NIGHT’S SANCTUARY

Your Emperor (20/it) - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

[yoru-no-seiiki]

temporary pinned

MINORS / AGELESS BLOGS DNI - WILL BE BLOCKED

yun - 20 - he/it - acearospec - ENTPA - 3w4 - filipino

- main acc: @hana-no-seiiki (for general fics, lukewarm yans, art, etc)

- content i write: dddnesque, yandere, smut.

- content i will not write: scat, piss, pedophillia, cannibalism.

asks: open!

again minors and ageless blogs will be blocked (meaning u get blocked in main too so please be careful)

masterlist, tag guide, rules and guidelines tba.

[aerisxblade]

sorry i growled while i was cumming in you. it'll definitely happen again.

[monstersholygrail]

Imagine an Ancient Eldritch God who’s been locked away for centuries. Too powerful for the other gods to control so they threw him away into an eternal darkness instead. They couldn’t risk him being out in the world and becoming even more powerful so they did what they thought must be done.

For so long darkness and cold are all he’s ever known. The total emptiness of it gnaws at him. That is until one day when a light breaks through and he finds himself suddenly in your bedroom, trapped in a summoning circle.

By the naive awe on your face you clearly don’t know what it is you just did. No mere human would ever knowingly summon a being as powerful as him. Glancing down at the book in your hand he reads, ‘How to Summon Incubi With Your Friends: The Party Guide.’

An incubi? You think him an incubi? It is no matter. He is free and he has you to thank for it.

Luckily without much thought you close the book and the barrier around the summoning circle breaks. He must act quickly. Before the other Gods sense his presence on this mortal plane and drag him back into that unbearable darkness.

He leans in close and rushes to offer you a contract. Bind your soul to his and he will be forever devoted to you. He will assist you in whatever you need, be whoever you need him to be. You will own him, body and soul in this life and the next.

It sounds like a pretty damn good deal so you see no harm in accepting it without much consideration. Not willing to give you time to take it back he seals the contract with a kiss. But oh, it’s been so long since he’s felt this. Touch.

“Human, you are so warm,” he growls, pushing forward till you tumble onto the bed, your lips still locked in a passionate embrace.

From dusk to dawn he experiences what only can be described as the most euphoric sex of all time. For none have felt the pleasure of being inside of you like he has. With your warm walls dragging along his length, milking so many orgasms out of you both, it’s like he’s finally seeing the light. And he basks in the burning lust you ignite within him.

If he hadn’t already seared himself to your very soul till the end of time then he would’ve then. Ensuring that the sweet honey from your release remains forever on his tongue. He desired your touch more than humans require air. Both needed them to survive.

Just as he starts to think he may be able to relax, to stay hidden within your aura from the Gods, a blinding white light engulfs you both. It takes you much longer to realize something had happened, your luscious figure exposed to them all. A protective urge surges through him and he drags you into his chest, using his body to shield yours.

Your expression remains so adorably idiotic as the Gods explain to you that you must relinquish your contract with him so that he may return to the rightful place in his prison. That annoying urge tickles his nerves again and he holds you a little tighter. If only to ground himself in you.

“I’m afraid they won’t be doing that. Our contract is sealed by a force much stronger than you.”

Then he tosses the book down between them, waiting patiently as the Gods stare with a dumbfounded look on their faces. Glancing between you, him, and the book in a cycle so repetitive you get dizzy.

More so out of confusion than anything else, they eventually let you go. Somehow coming to the conclusion that as long as he was bound to your control the world would be save. When they leave the white room around them fades to reveal you’re back in your bedroom. Still so naked and ready for him.

He sighs a long breath of relief before a laugh that borderlines on maniacal bubbles up in his throat. You stare up at him with wide eyes like you’re only now realizing what you’ve gotten yourself into. When he looks down at you his eyes flash and his cock hardens against you instantly.

He’s finally free, free to be with you. The sweet human who’s given him the world. Now he wishes to give you the world in return. You whimper, squirming against him, arousal pools between your thighs and your heart races with need as you rub against his massive cock that twitches and leaks with his own need.

The fact that he’s all yours and your all his sends a thrill down his spine. He can’t believe the Gods backed off. He can stay with you now in the light, never to go back to that dark place. It makes him grow impossibly harder, his pre cum smearing along your slit and he grinds against you.

“Fear not, my dear. For you will never have to part with me. They will not take me away from you and your pretty pussy that I so crave. I now have as much time as I desire to wreck your soft fragile human husk. We should take advantage of that, don’t you think so?” He growls, laying you both back down on the bed.

Your lips part to speak just as he slams his cock back inside you and a scream comes out instead. He watches the way your body arches into him so beautifully as he starts thrusting back inside you. While your sounds of pleasure are music to his ears, grounding him in this beautiful moment.

And there’s not an inch of doubt within you that he’s going anywhere. No, you’re certain he’s going to be sticking around you for a very, very long time.

[yoru-no-seiiki]

Been fucking with Eldritch Gods recently this came at a perfect time

[yoru-no-seiiki]

Incest/Pseudo-Incest story request:

How about a story where a yandere man loves a woman and takes her as his wife. But the woman runs away with her other lover from him successfully, and by the time he finds her she is dying from childbirth. She leaves behind a daughter (who is reader), and he decides to raise her as his own.

As reader grows up, she’s pretty much a carbon copy of her deceased mother. Day by day the yandere man (father) can no longer restrain himself and decides to make reader his daughter-wife

Also what if reader was morally-grey? Not really shy about the whole dating your father situation

I believe you sent two asks nonnie? The other one was sent around the same timeframe with a similar incestuous theme. Unfortunately I can’t do this one since it has themes of grooming and essentially pedophilia. But thanks for requesting the other one (if you did) will work on it soon!

If the reader was separated from the father for a while tho I think I’ll consider it. Like they grew with their mother and only on their “coming of age” did they meet their father and slowly but surely fell in love with him and vice versa.

or if the reader is a reincarnated adult inside the body.

