates outright nsfw. all readers gender neutral unless indicated otherwise. minors do not interact, 18+
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ 𐔌 . ⋮ DRABBLES .ᐟ
♡ yandere otome game: game over
♡ yandere circus: twisted troupe
♡ yandere nerd x popular reader hc’s + nsfw
- part ii — yandere nerd x it girl (fem) reader
♡ yandere zombie x post-apocalyptic reader
♡ yandere brothers x babysitter reader
♡ yandere right hand man x crime lord reader
♡ yandere ice hockey player drabble
♡ yandere partner x yandere reader
♡ yandere ice skater x gn reader nsfw
♡ yandere ex military househusband x spouse reader
♡ the rent a darling concept!
♡ yandere 'envy' personified x (fem) reader
♡ "honey, i'm home" but your husband is homicidal!
♡ yandere childhood best friend x runaway reader
♡ yandere captor x captive reader; soap.
♡ yandere criminal kingpin x jaded lawyer reader
♡ yandere father in law but it's an arranged marriage
♡ yandere 'boyfriend' x gn reader; presque vu
♡ seeing yourself on the back of a milk carton; 'missing'
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ 𐔌 ⋮ FICS AND SERIES .ᐟ
♡ yandere king x assassin reader
- part ii — dance with me, darling rebel.
♡ yandere delinquent x (male) reader
♡ yandere prince x knight reader: who hurt you?
- part ii — blood in the water.
♡ yandere vampire x reader
- part ii — bite me.
♡ yandere slasher x gn final girl reader
- extra — lost property.
- extra — bonnie and clyde.
♡ yandere millionare x reader: mine, and mine only
- part ii — say yes to heaven.
♡ yandere rockstar x manager reader
- part ii
- extra; housewife syndrome
♡ yandere ex bf x reader series m. list
- extra; dependency.
♡ yandere oc's x reader // purge au: anarchy.
♡ yandere academic rival trilogy m.list
♡ yandere loser/blind date x willing reader
- part ii / valentine's day special
♡ yandere boyfriend: sweet little thing called love.
♡ yandere eldritch being x reader: indulgence.
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ 𐔌 ⋮ FANDOM MASTERLIST .ᐟ
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ── ✦ click here!
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ 𐔌 ⋮ SPECIAL EVENTS .ᐟ
ᯓᡣ𐭩 DIALOGUE DRABBLE EVENT .ᐟ ⊹
☆ yandere nerd x god complex reader + "don't leave, i'll do anything!"
☆ yandere king x rebel reader + "you made me this way."
☆ yandere millionaire x reader + "you couldn't have minded your own business?"
☆ . . . more to be added soon !
friendly reminder my blog is 18+ minors do not interact :)
everybody else, happy reading! don't be scared to send me an ask or leave a comment! your interactions keep this blog running ♡
cw; L is his own tw, imposter syndrome, explicit nsfw, mdni 18+
genie's notes; yayyy commissioned piece for @ozzgin !!! thank you ozzy my beloved for giving me the opportunity to write about my man ♡ if this feels long that's bc it is LOL i was having sm fun writing it got to 4k words,, can you tell i'm bonkers for this guy,, nevertheless, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing :D
“Take a picture,” you murmur. “It’ll last longer.”
“I know.”
You spare the man sitting besides you a quick glance. Despite the numerous dossiers emptied out onto the oak table before you, the detective’s attention is transfixed solely on you. Has been, for the past few hours.
“Ryuzaki?” You try again, hoping he’ll get the hint this time.
Stop fucking staring at me.
No such luck. He only tilts his head to the side expectantly and you wonder, not for the first time, whether he enjoys playing the fool, or if he’s just truly ignorant of your discomfort.
You don’t know which answer would be worse.
What you do know is that you can count on both hands the number of times you’ve been alone in a room with L. After all, it’s the exact same number of times that you’ve silently prayed for Kira to do you a favour and take you next.
