#implied yandere reader

[mydearestbeloved]

#?.5 [Chapter Concept]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

Placeholder Title: "The You I Love"

Content Warnings: Yandere, might be OOC, and severely UNEDITED

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT to my "Trial Player"-AU

*This is a rough summary of multiple drafts, definitely future subject to change whenever Trial Player AU will get to this point. Since this is still just a draft, this is not as detailed as the finished product would've been, especially in relevance to the main story. This is supposed to be Trial Player AU's Side-stories/Sequel Materials, some things to come after the main story. Thus, many major information are also omitted in this draft to avoid spoilers.

Thank you, @julietunknown, for sending your ask that motivated me to share this. 💕

Take this with a grain of salt, or like a free sample of a future dish—as a friend of mine put it. 😉

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

——oOo——

Draft 1.2_PART I: You and ‘Him’

The first thing you noticed was the way he looked at you when he woke up.

Your husband—or at least, the man who share the same looks—gazed at you with a strange, distant sort of curiosity. Your husband wasn’t one for subtlety when it came to his affection; this detached look didn’t fit.

It was in the way his gaze lingered on details he should have already memorized—the lines of your face, the small band on your finger, the photographs on the wall of the children and you together. It wasn’t his usual silent reverence. This time, it was as if he was seeing them all for the first time.

But you kept quiet, watching him. Hours passed. He tried to keep his responses vague, carefully navigating every word like he didn’t quite know his own story here.

Finally, that evening, after putting the children to bed, you cornered him. "You’re not… my Jinwoo, are you?"

He froze. His expression gave him away—confusion, then surprise, and then a flicker of guardedness. Slowly, he shook his head. “You’re… perceptive.” He paused, lowering his gaze, almost apologetically.

“What gave it away?”

“Oh,” you replied, almost chuckling, “I have my ways.” You leaned against the doorframe, watching his guarded movements, noting how he braced himself for battle despite standing in a place that should have felt like home. “Let’s just say… I know my husband.”

The guarded look in his eyes faltered for just a moment before returning, his expression unreadable.

“I… am Sung Jinwoo. But maybe… not your Sung Jinwoo.”

It was a confirmation you had braced yourself for, and yet it still brought a pang to your chest. You knew this was not your Jinwoo, and, if you had to guess, this was likely the Sung Jinwoo. The original one, from the story you’d read back in your world, the Jinwoo who knew nothing of you or this life.

“I’m guessing,” you said after a pause, “that you’re looking for a way back.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together as he seemed to weigh his options. Finally, he nodded, his shoulders relaxing just enough to suggest a sliver of trust.

Despite his efforts to remain aloof, you could sense a hint of unease beneath his calm exterior. In this moment, he reminded you of the man he was in the original story—the man burdened by impossible decisions, the lone soldier on a battlefield against insurmountable odds. It stirred something in you, something you had buried away for the Jinwoo you had fallen in love with, but that now resurfaced for this alternate version.

You exhaled, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. “Alright,” you said after a beat. “Here’s the deal. You can stay until we figure this out. Of course, we’re sleeping separately.”

“But… please, don’t tell the kids.”

His brow arched, clearly surprised by your offer. “You’re letting a stranger stay?”

“Stranger?” You let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, you’re not a stranger. Not really.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned in my life, it’s that normal doesn’t apply when it comes to us you.”

You gave him a small smile. “You’ll adjust. Until we fix this, you’re welcome here.”

His silence lingered longer than you expected. You caught the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he watched you, but you didn’t offer any further explanation.

——oOo——

It took days for the tension to ease, though Jinwoo—the original Jinwoo, as you’d begun to think of him—kept his distance. He explored the house cautiously, explored the world that mirrored his own but held their differences.

One difference was the children.

Your firstborn—a boy with his father’s hair and eye color—was an exact replica of his own son, thus clearly showing Hae-in’s features as well. The resemblance was uncanny, and Jinwoo almost thought that you were not this Suho’s biological mother, that was until he met the Cha Hae-in of this world.

He felt guilty, but you laughed it off, and Jinwoo found himself silently wondering if it was, in some strange cosmic way, certain things were just meant to be.

