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dear-yandere · 4 years

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[ kinktober day 1 — shameless. ]

yandere! snapped! leviathan x f! reader. scenario.

summary. levi’s got a nasty penchant for jealousy. marking you in front of his brothers is off the table… but camming isn’t.

— word count: 1445. — prompts: marking/creampie + porn/camming. — warnings: n/sfw (noncon, exhibitionism, hemipenis, begging), implied blackmail. — art credit: @_ivutyozo_.

kinktober masterlist.

Eyes pin to the screen like it’s religion; his mind is filled with you.

Every breath his lungs inhale, every touch his fingers find, every sight his eyes attend—he only knows of you. Wants to know every part of you—to know every twitch, every moan, every sound you'll make beneath him. Like a loyal disciple at the altar, he wants to burn the image of your face behind his eyelids, wants to sear the touch of your skin onto his hands, wants to brand your existence into his skin. He wants you, he needs you—he’ll have you.

And he wants everyone to know.

Fifteen.

The you before him is unfamiliar even in his wildest dreams—this is the first time he’s seen you so bare, so exposed, your body naked and pressed flushed against his chest. Warm thighs press one breast flat against your rib cage, and he hungrily prods the other away to rest his sweaty hand against your nipple, rubs the sensitive bud between his thumb and index, and admires the way you twitch at his touch. You’re dead silent—biting back shameful moans and ugly tears; he’d prefer hearing you cry out his name over and over, but he doesn’t hold that desire to you. His eyes are still pinned to the screen and he can see the fear in your eyes—the adoration in his.

Twenty.

His viewers see the same thing he does, but they don’t know you. They just see another pretty face, another pretty hole getting stuffed, but they don’t see you. He’s not like them, he promises, swears. They don’t see the you he sees—they don’t get to touch, or smell, or kiss you. They don’t love you, they don’t get to love you—the closest they’re offered is the image of your tear-stained face on the screen, their disgusting hands jerking off their cocks as they fantasize about fucking you themselves.

Disgusting—but he can’t blame them. Normally, he’s not one to show you off like this—wouldn’t want anyone seeing you like this, but the thought of randoms jerking themselves off to you as he stuffs your cunt silly makes him drunk with desire. They can’t have you—and he can’t feel envious. He was in their position not too long ago, rubbing one out once or twice or thrice a day to the thought of your body against his and the thought of your little cunt stuffed tight. He doesn’t have to fantasize anymore. You’re in his arms right now—the reality of it all is shown on the screen and neither of you can’t look away.

You’re finally his.

All that’s left is for you to—

“Say it...” He chastises, chants, orders in a tone that’s hardly commanding—and you flinch. “[Name], say it, say it. Please say it.” Devilish eyes travel along the screen, admires the twitch of your thighs pressed against your stomach, admires the slick on your folds as his cock bottoms out in your cunt. “Say it—I’ll do anything to hear you say it.”

If you’re his religion, those words are his prayer. Say it, say it, say it—say it for everyone to hear.

Your mouth stays closed.

Hips snap into yours hard and force you backward into his bare chest. His cock easily slips in and out of your wet cunt, the tips of his cocks rough against taut inner walls. The stretch of his penises still make your hips jerk upward for escape, but his fingernails dig into your flesh to keep you anchored against his waist. The gasp of pain on your lips hardly has time to manifest into little more than a whimper, and in your delirium, your eyes wander back to the screen. You see your hair disheveled, eyes wide like prey before a predator—and you see the numbers rising.

Fifty.

Red—the red number how many people are watching you be violated. The red signifying that the viewer count keeps going up, up, up. The red signifying proof—proof you’ve never felt so low in your life.

“L-Levi, please... t-they’re watching, they can see us, I—” The words are sandpaper against your throat; the pleas on your lips are a prayer he blissfully ignores. Terrified to glance over your shoulder, your eyes flash to meet his through the screen just in time to witness sharp canines sinking into the delicate, thin flesh of your neck. He’s gentle, gentler than you expected, but the thrill of being watched by real people eggs him on; he suckles and nips into your skin without warning, never once looking away from the screen. You whimper and whine against his chest, finding the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipples wrong.

