You are a goddess with devoted female worshippers. You don't ask much from them but to serve you and your needs.
You who would domm them. Have one of them on their backs as you bind their hands from touch you. Biting and sucking them as your pussies rub together. Until you release but you don't let then cum until you think they deserve it.
You have them eat you out while you sit on your throne. Pushing their heads deeper into you as you climax.
Your pregnant worshippers, those you graced with your powers, you have them on your alter. Sucking their tits until milk releases. Fucking into them until their release flows down the alter.
You are their goddess and they will only serve you
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You are the Empress with a harem made for you of consorts.
Your new consort joined recently, so you had your consorts teach her the rules and traditions.
One which included being ready for the Empress.
You watch as a consort takes the new consort and spreads her wide from behind as another fingers her. You watch as another comes to rub her nipples and kiss her.
Your new consort gasping and arching into their mouths and hands. After she climaxes the consorts inserts a solid large jade stone into her. Your new consort moaning into them.
You turn to your consorts next to you, gesturing.
One falls to their knees head between your legs while another kisses you.
new chapter has some interesting turn of events and a little spice, enjoy! 🩵💙
shout out @sammimi19 and @theebladestar for proofreading ✨
Chapters: 1, 2, 3 TBA
cw: police corruption, masturbation
Leon already knows where he needs to be to take a sneak peek at what this Max fella looks like. Once the girl’s bail is paid, she will exit through the West door when her belongings are handed back to her, and the man will wait for her by the parking lot. All the officer has to do is discreetly stand between cars, pretending to be on a short break, and hopefully he can listen in without being caught.
Fifteen minutes later, Leon is doing exactly that as he leans against a tall SUV, barely peeking past it to see the door open with a loud buzz, and the young woman coming out. She's back in her oversized hoodie, her cracked screen phone in hand as she repeatedly taps it before grunting in frustration.
“Why the long face? I thought you’d be happy to get out of jail,” a man with a crew cut and skinny jeans comes into view. Like her, he’s also in a sweatshirt, and he has an ugly tattoo on his neck that peaks out from his collar.
So that must be Max… Looks like a loser by Leon’s standards.
The girl sighs, shoving the device in her pocket with pursed lips and an annoyed glare. “My battery’s dead.”
“We’ll go home and charge it, no need to get all pissy about it. Come on, you won't even give me a hug after I saved your ass?” Max opens his arms wide with a smirk.
For a reason he doesn't understand yet, Leon’s heart begins beating faster, waiting with a held breath to see the embrace he wishes he could stop out of sheer cringe. He doesn't know why. It simply makes him grate his teeth.
But then, he sees the young woman cross her arms with a scoff. “Yeah, no thanks.”
Good girl.
“What the hell? I just paid $500 to get you out!” the other man exclaims loudly before lowering his voice into a mocking whisper. “And you promised it would be worth my time.”
“Yeah, well, I lied.” She shrugs and begins walking away without a care, only for Max to snatch her arm in a tight grip.
Leon feels himself jerk in place, his body reacting protectively as he's about to intervene, but he doesn't need to when the young woman whips around with a scowl.
“We’re at a police station you fucking moron, I scream and they’ll jump your ass. The whole place is probably littered with cameras too.”
“You wouldn't dare—you have no place to stay. I know you're not going back to your sister’s either because she told you last time no more arrests.”
“What happens between me and my sister is non of your fucking business.” She wrenches her arm out of his grip, anger radiating off her. “And $500? That barely scratches the surface on all the money you took from me for your 'businesses.’ I meant it last time when I said I’m never getting back with you, but you were thinking with your dick when you came here because that's all you ever do. Well boohoo, asshole.”
Max looks furious, his fingers twitching like he’s about to reach for her again if not for the location he's found himself in. “Getting on your high horse when you were begging me to let you inside two months ago? You think you're the shit? How much do you wanna bet you’ll come crawling back to me in a week—and with your legs open… You’re so fucked in the head, no one wants you. Not even your own family.”