Hae-in visited more than once; she seemed closer to you than she was to him. Not that she didn’t treat him well, in fact, she treated him with an unfamiliar mix of rivalry and the closest of friends. And she was more… energetic than he remembered.

“You didn’t give (Name) a hard time while I was away, right?” She unceremoniously jabbed him on the side, grinning.

“Guess who’s back? ~”

“Auntie!”

“How’s my favorite nephew? Oh, don’t think I forgot my favorite niece as well!”

“Auntie, we’re your only niece and nephew!”

Then there was your second child—a daughter who looked exactly like him.

The first time she approached him; it was with the kind of confidence only a child could muster. She tugged at his sleeve, her small hand clutching the fabric tightly. “You’re not Papa, are you?”

Jinwoo froze, his mind racing as he tried to formulate a response.

But the girl simply smiled, her expression full of innocence. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soft and sleepy. “Mama said Papa is special. You’re just... different special.”

Before he could respond, she climbed onto the couch beside him, curling up against his side like a cat, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Will you tell me a story?” she asked, her voice soft and hopeful.

Jinwoo hesitated. He didn’t know what kind of stories your Jinwoo told her, but the earnest look in her eyes made it impossible to refuse. And before he realized it, he was recounting tales from his own life, stories of battles fought and won, of courage and sacrifice.

She listened intently, her head resting against his arm, her small hand gripping his sleeve as if anchoring herself to him.

“Goodnight, not-Papa,” she murmured as sleep claimed her, her breath even and calm.

Jinwoo stared at her for a long moment.

——oOo——

One evening, as you prepared dinner, you caught him lingering near the kitchen door, watching you in silence. His eyes softened for just a moment before he realized you’d noticed, his expression quickly reverting to one of guarded indifference.

“Care to join us?” you offered, gesturing to the table where your children sat, eagerly waiting for their meal.

Jinwoo looked away, trying to muster a polite refusal, “I—thank you, but I shouldn’t.”

You looked at him, a gentle smile on your lips. “You know… you don’t have to be a stranger.”

And that’s how Jinwoo found himself reluctantly seated at your dinner table, your children talking to him as though he’d always been there. He knew, deep down, that he was a mere placeholder, a temporary stand-in for your real husband, but somehow, the warmth of this little family, the glances you gave him that were so full of kindness and understanding, chipped away at his defenses.

The meal was simple but hearty, the kind of food that spoke of a life filled with love and effort.

——oOo——

One afternoon, as the day waned into soft evening light, you proposed something he didn’t expect.

“Jinwoo,” you said, stretching out your hand with a slight smirk, “Fight me.”

He looked at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Fight you?”

“You heard me.” Flexing your hands as you stretched.

He was silent for a moment, before an amused smirk broke his usually serious expression. He couldn’t resist the spark of curiosity, taking off his jacket and rolling his shoulders. “You think you can keep up?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “I think you’ll be in for a surprise.”

Jinwoo expected to have to hold back, but instead, he found himself pushed to his limits. The last time—yeah, it was with Antares, but that was a live or die battle. This, however, was… exhilarating in a different way.

Your strength and speed almost a match for his own, but your endurance was the most superb. You were remarkably resilient, you were pushing him, truly challenging him. Each clash of your fists, each dodge, every calculated strike—it was like he’d found his equal, a rival who understood him on a level no one else did. In the end, his dagger was a hair’s breadth away from grazing your throat while the glowing tip of your scepter was aimed to the back of his neck should you will it to shot in a moment’s breath.

“Well,” you both were breathing hard. “Do you feel better?”

What?

As the days rolled on, he moved a bit more comfortably, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. But there was still a storm in his mind, and he spent his days pouring over books and papers, searching for a way to return home.

He was… restless

Don’t tell me she—

“Good,” Your grinned bright. “You needed that.”

——oOo——

“How… do you know me so well?”

That night, as you helped accelerate his healing factor (which too him by surprised too) on the faint bruises from your fight, he finally asked you what had been on his mind since his arrival.

“Who are you, really?”

There was a hesitation, the flicker of an emotion in your eyes. But then you nodded, as if deciding it was time to tell him the truth.