“No...” He breathes in your skin and hoists your ass closer to his hips. Pain shoots through your nearly-numbed legs at the sudden repositioning, and your body tenses. “Don’t care, let them watch... just lemme hear you.” A hand rests against your labia and collects slick against his fingers. You inhale sharply, watching him give your clit a quick pinch before bringing his spoils to your face. “You’re so wet. You’re wet for me.” He reveres, peering past your hair to admire the sight of your cum coating his fingers.

You can’t look any longer.

“Please...” His chin dips against your neck and drool trickles onto your shoulder, frigid against heated skin. He kisses the area between your jaw and ear and asks you again. “Say it for me, only me.” Eyes flicker to the screen, pretends the people watching are his brothers, pretends he’s won. “Say you belong to me.”

You’re in a daze. You don’t want to do it, don’t want to do this. And you get it in your head that if just you say it, just say that you belong to him, it’ll be over. It’ll all be over—he’ll turn off the camera and delete the video. He’ll say he didn’t mean it, he’ll say he’ll do anything to make it up to you. And you’ll forgive him—and it’ll be normal again.

So you say it.

“’m...yours, Levi.” You gasp. You tear your eyes from the screen, and your head lulls to the side in defeat. It’s over, you’ll wake up. Everything will be the same—“I’m yours, only yours! Only wanna be yours—nn!”

Luminescent cum coats his stiff cock, mixes with the white of your cum, and he stills, watches them mix together and drip from deep in your cunt. The sick clap of skin against skin is gone and silence settles over the room like smog. You don’t look up, don’t make a sound—the camera’s still on and you don’t wanna face it. He’ll turn it off, turn it off soon, turn it off and forget about it and everything’ll be okay again.

You didn’t expect him to laugh.

It’s uncontrollable, the way his giggles turn from lighthearted to insane. The pit in your stomach swells and bursts—you can taste blood and bile against your throat. His nose buries itself in the apex of your shoulder, revels in the scent of your sweat and shampoo; his laughter vibrates in your stomach and you want to puke.

He’s still looking at the camera, still reveling in the afterglow.

One hundred fifty.

One hundred fifty people watched you get fucked live—watched you get held down and creampied. One hundred fifty people watched you and didn’t help.

This must be a sick dream.

But you can’t deny it. He owns you, he owns you now—the proof’s right there in your cunt, right there on video, right there for everyone to see. He doesn’t have to mark you in front of his brothers—it wouldn’t come close to the thrill of claiming you as his in front of this many people. Your body’s coated with proof, with sweat and tears and cum smattered across your stomach and thighs.

“I love you.” Lips press against the curve of your neck, uttering praise and adorations. You don’t have the energy to shove him away. He scoops the mixed cum from your thighs and spreads it across your skin, loves seeing it cover more and more of your person. “So happy,” he mumbles into your skin. “Love you so much.” He sighs in bliss and stares back at the screen. You’re still not looking at him, but he doesn’t mind. He’s used to seeing you look at other men—at his brothers.

But that’s changed. You fucked him and he’s got it on video, a precaution if you ever turn around and say you don’t feel anything for him. There’s no ‘you and his brothers’—only you and him. He’ll never forget this moment—he’ll always remember this moment.

He made sure of it.

#yandere leviathan x reader #yandere levi x reader #levi x reader #yandere leviathan #obey me leviathan #yandere obey me!#yandere obey me #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #tw noncon #kinktober20 #*scenario #*scenarios #tw not sfw

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dear-yandere · 4 years

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[ kinktober day 4 — devotion. ]

yandere! dio x f! reader x the world. oneshot.

summary. day by day, he’d fuck you like a man fucks his most expensive whore. a demon masquerading as a God, and you’ve come to realize that there is no true God who will punish him.

— word count: 2313. — prompts: mindbreak + size difference + degradation. — warnings: n/sfw (dubcon, threesome, biting), blood, religious themes, depersonalization. — art credit: @tyonoraora.

“How does it feel, little one?”

Little one—his voice is untouched silk, reserved only for when you’ve been good. Your heart pounds against its cage as if trying to reach him—it shows on your face. He lowly hums and buries his lips against the nape of your neck, easily enticing moans from your throat. The effect he has on you was disgusting at first, hearing remnants of praise for letting him violate you, seeing his body dwarf yours against the bed, feeling his powerful touch trap you against the sheets. You have no control, no freedom here—no one would come save you even if you screamed.