[yoru-no-seiiki]

PARASITIC [ SCAMMER FAMILY! x READER x RICH! FAMILY ]

PART TWO

tw/cw: plot with some porn, reader is gn. incest/pseudocest (not blood related), inspired by the movie parasite. set in korea and uses some korean language. retconned the story from the first part.

[ PART ONE ] [PART THREE]

“[Y/N]-ie got a job as a butler? As expected of our favorite child” Your mother gave you a soft pat on the shoulder. Usually she’d give you a big old sloppy round of kisses for your achievements but she knew how much you valued the work you do on your face.

“Adopted.” You added. Still baffled at her decision to take you in despite the circumstances her family was in. Horridly irresponsible if you do say so yourself.

“But child nonetheless.”

“Do you really have to wear that much makeup whenever you go to work? You look like a whore. Fuck.” Your brother walked by, scratching his flat, soft stomach.

“A good looking one at least. Aren’t I?”

“Can’t deny that.” He smirks, grabbing your ass and squeezing it tight.

“Kiss my fucking ass.” You barked at his face, slapping his hand away. He only smirks back, and gives you a big, almost slimey kiss to your lips. Your features then softening right afterwards “Love ya, bro. I’ll be right back.”

“Sh-shit, I’m cumming—“ Your benefactor whined. Your hands on his shaft. Gentle and loving as you can be as you coax out his climax. A slow rhythm yet tight hold. Your tongue swirled around his cockhead.

Your pace quickened. “Then cum.” You breathe out. So low you’re not sure if he even heard you.

Still, reach the heights of pleasure he did.

“Fuck, you look like a whore when covered with jizz.” He laughs. As if you two weren’t in the throes of passion just moments earlier.

“With a cock like yours? It’s hard not to be so slutty.” You smile, trying your best not to cringe at all the lewd fluids that covered you. Professional that you were, you only licked it off. Maintaining your sensual expressions.

“Next time, cum inside me.” You smiled innocently. As if you didn’t just say the sexiest thing on Earth to him.

“Shit.” He ejaculates again. Ruining your make up. Again.

“I didn’t say ‘right away’.” You try to laugh it off. But it doesn’t comfort the man in front of you at all.

“Sorry, I—“

“No, it’s my bad. I just thought with all that money of yours and the people you have under your thumb you’d be somewhat good in bed but I guess that’s —“

He rolls you over. Now above you, he smirks at your dazed face. Leaning in his says in a low (cringey), rumbling voice. “Stop teasing me.”

And you moan, as if you weren’t sleeping with the man you hated.

Your touch was gentle even outside of bed he surmised. His eyes trained on your hands that touched the picture in a frame. As if any more pressure would break the thing.

“You have siblings?” That’s at least one thing you had in common with the rich kid. Well, you doubt his relationship with them was anything like yours however. All blighted with lust, rather than love.

“You mean the imps that freeload on my parents and I? Yeah I have three.” He sighed in contentment. Not even a second thought to what he was sharing. Holding you close like this just felt right.

“They’re adorable.”

“Say that when you’ve met my little brother. He’s an absolute fuck boy.”

“Aren’t you one as well?” You weren’t naive or out of the loop. You knew your benefactor took in other lovers when you weren’t available. You weren’t against it, you knew you were his favorite anyways. And it was way better than having a clingy, puppy like boy after you all the time.

The silence that followed wasn’t biting, but it was long enough to make you glance over your shoulder. You expected a sharp comeback, maybe a lazy smirk and some teasing protest—but instead, he just stared at the ceiling, his jaw slackened, thoughts suddenly elsewhere.

“You were my first time.”

That stopped you. Your lips parted slightly, not in shock, but in the unexpected intimacy of it. That wasn’t something you knew. And coming from him, someone so practiced at casual affection, it felt like an open wound shown freely.

He didn’t give you time to respond before continuing, a half-hearted huff escaping him. “In any case, he’s my mother’s favorite and all because of his stupid art skills. He grew up spoiled and well . . . “ He continued. Bringing up his phone and then a few scrolls later shows you a drawing of . . . a monkey? A chimpanzee? You weren’t quite sure.

“Pfft that’s his so-called art skills?”

“Tell me about it.”

A thought crosses your head. You hesitate for a moment, not quite sure if it was even viable, before you go, “You know, my sister is pretty good at art. I can have her tutor him perhaps?”

“Make sure she brings pepper spray if not condoms.” He warned. His face uncharacteristically serious.

“You’re the best.”

“You mean nepotism is.” he muttered into your hair, but his arms were tightening around you.

“Nah,” you murmured, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of him sank into your skin. “Nepotism can’t fuck me the way you do.”

“C’mere.”

“Forge some papers. You got a job.”

“What?” Her voice cracked as she blinked in disbelief. “No way! You’re shitting me.”

You reached into your bag with a flourish and tossed a small stack of photos onto the table. They scattered like playing cards—snapshots of the little brother in question, blurry candids of him brooding over a sketchpad, and a few tragic masterpieces that made you snort every time. You flipped your phone screen toward her next, a string of texts glowing brightly: one from your benefactor, curt and clear, confirming the arrangement.

“Heol— [Y/N]! You’re so fucking hot right now!” Then, without warning, she lunged across the room, grabbing your face in both hands. Her lips landed clumsily on your cheeks, your nose, even a half-second kiss on your lips, loud and fast, like she didn’t know how else to thank you. The scent of hairspray and faint ramen broth clung to her. You laugh, pushing her away playfully, happy for her. “Mom I’m off to the PCBang!”

“The fuck, where’d you get soju from?” you asked, noticing the dark bottle in your brother’s hand as he appeared from the kitchen like some disappointed housewife. His eyebrows were already halfway up his forehead.

“I bought it,” he muttered defensively, twisting off the cap like a challenge.

Right. You usually never drank at home. Not because you were some health freak—it was just . . . wasteful. Extravagant. Something you didn’t allow yourself, not when your paychecks bled out before the month ended.

