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losersiren · 2 days

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𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option.

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-”

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

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oukabarsburgblr · 2 days

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drabble....aftermath of Man in the Elevator

FEATURING : DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

profile ...

fluff, con smut, root post

[START SCENE]

"Hey HEY! Where do you think you're taking me-"

(m/n)'s feet skidded against the carpeted floor, however Daisuke's grip on his wrist was tight, it didn't hurt but he managed to drag the (h/c) across his department's wing, gaining many confused looks from his coworkers.

"On a date! Well- lunch date. I was thinking fugu or wagyu beef!" Daisuke's mouth was watering as he continued to pull the struggling man behind him who was begging his coworkers to help him. His friends looked away, not wanting to intrude on (m/n) and his boyfriend- WHO TF SAID THAT??

Daisuke had bodyguards following him, tall buff men wearing suits and earpieces whispering to each other as they formed a parameter around the pair. (m/n) doesn't know how to feel that he fucked the CEO's son. No wonder Daisuke asked whether he knew him or not and his expensive attire he had adorned in the elevator.

Speaking of elevators, (m/n) violently pulled back, shocking Daisuke when they had approached the floor's lift. It was a different lift but the (h/c) was afraid nonetheless.

"I'm not going in there with you."

He hadn't stepped in a lift ever since two days ago, taking the stairs and claiming it was to burn his calories when his acquiantances asked.

The ravenette was silent, staring at the annoyed (h/c) before smiling. "Okay." "...Thanks." At least Daisuke acknowledged that what happened between them was somewhat traumatic. Deplorable and enjoyable but (m/n) wouldn't want to go through that with anyone else except if it's Daisuke- wait what?

"Is it fine if I carry you then?" (m/n) quirked an eyebrow at the ravenette. "Carry me where?" "Up the stairs. The helipad is closer than the garage from this floor. You must be sore after our whole workout right?" "Helipad???" Daisuke nodded as he crouched to slip his beefy arms under (m/n)'s knees and back who yelped and immediately clutched onto the ravenette's luxurious suit. (m/n) wasn't sure whether to address the workout comment.

"Our building has a helipad?" "Of course silly! How would I travel from my home to work every day?" (m/n) wanted to punch this privileged, first class, silver spoon in his mouth bitch. No wonder (m/n) never saw him near the lobby. He guessed either Daisuke commuted by a fancy car or a fucking helicopter.

One of his bodyguard opened the doors to the staircase, letting Daisuke pass through with (m/n) in his arms who was punching his chest, demanding to be released. "If you're worried about being heavy, then don't be! It's great for my cardio."

That was either backhanded as fuck or Daisuke was just really an idiot. They made their way up the stairs, Daisuke breaking a sweat or two while (m/n) was still squirming and screaming in his face. He was surprised Daisuke was still smiling at him.

True to his words, once they've reached the rooftop, a white helicopter was there, already running its engine and Daisuke told (m/n) to cover his ears as he continued to carry (m/n) up onto the helipad and into the helicopter itself. Once (m/n) was tucked in his seat, the pilot took off, heading god knows where as (m/n) began to choke the ravenette.

"Where are we going?!!" "To- ackk! My house- ghhackkk!" (m/n) gritted his teeth. "Are you trying to kidnap me??" "What? Why would I?" The (h/c) began to grapple away from the ravenette, pressing himself up against the window as his shoes smudged the leather seat. Daisuke tried to coax him to sit down properly.

"You dragged me here. By force." Daisuke pouted. "You looked like you wanted to run away from me as soon as you saw me. Besides- YOU LEFT ME IN THE ELEVATOR ALONE!!"

(m/n) choked on his saliva and looked away. Fuck he had a point. Daisuke was scrunching his noise as he pointed at the (h/c)'s face with his index finger. The pilot felt like two cats were fighting in the back.

"W-Well I tried waking you up. I swear! But you slept like a goddamn rock-" "I wonder why." Daisuke deadpanned as he stared at the (h/c) with his lips pressing into a thin line, hinting at the fact that even when Daisuke was tired, (m/n) wanted one last round.

Immediately, (m/n) felt flushed and tried hiding his face, Daisuke pawing at him to face him but fuck did he feel so embarassed around him. "Look at me. I want to see what kind of face you're making." The ravenette laughed as he tried pulling at the (h/c)'s arms, the latter kicking him in protest.

Soon, they arrived at their destination. (e/c) eyes bulging at the sight of the penthouse that looked even more extravagant than their already affluent company building.

"Welcome to my home. Well its my dads technically. I still live with him y'know." Daisuke held (m/n)'s hand as the latter descended from the helicopter steps. Is this what they call princess treatment? He wondered as Daisuke began to give out orders to his valets and shooed away his bodyguards.

"...I'm still in my work hours by the way..." (m/n) hoped he wouldn't get scolded by his HOD, Daisuke only tilted his head. "They'll understand. My dad is the boss to your boss yeah?" He suddenly went into a ramble, not remembering who (m/n)'s supervisor is but assuring the (h/c) that they'll definitely let it slide.

Rich people live such nice lives. (m/n) sighed as he let Daisuke pull him through the penthouse, in awe of the decorations and furniture. Looks like Daisuke was a fan of retro, Americanized. He definitely grew up with mainstream media. His eyes gazing over hung record disk on painted walls before his view was covered in green.

"Woah." (m/n) whistled at the magnificent view of his surroundings. It was a greenhouse, walls made out of glass and white pillars, vines hanging from the beige ceilings and flowers blooming from their patches of dirt nestled neatly in their respective areas.

"This is my favourite spot to eat. Since this is your first time here, I figure I'd take you somewhere nice." Daisuke rubbed his face, suddenly abashed.

Okay that's kinda cute. (m/n) hummed. "It is nice here. Wonderful even." Could never afford this place. He deemed and made a mental note, not noticing steam coming out of Daisuke's ears.

"Glad you like it." "Your favourite place to eat is your own home?" Daisuke pursed his lips, thinking of an answer. "My mouth is accustomed to my chef's food. If anything, I'd love to eat here everyday but my dad keeps saying I should go outside and explore." Again, he went into a ramble, saying that his dad won't even let him step out of the penthouse without a five-member escort.

The (h/c) rolled his eyes. How self-centered is this guy? He knocked on the wooden table they were seated at to catch Daisuke's attention. "Sorry haha. It's just really nice to talk to you." "It's not exactly talking if your mouth keeps doing all the work." "Well your mouth can do some other work-"

Daisuke howled in pain, a swift kick to his knees courtesy of (m/n) who was glaring heavily at him. "Behave." The (h/c) pressed. "...yes, sir." "Good." He looked around the greenhouse, taking note of the beautiful flora and faunas.

Feeling hunger stemming from his stomach, he turned to Daisuke who was rubbing his knee. "I'm hungry." The ravenette was eager to please his date, calling in a butler, giving him menus and showing him pictures of what his private chef could cook for him.

"I recommend the smoked salmon, the earthy taste is insane." Daisuke felt his mouth water, remembering the fish that melted in his mouth, smoky charcoal seeping in on his tastebuds. (m/n) was unimpressed. "How much can I order?" "As much as you like! You're my date so go crazy." The ravenette winked at him.

(m/n) squinted his eyes, before letting out a pleasant smile, letting Daisuke call him his 'date' and immediately ordering a five-course meal. The ravenette was impressed by his date's appetite, mirroring his order.

The meal went well, them talking to each other, albeit (m/n) cursing at him every time Daisuke teased the former, and officially introducing each other. The (h/c) found out Daisuke didn't even officially work there. He was just there to visit his dad or get some 'exposure' in a work environment.

They did talk about the whole elevator thing, Daisuke mentioned how he tried to investigate who was behind the intercom and the aphrosodiac but all lead to none. (m/n) groaned, taking note of how the lift he usually used was scheduled under maintenance and the one in the incident was usually used by VIPs.