Sharp teeth graze the hollow of your neck, dangerously close to puncturing your jugular. Air’s trapped alongside your throat—you can’t breathe under the full weight of his body and the threat of death on your skin. Fingers hungrily knead and pull at your nipples, twisting when you don’t moan quite to his liking. “Answer me.” He hisses and nips at the skin beneath your ear.

Your throat dries up—his commanding tone enough to knock you down to Earth. “G-good—feels so good My Lord!” You bite back another moan, mind empty and gaze locked onto the snap of his hips against yours. You whimper, half wanting to look away from the way his cock disappears between your folds, the other compelling your hips to meet each thrust. Hips shamelessly and sloppily cant into his, the thrill of knowing that one wrong thrust and he could split you in two. Looking at it now, seeing his dick disappear between your thighs—it’s rapturous, addicting like ambrosia. Deep in the recesses of your mind, the thoughts strike you as foreign—that the image of dying by his hands is exhilarating. You want him to tear you to pieces, to use you as a cock sleeve until he has no more use for you.

Dying at his hands is all you’re good for now.

He says you should consider this an honor, a privilege to be personally fucked by your own God. You’re his favorite toy, he says—the other girls don’t come close, but you can’t help but question why you’re so special. Is it your defiance, your cunning? Is it how easy it is to strip it away, down to your fragile and wary bones? Or is because he gets off on how rewarding it was to break you, to hear your screams blossom from terrified to eager? Because he knows how to get under your skin, knows how to make you feel special, knows how to make you feel wanted as if you finally have a purpose in life, a purpose rewarded to you by the hands of a God himself.

Your purpose is to used.

A comfort, more than anything else. When did it happen exactly? The drugs had grown less potent, weren’t as needed when he was in the mood to take you without complaint. When was it? When did you become addicted to doing this act with him? When did you stop resisting and refusing refusing, stop kicking and biting and clawing at his thick skin? Resist has always been useless, when something so inhuman and inhumane heals before your eyes, when your hard works is all for naught. How do you fight a man who calls himself God? How do you fight a man who may as well be a God?

...You don’t.

“M-more, My Lord.” You shamelessly plead—anything to win his favor—and wrap your legs around his waist.

He stills, briefly, and watches you fall apart. “Oh?” Your whimpers of complaint are a serenade he finds himself indulging in. “How indecent. I taught you better than to beg, didn’t I?”

Your hearts hammers.

He sees the way your eyes widen and he smirks, content with the fear he’s struck into you. He’s made it clear he never liked needy women; you’re an exception only in that he enjoys fucking you most.

“Beg for me more, little dove.” He orders and begins gently rocking his hips.

Desperate for the friction, you throw your head back and eagerly hum out countless, wordless prayers. This isn’t you anymore, not in the slightest; this is better in his eyes. And that is so much worse. But he is content, and so are you when his pace descends into harsh thrusts that leave your pussy throbbing. You take it like a bitch in heat, like a good girl, like a good concubine.

“Little dove...” You drink his praise up like water. His gaze travels downward, enraptured by how small you are beneath him. You could break in an instant. “This is all you’re good for, isn’t it?” He asks—you waste no time anxiously nodding. “So full of my cock, it almost looks like it belongs there.”

Tucked under his large body, pressed flush against the chest of a man who’d sooner leave you for dead — tears spill, but you’re overjoyed for once. He’s always loved making you cry, who are you to rob him of that? Even though your legs hurt from being pressed flat against your torso and your cunt is bruised bloody and raw, you weep and moan like you mean it. His arms are curled under your pretty legs like vipers, large hands pinning each of yours against the mattress as he buries his cock in your womb.

You can’t help but focus on the way his body presses against yours. His cock feels heavy between your folds, and he’s careful to keep his pace slow enough to drive you wild. Each harsh thrust is few and far in between, a perfect cacophony of impatience and frustration building a coil in your stomach. Dio runs his tongue over unused fangs, studying the way your features twist and contort with pleasure when his thick cock would press against your insides. He’s waiting, and you both know it; he wants to see you unfold, wants you see you whine and beg and claw at his arms for more. It’s a feeling unlike any other — his other women can’t compare, can’t beg like you can. You used to hate him, but he doesn’t see that hateful glint in your eyes anymore. You like this, you like being fucked — he’s finally broken you. This once prideful woman is his to do as he pleases with.

There’s no greater feeling in this world.