The girl’s expression falls for a split second, before it hardens again and she steps closer with a venomous hiss. “Go fuck yourself, Gibbons.”
With that, she turns on her heel, and walks away on stomping feet until she exits into the street without another glance. Leon’s heart is still pounding in his chest when he hears Max curse crudely.
“Yeah, yeah, go run to suck some dick for a joint, everyone knows that’s all you're worth!” he yells out behind her. When she ignores him, he huffs, kicking a loose pebble on the ground like a petulant child. “Crazy bitch.”
Leon feels a newfound anger bubbling inside him at the way the other insults the girl, and he decides to finally make his presence known once the young woman is gone. He walks out from behind the SUV, catching the tattooed man off guard, and he doesn't stop until he’s standing before him with tense shoulders and glacial eyes.
“Max Gibbons.”
The latter’s eyes widen for a moment, before a mean scowl settles on his face. “And how the hell do you know my name, Officer?”
“Comes up in the system when you pay someone’s bail. They asked for your ID, didn't they?”
“Okay, and why are you talking to me?” the man glares, his entire demeanor turning defensive. “I didn't do anything wrong.”
“I never said you did,” Leon retorts, crossing his arms in his blue uniform to make himself appear larger. “Although, your hands looked like they were itching when you were talking to that girl.” He gestures with his head towards the parking exit from where she disappeared.
The implication of his words are clear, and Max grows even more tense. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He grits his teeth. But then, a look of realization dawns on his face. “Wait… I know you.”
“You know me?” The blond frowns, eyeing the pointed finger in his direction as the dark haired man reminisces.
“Yeah, fuck— It's really you,” he breathes out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Uh, what was it again? Kennedy, right? Liam, or Leo or... Leon! Officer Leon Kennedy. Yeah, that's it.” He snaps his fingers in satisfaction.
Not again. Leon has never met this douchebag before, and it's starting to become really weird that people he doesn't know seem to recognize him. Either he’s developing Alzheimer’s, or he’s secretly famous without his knowledge.
“First her and now you? How the hell do you know me?”
Max grins wickedly, “Ah, looks like the crazy bitch did it, huh? Did she talk to you? She proposed yet?”
Leon nearly flinches at the insult, and even more so at the mention of a proposal. This is becoming weirder by the second. “What are you on about?”
“Ah, man, she must've lost her shit when she saw you!” The brunette claps his hands like he just heard the funniest of jokes. “But listen, you need to be careful, she's got more than a few screws loose. Especially when it comes to you.”
The policeman has officially had it, and he walks closer, his voice dropping to a low hiss. “Alright, buddy, enough of the cryptic shit. Tell me what you know, right now.”
Max raises his arms in surrender as he backs away, but his back bumps against the wall behind him. “Shit, dude, calm down. I’m not the one you should be worried about… Look, I’ve known her for a couple of years, and the entire time, all she ever does is talk about you.”
“What?”
“She says you saved her something? I don't fucking know, I never pay too much attention to the crazy shit that comes out of her mouth. It’s got better uses, if you know what I mean.”
Leon knows it's only by divine miracle that he hasn't punched the dickwad yet. He's lucky the blond is eager for more information, especially since he does not recall saving her. His mind is spinning.
“What else?” he grits his teeth.
“I mean, she has these pictures of you she keeps under her pillow, and she says you two will get married one day… You know, she would say all that while being my girlfriend, and then acted cuckoo when I got myself a side piece. Can you believe it?”
The officer feels his ears ring from hearing the extent of the girl’s seeming infatuation. This is a lot worse than inebriated sexual offers in a parking garage. “So… So she obsesses over me, has pictures of me, and no one thought to report it?”
“She's a lunatic, but she's not really dangerous,” Max shrugs in nonchalance. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows about her, uh, crush, but no one thinks she'll actually act on it. Every time the idea came up she would panic, saying she needed to ‘fix herself’ before meeting you. I don't even know what the fuck that means—there's nothing fixing a bitch with daddy and mommy issues. But at least it makes for a good fuck.”