The memory of the rest of the task force’s departure is still vivid. Yagami’s sympathetic smile. Matsuda’s shameless commiserations.
You can barely think. The sensation is strangely claustrophobic. Even now, you can feel the weight of his gaze settling over you like a burden.
With a weary sigh, you turn back to the pictures you’re thumbing through. All images of Kira’s most recent victims; their pale faces and milky eyes stare back at you with accusation. Months have passed without any sufficient leads and sure, you pull at loose threads when you can—but the mystery never quite unravels itself the way you hope for it to. There are no frayed edges. No loose seams.
Whoever this guy is, you can tell the smug son of a bitch takes pride in his work. Has you working overtime, too.
The wall clock across the room reads twenty minutes until five, but you didn’t really need to check the time to know that. With how high up you are, you can already glimpse the makeshift beginnings of dawn through the narrow gaps between Tokyo’s neon-lit buildings.
Screw this.
You’re going to cut your losses; already know you’re not getting any work done in these conditions. Better to mull over the details in the privacy of your own space—far from prying eyes.
You take the opportunity to flick through the pictures of civilian corpses once more, committing the details of the dead men’s faces to memory before finally tossing the alarmingly heavy file down onto the desk in front of you, where it lands with a resounding, strangely satisfying thud.
L doesn’t even flinch.
“I’m going home,” you announce, actively making an effort to avoid meeting the man’s eyes. Your chair scrapes against the floor as you stand, and the noise is unbearably loud within the otherwise silent room.
“So soon?”
You laugh at that. “It’s four in the morning, Ryuzaki.”
“Hm. So it is.”
“Time flies,” you shrug on your coat. “When are you going to leave?”
You ask out of politeness rather than any genuine curiosity. The question mumbled absently as you rummage around in your pockets for your hotel keycard.
You’re not from Tokyo. Just staying here for as long as the task force needs you to. Called in months ago from a nearby prefecture because of your stellar track record. You like to think you’re intelligent, and that Japan’s top minds recognised that about you. You suppose it doesn’t really hurt that you’ve got some connections to the national police force.
Though you’re glad to be trusted with the case, and happy to be here—you’ve never really cared much for the city of Tokyo itself. You miss the humdrum of the countryside; the constant chirping of cicadas hidden amidst tall blades of grass. A clear, blue sky unblemished by the fine points of soulless skyscrapers. Weaving through crowds without wondering whether one of them might be the mass murderer you’re hunting down.
L’s monotonous drawl snaps you out of your thoughts. Brings you back to exactly where you are right now and not necessarily where you’d prefer to find yourself, instead.
“I won’t.”
“You won’t?”
“Yes,” he repeats. Enunciates the syllables as if speaking to a child. No further clarification.
“I’m sorry.” You’re really not. “Are you seriously going to sleep here again?” You honestly don’t mean to sound disrespectful but the incredulity in your tone is difficult to mask. Much less in the presence of the world’s greatest detective.
The stories are true. You found them difficult to believe at first, but since then, you’ve confirmed the extent of L’s genius with your own observations. The man before you can function perfectly without any sleep for days on end. You remember the first time you’d left the office; come back the next morning to find L hadn’t moved an inch from where you’d left him last night.
Even still, it’s hard not to notice the prominent bags under his black eyes. The state of his clothes, all crumpled. The greasy, unkempt hair that frames his face. Despite his intellect, he’s still only human.
Even if it can be alarmingly easy to forget that.
“Why?” L asks blankly. “Are you offering me an alternative?”
Briefly, you think of the deputy director learning, come morning, that you’d left L to his own devices; The hard lines of disappointment marring his features. The disapproval in his otherwise polite gaze. He can’t be left alone. Something about being far too valuable, if you recall correctly. Or did he say vulnerable?
Regardless, you already feel like some charity case, even though you know that you’ve clawed your way to be here; called in favours and kissed the feet of men far beneath you. You deserve to be on the Kira task force as much as everybody else. Yet, you know what your answer will be long before you’ve even said anything.