"I just...don't want to go through that again." Daisuje shoved a piece of beef in his mouth before holding the (h/c)'s hand, expressing his empathy. "I hope you're okay after all that." "I am. It was just confusing?" The ravenette nodded.

"Same. I thought I was crazy, y'know? Cuz' I woke up all alone. Drenched in weird stuff on the floor." (m/n) glowered. "I said I was sorry..." "No you didn't. And what'd you say?" Daisuke teased, leaning in closer and the (h/c) pulled away, embarrassed.

"I said I'm sorry." He hissed. The ravenette laughed as he pulled away to recline in his chair, stretching his muscles. "You're cute." "I know." "But you're really cute." (m/n) slapped his hand on Daisuke's mouth.

"Just shut up and keep eating."

A scream left his mouth as Daisuke licked across his palm. A butler had to intervene when he tried to drive a butter knife into Daisuke's face who only cackled at the attempted murder. It continued like that for the afternoon, Daisuke chatting and ruffling up (m/n)'s feathers, the latter eating as much as he could while responding as little as possible to the ravenette.

The setting was nice, evening had dawned, (m/n) forgetting about his work, Daisuke trying to romance the (h/c) and a bottle of expensive wine was served to them. No cheap alcohol here, only the best for Daisuke Yuichi and his new 'lover'.

(m/n) downed the wine, a fruity taste lingering in his mouth. Maybe Daisuke likes sweet things. He kept that in mind as his eyes lingered on the flushed ravenette who was swirling his own glass, still being the chatterbox he is.

The alcohol in the wine was mild but it did its job, intoxicating the two as Daisuke drunkenly brushed his hand over (m/n)'s thigh, the tip of his ears red and his nape burning hot. Him switching places to sit beside the (h/c). His body slowly caging him in, his face leaning closer.

(m/n) knew what he wanted. He had his own desires as well.

Daisuke brought the (h/c) deeper into his penthouse, touching him all over, (m/n) leaning more into his hold.

(e/c) eyes fluttered shut, Daisuke pushing him down on his desk in his supposed office, the lights dark and curtains closed. It was contrast to their first which was a small space with glaring white lights.

"Haa hah hangh slow down Daisuke- mmff!"

(m/n) laid down on the mahogany desk, papers astrewn on the floor while Daisuke went to town on his neck while unbuttoning his work attire. "Sorry, it's so hard around you. So handsome." He kissed his cheek. "So cute."

The (h/c) panted while holding Daisuke's shoulders. "Don't call me cute." "What should I call you?" The ravenette questioned endearingly while pecking his neck.

"Hot, sexy, suave, drop-dead gorgeous."

Daisuke laughed as he swiped his hair back, (m/n)'s legs were loosely wrapped around Daisuke's, caressing them with his shoes. "Alright then. My hot-," A kiss on (m/n)'s hand. "so fucking sexy-," He purred while brushing his lips down the (h/c)'s arm.

"not really suave-," A slap to Daisuke's chest, the ravenette teasing the fuming (h/c). He chuckled as he leaned in, their forehead touching, black optics covering (e/c).

"my drop-dead gorgeous lover." He kissed the edge of (m/n)'s lips, the (h/c) sighing as his hands gripped Daisuke's bosom. "Lover is quite fast, don't you think?" "My mind is quite a few chapters ahead. Will you be willing to speed up your pace?" "Only if you wait."

Daisuke paused, not expecting the (h/c) to give a serious answer, a genuine smile stretched on his lips. "...Of course." He was willing to do as much for this man in his arms. Something in his heart tells him that he would regret to not give chase.

(m/n) stared at the man above him, sighing quietly as his hand cupped Daisuke's face. "You're lucky you're rich." The ravenette leaned into his palm. "You're welcome to use all my inheritance." (m/n) laughed for the first time.

"Don't say that. I might actually suck you dry. You're not so bad, Yuichi."

Something jumped in the ravenette's pants, (m/n)'s crotch lightly feeling it. "Sorry, I got really hard hearing you say my name." (m/n) rolled his eyes. "I should expect that from someone like you, huh?" "Yup!"

Daisuke cheered as he kissed the (h/c), the latter wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing his lips back. The ravenette's tongue soon licked his lips, begging for entrance as (m/n) opened his mouth.

They were both moaning and sucking on each other's tongue, Daisuke's hips bucking and humping (m/n)'s bottom, the latter gasping into the sloppy tongue-tying session letting Daisuke thrust his wet muscly organ down his throat.

Choking on his saliva, (m/n) squirmed, patting Daisuke's chest, who immediately pulled away. "D-Daisuke-" "Please, please, I wanna do it so badly." Daisuke mewled, his face entirely flushed. "You can just sleep here after this, not worry about work tomorrow but please, pretty please, let me have you."

The (h/c)'s bottom jerked, feeling Daisuke grind himself on him. He sloppily licked (m/n)'s bosom, his eyes all teary, begging the (h/c) to sleep with him.

(m/n) grinned, he was also intoxicated and suddenly liking Daisuke's behaviour. He pulled Daisuke's hair up, swiping his tongue onto the latter's teeth, Daisuke moaning loudly into the kiss.

Hurriedly, he shuffled his clothes off of him, pulling (m/n)'s own as well. Fingers pumping in and out of the (h/c) who threw his head against the table, Daisuke used his precum as lube and pull his fingers out once he wringed an orgasm out of his new 'lover'.

(m/n) didn't have time to recover, Daisuke immediately pushing his cock in and the (h/c) yelped in pain, scratching the latter's pale back. Both of them liked the pain, Daisuke jamming himself into (m/n) rapidly, the (h/c) digging his nails in and screaming every time the ravenette's huge cock dragged against his tender walls.

The ravenette's eyes rolled behind his head, his mouth open as he came so early into the (h/c), his hips twitching as he stuffed his cum inside (m/n)'s hole. Arching his back, (m/n) mewled feeling his ass filled with something so wet so fast.

"Sorry..." Daisuke was heaving, his eyes droopy, apologising for cumming so early. "You idiot..." (m/n) pulled Daisuke's hair, reeling him into a kiss as he rubbed his ass onto the ravenette's penis.

They went wild, fucking like bunnies all over Daisuke's office. Almost every furniture was used and tainted with the smell of sex. Daisuke was extra hyper with the help of the wine and him being so happy that (m/n) was so willing to have sex with him. (m/n) was taking advantage of Daisuke's fondness and huge cock, letting him split him open in so many ways, bent over the couches, pushing him up against the wall and even pressed him facing the windows, his own cock rubbing against the glass, smearing it with his cum.

Daisuke came so much that every time he thrusted inside, semen leaked out with a squelching effect, turning on the (h/c) more. Eventually after the tenth round, Daisuke dropped himself on the luxurious sofa, the one (m/n) was folded into a mating press two rounds prior. In his arms was (m/n), breathing heavily, his body sticky and dripping cum.

The ravenette's beefy arms were holding (m/n) more securely, perhaps he didn't want the (h/c) to disappear like last time. "...Let's sleep like this. When I wake up, I'll carry you to my bedroom." Daisuke mumbled, his eyes closed, so tired having his dick pumped dry.

(m/n) hummed, adjusting himself on top of Daisuke, . "Mkay." He felt a hand rubbing his hair which eventually turned into small massages on his scalp. How sweet was this man?

"...Don't just leave...like last time...please..." It was barely a whisper, (m/n) couldn't read Daisuke's expression, his eyes shut tight. "...I won't."

He could feel the man underneath him flinch, not expecting the other to hear him but the latter's body relaxed, loosing his tension and worry.

Daisuke passed out before (m/n), his light breathing was comforting and the (h/c) placed his face in the crook of Daisuke's neck, sleeping soundly as well. He had a good meal, oh and the food tasted great too.

True to Daisuke's words, (m/n) woke up in an ornate bedroom, the color scheme mainly consists of royal blue and dark greyish except for its furniture. The ravenette had woken up way before him, spooning the (h/c) being so giddy that (m/n) was still with him the next morning.