“Lean into me.” He orders like a king and you comply like a whore. Dainty arms weakly coil around his shoulders, not nearly long enough to touch each other; his body is too big, too monstrous, and the thrill of being torn apart by it only makes you want him more. He praises in hushed tones, allowing you a small, rare moment of bliss. Your face is always particularly cute when he utters such meaningless words to you, like a dog desperate for praise. It’s tempting to defile that innocence even further.

“Look how needy you’ve gotten, gripping my cock so tight I can hardly pull out,” he teases, lies right to your face. Unsheathing himself is as easy as you are, but he keeps that to himself—prefers to get your hopes up. You’re already whimpering at the sheer mention of how needy you’ve become; Gods, you’d feel so empty without him, but it isn’t your place to complain. He doesn’t have to please you, you only exist to pleasure him. And still, you can’t hide the disappointment on your features. Dio smirks condescendingly and utters assurances. “Stop making that face, little dove.” He jests and realigns himself to your cunt, not even so much as a warning when he slams into you once again. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And you did — your eyes roll back into your head when his hips slam into yours. Fangs part your flesh as easily as meat, and droplets of blood quickly well from the incision, but he doesn’t care to lap them up; you always did look better coated in blood. You hadn’t even noticed his stand, The World hovers over the mattress by your head, its cock free from pants you didn’t know could be removed. His dick, thick and grey, is as large as your Lord’s; you already knew it was to go in your mouth, you just weren’t sure if it’d fit. The image alone made you want to come apart, it was already taking all your willpower to not scream with each thrust into your little cunt.

“Suck.” Dio pulls away from your neck long enough to bark out an order. That simple command is all it took to strip you of dignity. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind another cock to please, would you?” He caresses your hips, his thumb sweeping over the raw flesh he’d gripped onto in his earlier reverie. You wince, but maintain eye contact—he prefers it like that. “Look how needy you are, little dove. Sometimes you just need the extra attention, don’t you?” He coos. “Need another set of hands on you, more skin to get your hands on.” Breathily, you nod and lean into his touch. There’s no use hesitating or complaining; you’ve turned a new leaf, after all. You’re a good girl now, and good girls don’t talk back.

Fangs return to your neck, digging deeper, harsher this time. You whimper, the new sensation of pain overwhelming when your thighs were already so chaffed and your cunt already so bruised, skin still raw from this morning’s session. But your mouth fell open anyways, the underside of your tongue pressed taut against your lower lip, ready to accommodate The World’s shaft. The creature grunted lowly, more akin to the growl of a wolf in heat, and slid himself into your tiny mouth. The feeling of being filled from top to bottom was so intense, so overpowering you feared your jaw would come apart. The World was markedly more gentle than his user, but it was hard to miss the excitement rolling off his body like waves; he’s not being gentle for your sake, he’s trying to hold himself back lest his length rip through the back of your throat. He’s excited, even if you can hardly hear his moans.

Dio chuckles but makes no further comment, too busy suckling on your sore flesh. The World stares down at you, locking eyes for only a moment before bucking into your throat. Your tongue instinctively swirls around the tip, drool soon pooling beneath your nose. Deep growls escape the Stand’s lips, and Dio feels every second of it. His cock is buried deep in your cunt and he can feel every lick and suckle of your lips.

Dio licks his lips, already feeling the bulge of The World’s cock inflate the throat he’s mercilessly sucked on. The chuckle that rumbles from his chest and into yours would be enough to send your body shaking if he hadn’t pinned it to the bed with his own. “What a well-trained whore.”

“Mm—”, you struggle to breathe out a raspy response, hardly able to formulate words when your thoughts are filled with cum and his thrusts refuse to relent. His stand’s dick press against your insides, blocking air from entering your jugular or from leaving your throat. The soft, rubbery skin of the stand’s balls stuff your nostrils — you nearly lose yourself in the bliss of being treated like a lifeless fuck toy. You could die right now and they might keep fucking you, and that alone fills you with joy. To be used until the very end... you could think of no better use for the new life Dio has given you. But, he doesn’t plan on letting you die just yet; you still have many more uses left in you.

“Oh? Are you going to cum again? So soon?” His tone is mocking near the end, and he squeezes your hips. Fingernails rake closer to your inner thighs, coaxing you to tell him what he wants to hear. The World leans back slightly to relieve some pressure from your nostrils and throat, and you shamelessly fill your lungs.