Something tells you L knows, too. He’s never been the sort of man to ask questions that serve him no greater purpose.
Sometimes, you detest people like Matsuda for the ease with which they inhabit such unwelcoming spaces so boldly. The ability to exist so openly, without inhibition. But you detest yourself most of all, especially in moments like this where you’re burdened by the need to prove your belonging.
Well–
Are you offerring me an alternative?
–Shit.
“Yes.” you concede, not even bothering to look back at him as you reach to call for the elevator. Press the button with considerably more force than you should. “I suppose I am.”
You’re not nice. You’re certainly not charitable. But you are easy.
You spare him an exasperated glance over your shoulder when the doors finally slide open with a yielding sigh. From behind you, L makes no indication to move. You begin to doubt if he’s even heard you. Or, more specifically, whether he was ever really listening to begin with. His black eyes can feel so fucking vacant, sometimes.
“You coming?” you impatiently tap your foot against the carpeted floor as you hold the elevator open with narrowed eyes. “Or do I need to send you an invitation, Ryuzaki?”
“No need.” At that, L finally stands. He offers you one of his rare, private smiles; “I believe you already have.”
-
There are a couple of things you come to notice about L that day, when the ongoing investigation isn’t at the forefront of your buzzing mind.
It’s there, of course, because it’s difficult for any person to forget all of those dead faces; the list of unanswered questions growing by the hour—but the moment you slide your key into the lock and it turns with a satisfying click to open right into your little hotel room, it feels like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.
Take, for example, L’s penchant to be barefoot. He immediately steps out of his shoes the moment you kick the door shut behind you. Sinks his toes into the carpet (stained, and scratchy) with a blissful sigh.
You're choosing to ignore that.
Better not to drive yourself up the wall by paying attention to every little thing he does.
“Hungry?” you shrug off your coat and toss it onto the sofa.
“Sure.” And it’s not exactly a response, but you think this is the best you’re going to get from the man. Go rummaging through the fridge straight away, as you wave for him to take a sit in the tiny living room across from you.
“I know you have a sweet tooth,” The leather sofa crackles beneath his weight as he perches right on the edge, legs tucked up against his chest and his head resting over his knees sideways; so that he’s watching you in the kitchen. “So I’m cutting you a slice of some cake I made last weekend. Couldn’t finish it by myself if I tried.”
You eye him wearily as you set down the plates on the coffee table before the sofa, making sure to leave as much distance as is possible between the two of you when you sit down.
He sort of reminds you like a cat when he's like this, all curled up and comfortable. When he tries his first spoonful of sponge cake, he might as well start purring with delight. “This is good,” he mumbles between bites. “I didn’t know you could bake.”
“Yeah?” You impatiently drum your fingers against the armrest. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
The moment stretches for longer than it should.
You meet the detective’s eyes head on, find they’re as wide as saucers, staring back at you; and peering right inside. It feels downright voyeuristic and so fucking violating, the way you can feel him peeling back everything that you are to assess something nestled much, much deeper within.
You look away first, and the moment you do, you hear L hum approvingly—he sounds pleased, almost.
And though you know he would never seriously consider you competition, you still can’t shake the strange feeling that you’ve lost at something.
“No." L concludes. "No, I don’t think so.”
He sets his plate down on the table with a clink and you’re not surprised to find he’s already finished eating. All that remains is a single cherry; so violently red against the pale porcelain it sits on.
“Tell me,” He pinches the stem between his forefinger and thumb, and it’s the first reprieve you’re gifted from the weight of his calculating gaze; as his attention shifts to the sweet fruit he holds. “Why do you hate me?”
Shit, you realise your fingers are digging into the cracks in the leather armrest; flex your hand a few times before making an attempt to calmly fold them in your lap. Maybe because you make me feel like a fucking failure?
“I think you’re too smart for your own good.”