Instead of turning up for work, (m/n) went shopping, Daisuke insisting he wanted to treat him with clothings and jewelries and he did, getting pampered by the rich man all day and he finally returned home with an abundant amount of shopping bags. He also did not let Daisuke into his apartment, knowing that he wanted to sleep with and in his room. That horny bitch ISTG-.

Although Daisuke assured him that he could retire at an early age, (m/n) still continued his normal work life, although his manager and supervisor were extra respectful to him and his coworkers had so many questions on how did he manage to bag the CEO's son. Said CEO was wary on how did his precious son managed to fall for someone so quick but after meeting the (h/c), he realised his son was a tender-hearted idiot and wished the best for the pair.

Maybe (m/n) was thankful for the whole elevator shenanigan, he managed to end up with a lovestruck rich boy after all. His life didn't change much except the fact that a certain priviledged puppy would steal him during lunch hours and promptly fuck him in the long nights.

A happy ending for everyone!

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

How long/short a drabble should be? Haha cuz i think i went way overboard. Daisuke would feature in more aus and their official(?) storyline including spinoffs (what ifs) with another oc i will introduce next week maybe.

Please leave a comment! Although there will be no part 3 for this au haha. Keep an eye out for my next AU [Reversing the Tropes]!

I had smoked salmon w my bf the other day and IT WAS SO GOOD WHAT ANSBAKHAUAH. I think its funny me writing all these smuts while being a virgin LMAOOOO

#bottom male reader #sub male reader #x bottom male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader smut #smut #mlm smut #oc x male reader #oc x reader #oc smut #oc x male reader smut

572 notes · View notes

yandere-writer-momo · 3 days

Text

Yandere Short Stories:

A Confession to Make

Yandere Florist (Callum) x Fem Reader

Blood red flowers laid out in a maple wood work desk, their boood red petal reminiscent of Callum’s past as a hit man. The florist hummed as he carefully cut each stem and trimmed the leaves of each flower to arrange a bouquet for his favorite customer… he wondered if (your name) understood the meaning behind these vibrant flowers and how they were a loud declaration of his love for her.

Callum sighed dreamily while he organized each chrysanthemum with white wax flowers, eucalyptus, thistle, and red hypericum berries. He truly wanted to put a lot of thought into each flower in this bouquet in hopes that his feelings finally went through to his beloved m’eudail.

Callum had been after (your name) the moment she enter his shop all those months ago. To him, she was dainty and perfect… a true lady who had easily captivated him with her shy smile and innocent eyes. Callum wanted her in ways he’d never wanted anyone else before… it was nearly carnal from how badly he wanted to bend her over and stuff her fat with his kids- woah. He had just gotten a bit to in over his head there for a moment…

The melodic dingle of the front door bell broke him from his musings. The red head quickly peaked his head out from his workroom to spot (your name) in the doorway.

“Good morning, Callum!” (Your name) giggled at the scarred man whose cheeks flushed red. “I saw that you have some new flowers in stock.”

“Give me one moment and I’ll tell you what each one is!” Callum chuckled, his green eyes scanned over her small frame in awe. (Your name) was always so cute!

Callum finished the last few touches to his lovely bouquet with a smile. The bouquet would no doubt swallow (your name), but he couldn’t help the excitement that seeped into his love stricken heart.

“Hey, I put something together for you.” Callum hid the bouquet behind his back as he smiled warmly at (your name). The young woman perked up once she spotted the bouquet. A bashful smile now on her face when Callum gently placed the red bouquet in her hands.

“You made me a bouquet?” (Your name) admired each flower in awe. It appeared Callum put a lot of thought and care into each piece of this arrangement. “It’s so beautiful… the red kind of reminds me of your hair.”

Callum chuckled before he bit his lip. It seemed (your name) didn’t understand the romantic language of flowers… but that was okay! He was willing to outright admit his interest in her!

“Well, these are much more than flowers…” Callum towered over (your name) as he pointed to each flower. “Red chrysanthemums for passion and love, wax flowers for a wish of lasting success, red hypericum berries, thistle, and eucalyptus for protection.”

(Your name) blushed when Callum grabbed her hands, the bouquet the only item in the way of the two of them from hugging.

“In other words, I’m confessing to you.” Callum whispered softly, his green eyes filled with adoration. “So what do you say? Would you be mine, m’eudail?”

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yawnderu · 2 days

Note

Since you love the big man so much so imagine after he has fucked you full of his cum he eats you out then kisses you so you can taste yourself and him while also giving you his cum to swallow while droplets roll down your lips and chin before he gets the run-off on his fingers so you can suck it off

Sorry if this makes no sense but I have thoughts after you kept encouraging me

Your hands go down to grip a fistful of his curly red hair, his low groan vibrating all over your fucked-out cunt, way too sensitive to stand the way his long tongue laps at your cunt like the greedy dog of a man he is, not a single ounce of care on the way he's licking his own cum, his large hands gripping your inner thighs to stop you from squirming so much despite your whining.

“Please...” You're not even sure what you're begging for, knowing fully well that he could eat you out for hours, his stamina matching his behemoth height, yet relief is painted all over your face the moment his hungry lips let go of your sensitive cunt, his large body resting comfortably on top of yours, his half-chub resting against your thigh.

Your breath hitches the moment his lips meet yours, a thick mix of his cum and yours taking over your senses as his tongue wraps around yours, his hands desperate to grasp every single inch of your body no matter how sensitive it is after he fucked you.

Your greediness matches his, the grip on his hair tightening only to hear a whimper come out of the 7’11” beast of a man, his size a sheer contrast to how needy he can be. He's a messy kisser— too much tongue and not enough self-control, pushing himself to break away just to admire you. The thin layer of sweat covering your face, your lips glossy with the mix of body fluids, and the droplets of cum that managed to escape your parted lips, slowly rolling down your warm cheek.

His index and middle finger come together to gather the hot, thick fluid just to bring it back to the place it escaped from, the corners of his lips tilting up into a cocky smirk the moment your lips wrap around his thick fingers, sucking them clean with no hesitation. He can feel the blood rushing down to his large cock, your legs parting out of pure muscle memory in a quiet display of acceptance, ready for another round despite the growing ache between your thighs and what you're sure is a bruised cervix.

>I'm so obsessed with Ozzie's OC Jack-Pot so I had to. Thank you for listening to my daily rambles about wanting to get him pregnant even when I have a pussy. HBJEFJHBEFJHB 💗💗💗

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2kmps · 21 hours

Text

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

story summary; your granduncle explains that the noises at the bottom of the lighthouse and the missing chunk out of his leg are from swimming rats. you let him think you're a fool.

story warnings; some graphic depictions that some may consider gory, mentions of biting, mentions of rats, creature in captivity, explicit sexual content, double penetration (not safe), prose + detail heavy, implied breeding, not proofread.

if you enjoyed it, please reblog + interact!!

Granduncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much to at the bottom; a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brought a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by goose pimples as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

"Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n: not my best work, but hopefully passable. it's really helpful when y'all reblog, so please do so!!!

I don't really have any comments on this because I'm starting over from zero on the long-fic of the aquatic monster story bc I hated what I had lmao.

anyway, please keep in mind that is a concept piece. chances are that none of this will be present in the actual long-fic. this just helps me to explore ideas and familiarize myself with characters.

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cookie-crumblr · 2 days

Text

i had such a violent and hot dream

GN!Reader x Ezra (bully yan OC)

MINORS DNI

CW: extreme violence against reader, reader has hair(not described just enough to grab), dacraphilia, non con oral on m, pet names (slut, good slut,), really short drabble, not proofread, basically suicidal ideation, noncon picture taking

They chased you into a corner, but you were hidden so well… or so you thought.

you feel a fist dig into your scalp…

“NO!!! Please!!!” You plead and shout, and struggle against his grasp but it’s no use.

He drags you out from from where you were, you’re kicking and screaming until he throws your body against a bookshelf so hard some of the contents fall around you.