“For Christ’s sake can you not speak a single sentence without mentioning your dick?” Leon snaps, then forces himself to inhale deeply to keep his cool. “Where are her parents in all of this? I heard you say something about her family not wanting her.”
The grin that spreads on the brunette’s face is made of pure, shit-eating smugness. “Oh, you were listening in, huh? Well, I don't know, officer, why don't you conduct a little investigation? I can be your informant... You know, for the right price.” He rubs his index and thumb together.
That's it.
Leon has had enough, and he suddenly steps closer until his breath fans on Max’s face, nearly growling in annoyance. “Listen here, you little shit. You’re gonna keep your mouth shut about this, and you’re staying the fuck away from her. And if I hear you got close to her again? I’ll make sure you regret ever calling her a ‘good fuck.’”
The man is completely taken aback by the harsh words and Leon understands why. Not only is he acting menacingly in the middle of the precinct parking lot, but the way he's obviously coming to the defense of the girl he barely knows implies she's more important to him than he cares to admit. He can't help it, however, because the protective instinct he feels for her has increasingly flared from every insult Max has thrown her way.
“Are you threatening me?” the latter scoffs, although there is clear nervousness in his eyes he’s unable to conceal.
Leon doesn't back away. Instead, he tilts his head slowly, a ghost of a smirk pulling at his lips.
“Wanna find out?”
Max remains silent apart from his uneven breathing, until he begrudgingly nods and pushes past the officer with a shove. The blond knows a man like that does not want to be in trouble with the law, and there isn't much he can do right next to a police station. He watches him walk away and get into his rundown car in hurried steps, and as he peels off into the road with screeching tires, Leon is hit with a realization. He just threatened a civilian. He just used his title for nefarious reasons. He just became a dirty cop.
That night, the policeman does not stall any longer. He needs to learn about the girl and get to the bottom of this, or else he won't sleep in peace again.
Obsession. Pictures. Some forgotten memory about saving her. It all makes his head spin and his anxiety soar. That douchebag did say she wasn't dangerous, but how can he be sure? If she approached him after supposedly stalking him from afar for a long time, what stops her from trying again?
Leon feels conflicted as he slides the door chain in place at his apartment. On one hand, there's a fear creeping inside him at the notion of being silently observed without his knowledge. But on the other, the odd protectiveness he feels for the young woman is still present, preoccupying his mind.
He doesn't dwell on his paradoxical emotions when he settles on his couch, his laptop on his lap. He sent himself earlier a copy of the girl’s records—something entirely illegal—without looking too much into them. But now that he’s alone, he plans on going through them thoroughly. He just hopes no one ever finds out about his new unethical streak.
As soon as the document opens, he’s met with a series of crimes—ten in total—committed over the last eight years. Petty infractions, ranging from evading bus fares to underage drinking. It seems she has led a troubled past, although he can indeed confirm none of her arrests were violent. The thought brings him relief, but then he reads added text at the bottom, next to her fingerprints.
‘Documented history of major depressive disorder with multiple psychiatric hospitalizations, including prior involuntary psychiatric holds for suicidal ideation. History of inconsistent treatment compliance.’
Leon feels tightening forming in his chest. He was right to assume she had mental health difficulties, but to read about it with his own eyes still worries him. He can only imagine what being repeatedly hospitalized at psychiatric institutions does to a young person. No wonder that shithead called her crazy… But no, Leon hates that—no one should be calling her that. Well, no one except him, at least.
He exhales through his nose as he scrolls the records. He quickly learns she changed addresses from Boston to D.C. in 2022—she lied about being new in town. For some reason, however, the thought makes him huff out a chuckle rather than grow mad.
“Bostonian, huh?” he mutters to no one but himself.
His family is originally from there, although they moved when he was too young to remember. He still visits occasionally to meet grandparents and cousins, but it's been a while with his demanding job. He begins to wonder if that is where they met and he doesn't remember.
Then, his eyes land on something that makes him intensely frown.