He gives that some thought. “As are you.”
It’s laughable, really. L is leagues above you in terms of intelligence. Prestige. Power. Who are you standing next to one of the greatest minds in the world? Who are you to deign that he recognises you?
You refuse to even recognise yourself.
“You don’t believe that,” you scoff.
“I do. I knew it from the moment you were first introduced to me.”
You pick up on something strange about the way he phrases it; the necessity of awareness required from both parties in a first introduction.
I'm losing it.
You shake your head, abandoning the tendrils of something akin to unease that had just begun to creep up on you. When else would he have first known you? It's a stupid thought. You’re not exactly the sort of person preceded by some magnificent reputation.
“Sure,” you decide to entertain him nevertheless, if only to see how far he’ll go. You wonder whether this is as close to gratitude as L can express, but is it for the hospitality or for the cake or for something in between? “And why was that, Ryuzaki?”
“L,” he corrects you. “Because even then, you wanted nothing to do with me.”
“And that’s what supposedly makes me a genius?” you scrunch your nose, “because I don’t like you?”
“So you insist on maintaining,” he drawls.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Did you know, detective,” L ventures thoughtfully, “your heart rate always spikes quite dramatically whenever you’re alone with me.” His black eyes flicker to meet yours as he breaks off the stem—pops the cherry between his grinning lips.
You dig your nails into the skin of your palm. Focus on the sharp sensations of precise pain; imagine the little indents of crescent moons that will litter your skin later on.
“Ah,” your voice is unfamiliar even to your own ears. “Is that so?”
He eats the stem next, and you notice, not for the first time, that the man's skin is so pale, it’s like a thin sheet has been stretched tight over brittle bones. You can easily trace the jagged lines of blue and purple veins that curl around and underneath his face.
L’s lithe fingers reach into his mouth where the dark stem sits between his teeth. You catch a glimpse of his tongue as he pulls out the stem, now damp, and examines it between his fingers; holds it up to the light.
It takes you a few moments to realise he must be admiring his efforts. Or, rather just observing them. You’re not really sure if L is capable of awe. Whether he cares for it, given how easily he earns it; must not mean much to him.
(You’ll find out later that he is capable of awe, though there are more important things he hopes to garner.)
The cherry stem’s all folded up on itself; he’s tied it into a knot with his tongue.
Instinctively, your eyes dart to his mouth. “I didn’t know you could do that,” you confess lowly. “Neat party trick, huh?”
And the moment you voice the thought, you wish you’d stayed silent. The curl of his lips is infuriatingly self-satisfied, as if he’s in on some grand secret you’re not quite privy to; it feels the closest L will ever get to outright mockery, yet even then, there is something you must have mistaken for sincerity in his gaze.
You’re not sure whether that makes you feel better, or worse.
“There’s a lot,” L confesses slowly, “that you don’t know about me.”
It doesn’t escape you that even something as simple as this sounds truer when L says it.
-
Later, the dishes have been cleared away and though you can barely keep your eyes open, you’re rummaging through your suitcase to pass him a new toothbrush because, you insist, you always carry spares. L admits he's never had to brush his own teeth before.
One hand on his jaw, and another curled around the brand new toothbrush you'd managed to dig out for him, you give him a reluctant demonstration.
You don't think he listens to a word you say; his attention seems to be focused elsewhere.
After his turn, you pad into the attached bathroom and brush your own teeth with the overhead lights switched off.
Tired, you don’t notice as you unscrew the lid of your old toothpaste that your own brush’s bristles are wet, whereas the toothbrush you’d handed to L is still unopened in its plastic packaging, left positioned neatly by the basin.
-
L is garishly tall.
It can be easy to forget that considering how often he’s hunched over a desk or curled up in a chair. When he stretches to yawn, his shirt rides up his abdomen, revealing a pale sliver of skin underneath. You avert your gaze. The last thing you need is to be caught staring.