You grab the books and throw them at him while trying to guard your face.

He’s unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. You throw punches until he stomps on your arm, your other flies to defend it! You wail out in pain, and he takes that opportunity to shove himself down your throat. Your arm burns.

“shhhhh~ take this dick like the good little slut you are, and be quiet already,” he grabs your head with both hands and fucks your throat.

He shoots his cum straight down your throat and your eyes empty once again.

You’ve got no fight left in you.

With his dick still stuffing your mouth he takes a pic with his phone of your tear and snot stained face.

He slaps your cheek before pulling out.

You fall to your side.

Just…

“What a good slut, finally learning your place.” He picks you up by the arm, your shoulder bending uncomfortably as he forces you to walk.

Kill me.

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godnectar · 2 days

Note

No yandere milkman? Doppelganger also good. Please a bowl of milk for kitty cat please ❤️❤️🙏🙏

#anon message #♡ anon #godnectar #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #milkman #francis mosses #poll #tumblr polls #yandere oc #oc x reader #male oc

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the-whispers-of-death · 2 days

Note

Thinking about my Canine Handler! Stone x aggressive Dog Hybrid! Reader and I raise you (or myself, I guess) Canine Handler! Kali with aggressive Dog Hybrid! Reader. 🫧

Same concept, Kali is Reader’s last chance because he tore his last handler apart (the handler kinda deserved it though, he wasn’t very nice). Kali looking at his collection of feral children and thinking “eh, what’s one more?”

Reader immediately lunging at Kali and only being stopped by the fact that the too-tight collar is attached to a heavy metal post or the wall or something - if a person was holding it, they would have been dragged along. Kali being immediately angry but not at Reader, instead at the conditions they’re keeping him in.

Kali somehow calming down Reader enough that he can give him skritches behind the ear, Reader is confused because instead of lashing out at him for trying to kill him he’s just like “shh, it’s okay, Daddy’s here” while glaring down whoever is in charge of Reader right now because it’s pissing it down freezing rain and they have him tied to a post outside.

Canine Handler!Kali is so Daddy. He immediately unties you from the post and gets you inside, very carefully approaching you with slow movements when he needs to towel you off due to you being out in the rain. He's not scared you'll lash out at him, he just doesn't want to scare you.

His words are soft when he speaks to you, a stark contrast to the way his words are so clipped with whoever had tied you to the post. He's giving your scratches behind your ears, cooing at you.

Kali is so pissed when he finds out you haven't been fed your dinner yet, so he goes and gives you food, his heart breaking at the way you eat it so fast because your previous handlers took away your food when you were "bad". Don't you worry, Daddy Kali won't do that to you, he'll prove it to you too.

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quimichi · 5 hours

Note

i need more content about Akito!! hes so cute!! :D

『 ↳✧･ﾟ MORE RANDOM AKITO HCS ;

TW: stalking, talk about gore and death, unhealthy obsession, yandere, twisted behavior

SUMMARY: just random Akito (oc) headcanons

CHARACTERS: Akito (oc) X F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 409

*character in the banner: Yoshiki from the summer hikaru died

¡! ❞ this is what I imagined Akito to look like, heavily inspired by Yoshiki from the summer hikaru died

¡! ❞ one of his many positives is that he looks so normal, boring even. No one would expect someone so basic looking to have bad intentions right? Look at him! Those puppy eyes hold innocence!

¡! ❞ and his dark aesthetic is useful for when he sneaks around your house

¡! ❞ oh and did you know he actually took a few pics? He has a whole album of them. Yk its the most basic stalker shit

¡! ❞ But don't worry, not all of them are dirty. Some are just from your room, zoomed in and out. On different days and stuff. He finds beauty in your mess and tidyness. And if he ever catches you in the bath/shower...he looks away. Its wrong for him to look, his eyes don't deserve to see you in your full glory....yet at least.

¡! ❞ But dirty pics you ask?...mostly your used underwear or clothes.

¡! ❞ don't worry, he would NEVER break in. Even if your window is a bit open or anything, he got manners (yes but no)

¡! ❞ He writes you poetry! Its mostly about you ofc. And his feelings.

¡! ❞ ❞ I would bleed out if you'd tell me you like the color red ❞

¡! ❞ ❞ I love you like death I love you like the mould that eats me up Like the maggots feasting on me I love you like you're life Like giving me air to breath I love you like I don't deserve you Like the most disgusting beast ❞

¡! ❞ (I'm so sorry I never EVER wrote poetry in my life--)

¡! ❞ oh did i talk about the fact that he uh has a thing for gore-. He loves a little intense yk-thats a discussion for much later cause ya'll aren't ready for it yet-

¡! ❞ baby boy has a diary, writes about you and the different beautys he saw. Like two birds singing together, dogs playing, children laughing or the simple taste of a morning coffee.

¡! ❞ oh and btw he has a Polaroid camera, he always carries it with him. But when he takes pictures around you, he has to stick to his phone.

¡! ❞ and while were talking about his phone already, his lockscreen is him with his family, but his wallpaper....is a picture of you sleeping in your bed.

TAGLIST: @lucienbarkbark @hehothrowawayfae

#male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #Akito #oc x reader #oc

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melit0n · 2 days

Text

Delicate Is The Flesh

- Chapters -> Prologue

- Chapters will be updated as they are posted.

- Obsessive! Demon OC/Reader

- Word Count: 2.7k

- Warnings for chp: None

- Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55444003/chapters/140685856

Like the early morning star, your phone sends a bright, artificial light flooding throughout your darkened room. With each notification, it buzzes and hums against the wood of your nightstand, echoing against your four walls like a swarm of bees in the otherwise quiet room.

Being a light sleeper, something you picked up from years of waking up early to your parent's alarm to try and get a glimpse of their faces before 5pm, you’re easily awoken by the constant stream of messages pouring light into the tranquil, warm room.

Under the covers, you lie comfortably and in a drowsy state of drifting in and out of the dream world while the consistent noise pulls you like ocean currents back to the reality of your dim room. Your body begs for more sleep, but your mind whines at you to check your phone; this amount of notifications at what has to be the middle of the night must mean something important is happening, right? But you’re so warm…surely this can wait ‘till the morning when you’ve had a little bit more sleep?

To your sleep-deprived delight, the notifications seem to cease, and your room returns to its darkened state. Happily, you turn over, away from your phone, and cosy yourself further under the covers. A small, pleased grin graces your face as you slowly drift back into the warm, inky hold of sleep.

Bzz...bzz...bzz

But, much to your chagrin, the notifications keep on coming.

“Shut up…” is mumbled into your now warm pillow, your eyes snapping open to stare blearily at your ceiling before rubbing your face and closing them again.

Bzz bzz…bzz bzz…bzz bzz

Each damning notification wakes you up further and you become uncomfortably aware of how warm you are. Of the sweat on your face and trickling down your back. Your muscles groan and ache with the odd, uncomfortable position you’ve found yourself in as well; legs and arms twisted in on yourself like a pretzel.

“Okay! Okay…fine, I’m up…” Groaning loudly, you unfurl yourself and grasp fruitlessly at the air next to your bed stand, before accepting your fate and finally opening your eyes and finding your phone. A slew of notifications, all from a very familiar group chat named ‘The Loggers’ meet your strained eyes.

With a grimace, you recoil at the bright light of your screen before turning down the brightness and squinting at the messages that your half-awake brain can barely compute. Quickly skim-reading the conversation you were not yet privy to, you find your friends, well, two of them, fangirling over some abandoned site that they had ‘found’. By found, they mean there are multiple extensive articles written about it, a surprising abundance of YouTube videos and at least 4 threads of it on Reddit, all of which you can’t be bothered to read through at this time. You wouldn’t remember jackshit in the morning anyways.