“I suppose you deserve to know,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “I wasn’t originally from this world. I was just an ordinary person who read about you, who watched your story unfold like a tale in a book. You… your world, it was fiction to me. But one day, I found myself here, thrown into your life as the ‘Trial Player.’”

His eyes widened slightly, an edge of disbelief in his gaze, but he said nothing, listening intently.

You explained the special circumstances of your existence, from the start to the end—everything.

{Many information here have been cut off to avoid spoiling the main story. My apologies, dear Readers, you’ll just have to wait and see.}

You gave a rueful smile. “Funny how life turns out, isn’t it?”

“I came to know him, to trust him, and to… fall in love with him.” You finished; your gaze softened with memories of the man you loved.

“I choose him.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you as he processed the enormity of what you’d just revealed. He didn’t know what to make of it, of you—this woman who seemed to know every part of him yet belonged to another life.

The only her there is, huh?

“You asked me why I treat you like this? Even though you’re not him?”

“It’s simple really, almost silly.”

“I have always loved you… as the hero I first met on the pages. That’s a fact that won’t change, for any version of you.”

A forbidden thought crossed his mind as he watched you in the firelight later that evening, tucking the children into bed with a gentle smile and warmth that seeped through the home.

“But my heart belongs to the one I came to know here.”

What would it have been like to have you by his side instead?

He pushed those thoughts aside, he had his own life, his own family to return to.

——oOo——

Draft 1.2_PART II: What Was Supposed to Be

When Jinwoo opened his eyes, he immediately sensed something was off. The air felt different—thinner, quieter, lacking the subtle warmth that had always reminded him of you. And then he looked over, expecting to see the familiar curve of your form beside him, only to freeze as his gaze landed on another woman lying there, her face serene in sleep.

Cha Hae-In.

Jinwoo sat up abruptly, his heart pounding as he tried to process the sight. This can’t be right. He closed his eyes and opened them again, half-expecting to wake up beside you, his wife, his partner… but there she was, Cha Hae-In, lying next to him, the soft morning light casting a gentle glow over her familiar face.

In a controlled but shaky breath, he forced himself to get up, slipping out of bed to avoid waking her. Every step felt surreal as he moved through the house, his mind whirling with questions. A few framed photos on the wall caught his attention, and he stopped in front of them, his blood running cold as he scanned the pictures. There was him, standing beside Cha Hae-In, and… a small child, his hair dark, his eyes bright with a familiarity that twisted the dagger deeper.

His son, Suho.

But where was Aera?

Where were you?

——oOo——

Days passed in an agonizing blur. Jinwoo tried to act like the original version of himself, the one who had married Cha Hae-In, but it was like walking through a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. Every time he saw her, every time Suho’s voice called him “Dad,” it felt like an echo from a story he’d once known. His heart pounded with a raw, aching desperation as he searched for you—your face, your touch, any sign that you’d ever existed here. But no matter where he looked, there was only emptiness, the quiet certainty you were nowhere to be found.

The realization tore at him, dragging him back to a memory he’d thought he’d buried. He remembered the day he had finally uncovered the truth about your origins, learned the truth of your existence as the ‘Trial player’—the day he learned that you were an anomaly—

{The following information have been redacted to avoid spoilers.}

—The knowledge that if you chose to, you could leave him, vanish from his life, and he would be helpless to stop it. He remembered the days that followed, how he had nearly unraveled, feeling as powerless as he had in his weakest days, before the power, before the trials. He had to live with the knowledge that at any moment, you could decide to walk away, to return to wherever you had come from. But you had stayed, chosen him, anchored yourself in his world. And he had never taken it for granted since.

But this—this was worse. In this world, you didn’t exist. You had never been his to begin with.

Every day, that fear twisted deeper into his soul, pulling him into a dark, spiraling despair. Searching for answers that didn’t exist, he would return to Cha Hae-In’s side each night, his body going through the motions, but his heart felt like it was being strangled.

One night, as he lay in bed, the panic finally overtook him.

I have to get back to her. The thought repeated in his mind like a mantra. “Where… where is she?” he whispered, choking on the words, a sob escaping his lips as he buried his face in his hands. He could barely breathe, the space around him closing in as his heart thudded in his chest, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. He was shaking, his fists clenching as the reality sank in further. Where is my wife?