“So,” he said, flopping down beside you on the couch, eyeing the scene like a vulture, “when am I going to get a job?”

You take a sip of the soju. Cringing at the taste. You never quite got used to it. You chase it down with some water. “I just recommended our sister. I don’t think my boss’ll like it if I start passing out family members like flyers”

He shrugged “Oh. It doesn’t have to be you.”

The words didn’t register at first. They hung in the air a little too long. Then your brows slowly pulled together, and your eyes narrowed.

“You’re . . . an evil fucking genius.”

“I know.”

[hana-no-seiiki]

PARASITIC [YANDERE! PLATONIC FAMILY x SCAMMER! READER x YANDERE! RICH FAMILY]

BLURB / SNEAKPEEK - BASED OFF OF THE MOVIE PARASITE.

Your eyes burned through the back of his skull. He could feel the intensity of it all. The determination, the passion, the anger. But when one wore rose colored glasses, every flag looked red.

Your family never had much to begin with. Your mother got pregnant at an early age with your older brother and sister, and here he was your so called “boyfriend” living happily with the money his parents so carelessly provided.

“I know you’re in love with me, but please you’re making the butterflies in my stomach flutter all over with that stare of yours.” He turned around and leaned towards you. A kiss to your neck, then your jaw and lastly your lips. He was never just satisfied with a simple hug or kiss, Wonshik was an insatiable man. He took and he took without an ounce of consideration of what you thought.

It was how he was raised after all,

like a pig.

“Fuck, I need you.” You shoved him away for a momentary sense of relief. Every second you breathed his scent in disgusted you, much more when he dared holding your form.

He looked up at you, wonder in his eyes. He was in love, he truly was. What was once a strong young man, filled with charisma and power turned to putty when with you.

It was a shame really,

that you despised him and everything he stood for.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[yoru-no-seiiki]

Working on a sequel to this! Watch out!

[yoru-no-seiiki]

send in some asks my inbox here is so barren 😔

(preferably dddne content, incest, smut, etc.)

[yoru-no-seiiki]

noble yandere big brother and father and twin brother… drools…

pairings: yandere! noble! male family members x reader

tw/cw: yandere, incest. readers actions are less emphasized in comparison to the original fic and is more reactive than proactive.

spin off to platinum trophy.

yandere father

You were never allowed to leave the manor unchaperoned.

Not because of danger, but because your father hated the way the world looked at you.

“They don’t deserve to see you smile,” he murmurs one evening, brushing your hair as you sit on a velvet stool before the hearth. “Let them write letters. Let them beg for your hand. You don’t need them. You have me.”

He says it like a prayer. Like it’s a truth older than time.

Your gowns are custom-made—never revealing. He screens every servant who speaks to you. No tutors under thirty. No suitors permitted past the gate. You live in a palace of soft hands and quieter threats.

And yet, he’s gentle. Obsessively so. He remembers what sweets you like. What books you hide beneath your pillow. What scent you wore when you smiled for the first time after your mother’s death.

You once asked why he never remarried.

He just looked at you.

And whispered, “Why would I ever look at anyone else?”

Tonight, he kisses your forehead too long. Tonight, his hands linger at your waist.

You were raised to be the jewel of the house. But he wants you as the ruler of his heart.

And the crown he offers glitters with blood

yandere older brother

You were the little star of the household.

And he was the heir. Cold. Composed. A soldier-prince carved of marble.

To everyone else.

But never to you.

To you, he was the boy who’d braid your hair before royal ceremonies. The one who held your hand when the tutors frightened you. The one who beat a servant bloody for letting you cry.

And now?

Now you’re of age. Beautiful. Handsome. Sought after.

And he hates it.

You catch him burning a letter from a foreign prince. You hear rumors of a courier who vanished en route to your debut ball.

He denies it all.

But his smile grows thinner with each day.

“I’ve given up everything for this family,” he tells you one stormy night, grabbing your wrist as thunder shakes the keep. “Father’s love. My own future. I gave it all up for you.”

You try to speak—but he silences you with a trembling hand.

“I don’t want to be your brother anymore,” he says, voice raw. “I want to be the man you wake up next to. The one whose name you scream when you—”

You slap him. He doesn’t move. Just bleeds a little from the lip.

And then whispers, “You’ll come to me. You always do.”

yandere twin brother

The worst part is that he never had to chase you.

Not like your suitors do. Not like the other nobles whispering your name between banquet courses and behind fan-veiled smiles. No—he already has you. Always has.

You were born minutes apart. His fingers were the first to grasp yours. Your cries rose together, in perfect harmony. You learned to walk beside him, to sleep beside him, to breathe beside him. You were taught to call him your other half.

But he calls you something else. Something more private.

“Mine.”

It begins with glances.

He watches you as you speak to the Baron’s son. Not with jealousy, but with certainty—like he’s already decided how this ends.

He always knows where you are. Who you spoke to. What you wore.

He tugs your sleeve one day after fencing lessons. “That silk’s too thin,” he murmurs. “I don’t like how he looked at you.”

You smile, because he says it with care, like he’s worried.

You don’t realize it’s a warning.

It deepens when you try to make space.

A different wing of the estate. A new maidservant to attend you. Fewer shared classes. You tell the court physician you’ve been having nightmares—ones with heat and breath and guilt.

But the dreams never end. And your twin never leaves.

He finds you every time. In gardens. In study halls. At dusk, he knocks at your door.

“I missed you,” he says softly. “Do you know what that feels like? To miss something that was once always beside you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t breathe.

And he smiles like he already knows what you’re thinking.

Then comes the night of the suitor’s ball.

A foreign prince—strong, charming, clever—takes your hand in the dance.

You laugh for the first time in weeks.

Your twin leaves before the music ends.

By morning, the prince has fallen ill. By noon, he is dead. Poison, they say. From his own chalice.

You find your twin in the east garden, brushing snow from a carved bench. He doesn’t look up.

“You laughed for him,” he says quietly.

You take a step back.

“I wonder,” he continues, “what it would take to make you laugh like that again . . .”