“Take the bed,” you offer, already sinking into the loveseat's cushions.
L stares at you as he scratches his jaw. “I don’t sleep in beds.”
You don’t even want to begin deciphering that statement. You’re beginning to think this cryptic act is purposeful; that he gets off on being evasive. Out of reach.
You’re not even sure if he can see you, considering how dark it is in the room, but you put on your sweetest smile all the same. It feels vindictive and thrilling and you believe it’s the least he deserves.
“Well, cheers to trying new things, Ryuzaki.”
He says nothing in response, and even though he’s nothing more than a vague silhouette in the absence of light, you manage to make out the slowly way he climbs into the bed—crawls to the edge of the Queen bed that’s closest to your own spot. Pulls up the duvet to his chin, and lies on his side so he's directly facing you.
It’s unnerving. You wish desperately in times like these that you could click his head open like a purse and look inside; it's impossible to tell what he's thinking.
And then he starts talking.
-
Finally, there’s a lull in your conversation that stretches far too long.
You make no effort to salvage the exchange, relishing in its conclusion, and much to your relief, neither does your partner. It’s not necessarily that L’s bad company but it’s also not not that he’s impossibly infuriating to talk to. You just want to sleep. It's been a long fucking day.
You close your eyes, allowing a welcome silence to settle inside the stuffy room.
…
Then you try to ignore it.
…
You really, really do.
…
Much to your dismay, even your best efforts prove futile. The quiet doesn’t last nearly as long as you’d like.
“Ryuzaki,” In the face of overwhelming fatigue, all niceties are forgotten and honesty reigns supreme. “Why the fuck can I feel your eyes on me?”
“I can’t sleep,” he simply responds, in lieu of a proper answer.
You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so tired. Unlike him, you unfortunately do not have the seemingly inhumane ability to function properly without multiple consecutive nights of sleep. So, with a long sigh, you decide to let it slide.
Just one more time.
Then, with disapproval evident in your weary voice, because it would feel too much like accepting defeat to say nothing at all; “you know, normal people usually just count sheep.”
“Mm." The sheets rustle. "Sleep well.”
“...Thanks. You, too.”
Behind the heavy blackout curtains of the hotel room, the sky turns a soft, dreamy lilac.
Outside, some parts of Tokyo wake up to the mellifluous sound of morning’s first birdsong, and others take that as their queue to drunkenly stumble home in search of a warm bed to fall into.
On the busy streets dozens of stories below yours, the city moves as it always does. Vibrant and alive—though waiting with bated breath in anticipation of death; Kira the only constant in this new world.
You don’t even realise you’ve dozed off in the armchair; sleep is simply a welcome reprieve from such a long day. A privilege, and not the routine it used to be.
You dream of running away from something. Of simply falling through a solid floor.
Conversely, though he has taken your advice, L finds rest evades him.
Content with staying awake, he takes the rare opportunity to simply observe you from across the room, and it’s such a fascinating sight, to finally see you so at peace. You usually run on such a short fuse. Well-meaning, but difficult to deal with nonetheless. You like to be seen; hate to be stared at.
Aren’t you a charmer?
In the pale beginnings of dawn, he is a silent shepherd. He smiles at the thought, whilst gnawing on his thumbnail.
The sheep he counts all have your face.
-
You’re not sure what exactly it is that wakes you up, but it’s quiet when you do.
Even still, something causes you to stir, and before you know it, you’re pulled out of a sleep you hadn’t even realised you’d fallen into with bleary, blinking eyes that adjust to the dark and land on—
Nothing. A startling absence where L’s body should be.
The bed’s empty, and the crinkled duvet has been hastily tossed to one side. You notice that the warm glow of the nauseatingly yellow bathroom lighting spills out from behind the door, left open just a crack. It strikes you as strange, that the door’s not fully closed. You feel justified in looking in. Call it concern. Curiosity.
Does it really matter?