[ERROR: Your wife < Cha Hae-in > is right beside you.]

(Name). He repeated. (Name). (Name).(Name)(Name—

[ERROR: No matches found for < (Name) >. Do you want to look for something else?]

No. No. He clutched his head, the world blurring around him as he felt himself unraveling. The life he’d known, the home you’d built together, your children, your touch—all of it felt like it was slipping away, becoming some half-forgotten dream.

——oOo——

Jinwoo awoke with a sharp gasp, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as he clutched the sheets. For a moment, he was still caught between the nightmare and reality, his mind reeling, his heart still gripped in panic. But then he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, the warmth of a touch that soothed him like nothing else could.

“Jinwoo…?” Your voice was soft, concerned, as you looked down at him, a frown creasing your brow. “Are you okay? You’re burning up.”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he took you in, alive and real, right here. He could barely register anything beyond the sheer relief of having you beside him, the way your hand gently cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin.

“I… I thought you were…” His voice broke, and you hushed him gently, pulling him into your arms as he clung to you like a lifeline, burying his face in your shoulder as his body shook with silent sobs.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice a balm against the ache in his heart. “I’m right here, Jinwoo.”

Above him, a faint message flashed in the corner of his vision:

{Error resolved; welcome back ‘Trial Player’s Sung Jinwoo, we apologize for the delay.}

But Jinwoo barely registered it, couldn’t care, because the only thing that mattered was the feeling of you, solid and warm in his arms.

——oOo——

Jinwoo had always been possessive of you, but this nightmare—this terrifying glimpse into a world where you didn’t exist—had perhaps, pushed him to the edge even further.

Over the next few days, Jinwoo’s attentiveness to you took on an edge, his glances lingering a little too long, his touch a little too possessive, as if he couldn’t bear to let you out of his sight. You’d catch him watching you with an intensity that made you shiver, his eyes dark, haunted, yet filled with a fierce protectiveness that bordered on obsession.

As for you, you kept silent about the other Jinwoo—the original Sung Jinwoo who had stayed in your home, the man you had come to befriend in the short while he had been here. Your Jinwoo didn’t need to know now. You weren’t sure how he’d react, and truthfully, it felt like a wound you had no desire to reopen. You wanted to hold on to the peace you’d found with him, to continue loving your Jinwoo, even if his grip on you felt a little tighter than before.

Once, you had looked at him through the detached lens of an observer. Back then, you had loved him, but it was the way a reader loves a character, a hero that existed in a world apart from yours. He was someone who deserved happiness, someone who, in your mind, belonged with Cha Hae-In. She was the light he’d found after a life of shadows, a gentle presence to soothe his broken heart.

For a long time, you’d believed he’d be happier with her, the one he was destined to be with. You’d accepted the idea that if he ever chose her, if he ever drifted away from you, you would step aside willingly, content with the knowledge that he was happy. You had even been prepared to disappear if it meant he would have the ending he deserved.

But that was then. Over time, the lines between fiction and reality had blurred, and you’d come to love him as a person, not just as the character who’d once graced the pages of a story. You had chosen him, and he had chosen you—your futures intertwined in ways you’d never imagined possible. Now, there was no turning back, no “right” ending for him that didn’t include you by his side.

And you knew, in your heart, that if he ever fell—if the world ever turned against him—you would fall with him.

——oOo——

One evening, as you were preparing dinner, Jinwoo entered the kitchen, his gaze tracking you with that same instantly. You smiled, stirring the pot as he came up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

“Jinwoo,” you murmured, laughing softly as he rested his head against your shoulder, his hair ticking your neck.

“Don’t… don’t ever leave me,” he whispered again, and there was a rawness in his voice that made your chest tighten.

You turned in his arms, looking up at him, your eyes meeting his as you reached up to brush your fingers along his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, your voice soft and steady. “You’re stuck with me, remember?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes still held that desperate edge. “I mean it,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t—won’t—lose you.”

You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You won’t,” you promised.

Somewhere, the original Sung Jinwoo had found his light in Cha Hae-In, a gentle love to soothe his heart. But you… you were something different, a reflection of the man beside you, as fierce and unstable as the shadows that bound him. You weren’t a light that would pull him back from the darkness.