You whisper his name.

He finally meets your eyes.

And his are filled with something ancient. Something terrifying.

“Don’t make me kill for your affection,” he says. “Just give it.”

That night, you wake to find him in your bed.

Not touching. Not even speaking.

Just watching you sleep, his expression heartbreakingly soft.

“Do you remember when we were little?” he whispers. “We’d pretend we were the same person. I spoke, you moved. You blinked, I breathed. And everyone said we were uncanny.”

You nod. Slowly.

He brushes your hair back. Fingers trembling.

“I don’t want to be separate anymore.” Your pulse quickens. He leans closer. “I want you back. I want the part of me that only lives inside you.”

And when his lips brush your forehead—then your cheek—then hover just shy of your mouth—

You realize:

This was never about love. This was always about wholeness.

And in his mind, that can only happen if he consumes you—heart, body, and soul.

[yoru-no-seiiki]

Hai, I wanna start writing but I don't know how to get the headers right. The bottom half looks fine but the top has a lot of space between the picture in the middle and I was wondering if you know how i could fix that?😅

Might wanna crop the top photo’s bottom part. Hope that helped!

[heartilyrins]

WIP

//incest, dead dove do not eat

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 hmmmmmm, i love momcon heh..

[yoru-no-seiiki]

PLATINUM TROPHY.

tw.incest / tw. yandere

Okay but like Reader, who got transmigrated into another world and even though it’s filled with Yans and death flags, wants to collect every route even the ones that are *cough* literally incest.

Reader who woke up in a world not like theirs after an incident with truck-kun.

You had one rule when you played otome games: collect. every. route.

Didn’t matter if the love interest was a tsundere assassin, a clingy childhood friend, or a morally bankrupt priest with questionable views on sanctity and possession. If there was a character portrait and at least two CGs? You were getting that bad end, dammit.

So waking up in a real yandere-filled world after the classic “Truck-kun kisses your spine” incident?

Dream come true.

Well—if you ignored the fact that everyone here had a murder kink and a God complex.

You woke up in a soft bed, embroidered curtains fluttering, and the sound of a lullaby being hummed. A warm hand pushed your hair from your face.

“Oh, thank the heavens . . . ” a woman whispered tearfully. “My precious child has finally awakened.”

Ah.

Plot twist. You’re the youngest child of a noble house. And this world? Definitely the beta version of some rejected yandere otome visual novel.

How did you know?

Because your older brother smiled a little too fondly when you called him “nii-san.”

Your father warned the servants not to “touch his little angel’s laundry” or he’d “remove their tongues for the disrespect.”

And your mother? She cried happy tears . . . but muttered something about you never leaving her side again. Ever.

You didn’t even meet a love interest outside your family until Week 3.

By then you’d survived:

A poisoning (brother’s “jealousy test” gone wrong),

An accidental “locked in the cellar with me, sweet sister~” event,

And a “punishment cuddle” from your father that lasted six hours.

But despite all this?

You were thriving.

Every morning you looked in the mirror, grinned at your slightly bloodshot eyes, and whispered:

“New world, new me. Time to raise every flag—especially the red ones.”

The gardener? Shy and sweet—stabbed a bird for you and cried.

The knight commander? Cold and noble—flushed when you praised his sword skills, then killed a stablehand for “looking at you wrong.”

The mysterious boy in your dreams? Woke up beside you one morning with chains around his neck and whispered, “I finally found you, Master.”

You were halfway through the cursed priest’s route (he would often try to drown you in holy water, citing your immoral, sinful seduction of those around) when you unlocked a hidden CG: your twin brother, who was supposed to have died at birth, curled up in your bed whispering, “You belong to me . . . You always have.”

The world was breaking.

And honestly?

It was fantastic.

You had so many endings to collect. So many blood-soaked kisses. So many knives held to your throat in the name of twisted love.

Death flags? You planted them.

Because deep down, you weren’t trying to escape this nightmare.

You were trying to 100% it.

[casuallyanidiot]

Group Participation!

Group project for a class where everyone hates each other, but they somehow fall in love with you???

Yandere! m Academic Rival! x gn! Reader x Yandere! m Nerd!

Dead Dove Do Not Eat! MDNI! Tw. Noncon, Yandere, Dubcon, Oral, Voyeurism, semi-public sex, recording

1.7k words

When you got your assigned partners for the assignment, you actually considered just dropping out entirely. The two names on the paper were of the two people that had made your academic career an absolute nightmare.

Yandere Academic Rival is pissed that he has to work with you for once.

It’s not like you guys are nearly on the same level, so Elias just knows he’s going to have to be on your ass to make sure that you’re not going to manage to fuck this up for everyone. His normal opportunity to try and show you up has been dashed, and now he’s passive aggressively adding notes on to literally anything you write.

“I just feel like this is taking too much space. We can cut down on the word count much more if we remove this part.”

“Dude, that's literally just our hypothesis”

“As I said. You should let me write this part. It will be much better.”

He’s so set on taking over bits of your project, but then he whines about how much he has to do. He spends hours nitpicking everything your group does, but he seems to love focusing on you in particular.

“Come on. You should at least come with me to dinner. I’m staying here after hours to try and fix your mistakes."

“What the- no one asked you to do that???”

“Well, we might as well punch in the failing grade ourselves if I don’t. Sit down. You’re not going anywhere until I can thoroughly check what you’re up to.”

Yandere Nerd isn’t much better.

You had hoped that Marcus would tamper down on his creepiness now that there was someone else present when you interacted with him, but you had no such luck. 

He’s a lot more brazen in his advances now. His hand tries to worm its way between your clenched thighs under the table, prodding at your crotch with a mischievous grin like you weren’t sweating bullets. He likes to insert your nudes into the shared draft at ungodly hours at night, making you constantly have to be on the lookout to remove it before Elias would see.