“I’ll, aah—” A moan catches in your throat, and his Stand gives you enough space to speak. “I’ll cum as many times as you like!” There’s a spark of boredom in his eyes, but it’s gone so quickly you wonder if you’d imagined it. You...you hope you imagined it, and a feeling of realization and disgust washes over you like a cold wave. You want to cover yourself, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and die, anything to escape the way he looked at you just now. Like you’re trash on the street. A charity case he picked up out of pity. A pet he’ll discard at the drop of a hat.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, and before you can ask, your mouth is stuffed again. He watches your shoulders squeeze together and your throat bulge from the sheer size of his Stand. The tip of The World’s cock pushes against the back of your throat, pinning your head to the mattress—you would have thrown up if Lord Dio hadn’t train you so well.

“Then cum.” He orders, stuffing your mouth and your cunt full. “Cum as many times as I want. Cum until I’m done with you.”

You obediently nod. You can’t see his face anymore; whether that’s a blessing or a curse escapes you, so you stop thinking and simply oblige. Your past self would be laughing at you. Chastising you, encouraging you bite down on his cock and fight back. What happened to that girl, you wonder? Did Lord Dio tire of her? Did he dispose of her? Will he dispose of you too?

What a terrifying devotion. When did you lose yourself?

When did he become your world?

#yandere dio x reader #yandere dio brando #yandere dio #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo x reader #jjba x reader #yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #kinktober20 #*oneshot #tw dubcon #tw not sfw

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dear-yandere · 4 years

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[ kinktober day 2 — dying light. ]

yandere! ghostface (jed olsen) x f! reader. oneshot.

summary. they’ll get away. they’ll get away and leave you behind with him—but you want that, don’t you?

— word count: 2108. — prompts: predator/prey + choking + knife play. — warnings: n/sfw (dubcon, slut-shaming). — art credit: 765122.

kinktober masterlist.

“Ah ah ah, keep it down, sweetheart.”

It’s gruffer than you expected, his voice. Mischievous and malicious, airy and curious, the type of tone you’d take with a friend—lighthearted. As if he wasn’t holding you by knife point. His words almost have a musical ring to it, the hum of a killer seeking prey whose hiding spot he’s long been aware of.

He’s playing with you.

“Should I stuff your mouth instead? Wouldn’t want your little friends hearing you moan my name, would you?” His hand is still around your neck, squeezing it tightly between dried blood and old leather, and his other lazily waves a bloodied tactical knife through the air. “Or, would you like that? Your call, toots.” You can feel desire roll from his body, from his blade smeared with the stale blood of unlucky victims. The glint of steel begs to be coated by your blood, but he won’t have that. Not yet. Not until he’s had his fun.

“Cat got your tongue?” He tips your chin using knife’s edge, and you hurry to answer if you know what’s best for you.

“No…” You barely manage to breathe out. Your throat burns with the reminder that your life is literally in his hands, and if his mask had been off, you’re sure he’d be grinning.

“Mm, what’s that babe? Gotta speak up or I can’t hear ya.” He licks his lips and squeezes, a dull chuckle hollowed by his mask. “You said you want me to bring them here?”

“N-no! Please, no.” You sputter, the burning in your throat growing with each second. His grip is loose enough to keep you from passing out, but inklings of black begin to spot your vision. “Don’t… let them see me like this.” Your answer comes quick, quicker than you’ve been answering for the past few minutes. He knows what you were playing at—trying to buy time for your teammates. He should’ve left minutes ago to patrol the leftover gens, but you had the misfortune of piquing his interest after a long chase.

He tilts his head. He’s struck a nerve, it seems, and your tongue scrambles to make you appear less weak. “I—if they saw me with you, they’d never forgive me, they’ll—”

“They’ll think you’re a traitor.” He finishes, lips curling into an impish smirk. What little strength was left in your sore thighs slackened, the ugly feeling of desperation coiling against your tummy. The killer continues, his tone indifferent, nonchalant, as if the prospect of catching one of your trusted friends fucking the enemy is commonplace. “One of them could walk by right now, looking for me, looking for you, wondering why I’m not out and about, wondering why you haven’t been healed yet.” He laughs through his nose. Oh, could you be any more precious? The way fear flits across your face like a dance, the way your lips tremble and refuse to stay still—you’re so easy to read. “What d’ya think they’ll say when they see you like this, sweets?”