As you’re about to put your phone back down on your nightstand and attempt to go back and get your dearly needed sleep, a message directly addresses you:

Jeanne: @Y/N read this:

It’s followed by a long link which, after clicking on it with a tired sigh, you’re half sure may or may not be a virus from the number of pop-up ads crammed into the site. You shuffle yourself further upright on your bed, back cracking with the movement. Carefully, you eye the small words in the article, reading:

On the brink of the bustling new city of Rosholt lies a forgotten palisade of abandoned homes, shops and streets that sit almost mummified after being deserted for so many years.

Neuhaven, a rebuilt mining town founded in the 1950s, sits unoccupied after a factory break out of, at the time, unknown, harmful toxins released into the air that made it uninhabitable for human and animal life alike on the 11th of June, 1972. The toxins caused irreparable damage to the human respiratory system, inducing almost plague-like symptoms of coughing up blood, extreme drowsiness, blueish colouring on the tips of fingers as well as auditory and visual hallucinations…

Below the paragraph lies a series of gory photographs; blackened lungs, missing fingers and bedridden children. However, one of the more disturbing photos that catches your eye is of multiple people with missing eyelids staring into the camera, or rather, staring right past it. Even through the pixels of your phone, you can see the utter terror contained inside their pupils.

You frown, almost clicking out of the article before your eyes glimpse the next paragraph.

…Unfortunately, the harmful chemical breakout was not noted to citizens of the town at the time. The full extent of the damage done only became fully clear when many of the aforementioned citizens became chronically ill; exhibiting signs of mental hysteria. Continuous hallucinations, paired with a debilitating illness no one seemed to be able to figure out the cause of, led many of the people of the God-fearing town to believe that this plague was a punishment from The Almighty Judge Himself. Or, perhaps, something more malevolent.

Well, your friends always had an interest in the morbid and macabre, didn’t they? All of you grew up inhaling online creepypastas, pixelated ARGs and horrifying LiveLeak videos like it was Oxygen, so, it was safe to say all of you were desensitised.

At least, to an extent.

Still, with the images of missing eyelids burned into your mind, which something inside of you told you were self-made, had you questioning why exactly your friends were so interested? Even from the few paragraphs you read, something put you off of this place.

It seemed less of an abandoned city and more of a mass graveyard.

Growing unnerved by the perturbing history of the town, you scrolled down further in hopes of skipping any more grisly photos.

After the official closing of the city in late June of the same year, the old town quickly became a hotspot for violent crime and drug dealings.

Oh. Brilliant.

Bodies of missing persons from across the country found their way down the river that flows between Rosholt and Neuhaven, almost like souls travelling down the river Styx, along with what morticians noted as ‘perfectly preserved’ corpses appearing and disappearing in the series of apartment blocks that Neuhaven houses and is, to this date, now most famous for.

Okay. Not worrying or terrifying at all.

However, across recent years, it has become a hub for urban explorers and true crime junkies alike. As well as this, the old town has begun to gain traction across social media due to its supposed ghost sightings.

At the word ‘ghost’, you perk up a bit, shifting upright in your bed. The covers rustle loudly in the light silence of your room.

Popular Urban Exploration videos turn into ghost-hunting videos that garner thousands of views. Despite this, many people believe that the ‘ghost’ sightings are simply hallucinations from possible leftover chemicals in the air (although a study of the area’s air by the state in worries of this shows no such thing) and the few that are caught on video are a result of electromagnetic waves coming from the radiation plant that provides power to Rosholt causing issues with any recording gear. Or, quite simply, many videos are believed to be edited. Nonetheless, they still make their rounds on social media.

Even with its recent boom of popularity, the city lies cornered off most months due to continued police investigation over drug dealing and by order of the local council due to plans to further expand Rosholt and demolish Neuhaven. Nevertheless, people still find a way to get in…

Another notification hangs over the top of your phone screen, which you tap on, only to see one of your friends sending links to YouTube videos, all with similar thumbnails of ‘Ghost caught on camera!’ or ‘Dead body found!’.

For the sake of your sanity, you go against watching any of them.

Jeanne: thoughts @Y/N @Helen? We're on break and we need something to do

Helen: Looks fun but the drug dealing, dead bodies and the whole being patrolled by the local council and police is a bit of a no-go for me. Has Noah already said yes?

Noah: Yeahh, it looks interesting from what I’ve seen, it isn’t every day you get the chance to see an abandoned city anyways. Plus, I’d rather Jeanne didn’t go alone and get done in by cops again lmaoo

Jeanne: Id be just fine on myself asshat <3

Jeanne sends a quick-fire response to Noah's 'insult' before attempting to convince Helen again.

Jeanne: I get u but when are we ever gonna be able to explore a whole abandoned city? Even if we only do certain buildings per night?

Helen: There’s so many other abandoned towns that aren’t patrolled by half a city’s police force. Plus, didn’t one of the other articles say that that town was radiated from a leak at the power plant in the big city as well? Getting radiated so I can’t go out in the sun ever again is putting me off a bit.

A video, a screen-recorded one instead of a link, is then sent over of some dude wandering around with what looks like a very damaged Geiger counter as he roams what you guess to be the shell of the city. Not a single bit of what would be considered dangerous radiation is picked up; at least nothing over the typical 20 counts per minute.

Noah: That fix your worries? Lololol

Helen: It’s still picking up something?

Noah: I know I help you out with Science sometimes but were you MIA when we did radiation or something? That’s just natural radiation, same amount you probably give off

Helen: Is that meant to be an insult? Lol.

Noah: No?? Of course not

Jeanne: @Y/N, what do u think? Stop looming over the convo Batman I can see ure online

Shit. You completely forgot they could see that.

For a couple of minutes, you go back and forth, trying to type a digestible response that doesn’t look like you just keyboard smashed, and, y’know, also contemplating if you really do want to go see an abandoned city and run the risk of seeing a corpse. Or, even worse, get tied up in watching someone become one.

You: Looks cool but the dead body thing definitely isn’t. Plus, if people are talking about there still being chemicals in the air, I’d rather not run the risk of getting whatever the fuck those people back in the 70s got

Helen: Thank you.

Jeanne: u two are such pussies! U know how articles like that like to blow stuff out of proportion, and anyways that stuff with all the dead bodies was ages ago, nothings happened for years

You frown at the response. Dead bodies are still dead bodies, even if they did appear years ago.

You: I’m still not too on board with walking around in what is basically a massive grave site

Noah: It’s only an hour and a half’s road trip away, closer than anything like Pripyat or Pentedattilo, and they said they plan to demolish it soon as well

Another lengthy article you don’t bother to click on is sent with the cut-off title of ‘Rosholt’s expansion plans for…’

Jeanne: by the time our break has ended that shit might be gone and we’d never be able to explore it. And its so fucking close to us as well!! Would just be a shame if we didnt get to see it

A few seconds of silence permeate the groupchat before Helen speaks yet again.

Helen: I still don’t know about this.

You take a moment to think it over, staring at the wall opposite you in bleary contemplation. Admittedly, your plans for the break had consisted of sleeping, bingeing films, rotting in bed and maybe going out to see a film or going shopping if one of your friends tried hard enough to convince you.

Your group had been going urban exploring ever since you can remember. You were half sure it was only because it was one of the few meetups you’d almost always easily agree to, but, either way, it was your Thing, so to speak. Abandoned malls, old diners, broken down farmhouses, you name it, your group had done it.

However, an abandoned city was new. Even with the threat of dead bodies and chemical poisoning, you were quite frankly intrigued. Maybe your friends would even let you off having to go somewhere with them for the rest of the break if you did this with them.

Don’t get it wrong, you don’t hate your friends, not in the slightest; there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep them for so many years if you did. Quite simply, you just aren’t one for extensive social interaction, especially when it means leaving the comfort of your apartment. Your friend Jeanne called you a homebody for it, Noah called you a ‘shut in with unaddressed social interaction issues’, which, way to hit you in the gut, and your other friend, Helen, simply called you reserved.

So, maybe, going here could get them off your back for a bit.

You: What date were you thinking?