No, you were the one who would fall with him, hand in hand, if that was what it took. And as Jinwoo held you, his love for you all-consuming as yours was to him, you knew that you would never walk away from him—not now, not ever.

——oOo——

Draft ???_PART III: You and ‘Me’

“Just once… one more. A single chance, to meet you again.” –OG(?)!Jinwoo

——oOo——

Draft ???_PART IV: A Farewell Without Goodbye

“Do you really think… I can find that same peace, that same happiness, without… you?”

“You already have it. You had it long before I ever appeared. Don’t throw it all away. Please.”

“You… you want this…do you really want me to—”

“Yes.” It’s what you need.

Live a life untouched by my existence, free of this… obsession. I don’t want you to end up like my Jinwoo, someone who would break if I ever left.

Let this be the end of it.

“…Then do it. Take the memories (of you) away. Before I change my mind.” –OG!Jinwoo

Thank you… for everything.

“Welcome back,” Jinwoo’s voice greeted you, his eyes lighting up as he crossed the room to pull you into his arms. The weight of his embrace, the steadiness of his presence—it was everything you needed, everything you had fought to preserve.

“Did everything go okay?” he peppered your face with sweet little kisses, making you giggle.

You offered a gentle smile, nodding as you leaned into him, letting he soothe all of you. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice steady.

As long as you’re here, with me.

End Note:

It's bittersweet, I know. 🥹

When I said I'm not going to throw Cha Hae-in under the bus, I mean it, I'm really going to try not throwing her under the bus. I hope I'll do that well enough at least, considering what role I planned for her in Trial Player AU. 🫣

This is already a 3k+ worth of words. Damn.

Apparently, it's my definition of a summary, or rather, how bad I am at making one 'cause I put too much importance on details. It's both a blessing and a curse. 🥲

This is a 'summary' of drafts already planned long ago, like, the very same moment I decided on Trial Player AU's canon ending and the fact that Trial Player would be written as an AU. So, yeah, that's why this 'summary of drafts' is already like (and perhaps feel developed as) the usual main story's chapters when it is in fact isn't (yet).

This summarized version is obviously shorter than the original drafts (and far shorter than the finished product I planned for in the future), with these many things omitted:

Deeper emotional aspects;

Many instances of relevance from what we know now of the main story and its other spoilers, for example: The shadows and butterflies part in the scenario, small mentions like the light and shadow marks and how they worked in actuality, and so many others;

Many major spoilers, like the truth behind 'Trial Player';

PART III and PART IV (End of scenario) are actually fully-fledged (FULL scenes) in my original drafts. Here, they are just direct cut-offs from the original (like, they are actual dialogues from the scenes planned)—cut-offs that I think able enough already to summarize the main plot of those scenes respectively.

I think that's all I can say for now.

Oh yeah, "Aera" is the placeholder name for TP!Suho's younger sister as of now. 💕

Happy reading! ❤️

[cumtastiics]

first actual work since april? i think :p tw implied kidnapping

"do-... do you think you can take them off? just for today. please," your voice was quiet, referring to all of the restraints. he said it was your... 'anniversary' afterall. he should be able to do that much for you.

"oh, really?" he raised an eyebrow, his tone almost mocking. "you're feeling awfully brave today..." he hummed, finishing up tying your wrists. he leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "is that what you want? to play pretend like you're free? just for today?"

you swallowed hard, wrists already aching in the bindings he'd just finished tightening.

"you said today was our anniversary so i just... thought maybe..."

he pulled back, slow and deliberate, that cruel little smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"thought what, darlin'?" he asked, tone thick with mockery. "you thought i'd be feeling generous today? you thought... you thought i'd change our routine for an anniversary?" he grabbed a chunk of your hair, forcing you to look straight at him. "answer me."

"i-... i just thought, since... you know, you would let them off for one night," your voice trembled, the fear obvious.

"don't be stupid," he could only give you a disgusted look.