“No!” You choke and whine into his hands at the sheer thought. To lose your dignity and your fellow survivor’s trust like that… you’ll never survive another match.

He disregards your pained moans and hums inquisitively, grinding against the swell of your thigh with his hardened cock, shamelessly hidden beneath his robes while you lay exposed against the shack wall. You’re still uselessly trying to claw his hand from your neck, choking and sputtering for air as he tightens his grip, but your attempts hardly make a dent in the thick leather gloves. Precious, pretty little thing you are. He wonders how you’ll look with your mouth stuffed full with his cock and his knife lodged tight in your stomach.

You make it so hard to control himself.

He grins when your fingers abandon the hand around your neck and crawl along his arm, eager to push him off and buy enough time to find a teammate. You wouldn’t get far anyway, consider he’s been stalking you for quite some time. Every weakness and fear is completely exposed before him—did you think he wouldn’t notice that limp in your step from last chase? Poor thing, must’ve twisted your ankle when he chased after your tight ass moments ago. As if teasing you for being so needy—even if it isn’t yet for his cock—the edge of his boots smash into your weakened ankle.

You didn’t put up a fight—couldn’t put up a fight. Your crumpled body would’ve fallen to the splintered floorboards if he hadn’t caught you in time. He squeezes your thin neck harder— rougher—and you swear your esophagus will explode. Screams are robbed from the pleasure of leaving your mouth, all you can feel is dry burning, all you can do is wheeze and cry just how he likes it.

The dull edge of his knife violates your mouth, not quite filling you entirely, but you refuse to flinch.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, y’know, bating my time, fantasizing about all the dirty things I’d do when you’re helpless beneath me.” He holds you the way fire holds what it burns. “I want this to be extra special; the kind of nightmare you’ll never forget. I even made sure one’s gonna interrupt us, sweetheart.” He explains, dragging the blade across your bottom lip. “So, do you still think they’ll try to save you?”

He’s mocking you.

“O-of course!” You draw ragged breaths, the bitter taste of iron stained on your tongue like a tattoo. “One of them has a flashlight”—you realized it’s best to not divulge who in particular—“S-someone will come for me sooner or later!”

He cups your flushed cheek with his free hand, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. The action brings the insides of your mouth dangerously close to his knife, but he’s careful. Bleed any more and you’ll pass out, and fucking an unconscious body isn’t nearly as fun. “I didn’t take you for such an idiot, sugar.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the finality in his voice.

“How cute.” He snickers and cocks his head to the side. “You think a flashlight save will be enough? All I gotta do is look down, babe.” Oh, isn’t that whimper precious? Makes him want to rip you apart. “‘Sides, I have No One Escapes Death.” He continues, running the blade along your teeth. “Saving you may as well be a death wish.”

A sob weakly leaves your throat. Beneath his mask, his eyes narrow, having grown impatient with your lack of reaction. Shoving the sharp edge of his knife down your throat may as well incite no reaction, at this point.

“You’re hardly putting up a fight now, sweet thing. Give up already?” He loosens his grip on your neck, urging you to speak. “Or am I just that sexy?” He snickers, pulls the knife from your lips and cants your head with the tip. “Go on, lemme hear you say it. Scream my name, sweets, let them hear you all the way at the exit gates.”

Your breaths hitch—just the reaction he was looking for. His lips twist into a wicked smile. “Give them one last thing to think about before they leave you here.”

“No…” Your complaint is hoarse, hardly above a whisper. They couldn’t have left you, not here, not with him. You told them how scared you are—how frightened he makes you. You told them about the eyes watching you, even when the Entity hasn’t called upon you for a trial. You told them about the photographs littering your room—the ones of you, ones you didn’t take. You told them. They couldn’t have left, they wouldn’t.

“You’re lying…”

“Aw babe, you’re too pretty to be this delusional. Your little friends left a long time ago.” He muses, prodding your thighs apart with the swell of his knee. “It’s just you and me now, sweetheart. The Entity can’t force us out unless you somehow get out of arms, or a few minutes pass and the Entity claims you for itself.” He taps the underside of your chin. “Tell me, how does spending your last few minutes alive with me sound?”

You try to hide the tears swelling over your eyelids, but your bones are weary and your limbs heavy. “Please just let me go…”

Poor thing. He has to strain just to hear you—that’s no good.

No good for his patience, either.