Now, Marcus is smart. Smarter than both you and Elias. Getting him on this project was a guaranteed first class mark in the bag, but it was a goddamn headache making him do anything. You literally had to get on your hands and knees to beg him to do his paragraph on the introduction page. He took a photo, grinned, and finished it flawlessly in less than an hour. You shuddered to think what he would ask of you next.

It wasn’t just him, either. You had been doing your best to manage them both, but it was getting out of hand. Not to mention, but Elias was getting more and more needy.

“You’re working with me today. Not him.” He would scoff in disdain, grabbing your wrist and tugging you off to crowd you against some cafe booth while he tried to get you to drink a coffee you could barely afford. It was hard to keep up with his insults when Marcus would be firing off texts saying “Bby where r u? :(“ followed by a photo of his weeping cockhead. For whatever reason, your so-called rival kept wanting to dig through your phone to see what could possibly be taking up so much of your time. You had to appease him by sneaking off together to the bathroom so you could suck him off so he would drop it.

“God you’re so filthy. I bet you would do this for anyone, wouldn’t you?” He’d hiss between moans. As much as he acted like he was above you, he couldn’t stop the whimpers pouring from his lips as he came down your throat. He couldn’t stop the little admission of love when he thought you were too busy swallowing, either. 

Your days were filled with a delicate balance of trying to finish your work, corralling the two of them into actually making progress, and staving off their demands for more and more time with you by trying to make them cum in random spots around campus. A hand job here, and thigh job there, and you were nearly finished with this stupid ass assignment. You’d done a pretty damn good job stopping them from finding out about each other too. Their whispered threats about what would happen if they caught you with anyone else rang cold in your ears every time they tried to ask for more.

It all came crashing down when Elias snapped one day. You were sitting in a study room that had been booked so you could actually try and edit this damn thing properly and just be done. Your fingers flew across your keyboard, the noise filling the otherwise silent space between you. You didn’t notice when he stopped, but you did notice when he was suddenly right next to you, his shadow looming over the words on screen. You paused, sweat forming on the back of your neck.

It was a blur after that. His hands were tugging at your clothes, bending you over the desk as papers and pens scattered to the ground. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he panted in you ear as his hips snapped against yours. The sound of skin on skin replaced the ambience of a productive workflow, and you were left scrambling and stifling your moans. 

“Always going around, looking at me like I mean nothing. You think you're better than me? You think you don't need me?” He was rambling, his hand on the back of your throat as he held you in place. He was angry, but there was a desperation to his words. It was like he needed you to affirm his words, to tell him everything he'd been hoping that would tumble from your lips for weeks at this point. You were no stranger to getting pounded at this point, but there was an urgency to the way you tried to plead with him to stop. 

“N-ngh~! Elias you gotta hah, y-you gotta stop. Marcus is on his-” He shut you up with a kiss, his lips sliding against yours as he cradled your face.

“Shut the fuck up,” he demanded, his voice ragged as he squeezed your neck in slight warning. “Don't mention that asshole. You're… you're always with him. Do you like him more than me? Tell me. Tell me right now or I'll make it so you can't sit for a whole week,” he demanded, and you could practically hear the insecurity dripping from his tongue. He didn't even give you time to answer. He just shoved you against the table again, your chest flush with the wooden surface. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see your face down phone lighting up. The vibrating notifications were sporadic at first, but the longer you didn't answer, the more frequent they became. Your stifled pleas for mercy were only met with grunts, and it wasn’t before long before your toes were curling and a heat in your belly grew more and more prevalent. But before you or Elias could finish, the door opened. 

Marcus just stood there for a moment, a genuinely shocked look on his face. You could have sworn Elias smiled, like it was some kind of victory to show how you were on the brink of orgasm to the guy he’d been quietly jealous of this entire time. But then, Marcus just grinned. It wasn’t genuine. You knew him well enough to know that.

“Oh? What do we have here?” 

You’d never known his voice to be that smooth, that controlled. Marcus locked the door behind him, his face unreadable as he walked in and pulled out his phone. Elias moved to cover you now that he was done showing off, but the other man put out his hand to stop him silently. You trembled beneath him.

“Oh please, there’s no need to stop for me,” he smirked, practically shoving his screen in your so-called rival’s face to show off a video of you sobbing and moaning while stuffed full of a cock that was certainly not the one currently inside of you right now. “ I’ve already seen it all,” he practically sneered. Elias’s grip tightened painful on your hip, and you panted as you craned your head to see his expression. He went pale before his face flashed with fury.

“You fucking asshole-!”

“Please, like you’re not doing the same thing right now. I should’ve known to keep them on a tighter leash,” Marcus sighed and brushed his hair back as he fixed his glasses and approached the other side of the table you were currently bent over. He wordlessly undid his belt and pants, his dick slapping you across the face as he fisted your hair far harsher than he normally would. You barely got a word in, trying to argue for your innocence before you were choking on his length. You coughed loudly, but they ignored your struggling to stay locked on each other. 

“There’s no point in arguing,” Yandere Nerd’s voice was sharp and cold as his hands worked your head. “We might as well work together until we can figure out how to deal with this,” he sighed, frustration simmering under the surface.

Elias looked genuinely taken aback, but he gritted his teeth as he started up the effort of fucking into you once again. Your eyes widened as you tried to get out of being fucked from both ends. Every time you tried to moan or cry out, Marcus’s tip could shove deep into your throat, causing you to gag. Your toes curled, and your back arched as you spasmed. 

“Fuck you,” he snapped between groans, his breath hitching as he switched between lovingly stroking your lower back and nearly breaking the table. “Fine. We’ll have to keep them in line. I didn’t know they’d be running around getting fucked like some low class- ngh!” He cut off his rambling as he leaned in and suddenly started pressing kisses and bites to your shoulders.

“Maybe a- shit yeah breath baby. Maybe a tracker for good measure,” Marcus suggested between snarls. “We can split the costs.”

Your stomach sank as they started to discuss the logistics about how to keep you quiet and pliant between the two of you while they kept thrusting into you like you weren’t even there. You sobbed, the sound muffled pitifully. Who knew that, this whole time, they’d actually been able to work together just fine?