“Ryuzaki?” you venture, stepping closer. No answer. The silence is strangely more overbearing when you’re standing right in front of the bathroom door. With a hand resting on the brass knob, you decide to try once more. “Hey. L?” Silence, still and true.
It feels a lot like peering into Pandora’s box, when you inevitably do push the door open.
Look inside. And, huh—
There is L, hunched over the sink.
In one hand, he is holding what is unmistakably your underwear. You recognise the soft cotton instinctively, even though it’s balled up tight in his fist and he’s pressing the fabric against his nose; shuddering when he breathes in, languidly long and deep like a desperate smoker's drag of his last cigarette.
The lighting overhead casts sweeping shadows over his pale face, but despite the darkness the rest of his features are enshrouded in, you still manage to make out those black eyes; blown wide, wide open. Thick and heavy like eerily lucid, deep, dark pools of tar you can feel yourself getting sucked into.
His hand works at a methodologically steady pace. His breathing is perfectly controlled as he works at his cock with deft fingers. His tip is flushed a painful pink, leaks pre that’s been smeared down the shaft’s length. Between glimpses, you manage to make out prominent veins that eagerly pulse in response to his touch.
Proud. Heavy.
Hungry to sink into something far tighter than his fist.
—Your breath catches in your throat. It is impossible to look away.
The following moments are hazy, at best. Time seems to slow down to a crawl when the scene before you clicks into place, and the world moves in still frames after that; the last one lingering too long and imposing over the next.
You don’t remember saying anything, but you must have let a gasp slip past your parted lips. Stumbled backwards, perhaps. Some involuntary indication of your presence, peering in behind him.
Time fractures completely when L looks up; gaze snapping straight to meet yours in the mirror.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection, looking so laughably petrified—clearly just having rolled out of bed. There is not a single thing to be said as he lets his black eyes wander, appraisal silent and shameless as he drinks in the state of you; all tousled hair and crumpled clothes and bare feet.
His hands work faster then. His movements grow jerkier, breathing shallow. Eyes flutter shut, finally looking away from you, as his grip on your underwear tightens—knuckles white from the sheer effort of holding on, refusing to let go and inhaling your scent—nose buried desperately deep in the dirty cotton. Pathetically fervent. Chasing that blissful high with a new vigour.
You have been taught by many a smart man to never go seeking answers to questions when you do not wish to face them.
And so, when you glimpse this stranger’s tongue dart out to wet his cracking, dry lips the exact moment they wrap around the shape of a familiar name—hear the syllables repeated with a devotion akin to reverence; something like prayer—the man shudders exactly when you do.
Comes undone just as you slam the door shut.
You’re standing there in what you think might be shock, with a shaking hand resting against the doorknob. You choose to focus on the way in which the hair on your arm stands on end. Because if it’s not that, it’d be the sound of the tap running.
The door swings open abruptly. The man breezes past you, and quietly crawls back into bed. Rooted to where you stand, it’s all you can do to turn over your shoulder and observe him.
He catches you staring, merely tilts his head to the side from where he’s settled into the sheets, a coy little lilt to his lips.
For the first time, you’re the one who doesn’t look away. Couldn’t, even if you tried. Stygian strands of hair fall over his eyes, the darkest black they’ve ever been. Despite the fact that it feels like you’re staring at a stranger, facing him is familiar, as it always is; like wading into a thick tar.
Viscous and heavy and clinging.
You might’ve missed what he said if you weren’t so hyper focused on his every minute movement. His words are barely above a whisper, after all, and carry a strange lilt—as if recited, almost. Like he’s reading a line; performing some private joke.
“Take a picture,” L smiles knowingly. “It’ll last longer.”
nun reader who is also the Polytwinks' boss, pretty much how Garterbelt is responsible for the Anarchy sisters... 👉👈 (can be NSFW or not, ur choice pookie)
imagine the twins doing everything to get a praise or some "treat" from you for completing their job, asking for cuddles and just being two jealous and needy cry babies who want attention from their boss :((
Polyester x Fem! Reader x Polyurethane
Nun! Reader, Clingy Poly brothers
Ever since the angel brothers descended to earth, heaven assigned you as their overseer for the time being before they ascended back to heaven. You thought nothing of them when you first met, and neither did they.