‘Collected by Child Protective Services on June 30th, 2019 after reported abuse inflicted by biological mother. Minor was then admitted into foster care for 3 years until reaching adulthood.’
Well that explains Max’s evil comment about her family. Leon knows she truly has no one if she had to rely on that asshole to pay her bail. He can't believe a girl like her would ever give that kind of guy a chance. She deserves better after going through so much.
The time ticking on his wrist makes him realize he has spent way too long reading her records over and over again, and he finally decides to turn off his computer and set it aside. He rubs his tired eyes, his hands dragging on his face before he slumps on the backrest of the couch, gazing up at the popcorn ceiling.
Questions continue to swirl in his mind no matter how much information he has learned. It’s like every new thing he learns about her only makes him more curious. He still wants to understand why she is fixated on him specifically, if the tattooed man’s words are true. But they must be. Why would he make up such an unnecessary lie? No, it makes sense. Her wild eyes when she saw him, the fact she knew his name, the way she kneeled, crawled, begged, it’s obvious she wants him bad.
And God, does the thought do things to him.
He lets out a low grunt when he feels a wave of heat swirl inside him. Fuck. He can't seriously be getting hard again at the thought of the woman he arrested. But Leon knows—he might be many things, but he’s not a liar, and he refuses to not admit to himself she affects him, even now that she's long gone from his sight.
“For fuck’s sake,” he whispers to himself, defeated, as he lowers the waistband of his pants and boxers at once.
The second his fingers wrap around his erection, he groans, closing his eyes with scrunched eyebrows as he recalls her pleas in the echoey parking garage. He begins to wonder if rejecting her offer was the right thing to do. He can only imagine what her pretty lips would have looked like wrapped around him. Or how the wet heat of her mouth would have felt along his veins. Plus, he’s certain she would have delivered on her promises to deepthroat like a good girl.
“Ngh… Fuck—” he whines to no one in his silent, one-bedroom apartment. But maybe there is someone. Maybe she is listening through the door, or watching through the window—damn it, that wouldn't work. He lives on the third floor.
Leon grunts when his mind doesn't cooperate with his unhinged thoughts, so he does something he already knows he will regret later. With a fist still pumping his leaking cock, he reaches with the other to open his laptop back up. His fingers shake as he scrolls through the document still showing on the screen, until he reaches the top where the girl’s mugshot sits under the heading.
There. Now he can let his imagination run wild while looking her in the eye. She looks so cute too. Holding the placard with her pretty name, the anxiousness obvious in her eyes, the matting apparent in her unwashed hair… Everything about the look of her from when he arrested her makes him moan, his hand moving faster and faster along his veiny length until he bursts. It might be his fastest one yet.
“Yeah—ngh—take it,” he grunts at the face on the screen when the first spurt of his cum splatters across the surface. “Good girl, fucking take it—”
Semen continues to stain his fingers and the pixelated image until he squeezes out the last drop with a shutter, his cock slowly softening in his grasp. Only then does he realize he just came on his laptop like a porn addicted teenager, and he scrambles for tissues to clean up the sticky mess.
He sighs in relief when he finds that none has seeped into the device’s crevices. That would be one hell of an incident to explain at the repair shop. What lie would he even come up with? It's embarrassing no matter how he thinks of it. Not only that, but it's also so unbelievably wrong.
Truly, this might be the most unethical thing he’s ever done. Actually, no. Threatening Max Gibbons was worse, but he’ll be damned if he didn't love every second of it. In fact, if he could, he would go back and make his threats a bit more explicit. Just to see the fear in the fucker’s eyes.
Leon sure hopes his warnings will take effect and that the man will leave the girl alone. Although, he knows that kind of pest doesn't give up, especially if he believes she cheated him out of those $500. The thought makes the blond anxious, hoping that the young woman, wherever she might be, is staying safe. He just wishes he could check on her to be sure.
Well, now that he has her address, hypothetically speaking, he could do just that… Not that he should. Although, as he stares at the crumpled tissues laying on his lap, he already knows. He would.