[ctghost]

a canvas of the the @cheschesterpossum 's CITF au primes

I love drawing alpha trion & zeta lol 😭🤍

They all have big bug ahh stares as sparklings also if you give only one of the primes a energon or regular lolipop (or a high five. Or helm pats.) It is now an obligation for you to give the rest one too (Blame liege maximo for starting this first)

Cough. Let's be a lil real. It's because the primes subconsiously inherited his own attachment too 👹

[thee-horny-thicky]

TW: Yandere!Gojo, baby trapping

I know it's fanon that Satoru became a fuckboy once Suguru left, which I've written about before. However, I think the reality is that intimacy is rare for Satoru. He's busy, and vulnerability is his biggest fear. It's why he always maintains his childish, energetic persona, because after Suguru tore out his heart and stomped on it, opening up to another person was out of the question.

However, even the strongest isn't immune from developing crushes.

You were a new hire, a foreign sorcerer that recently transferred to Jujutsu Tech. You were born the same year as Suguru, and the similarities didn't end there. You might not look like him, though you were attractive in your own right, but so much about you echoed the man who broke Satoru's heart. Despite your serious demeanor, you knew how to take a joke, and were seriously competitive. You were cunning and sly, with a wit that he admired. You were loyal to those you cared about, but ruthless to your enemies. Best of all, you tolerated him in a way few could.

He found himself falling hard, and was delighted to know you felt the same way... sorta. You see, while he was planning a wedding, you wanted something purely physical. Satoru didn't mind indulging your lust, but he expected it to transform into love at some point. And it did, on his end. But you, you were a different story.

Your trajectory was similar to Satoru's. You too had a high school sweetheart who broke your heart, and you responded to it by shunning relationships. The difference was that you indulged in a decent amount of flings and one night stands. What started as a way to ease heartbreak became a stress reliever and your favorite hobby. Moreover, being a sorcerer, conventional dating was risky. The risks weren't canceled out by someone like Satoru.

In fact, they were amplified.

Put simply, you didn't want to be a clan leader's wife. You enjoyed being a sorcerer, but if you wed the leader of a clan, you'd be reduced to a baby maker. You wanted kids one day, when being a sorcerer had lost its thrill. Maybe they'd fill the void, but for the time being, you were happy childless.

Unfortunately for you, your time without kids is nearing an end.

You see, once Gojo hears that you wouldn't mind being a mommy one day, he decides that's how he'll keep you. If his expensive gifts and lavish dates aren't enough, certainly a baby will be. Because after losing Suguru, he isn't willing to miss out on HEA with a great love again. If he has to use...questionable methods, so be it.

And hey, if a baby doesn't work, he has a cozy little room waiting for you, complete with security measures only he could disarm.

[cheschesterpossum]

Maybe the lil shijs aren't so bad

[angelyuji]

more mark -O- & variants!!!

cw // yandere behavior, emotional manipulation, shitty smut for mark (kinda dubcon), implied noncon, toxic toxic toxic, the variants are evil, physical & verbal abuse, breeding kink too lowkey

mark thots :P

he’s sooo pathetic and cute i can’t

down baddd for you

i’ve said before that he’s superrr emotionally intense like he’s got the puppy-dog eyes DOWN

he knows that he can manipulate you into doing whatever he wants

i actually had something else to say but i forgor… so im gonna write some porn for u guys… don’t hate me if its bad… im trying

“i missed you so, so much.” he hugs you tight and you laugh.

“mark, we just saw each other yesterday.” you recount your dinner with him, debbie, and oliver.

he groans into your shoulder, “i know, i know. but i just missed you so much, after training oliver, all i wanted was to hold you.” the ache in his chest after being away from you disappeared at the sight of you. mark pushed you onto your bed.

“wait- mark, my roommate-”

“i don’t care.” he pulls you into a kiss, working his hands down to take off your pants. you try to push him off, but mark grips your hands. he uses a hand to pull off his mask, “please, (y/n). i need you.” his heart starts to ache at your resistance. you sigh, taking off your clothes.

“just-” you lay down, “-be quick, i have to go to a party.” he nods, making sure to quickly take off his suit. you moan as mark feels you up, groping your chest. he pushes two fingers into your mouth and he holds back a smile when you jolt.

“suck.” his voice feels rough in his throat; he was barely holding it together at the sight of you wrapping your lips around his fingers. he takes his wet fingers to press into your wet hole, “fuck, you’re soaked.” you huff, indignant, but you whimper at the feel of his fingers scissoring you open.