But as time goes on, your relationship has improved quite a bit in your opinion, but it seems like they have gotten needy.
Polyester and Polyurethane have once again succeeded in the mission you assigned, as well as whining at your feet begging for some kind of attention from their mentor.
"We've done a good job right~?"
"C'mon, reward us!!"
From the brothers perspective, they saw you as a woman who is difficult to please. You never acknowledge their good doings that much, only praise them with short words such as 'good job', 'great work'. At rare times, you even treat them to a meal. But it was never enough as their attraction for you grows and their crave of any kind of affection does so as well.
They were begging at your feet and clinging onto the hem of your skirt as they whine. You're completely unfazed at this point, already grown used by their antics. At times like this, you can only sigh as you reach down and start petting their heads. From this view, it looks like two pets receiving affection from their owner.
From how prideful they are, you're surprised by this action that the brothers are displaying. Who knew such egotistical brothers would throw away their pride just to receive some reward from you? They might probably not care at all what people think, including Panty and Stocking, if they saw them acting this way.
However, this doesn't seem to satisfy their touch-starved mishap.
. . .
You have finally heeded their demands and have found yourself being squished between the angels. The three of you moved to your bedroom, doing absolutely nothing and only cuddling with each other.
In all honesty, you were expecting more than just a cuddle. So you were a tad bit disappointed. And it also seems like the brothers have a sense of what you are thinking, or was it written all over your face?
"Expecting more~?" Polyurethane teases, whispering seductively against your ears.
You don't know what his talking about.
"You can't fool us, love. Just look at your expression." Polyester giggles, kissing your neck.
You can feel their hands roaming around your body making you squirm under their touch. From the looks on their faces, you can guess what they're about to do.
"Can we?"
...you let them do what they want.
ACK I've been posting less frequently and I'm very sorry!! Especially to those who requested! I gotta admit, I hadn't started on some of them yet. And about this request... UGHHHHH ITS SO GOOOOOODDD I hope this is up to your expectations!
"Alien replaces old mean husband" but LET'S REVERSE IT!! *gn reader technically intended because you're an alien
Who cares you aren't really his real wife?
Maybe it's just him being starved for a single form of affection from his supposed to be his one and only partner. Somehow he is still holding up but had it not you replacing her, he would've snapped.
Love-Starved!Husband wouldn't cheat for as marriage is such a sacred thing for him growing up religious with 'happy' parents and he wouldn't want to break the illusion. However, it was getting hard to keep it from falling apart after marrying her.
Love-Starved!Husband admit that it is uncanny looking at you considering you're using his old wife's skin and he desperately wants to see your real skin.
Desperate!Husband dropping hints that he might know who you truly are but all results to you laughing it off as a weird human couple thing you don't understand.
Paranoid!Husband double checks everything to keep you longer. He doesn't want to let it go just yet not when you two are getting along so so well. The kisses you let him left proves it! Right? Right. So don't worry if he installs more locks so no one gets in or out... In case of safety of course!!
Desperate!Husband trails up his hand on you one night as permission. He hasn't done this in a while so I hope you don't mind if he went a little crazy losing in pleasure once you've accepted him taking you.
Yandere!Husband the next morning had truly lost himself now and now he wants the real you. He's not done and he doesn't want to look at his probably dead wife's face but instead he wants you. The real you.
"Honey... You would show me everything you'd offer right? Through the highs and lows... The ugly and beautiful.. that's what you promised me."
"Of course."
"Then why do you insist on using her skin?"
"..."
"Please.. please show me who you truly are or I might just..."
tangentwithtanner
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
origamiaround
gummygunk