Next chapter coming soon.
not feeling my best about this chapter, with both the dialogue and the picture edit, but hey i tried 💀
Eva's wet tearful eyes blink up at you almost defiantly. Sometimes he gets like this, like his spirit hasn't been broken and he has a new wind to try to fight you. It's cute the tenacity of the human spirit, how even through the constant harassment and pain he still manages to get some sort of defiance. If he really let himself completely crumble so easily then maybe you wouldn't enjoy this so much. You can see in those shimmering pink eyes of his that he thinks you'll face justice one day, as if someone of your tax bracket could. He's so young and naive.
You crack your whip harsh against his back, leaving a beautiful red welt across his pale skin. Underneath it lies scar tissue from previous sessions but his body still makes such pretty reactions like his skin is blushing from the pain. Another one. Another. More until there's red trickling down his back and he's openly sobbing. You walk around to see his head fallen as tears splash against the ground.
You pick up his chin and force him to look you in the eyes. Your smile is so soft, it would be comforting if it wasn't so mocking to his situation.
"Pretty bird." You coo at him like a lover.
His brows furrow and he glares at you through the tears still streaming down his cheeks. You can't help but get turned on by his pathetic attempts at defiance. You always plan something for him, every day, but when he looks at you like this you feel like you have to go until it breaks. Even if you were going to stop here you can't now. Now you have to make sure his stupid mind breaks into the fear you've earned.
You undo his shackles and force him to his feet. You know what breaks him the worst.
"You're going to perform for me pretty bird." Your sweet words are laced like a threat.
How defiant can he be when you're forcing him to rape himself?
How do you think Jason would be with an insane darling? 👀
I'm assuming this is in reference to Body Count, but if you're wanting a yandere reader with Jason, I do have a very supernatural/horror coded fic here with him.
Warnings: yandere, murder, corpse disposal, gore (not detailed), infidelity, straitjacket use, non-con implications, mdni
However, I think Jason is more likely to attract an insane yandere than he is to be attracted to an insane darling.
For instance, imagine him coming home to find the dead body of some girl he had been seeing on the side. He'd probably just sigh and look at you with exhaustion from dealing with a busy night and your obsession that can never be sated, wondering how the hell his life had come to this, before pointing toward the bucket of bleach in the kitchen.
Then he'd bark that you'd better start cleaning if you still wanted to sleep in the same bed as him.
He's disgusted with you, after all. Severely disappointed, too.
But you really are the only person who loves him so undyingly.
Don't get me wrong, I do think Yan! Jason pairs nicely with a more aggressive darling. Someone who behaves like a cornered cat, all claws and desperate attempts to bite the hand reaching for them. But he isn't going to coddle you when you suddenly become murderous.
He'll make you clean up the body yourself. Stand over your shoulder, showing you where to cut and how to keep the blood from staining the cheap landlord paint special on the walls, all while making it painfully clear how revolting he finds you.
Dick and Clark (putting him in this category), on the other hand, would use your murderous tendencies as an excuse to control you.
They'd keep you so much closer, claiming that the law can't catch you as long as you stay with them. You need them now. Your hands are already so bloodied and tainted that they're the only people capable of loving you for what you truly are.
Even when you threaten to scratch their eyes out after they return from disposing of the body, they remain endlessly patient.
They're both so accustomed to being kind that loving a feral animal like yourself comes naturally. Even when they have to strap you in a straitjacket just to get a nice fuck in.
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Don't leave me (Dead!Best Friend x Yandere!Reader)
Could be platonic or romantic CW: death, suicide
I am very drunk, so this is not proofread.
His room was clutered ceiling to floor with memories. (Reader) was instantly overwhelmed by the clutter. Throughout the funeral they had been numb; drifting through the memorial service like they were stuck in a fever dream. Any moment their sickness would finally lift, and they would finally be allowed to wake up.. but that moment never came. Through the suits, and condolences, and dinner inside a childhood home, and now in Jackson's bedroom, where he lived after he dropped out of college.