[yoru-no-seiiki]

“Lie to me, cheat on me, I don’t care. Just do your job and all’s fair.”

— yandere! rent-a-boyfriend x apathetic! reader

tw/cw: no smut, but this account needs a revive so… reader is gender neutral but i hc them as a dommy mommy. more headcannony than a proper story.

You met him after he managed to con one of your friends at work. Posing as this suave, nice guy, who happened to lack the money to support himself. The one time your friend finally put trust in someone else, that was the time it was completely broken. Turned to ash and bones.

You remember the night your friend came to you, eyes red-rimmed and voice trembling as they recounted the whole ordeal. How he’d slipped into their life so seamlessly, with that charming smile and easy laugh, only to hollow them out from the inside. Every word he’d said was carefully crafted, every gesture perfectly calculated to lure them into a false sense of security. And when they finally realized the truth—when the money was gone and so was he—it wasn’t just their savings he’d taken. It was their ability to trust, to hope, to believe in people again.

And so you decided to take him for yourself.

You remember the look of relief, and then recognition before it settled into confusion with the slight hint of derision.

He was perfect.

“If you managed to fool them, then you’ll do a good job fooling my own parents.”

You needed him. He needed you. It was the perfect agreement. His confidence was alluring as it was powerful. The way he turned heads just by being in the room. And the sex? Simply amazing. I mean, if he managed to make your prude of a friend to buckle then it must’ve counted for something.

Sure, the look in their eyes when you brought him to work one day was horrific. But they’ll get over it you think.

After all, you’d made your choice, and you weren’t about to apologize for it. Maybe it was reckless, maybe even cruel, but there was something about him that kept you hooked. The way he carried himself, all charm and sharp edges, like he knew exactly how far he could push before breaking someone. It wasn’t love, not really, but it was magnetic, intoxicating. Besides, your friend would move on eventually—people always did— it was the natural course of things. You told yourself it wasn’t your responsibility to mend what he’d shattered, even if the shame clawed at you every time their gaze lingered, silent and accusing. You shrugged it off.

But then suddenly he began to act nice? You could feel the gradual loss of his impassivity. How he suddenly became interested in what you were doing, saying and most importantly disinterested in the money you gave him.

“Don’t you get it—? I - I can’t believe I’m even saying this myself - but I love you. I fell for you. And I don’t even know why—“

“Stop.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. A puff of moisture blows through the air as seasons passed and winter has arrived. Frustrated that the one thing you had over him was now seen as no longer valuable. But then realized . . . , “You know what? S’long as it makes the job easier for you.”

With the last smoke from your cigar, you press the tip of it to his nose. Ash, skin and snow collide.

You thought it was better for the both of you. He could have the so called love of his life, and you could spend a bit less trying to keep him tied to you as long as he was useful. However, what you needed from him wasn’t just love, it was strength, not this blubbering piece of mess that kept stuttering the moment you two were left alone.

He was turning weak. Pathetic. Something you didn’t need nor want in a partner.

Too bad he knew you too well. He knew that you were going to leave him behind. He knew that he only had moments to waste before all of this would be over.

So on Christmas Eve, he plans it all out. The meal, the lighting, the music.

He did what he always did best—he made those moments count. His words were sharp, like knives carefully aimed to slice through your resolve, each one designed to remind you why you’d stayed this long. He painted pictures of what you’d lose, of how lonely it would be without him, and how no one else could ever understand you the way he did. His smile was bittersweet, a mask for the desperation lurking underneath.

And it ends with a cheer,

all of this so that he could drug you.

And at last, with a kiss to your lips he mouthed, “Happy Holidays.”

[Author’s Note] Reader definitely comes from a Mafia family of sorts.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, dubcon, bathroom sex, bullying, overall just really filthy smut, virgin insert, virginity loss, somewhat dom reader, somewhat bully reader, somewhat yandere reader

♡ FEM reader

You look like one of those girls that never smiles. Like, if he were to take that empty seat next to you in the lecture hall, you’d scowl with stink eyes and then proceed to fully ignore him. Yeah, a real bitch. That's what you look like—scary. He bets all your socials are filled with the same picture—the same deadpanned pouty face over and over, every single one with hundreds of likes and comments saying “Wow, babe!” followed by a dozen emojis from besties and horny admirers. Selfies in the mirror, showing off skin in your tight tops and short skirts—similar to the outfit you’re wearing now. Captions saying, “You can look, but you could never touch.” Yeah, he bets you’re a real attention whore. And the worst part is that you’re not even overselling, either. You’re gorgeous—even with that sour look on your face, he’d pay cold, hard-earned cash in exchange for a pair of your worn panties.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d dare sit next to you. He’s already sweating bullets just thinking about it. Even though you’re one in a million similar girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he's still one in a million loser incels who would do anything for it. And that’s the cold reality.

Even if he’d like to get just a whiff of your sweet perfume, he can’t. The status quo forbids it. He’s afraid the jocks will smell fresh blood in the water the moment he does, then swarm him in a matter of seconds, circling before tearing him to shreds. They’d beat him to a pulp in the bathroom, smash his head in over the sink—piss in the toilet, then flush it down with his bloodied face—and he’d have to walk reeking of it all the way home.

So, no—he really can’t sit next to you. 

But no other seats are available, and the lecture is starting soon… 

Why did absolutely everyone decide to show up today?

Oh fuck it, this isn’t high school. College bullies surely don’t bother with petty cases like this, right? They’re all about their frat initiations and rivalries to have enough spare time to beat him up over improper seating. Oh, but what if you’re one of their girlfriends—you’ll tell on him, and then he’ll definitely be beaten up, maybe even killed.

No. He’s overthinking—like always. No one is that mean. If you don’t like him sitting there, you’ll just tell him. And he’ll move. No harm done. Right? He’s not sitting in the stairwell when there’s a perfectly good and empty seat right there, right? Is he?

Yes. Yes, he is. 