“Say my name and I’ll think about it, then.” The blade travels lower, slices just below your jugular—shallow enough to draw a thin line of blood, nothing in dire need of medical attention. Not like you could reach your discarded med kit, anyway. “I can’t hear you princess. Go on, I said. Say. My. Name.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust just above your collar bone. His mouth closes in next to their ear, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your will snaps.

“Danny!”

The name feels foreign, forbidden, on your tongue.

“Mm, haha…” He’s caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting that, no. A ‘Ghostface’ or even ‘Ghostie’ would’ve made his cock happy, but this… this is unexpected. This is new.

He’s pitying you now, you can still hear the mock in his tone when he speaks. “What a shameless little whore. When’d you learn my name? Who told you?” His voice is playful, and something tells you he doesn’t mind why you know, but rather why you blew your cover. “You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?”

Your eyes widen. Another nerve’s been struck.

He’s losing breath fast beneath his mask. His heart’s beating so fast—this rush, this thrill is exhilarating. You’re exhilarating, you’re as insane as him.

“Do your pals know how wet I make you? Do you jack off when no one’s looking?” You can’t hide it anymore, the shame and guilt and frustration on your face. He can practically feel the heat— the sexual frustration—rolling from your skin in waves. His cock twitches against his robes, his breaths quick and rugged against your face. “Huh? Do you jack off to me, sweets? Is that why you haven’t fought back this entire time?”

You don’t have an answer anymore.

“Keep making that face, sweets.” He leans closer and drops his voice. “I like it when you’re flustered.”

Your thighs clench, desperate for friction against your cunt—his voice, his voice is what did this. And now he’s using it again you; god you’re such a fucking idiot.

His hand leaves your neck, travels up to your parted lips. He’s hardly surprised when your jaw immediately slackens to accommodate his fingers, dirty leather immediately tainting your tongue. You don’t flinch at the taste; even dirt is above the depths you’ve fallen to.

“Wonder if you taste as sweet as you look.” He mindlessly asks, sliding his fingers over the dull buds of your tongue. “Wonder if your cunt’s as dirty as your mind. Do you go around fucking the other survivors too? The other killers?”

Your draw a sharp breath and change the topic. “I-I’ll do anything, just don’t…don’t tell anyone.” Your suggestions are hardly convincing. In this realm, what else do you have to your name besides your tight little body?

“Mm…anything?” He’s been patient enough with you. “Then beg, princess.”

You hesitate. Begging’s a small price to pay for your freedom; you’ve already fallen so low, what’s a little more?

Your lips don’t move like you want them to.

“Go on, tell me I’m the worst.” He sighs blissfully and pulls his hand from your lips. The shifting of fabric meets your ears; you don’t have to look down to know he’s started palming his erection. Your eyes stay pinned to the holes in his mask, desperately hanging onto what dignity you have left. “Tell me you hate me.” He moans, pressing his knee against your cunt. “I get off on it, princess.”

You’re wet. You wish the shame were enough to kill you right then.

“Just stop thinking, let me fuck you silly just like you wanted.” The knife hardly misses your stomach when he slices downwards, tearing the front of your shirt and leggings. The thin fabrics uselessly falls to the floor—and he takes every opportunity to eye you up and down. The feeling of his eyes on your skin is disgusting, but calling for help is useless by this point. No one will hear, no one will come. Not for someone like you.

“Don’t complain if I leave your pussy bleeding, sweets.” He strokes your dirtied, tear-stained cheeks. You don’t pull away, anymore. “You begged for this.”

You’re a sinner and you’re already in hell.

#yandere ghostface x reader #ghostface x reader #dbd x reader #yandere dbd x reader #yandere dead by daylight #yandere dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagines #yandere dbd #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #tw dubcon #kinktober20 #*oneshot #tw not sfw

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dear-yandere · 4 years

Text

[ vanya’s kinktober 2020 masterlist. ]

heavily inspired by @seita’s kinktober masterlist. prompts and set-up are used with permission, with personal additions suiting my tastes. this list and the prompts herein are subject to change. fics likely won’t be finished in time for the proper days, but will be updated here when they’re posted. almost all fics will feature noncon or dubcon in some form.

art credit goes to mju on pixiv.

all kinktober posts will be tagged with #kinktober20.

day 1 — marking/creampie + porn/camming

title. shameless. character. leviathan (obey me!) summary. levi’s got a nasty penchant for jealousy. marking you in front of his brothers is off the table… but camming isn’t. word count. 1445.