Jeanne: I was thinking tomorrow? That sound good for everyone?

Another message is quickly sent.

Jeanne: I mean later today lmao, didnt realise it was that late, everyone good w/ that?

Noah: Good 4 me

Jeanne: nice! Helen?

Helen: I think I’ll be sitting this one out.

Jeanne: come onnnnn we gotta do it with the whole group! Won’t be the same without uuu

A few seconds pass with radio silence from Helen, and you watch with an odd amount of anticipation as the words ‘Helen is typing…’ disappear and reappear on your screen.

Helen: Fine.

Jeanne: WOOOOO

Noah: YESSSS

Smiling widely at your friend's reactions, and typing a response of your own, you put your focus back on the date. Tomorrow. You glance over at your alarm clock; 2:49am. Tomorrow as in...today. Tomorrow as in today where you’re currently getting a very minimal amount of sleep. Like a balloon, you feel your whole body deflate at the thought of having to spend part of your afternoon, and most likely all of your evening, in this abandoned city while running on a few hours of sleep....with one of the most energetic extroverts you've ever met; Jeanne.

You: Can we do it any other day? How about next week?

Noah: My brother and I are going on holiday with our parents after the end of this week for the next two weeks :’((

Helen: I’ve got to go back and forth between school for final coursework, remember? I don’t know when I’ll be completely free other than tomorrow and the day after that.

Jeanne: so its set, tomorrow yeah? That good with everyone?

Helen: Yes.

Noah: Yup

Sighing dramatically, you type out your answer.

You: Okay :D

A few more messages are sent through which you don’t bother to read through. You glance yet again at your clock and groan, praying that they don’t decide they want to go at the crack of dawn. Unlike you, your friends were all morning people if anything. Noah was a night owl who could run on three hours of sleep, down a shot of caffeine, wake up at 5:30 and spend the rest of his day fine. Helen naturally woke up early, body still half stuck in a different time zone, and Jeanne liked having every minute of sunlight that she possibly could.

You, on the other hand, suffered through never having enough sleep, body and mind consistently refusing to let go of the past and sending you through reams of vivid nightmares that seemed to have haunted you ever since you were a kid.

Plus, you certainly didn’t have the money for a therapist to prescribe you melatonin, or any other sleeping drug for that matter, let alone the prescription itself.

With a frown of disdain and yet another glance at your alarm clock, you gently turn your phone onto silent and place it back to charge on your nightstand.

Plans can wait; you’re too damn tired for this shit. Two weeks off from school promised you at least a better chance at getting a full eight hours of sleep, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get it.

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you wrap yourself back into a warm blanket burrito, already knowing you’ll regret how warm and sweaty you’ll be by the morning, and slowly but surely fall back into the warm arms of sleep. Hopefully, with no nightmares.

Well, at least you’ve actually got plans for Winter break now. And hey, what could go wrong, right?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #oc x reader #yan!oc x reader #obsessive behavior #obsessive love #original characters #original writing #demons #ghosts #light angst #psychological horror #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #fanfic #mel's musings

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losersiren · 1 day

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Yandere! Vault Dweller

N: I just finished the Fallout show, went on YouTube and fell down a rabbit hole of lore about the game. I decided Vault 11 shall be sacrificed (hehe). Everything I put in this fic is from the videos I've watched and the fan wiki, so it's like semi-accurate… Cw: talks about suicide, suicide (not the reader), violence, yandere tendencies, gore(?), death, manipulation, coercion, talks of death, should be gn! reader safe.... if not, put me in the chamber WC: 2.2k

Quiet. It was quiet. The silence is deafening, yet the ringing in your ear grows louder and louder, each second feeling as if eons had passed. The automated computer voice repeats in your head like a catchy song you’ll hear on those dusty records, the ones Mama used to play and dance to.

“Congratulations, citizens of Vault 11! You have made the decision not to sacrifice one of your own. You can walk with your head held high, knowing that your commitment to human life is a shining example to us all. And to make that feeling of pride even sweeter, I have some exciting news. Despite what you were led to believe, the population of Vault 11 is not going to be exterminated for its disobedience. Instead, the mechanism to open the main vault door has now been enabled, and you can come and go at your leisure. But not so fast! Be sure to check with your overseer to find out if it's safe to leave. Here at Vault-Tec, your safety is our number one priority.”

You were young when your parents escaped the bombs to the vault you're situated in right now; you grew up believing that damned computer about sacrifices and watched your fellow vault mates get killed one by one. You waited for the time it would be you in that same chamber. Now, with this information surfaced…they died for what? An experiment? What would have happened if you had been voted overseer…

The lump in your throat grows heavier, and the arguments and yelling in the background become more and more apparent that you can't ignore them anymore. Your eyes drift to the man standing tall and proud beside you, Charli, his hair still somehow slick back; he still looks perfect even after the maddening chaos of events that transpired these past few days. His blue jumpsuit was as crisp as an ironed suit that the actors would wear from the moving pictures on television before the vault. His expression is as vacant as his blue eyes, his soft lips decorated with a barely visible smile. As he watches the other three vault survivors argue, Your brows furrow.

Why isn’t he affected by the news like everyone else? This information is soul-crushing and life-changing!

Then again, you reason with yourself that maybe this is his way of coping; who are you to judge and microanalysis him like some psycho? Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep or the sense of safety ripped out of your hand like candy stolen from a baby. Heavens, you might nearly flip your lid entirely if something else happens. You sigh. To believe you almost were insinuating that Charli would even be a drop suspicious, and of what, exactly? He saved and shielded you from the massacre that only left the five of you remaining; he was your childhood best friend..how could you? You reprimand yourself.

His eyes finally meet yours, and the sympathy and worry you sought appeared when the blonde saw how distressed you were. “Are you alright?” his soft voice fills your head–drowning out the talks of whether the group should commit suicide in honour of your dead vault men or venture into the outside world to educate others on how your vault was misled. You were somewhat dissociated from the whole conversation. Reasonably so.

His hands, soft yet calloused, turn your head side to side to check for any visible injuries he might’ve missed, which he shouldn’t have—knitted eyebrows and razor-sharp eyes search frantically for anything.

Charles or… As you’ll call him later in your relationship, Charlie, has always been like this. When you met him, he was a reserved kid, a trait that would carry on from his pubescent to adolescent years.

When other kids grew out of their shyness and worrisome attitude and eventually adapted to the vault, he was pushed aside. Well, that wouldn’t be the only reason. His father was the first overseer of Vault 11, the same overseer who thought the best course of action was not to tell the vault residents about the sacrificial system they were now to live with. That same choice he made was the reason for his death, and he was the first to test the new system. He wasn’t a good man. He was greedy, a neglectful father and husband, and so on. A family now ruined by one man’s ill-considered decision; Charles's mom wasn’t much better, the textbook definition of a hypocrite. Bad-mouthing her dead husband, the same one she defended when said husband would push his son away.

Most would fear having no one at the end of the world, but it became Charles's life; while everyone adapted to vault life, Charles adapted to the misfortune of the consequences of his old man’s actions. You decided one day to talk to him while others stood clear. It was a simple conversation; others would just brush it off…which he did initially. But after that day, you would constantly seek him out, and with that, you wore a genuine smile and interest every time you talked to him. His walls crumbled into dust for you and only you. You were like a shooting star he wished for. His reputation grew because of you and, with that, his feelings for you sored. You became his way of life. In his teen years, he decided to become the best match for you– He would participate in every extracurricular activity the vault would provide to make him an unstoppable force of a man. The perfect golden boy was made..for you.

He had the “perfect body,” perfect sperm count, unmatched intelligence, and charisma—he perfected them (even if you were the only one he talked to for long periods)—strength, agility, endurance—all of it. He will be everything you need and more. With that, he made sure no one would vote you as overseer…

He was so soft on you that it would rival feathers. Do you need help lifting that? He's already there. Do you need help with your pre-war history? He’ll just sit you down and study with you for hours. Are you bleeding from an accidental cut? Don’t worry he just finished his first aid training. He already had a plan for you both for everything that would happen.