“Hey, if you’re looking for a seat, this one’s empty,” a sweet voice calls out over his inner monologue, making him clutch the strap of his bookbag tighter with a flinch of his entire rigid body—his eyes peeled as he looked around to try and find the source of the sound even though he knew where it had come from. It’s as if the possibility of your voice sounding like anything aside from a she-demon was out of the question. But no, it is you. 

But there’s no way you’re talking to him, so he looks around again—there must be someone else in need of the seat aside from him. But then, why are you looking right at him? Are you pulling some type of prank? Are you really that cruel? You’re probably filming him or something—live-streaming—the chat’s blaring with ew, what a creep and omg, uggo alert right about now. He should just go home before the jocks, along with the rest of the internet, can get him.

“Are you okay?” you ask—but no, he must be hearing you wrong—there’s just no way, even though you’re looking right at him. “I think it’s starting soon—you should probably sit.”

It’s as if his fight or flight response is broken because he does the exact opposite of either—as if on autopilot, sitting down in a rush against his better judgment.

The lecture starts shortly, solidifying his choice, but he can’t pay attention. No, he needs to keep his guard up. Any second now, someone’s going to do a drive-by and throw a milkshake at him or something vile of the like, and you’ll have filmed it all even though he can’t spot you holding a phone—and then the entire hall would burst into laughter at his expense.

“Pst—” A soft whisper comes from next to him, from between the gloss of your pretty lips. You smell like candy and fruit, and it makes his gut tighten—both from anxiety and something more shameful. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine’s all out’a ink.”

You give him an awkward smile, and he very nearly runs away. But no, he’s glued to the seat—with nervously wrecked hands shaking as he bends for his bag and unzips it, reaching for his pencil case painfully slow as if disarming some type of bomb. Redoing the same when he opens the case and rummages for a viable pen he could offer.

When he hands it to you, he’s almost sure you plan to stab him with it. But you do no such thing.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You cheer instead, beaming with a much brighter smile than before. “I owe you!”

His ears ring with your praise. Blushing beat red as he rips away from your gaze—still unable to focus on what the professor is preaching—not when from out of the corner of his eye, he can see you sucking on his pen like a lollypop—or something else not so innocent.

Oh, he’d been so wrong.

So, so, so very wrong.

You do smile. You smile a lot, actually. You just have one of those faces that rests bitchy. But still, bubbly airhead or not, a girl like you still shouldn't be seen with a loser like him. It’s social suicide. And still, you’re on your knees before him in a dirty little bathroom stall—the same dirty bathroom stall he feared getting a swirlie, scraping the walls with his nails to try and thwart his assailants—only, now clutching the walls for a much different reason, holding on for his mortal soul as you seek to suck it out of his fat throbbing cock.

You want to repay him—you’d said—for the pencil. He hadn't understood why you’d winked at him before you’d all but dragged him off and flung him inside the men’s bathroom, having his very life flash before his eyes.

You both make the sloppiest sounds as you make an utter mess on and of him, making him cry on all fronts—cock weeping with thick pearly beads of pre while his eyes well up with tears down his flushed face, all sweaty with panic and bliss. 

The moans springing from his chest are virginal and raw and sweet music to your ears, panting for you like a puppy—you’re sure they can hear him out in the hallway when passing by. One of his hands clasps itself on top of his mouth, holding tightly to keep it all within—eyes shut and brows cinched. And yet, he makes no effort to shove you off—hips left jerking and jittering in response to your refined technique where you take him deeply, all the way down to the base, hallowing your cheeks, throttling him with your throat as your tongue wipes his creamy slit clean.

It’s painfully clear he’s never experienced anything like it, but that’s what turns you on the most. Sick as you are, you could suck him dry and savor every drop of him, knowing you’re the first ever to get a taste. But no, by now, your pussy’s so soaked you feel yourself dripping past the soggy lace of your panties, running down your soft thighs in waste.

He’s misty-eyed when you pull off with an ever-cruel pop—a sick mix of relief and sorrow warping his chest, feeling conflicted by the pulse making him think he’s on the verge of a heart attack if you continue—and another strumming his cock, making him think he’s going to keel over and die if you leave him unfinished.

Even so, he’s in a state of complete shell shock as you mount him on top of the toilet seat he’s melting against. Chest heaving, watching you as you lift your skirt up and peal your slick underwear to the side for him to lay his bleary swiveled eyes on your bared and dripping pussy.

“I love nice guys like you—” you moan, pouring the honeyed words down his throat as you ghost his parted lips with your spit-slicked ones, straddling his lap and shimmying ever closer until your tits squish against his chest. “They make me so wet, I lose all self-control.” 

He gulps in your shadow, looking up at you for mercy—cock twitching painfully between your thighs as your wrap your hand around his base real snug, giving him a nice tug as you line him up with your needy heat—making him all but squeal beneath you.

Your other hand makes its way into his hair, braiding your fingers within the locks to hold him steady—gently pulling his head back while leering down at him like caught prey. Playing with him just so, teasing him with your words, all in your sultry voice, making his head spin hot with a fever, “You’ll be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you? Pretty please?”

His breaths are heavy and wet, coming out shaky with his instant answer, “Y-yes—” all weak in a pathetic whimper that almost has you cum too soon.

“You’re so nice~ thank you,” you croon against his lips, kissing him sloppily with your tongue in his mouth as you shift your hips and start lowering your sopping cunt down upon his seeking length, taking him in with greedy ease, eagerly gripping his soft cockhead like a toy in a claw machine.

“Fhu—fuck—” he stutters under his breath, whinging before planting his teeth into his lip to keep it at bay—feeling like putty beneath you, sweaty and heavy and dumb, eagerly wanting all which you sought to give him—only more flushed at your mean undertones as you play with him like food on a silver platter.

You sling your arms around his neck and push your chest harder against him, moaning all too brazenly, “Oh! Fuck yes—that’s so good,” you sing while slowly taking him in further. “A nice guy with a big bad bully’s dick is the best!” 

He whines in return as his inches get eaten—each devoured one by one until his tip kneads into the mouth of your womb.