It was all plastic and fake. Nothing was truly real; until (Reader) was alone in his room.
It still smelled like his body spray and sweat.
The walls were covered in posters for shitty horror movies and 90's action video games.
There were stacks and stacks of retro magazines and VHS tapes, all of various quality and condition.
His sheets were, oddly, just navy blue.
(Reader) waited for the door to close behind them before they finally broke down, tears streaming silently down their cheeks in a way that hurt their chest more than if they could have allowed themselves to scream.
The two inseparable childhood friends hadn't spoken in nearly two years.
And now, they would never speak again.
There wasn't a fight, or an argument. They just.. lost contact. Life got in the way.
Communication is a two way street, and while Jackson could have reached out at any time, the only one who could shoulder the guilt was (Reader), regretting they hadn't reached out sooner.
But what could they do?
Aside from regret-
They looked at the old CRT, and found a stack of hand labeled tapes next to the television.
Plopping the first into the player, (Reader) was greeted by the sight of their friend, not cold with an off colored blush applied to perfectly still cheeks, but instead wide eyed and warm. He was filming himself in his room, pretending he was a tv host, critiquing a three decade old horror movie. It was poorly acted, and sounded terrible as he clearly used the microphone on the camcorder. But it was passionate, and Jackson seemed to truly the movie he was cheesily speaking of.
They watched the entire video transfixed. Their tears became heavier.
"My name has been Jackson, and I'll see you in the next video!" He smiled and gave a double finger gun, then the screen went black, and the tape made a pop.
(Reader) flinched, broken from their spell. It took almost a full minute for them to pull the tape from the VHS player, placing it back on the stack, and gently pushing in the next video.
"Jackson here! And today we're going to talk about The Stuff!"
Video after video, for four hours, (Reader) watched Jackson excitedly talk about horror movies alone in his childhood bedroom.
(Reader) laughed loudly in the silence of the empty room in response of every joke Jackson made, still dripping tears down their chin and soaking their suit.
Their hand fell oddly, expecting to hit a larger stack of tapes, but finding only one left after hours of watching. A sinking feeling tore a hole through the bottom of their heart at the realization that the memory lane was coming to an end.
The last home video was pressed into the television.
Jackson was center stage, taking up the entire screen, silently smiling at the camera. There was a sadness behind his smile, like he was waiting to say something, but he just continued staring, breathing softly.
(Reader) leaned in towards the screen, feeling the fuzz buzzing against their nose. Their friend wasn't moving.
"Why did you leave us?" (Reader) whispered.
They knew no one could hear them. They knew asking the question they had deep inside their heart aloud would only make them cry. But they spoke, above the CRT hum, to no one, to Jackson, to allow themselves to cry even harder.
"I'm sorry."
Their eyes turned up to meet Jackson's.
And it looked like he was looking into their's as well.
"I'm so sorry." He repeated.
(Reader) wished so badly that he was speaking to them, that this was real, that it wasn't the opening to a suicide video note. They responded as if he was right there, a ghost.
"I'm sorry I never called. I thought-" they sniffed hard as they began to sob disgustingly, "I thought I had time. I kept meaning to text you. But I kept getting busy.. but I thought.."
Jackson interrupted his friend's self loathing. "It wasn't your fault."
A pause. A second. A moment to process their reality. Their muscles tensed, in the time it took for a humming bird to breathe, they relaxed, eager, hungry. The desperation to see Jackson again was stronger than any fear or logical reason. Why question seeing a ghost, if that ghost is your best friend?
"Why did you leave?" They repeated, gripping the sides of the tv with both hands.
Jackson sighed, blinking slowly. "It was.. too much. Life. I'm sorry. I was just.." another sigh, dropping his head into his hands to rub his eyes with his palms roughly. ".. tired."
A soft bonk followed his confession as (Reader) conked their forehead against the screen.
Quiet humming filled the space between the two.
"I watched all yours videos." (Reader) smiled weakly.
"Ugh." Jackson sounded embarrassed. "I wish you hadn't."