Everything

“I’m fine…” You grab both of his hands gently. “...Well, not fine, fine, but I'm not hurt.” You smile weakly up at him. “It’s okay. You and I will get through this,” He coos, pushing strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. His touch is warm and tender, yet the words you hear next aren’t.

“Fuck..I..I can’t do this I’m sorry.” A man, short in stature, starts backing away, gun in hand, clearly distressed. Your eyes move away from Charli’s to your fellow survivor; unknowingly to you, Charli rolls his eyes at the man's “dramatics.” “We don’t deserve to leave...That thing called us a shiny example..f..f.fucked! Thats fucked! I..I can’t live with that!” Another man says, “Anyone would’ve done what we did.” A woman comments, “You ask me? That's exactly the problem. Now, let’s get on with this.”

“Wait,” you say, stunned, as if he had predicted this would happen. Charles moves his hands to cover your eyes. The short man is first, putting his gun on the roof of his mouth and pulling the trigger, not sparing any more time; the woman is next, the second gunshot. Then, with a sigh and short prayer, the last man repeats the action done by the others. Each lifeless body hits the floor one by one, and then there is silence.

What the hell.

You try to understand the situation, but your brain has yet to catch up…it’s all too much. Charli whispers calming phrases while he shields your eyes with one hand and rubs patterns along your back with the other. Tears start rolling down your face…and you sob. Hard. His hand moves to pet your hair, soothing you while you let it all out of your system.

He moves his body to shield you from the gruesome events that have just taken place; he moves both of his hands and cradles your face. You try looking behind him out of curiosity, but he stops you before you can.”Hey! Look at me with those gorgeous eyes,” He mummers, and of course, you comply. “There we go. You listen to me so well,” he whispers lovingly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll both go back to my vault room. I have enough supplies for the both of us to survive outside for a while, okay?” He asks you, and you nod, agreeing to whatever he says.

“I need to hear you say it..”

“…yes, of course, whatever you think is best.” He smiles at you, thumb caressing your cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” He takes your hand and leads you through the halls. It's quiet… you don't like it. Your eyes are trained on his back, Charli…he’s your lifebuoy in the angry sea, the only thing keeping you afloat; if it wasn’t for him…you might’ve met your end with the others. As if sensing your inner turmoil, he squeezes your hand, comforting you…and you squeeze back. Your world just fell apart, yet…it doesn’t seem entirely gone with Charli by your side.

It's only a short time till you reach his vault. You’ve been here so many times it's basically your room by now. The tall blonde turns to look at you. “I’m going to let you go, just for a second, okay..? I just need to get the supplies.” He holds your one hand with both of his– you reply with a soft okay, and with your permission, he starts to move. He moves towards his small desk to grab a small, flat-headed screwdriver, walks to a particular spot, and pops the floor title beneath him, revealing a hidden compartment. It's filled with two modular military backpacks, filled to the bream with necessities for outside the vault.

He was prepared for all of this…

Then he starts talking about what he has in mind for the two of you, settling on the surface of living together and everything. Charles gets lost when talking to you; he can speak his mind about almost anything, and rambling is second nature with you. The hermit turned a social butterfly in your presence.

“You know that computer may have been our downfall, but god did bless me with more information than I could handle…good thing, huh, glad I went through all that code…Vault-tec tried to make it secure, but I found a way...We could go somewhere called New Vegas…” He keeps talking.

But you stand there, still, as a statue, looking down at him as he gathers everything…What did he just say?

You think back to the start when killing between the blocs started..he was right there, ready to protect you, when you and the other surviving tested out if the chamber would kill all of you…he almost seemed to be too assured nothing bad would happen to any of you, almost like…no…no. You’re overthinking, right? But the more you listen…

“You knew…” you shakingly exclaim out loud, cutting him off. “Hmm?” He looks up at you as he puts the tile back…” You knew we didn’t need sacrifices…you knew it would play out like this…�� you say louder and more confidently. Those once-homey blue eyes become cold and distant… analyzing you.

You both stare at each other.

You turn and run.

But your efforts are in vain; you don’t even leave the room before two muscular arms wrap around behind you, overtaking you, holding your arms down around your waist, dragging you back. You scream and kick with no success. You end up with his arms around you while he sits down, his back against the wall, and you in front of him with his head in your neck while you let it all out. “When?” you croak out, “When we were fifteen, I didn’t want you to become overseer…I didn’t want you to die..so I wondered if it was the computer that sent signals to kill whoever was sent in that chamber and wondered if I could stop it from killing you specifically; that's when I found out .” He answers swiftly and truthfully, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” You question, “I didn’t care, honestly, the only thing that matters is you…If everyone died in the process, it would be less work for me…I wanted it to be us from the beginning, anyway. I want you to need me as much as I need you…and now you finally do.”

You feel weak and sick to your stomach… All your peers would’ve ended up dead either way. “I want to leave.” he hums, not mocking you but in acknowledgment. “And do what? You don’t know how to defend yourself; you have no supplies prepared, barely any survival instincts, and you don’t even know any information on the surface above. You can leave, but you’ll die…I can’t let that happen, sorry.” Charles buries himself more into you.

“I hate you,” You whisper.

“That’s okay…all that matters is that you're here…with me and only me… I’ll keep you safe and sound.”

N: This was a long one, whew! I had to think about how I could make a Yandere fic with Fallout, and I had tons of concepts, but this one stood out the most. I hope my execution was good enough....Anyway, my next fic will most likely be a jealous fic about my Yandere lord, so stay tuned! Till then! see you soon my little guppies (´꒳`)♡ extra note: Throughout writing this, I thought "My Way of Life by Frank Sinatra" would fit Charli perfectly.

#fallout #let me cook #yandere oc #yandere drabble #yandere blog #yandere male x reader #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere thoughts #x reader #yandere concept #oc x reader #yandere x y/n

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oukabarsburgblr · 3 hours

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DAISUKE YUICHI ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

FEATURING : THE MOON ☾

Your neat, very polite and gentle best friend who's so in love with you and definitely wants to get together with you!

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ Stark black eyes, raven hair with a blue underhue from his dye in middle school with a beefy body. Rich, privileged and sheltered daddy's boy, his dad is the one who's clingy not him!

Dark secret : dislike your friends that are not in his circle and secretly masturbates about you

"𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈'𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬?"

- Daisuke Yuichi

#oc x male reader #oc x reader #oc #male oc #bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader

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i-loved-silly · 3 months

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yandere monster x darling who found them in the woods. Darling y/n who showed them a bit of kindness by not running away immediately and offering a bit of food from their bag. The creature looked thin but large in height and certainly not weak in any way.

You’ve heard legends about this monster. Legends that strictly stated that it killed anyone who crossed the woods and was the opposite of forgiving. But it didn’t try to hurt you so why not!

Oh and it would never hurt you. Not after you treated it so kindly. Surely it must mean you hold them so dearly in your heart, right? You’re not like the other village people

Yan!monster who didn’t realize it until hours after it last saw you. How stupid of them, you were gone already! They should have followed you back home, you would have welcomed them in right? You like them after all. And they like you.

They’ll spend the rest of their lives searching for that feeling again, for you specifically.

They know the woods like the back of their hand, they’ll search endlessly until they catch a bit of your scent. No matter how long it takes. It pays attention whenever it hears or smells another human, but it’s never you. And those humans never come out of the woods again. Come find them please, they yearn to hear your voice again and the softness of your expression. They don’t know what they’ll do if they don’t find you soon

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rxmye · 5 days

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" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . .

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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2kmps · 3 days

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BOUNTY

hot outlaw x engineer!reader | 2.8k

story summary; shortly following the death of your mother, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate offspring of a railroad tycoon with insurmountable wealth and power meant to inherit it all. after a hasty departure from home to begin your journey across the continent of san-am, your train is stopped and boarded by a mysterious man in black tatters who claims to be there kill you.

story warnings; mentions of death, mention of bodily fluids and excrement, heavy worldbuilding, mentions of conspiracy to murder, kidnapping, neo-western setting, old-west slang used, usage of unique slang, not really proofread or edited, concept piece for a much larger project.

if you enjoyed, please interact & reblog this post!! ❣️

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel.

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into.

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car.

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat.

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps.

And then, there was silence.

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather.

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins.

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim.

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded.

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.”

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders.

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others.

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?”

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut.

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead.

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said.

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them.

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: so, this is a concept piece to a very large neo-western project I'm currently in the process of outlining and fleshing out. most things mentioned in this little oneshot will not be present in the final piece, the quality will, of course, be substantially better.

jericho is an outlaw with an extremely complex background story and will definitely be one of the more interesting characters I've ever written. he's not necessarily the sort of man you want entangled in your life, but he's loyal to a fault once you have his trust. his personality tends to revolve around "taking things as they come", which is a great nuisance to those around him. he likes a good challenge, strong liquor, and good medicine.

here's a brief glossary if you're interested:

san-am: the continent where events take place. no one knows what it used to be called because most historical documents have been lost. it's divided into five territories with a "capital".

grimerise: the central hub of commerce, home of the governing bodies. it's a large city dead center of the other four territories. mc was born and raised there. the university of san-am is also here.

st. corpus: the industrial heart of san-am, found down south near the seaboard. mc's father lives there.

"gris": currency in this world. its components are coins and bank notes. it is a relatively new thing to come about because the bartering system is still the preferred method of trading.

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cookie-crumblr · 2 days

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Can I request fem reader catching bully Ezra fucking another girl?

So i honestly can’t picture Ezra actually cheating, cheating like i can def still see him doing shady quick business deals that involve sex though for sure since he’s a bit of a big cuck himselfXD

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

Status: Dating

CW: F!Reader, reader has a vagina, reader refereed to as she/her, scent kink, cumplay, cream pies, p in v, non con, cucking, bdsm, gag, restricted movement, cutting, blood, blood loss, oral on freader, pet names (slut,good little slut) asphyxiation, hospital setting,

You were hobbling back to your dorm from class, your legs still weak from last night. Now that you bunk with Ezra it’s rare he lets you go unscathed.

He likes seeing his cum dripping down your thighs whenever you leave. Just another mark that you’re his.

“Ahh~! Ezra!!”

“Smell her! Smell her fucking cunt! Shove them in your whore mouth!”

“Yes! Oka—mmf!”

“Taste her!”

*plap Slam! plap*

You hear grunting and muffled moaning gaining volume as you close in on your partially open door.

You see them first through the crack, Ezra shoving her face down into your pillow, his hand lost in her blonde curls.

His fiery eyes shoot up and find yours instantly and he keeps your gaze as he keeps pounding into her.

“Get in here.” He sounds angrier than usual.

You squeak and get in, slamming the door behind you.

There’s a man in Ezra’s bed his hand is on his cock.

“She should already be wet, go all out.”

You squeeze your slippery legs together. “No! Ezra!!”

You’re still calling his name after all this time?

You’re back against the wall, “Can I hurt her?” He asks hungrily, licking the top row of his teeth. His body boxing you in, you see how intensely he’s breathing.

“I said all out.” Ezra shrugs lazily fucking into the broad on your bed now.

“NO!!” Your scream is ear piercing and sharp even to you.

He drags her off of the bed and puts her between his legs on her knees. She seems happy to be thrown around. Ezra watches you intently now, using her throat as his cocksleeve.

“Now this’ll be better.”

“Please! You don’t have to do this! I-I-” You babble on and on until he stops you.

This guy doesn’t look like the type Ezra usually hangs with. He looks like a spoiled rich brat. Nice hair, nice skin and smile, he’s never had to do a day of work.

Your eyes widen, as you’re brought back with the sound of his belt snapping. “Ah!!” You squeal and cover your face, frightened.

He ties the thing around your wrists too tightly, and gets another leather belt from a nearby bag. The second he ties around your head the strap in your mouth and belted behind your head.

He throws you onto the floor, “Thing is, I want to do it,” The guy smiles sinisterly over you.

You cry and scream against the belt in your mouth and try to conceal your face with your bound hands.

He cuts off your clothes with a serrated knife, and then presses it to your thigh, before ripping it through your skin there.

You feel the hot liquid flood down your leg, it almost feels cold running over your skin! “!!!!” you’re screaming so hard against your bite.

“Woah,” he stands back mesmerized by the blood spilling. He excitedly, and nervously rushes to get his cock ready.

“You opened her vein, she’ll bleed out” He says almost bored.

“Exactly…” his pupils threaten to swallow you whole.

You scream so hard your vision is fuzzy and filling with thick black splotches.

He’s gonna let you die!!

“I said be rough. not fucking kill her the second you touch her! This wasn’t part of the deal, fucking psycho freak!”

The girl was torn from Ezra’s lap, and she drops your worn, soaked panties onto the bed, “Did you fuck this up for me?!” She points at the guy. She looks hazey and not all the way there.

You’re going cold so fast and your body shivers uncontrollably, until Ezra picks you up, and gets the bindings off of you and puts his jacket over you.

He throws you more carefully than usual into the back of his beamer, and races for the ER.

When you wake he’s on the chair watching you. He’s got a new bandaid on his cheek.

You don’t know why, but you reach for it and touch him there. As if he deserves any tenderness… But maybe giving him some, will make up for never getting any yourself somehow. Maybe you’ll feel it somehow.

But your hand drops weakly, he catches it and pulls you over to him.

“What are you-!” The machines beep all around you slightly faster for a minute until you’re sat in Ezra’s lap on the seat.

“We’ll break that hospital bed if we fuck in it.”

“Ezra…”

Your wetness seeps into his jeans beneath you.

Maybe it’s the residual dizziness and the drugs in you, but your body responds to him.

He grabs your ass through your scratchy gown and drags you harder over his bulge.

“You can take s’much can’t cha?” He grabs your thigh, almost rupturing the stitches. It doesn’t hurt that bad with the meds in you.

You nod your head. Yes. You take so much all for him. “huh?”

He pulls your face up by your chin to look him in the eyes, “What does my good slut want, hmmm~ How’s bought i treat you.”

You nod tentatively, eyebrows peaking into your forehead.

He grabs your arms gently and you still jump and tremble in his grasp. “Do you want my fingers, cock? mouth?” he asks while searching your fright filled eyes.

He picks you up and sets you back onto the bed, careful of all your cords and tubing.

His face comes to your legs and he spreads them, nuzzling himself between your thighs.

He pulls up your gown and pulls your panties down and off of you.

Before you know it or how to respond or act, he’s digging into you.

“Gods!” You breathe out in a high pitched tone.

“Fuck, slut,” His gruff voice rumbles into you.

His tongue runs wide up your slit before he comes up to suck on and play with your clit. He pulls away with a *pop* before going back at it, you catch a glimpse of his glistening pussy drunk face.

Your shaking hands grip his hair, and your legs tighten around him. His tongue dips into you before he adds a finger, and then another. His mouth swirls around your clit again as his finger curl and caress your spongey walls.

He pulls away again as your pressure slowly builds within. “This isn’t enough for my good little slut, is it?” He asks and you shake your head, no it’s not! “What do you want, my hand around your throat?”

You nod, he’s being so nice~

He can’t want to hurt you that badly, can he?

Oh, but he does.

His smile spreads wildly as he reaches up to your fragile neck, and squeezes. You see spots fast.

Immediately the pressure in your core builds like a fire with gasoline being pours onto it, his fingers curl and he pistons them into you. He brings his lips back to your clit and sucks and nips and tugs. He brings you to the brink of unconsciousness, and then on that ledge is when you topple over and cum all over his fingers, he laps you up and stuffs his coated fingers into his mouth.

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