[ read here ]

day 2 — predator/prey + choking + knife play

title. dying light. character. ghostface (dead by daylight) summary. they’ll get away. they’ll get away and leave you behind with him—but you want that don’t you? word count. 2108.

[ read here ]

day 3 — abuse of power/corruption kink + collars

title. your mother was cheaper. character. alan sylvasta (bna) summary. you’re just gutter trash, nothing more than a disgusting half-breed. be grateful he gives gravel like you the time of day. word count. 673.

[ read here ]

day 4 — mindbreak + size difference + degradation

title. devotion. character. dio + the world (jjba) summary. day by day, he’d fuck you like a man fucks his most expensive whore. a demon masquerading as a God, and you’ve come to realize that there is no true God who will punish him. word count. 2313.

[ read here ]

day 5 — tentacles + triple penetration + creampie

title. inside. character. monster! ilya (oc) summary. a maiden’s virtue is her everything—he’s glad to rob you of it. word count. 1642.

[ read here ]

day 6 — bondage + toys + omorashi

title. love me least. character. risotto nero (jjba) summary. you’re burning up. you shouldn’t have spoke out of turn, shouldn’t have questioned him—even if he’s with another woman. word count. 1198.

[ read here ]

day 7 — fuck or die + dacryphilia + fingering

title. cry for me. character. johnny joestar (jjba) summary. it’s not a hard decision, sweetheart. sit still and let him finger you silly, or would you prefer bullets up your cunt? word count. 535.

[ read here ]

day 8 — consensual turned dubcon turned noncon + degradation + choking

title. fall in lust. character. pannacotta fugo (jjba) summary. all other options exhausted, you lower your pride, coming to pannacotta fugo for help with your studies. you make it clear you're willing to do whatever is necessary, regardless of the shame that might come with it. because this is what you wanted, isn’t it? you were just using him. it’s only fair he returns the favor. word count. 9386. collab with. @ddarker-dreams.

[ read here ]

day 9 — undecided

character. josuke higashikata (jjba), ghost / yakuza / police officer au summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 10 — breast play + body worship

potential character(s). cybelle (carole & tuesday) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 11 — drugs/drugging + edging

potential character(s). arthur (fire force) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 12 — pet play + dirty talk or voice kink + dirty talk

potential character(s). hector (castlevania) or joker (fire force) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 13 — mirror sex + knife play + lingerie

potential character(s). kisumi (free) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 14 — praise kink + handjob

character. benimaru shinmon (fire force) summary. tba.

[ read here ]

day 15 — hate fucking + size difference

character. sousuke yamazaki (free) summary. it’s either the metal pipe or him.

[ read here ]

day 16 — threesome + dom/sub

characters. doppio + diavolo (jjba) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 17 — bukkake + gangbang + cuckholding

characters. bucci gang (jjba) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 18 — thigh riding + shibari + biting

potential character(s). alucard (castlevania) or rin (free) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 19 — somnophilia + exophilia

character. sandman (oc) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 20 — groping + somnophilia

potential character(s). narancia ghirga (jjba) or nagisa (free) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 21 — corruption + dry humping + breeding kink

potential character(s). priest! melone (jjba) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 22 — lingerie, or shibari + drunk sex

potential character(s). lio fotia (promare), eu-jin (oc), doppio (jjba), benimaru (fire force) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 23 — chikan + gun play

potential character(s). guido mista (jjba) summary. you never get dolled up like this for him. is he not enough for you?

[ read here ]

day 24 — quirofilia/finger sucking + cockwarming

character. yoshikage kira summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 25 — acrotomophilia/amputee

potential character(s). tba summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 26 — spanking + rope burns (shibari)

character. genki nobuyuki (oc) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 27 — consensual turned noncon + bondage

potential character(s). fyodor or dazai (bsd) summary. trusting him was your first mistake.

[ read here ]

day 28 — angry sex + choking + throat fucking

potential character(s). satan (obey me), luca (oc) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 29 — femdomme + bondage

character. jolyne kujo (jjba) summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 30 — incest + praise kink

potential character(s). joseph or toma summary. tba

[ read here ]

day 31 — cock worship + face fucking

potential character(s). joker (fire force) ? summary. tba

[ read here ]

#kinktober20 #kinktober masterlist

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