"Why? I learned so much about Killer Tomatoes!"
Soft chuckling was shared between the two.
Although the conversation started awkward and depressing, it quickly evolved into vibrant laughter, joking as though the two had never been apart, and one of the friends hasn't been buried a few hours earlier.
Then, after two hours, the video buzzed to an end, and the screen turned black.
And (Reader) was plunged into the aching, painful depths once again.
"No.." They breathlessly gasped, frozen by the blue screen as the tape auto ejected. They pushed it back in, pressing rewind, while unable to think properly over the ringing in their ears.
The tape screamed as it spun back, before popping, and playing.
Jackson appeared on the screen, centered like before, smiling mournfully.
"Jackson?" They called out to him, hopefully, and painfully.
"Yeah?"
Relief was a blanket that was thrown over the fire that was their anxiety. He was still there. And he was still conscious.
(Reader) slumped as they realized they hadn't lost Jackson again. "I'm sorry, Jay."
"(Reader)."
"Yeah?"
"You know you'll have to eventually let me go, right?"
The calm that had soothed (Reader) only a moment prior now chilled them to their core. A deep, still, icy stillness.
"What?"
"(Reader), I'm not really here. You know that, right?"
They shook away his words; knocking them out of their ears. "Why, why, why are you saying that?"
"I-"
"Are you mad at me?" Their face twisted, confused, hurt, broken.
"No, I'm not!" Jackson cried out, panicking. "But I'm dead, (Reader). You can't stay in my room forever!"
Any logic or reason behind his words were purposely lost on (Reader). "I'm not ready to say goodbye.."
"(Reader)-"
"Just a little while longer?" Tears stuck in their bottom lashes.
Quiet.
Humming.
"I missed you too."
(Reader) smiled joylessly, and brushed their fingers against the side of the tv set.
Whenever the conversation began to die down, (Reader) would find a new topic to keep the two friends talking.
And after another two hours, just like the first time they discovered Jackson's tape, it ended abruptly, turning black, then blue.
They didn't even consider his feelings as they pushed the tape back in, and pressed rewind once again.
Tired eyes met their's.
"(Reader), please. I need to sleep." He pleaded.
Although they smiled kindly, they lied easily through their cracked lips as they begged, "Just once more."
It didn't matter how many times they had to push rewind, or lie and say 'This is the last time'; as long as they could have Jackson back with them again.
They had years of lost time to make up with him, and another fifty years before it was their time to be with him again.
It was okay if he looked a little tired.
Even if his body was six feet under the earth, at least his soul was safe in his bedroom with them.
Imagine a girl who was raised to be completely helpless and dependent. Her father kept her sheltered from the entire world, making sure she couldn't lift a finger without his help or make her own decisions for herself. She was his perfect little princess who depended on him for every single thing.
Imagine a girl being groomed from childhood by her own pervy father to be nothing more than his personal sex doll. He spent years training her body, teaching her exactly how to wrap her lips around an adult cock to get the perfect suction, how to swallow every drop of his warm cum without gagging, and how to use toys to stretch her tiny pussy and ass until they were wide enough to take his full size without breaking.
Imagine a girl growing up in a house where being used as a fuck toy is normal like a household chore. To her, being an obedient daughter meant staying ready for him at all times letting her daddy slide his large, adult cock into her tight cunt whenever he felt stressed, and believing that pleasing him with her body was the only way to show she truly loved him.
Imagine a girl becoming physically addicted to the feeling of him inside her. Her body developed a hunger that only he could satisfy. She constantly craves the stretch of his thick cock in her throat and the way her pussy throbs when he fucks her hard, where her mind becomes completely wired to worship his cock and beg for more.
Imagine a girl falling into a deep, psychotic love with her own father. In her twisted mind, he is the only man on earth who truly understands what her body needs. She sees him as her her owner, believing that because he raised her, he has the sole right to fuck her, claim her, and control every inch of her pleasure.