Sighing happily, you kiss his cheek and put your lips right at his ear with another wanton whimper, “You fill me up so so good.” Roosting on the size, thighs resting flush against his, feeling all giddy as it stretches you out oh-so-nicely. “Such a good toy-cock for me,” keening at the way it twitches inside you, pulsing in response to your tight walls, clenching it in ways it’s never before felt.

His eyes are already rolling back into his skull once you start lolling your hips—riding him, but keeping him deep at all times—lifting just enough for it to pull out only a little before sinking back down, making it settle into that perfect needy little spot inside you that makes your whole body shiver in delight.

“Mmh,” You suck his ear lobe, releasing it with a soft bite, before smiling down at him and his sweat-pilled expression. Cooing at him, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He can’t even answer with words anymore, only giving a dumb mewl as he nods his head. But, of course, you’re already well aware.

“Mmh—” your eyes gleam with delight, giving his lap a mean ride, leaving him all but breathless, before asking, “D’you like it, virgin boy? ‘You like my pussy? Like the way it milks your chubby cock for your cum?”

He nods again, even more eagerly this time—looking downright pathetic in every sense of the word.

“Do you want to?” you offer to his desperation, feeling as though he’s falling apart at your fingertips, needing you to hold him together. “I’ll let you since you’re such a sweet guy—” you tease while clenching his cock, making it impossible to want anything else no matter the consequence. “In exchange for a favor, of course.”

He couldn’t care less what the favor was—way beyond willing to pay any price you ask of him as he finally makes a move and grabs your hips with a strength you hadn’t thought he had the balls to perform, planting you down firmly and holding you with such need as his hips jitter and stutter—resting his cheek on your shoulder in drool and tears with a lovesick groan leaving him as he fills your pussy up with his creamy spend.

His whole body shakes—spasming in cute little aftershocks as he clutches onto your body, hugging you tightly.

You respond in kind, cuddling him and kissing the top of his head. “That was so warm and filling—what a good boy—you did so well,” you murmur ever-sweetly while petting his head, combing through his sweaty locks with your long glitter-pink nails—keeping your voice saccharine. “Did you enjoy yourself, hm? Your first time cumming in pussy instead of your dirty ol’ sock?”

You pick his face up—cupping his sloppy jaw in both palms—his eyes half-mast and glazed as you nose-kiss him with a smile on your face.

“You loved it, didn’t you? Silly virgin boy…”

Your cunt tingles at the sight of him—wrecked beauty, sweaty and undone. You feel his cock unswell inside you and decide to lift off and release him—letting it flop out and splat on his tummy in a puddle of slick.

“Look,” you fuss, holding his face in direction of it. “You made such a pretty mess—isn’t it lovely?”

Your pussy is left glistening and puffy, still wanting and waiting for its final hurrah. Your breath turns headier and so does your voice, now with a new darkness to it as  you whisper, “Time for that favor, sweet boy.” 

He blinks dumbly, impossibly hopeless, wrapped so tightly around your pinky it’s pitiful. Of course, you take advantage—guiding his head to level with your cunt. 

“Open wide, tongue out flat.”

He obeys wordlessly. And oh god it makes your gut stir viscously—watching his tongue loll free between parted lips.

Your voice flares with bliss at the sight, shy of unhinged, as you giggle breathily, “That’s right—taste the pretty mess you made.”

He’s pushed face-first, trapped between your thighs with his jaw like an open cup beneath you, tonguing the mixed slick from your slit and slurping it all up without shame.

And fuck—it feels so good, you lose even more of your mind while tugging him even closer—all but pulling him off the toilet seat, making him kneel down on the floor instead. And still, he makes no effort to escape, but the opposite—seeking to go deeper into your cunt, crying into you as he laps up every last drop of yours and his arousal—making your thighs quake around him, grinding down against his mouth, onto his eager tongue, having it pet your clit over and over until you also come to the same sudden stumbling halt.

“Yes—yes! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna—it’s coming—”

And there it goes, ripping along your loins, surging from your lower belly. With both your hands tangled harshly in his hair, he’s not going anywhere, lips locked with yours as it starts pouring.

You’re squirting on him—hot and hard—on his tongue, inside his mouth, down his throat, in his belly. You’re squirting on him and he’s drinking it, he realizes—but even so, he isn’t able to stop. Instead, he unwinds his jaw even wider, digs his tongue deeper, and accepts every drop of the warm stream as it drenches his face and splashes down his collar and shoulders, utterly soaking his shirt, making in see-through as it clings to his chest like a second skin.

You’ve closed your eyes and thrown your head back, basking in every last little twitch of your body as you relieve yourself all over his face.

Finally, after a moment, you let go of his hair and step back—feeling refreshed and happy with your work—seeing the poor loser sit before the toilet, all drenched and exhausted with his limp cock spent and messy, looking like a beautiful wreck.

You smile, pulling your panties back in place, and you skirt down again before unlocking the stall and opening the door, only looking back at him for a moment, tapping your nail at a few matching pink scribbles written on the wall. “Here’s my number and address if you wanna have more fun." And then you leave, just like that. "Bye-bye~”

♡ BNHA – Amajiki, Deku, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Yuuta, Choso, Nanami ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kenma ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[nkogneatho]

monster cock this. monster cock that.

can i interest you in monster pussy? a monster pussy that drools a bucket worth of juices? a monster pussy's labia that can independently squeeze tight when you're inside? a monster pussy hole that manipulates inside muscles so it's like someone is giving you a blowjob inside? a monster pussy that gapes when you orgasm and swallows all your cum within seconds?

[eussstasss]

[minnaci]

please please please let me eat u out please i don't have a lot of experience but i am a very enthusiastic learner u can teach me exactly what u like please please please

[yoru-no-seiiki]

Do you have a yan!bully 👀? Or yan!enemy?

i wrote a lot about yan rivals in my main!! im not that comfy writing yan bully quite yet but am willing to step outside my comfort zone if your request is juicy enough.