Imagine a girl becoming a full blown yandere for him. Her love turns into a dangerous obsession. She becomes territorial, stealing his clothes and dirty underwear to sleep with the scent of his cum, clinging to his side like a parasite, and shooting venomous, murderous glares at any woman who dares to even glance at him.
Imagine a yandere!girl losing her mind when she notices her father starting to pull away. When he becomes distant, busy, and stops touching her, she feels like her entire world is collapsing. The lack of his cock inside her makes her feel empty and abandoned, driving her to the brink of madness.
Imagine a yandere!girl going completely feral with jealousy when she discovers he brought an older, experienced woman into their home. Watching this bitch try to act like her "mother" makes her blood boil. She watches them from the shadows, imagining tearing that woman apart for daring to take the attention that belongs only to her.
Imagine a yandere!girl crafting a vicious plan to ruin that woman's life and force her to leave. She does everything in her power to destroy the woman's reputation and break their bond, driven by a desperate need to reclaim her place as the only woman in his life.
Imagine a yandere!girl executing her plan to eliminate the rival, but everything goes horribly wrong. In a moment of pure violence and chaos, her plan backfires terribly, leaving her standing alone over the bloodied corpses of both the woman and her own father.
Imagine a yandere!girl completely shattered and hollowed out by grief. Her eyes were blank dead, and her mind becomes a prison where she constantly replays the moment of his death. The guilt and the loss of her only source of pleasure drive her to the very edge of taking her own life.
Imagine a yandere!girl walking through life like a ghost, pretending to be okay while her friends and relatives try to comfort her. But their words meant nothing. She feels completely numb, her heart was a black hole where her obsession used to live.
Imagine a yandere!girl finding a twisted escape through the internet. She starts a Tumblr girlblog where she pours out all her darkest, filthiest desires. She writes about her obsessive need for a daddy, her sexual frustrations, and how badly she needs someone to claim her body and fuck her senseless.
Imagine a yandere!girl attracting a massive following of men who see her vulnerability as an invitation. These men act like the daddy figures she craves, feeding her constant attention and engaging in the kind of dirty talk that makes her pussy wet and her mind spiral.
Imagine a yandere!girl starting intense, graphic sexual relationships with these online strangers. She craves their simulated love and attention, while they focus entirely on her young, desperate body, using her for their own twisted fantasies while she believes it's real.
Imagine a yandere!girl feeling a temporary sense of happiness, using these online connections to fill the gaping hole in her heart, convincing herself that she has finally found the connection she lost.
Imagine a yandere!girl finally meeting her favorite online "Daddy" in person. She invites him to her house for a private encounter, but instead of the romance she imagined, he brutally and relentlessly rapes her. Yet, even as he fucks her roughly and takes what he wants, she finds a sick, twisted comfort in the pain because it feels exactly like her father used to fuck her.
Imagine a yandere!girl snapping when the stranger tries to leave after he's done using her. In a burst of manic rage, she knocks him unconscious and drags his body down to her basement. A cute smile spreads across her face as she realizes she has finally found a new daddy she can keep forever.
Imagine a yandere!girl descending into a state of pure manic delusion. She becomes his caretaker and his captor, fucking him repeatedly while she drugs him with custom chemical drugs she's invented. She keeps him in a constant state of sleepy helplessness, ensuring he can never run away from her touch again.
Imagine a yandere!girl breaking when her new toy tries to escape, hurting her in the process. Her obsession turns into murderous rage, as she hunts him down, killing him in a desperate attempt to stop him from leaving her.
Imagine a yandere!girl standing over another corpse, feeling completely hollow and empty. The cycle has repeated, and now she has to clean up the mess and hide the body, just like she did before.
Imagine a yandere!girl going straight back to Tumblr, scrolling through endless profiles in search of the next replacement. She chats with more men, searching for that perfect daddy figure who will love her, fuck her exactly like her original daddy did, and most importantly never, ever leave her side again.
Imagine a yandere!girl trapped in this endless, bloody, and sexual cycle, forever hunting for the next man to claim as her own <3