“mark…” you moan, hand reaching out to his face.

“yeah, baby?” his eyes are wide, watching you clench around his fingers.

“please, i need more.” mark pauses and you reach out to grip his hair, “please mark, i need you.”

his eyes trace over your naked body: your chest heaving, sweat glistening on your forehead, and your puffy lips. “only if you come over tonight.”

“what?” you breathe. mark’s fingers start pumping into once more and you writhe, pushing your hips back to feel him deeper.

“i just need you to say you’re coming with me, instead of going to the party.” mark smiles at you and he watches your face twist. he stops his hands and you whine.

“okay, okay. no party. just fuck me please.” you beg and mark smiles, innocently. mark takes his fingers out to wrap it around his dick, aligning it with your dripping hole. he sighs as he presses into you, “fuck…” you whimper, feeling him deep inside.

“fuck, baby, you feel so good.” mark grips your thighs, pounding into you. you could barely speak, letting out choked gasps at each push. “mine.” he growls as he folds you in half. you moan, feeling him deeper than before. “you’re all mine, (y/n).”

just remembered as i wrote this, but mark acts like he’s super pathetic and emotional in front of you

while also being pretty similar to nolan behind your back

he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, so his whole personality is pretty secretive

as papa nolan said, “what (y/n) doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

anywho lets talk variants

im more familiar with them now jk i had to rewatch clips but its cool. i miss the show a lot already

“are you sure”

anyway first! viltrum mark

i tried to find more lore about the varients in the comics, but alas… none

looking at the few snippets we have of him, id say he’s very royalty, no nonsense, strict, and very much the type to actually follow through on the threat of washing your mouth out with soap if u swear

to my fellow manhwa readers: think very duke-of-the-north-red-flag-ml

like rn i was reading “how to win my husband over” and i’d say viltrum mark is similar to that fuckass pervert brother (i want that guy to die but that’s neither here nor there)

believes you are his future queen and all that

but also believes in corporal punishment to make sure u don’t repeat your mistakes

doesn’t allow anyone but him to disrespect you or touch you

if someone even looks at you in a way he deems “wrong”, he’s gouging their eyes out

if you talk to someone for longer than he deems necessary, he’s ripping their head off and giving it to you like “look what you made me do”

seems very mild-mannered considering how coldly he talks, but like… no not at all. he’s insane

he still treats you relatively well tho unless you’re being bad/bratty/talking back/not doing whatever he’s telling you to do

nsfw: if you’re capable of getting pregnant, oh brother. he’s fucking you into the mattress every night until you’re pregnant and all throughout the pregnancy too

like knowing you’re carrying the next generation of viltrumites…. he’s freaked UP

saying you’re the “queen” is a stretch cause ur kinda just a incubator atp but like mark loves you

ur his!!! you’re the reason he has children and also the reason he even cares about the viltrum empire hehe

sinister mark + mohawk mark :P

mostly keeps you around cause you’re fun to torture

he doesn’t really feel love, but he holds some affection for you

only because he likes your reactions to the things he does

he would’ve killed you first, but he thought you were cute to look at so he was like… lemme keep a trophy of my conquest!!!

so he really does only see you as his toy to mess with

not really a yandere imo, just a psychopath

so you’re just an object to use and abuse to him

he doesn’t really gaf about how u like it or feel abt it as long as he gets off

dark invincible/fully masked invincible

imo he’s one of the few that really does care about you

he came to earth for the invincible war to bring debbie back home (which is so cute and sad ugh)

so i can only imagine that he’s similar (in yandereness) to our mark except more pitiful and possessive

i can only assume nolan killed debbie in his universe so he was extra protective of you (or maybe the viltrum takeover was successful and the viltrumites killed debbie, letting mark and nolan live for some reason idk)

has some humanity left in him because he remembers what it’s like to have a family and a mom

would kidnap you from your house while you’re asleep and then act like he’s the victim in the situation

unmasked invincible/markvincible/no mask mark

i already hc mark is bi (i hc all characters i like as bi cuz i can)

but same as mask-vincible

he misses william :(

very cutie patootie, not as in touch with his humanity as mask-vincible or og!mark, but still obsessed with you

like he would kill the people you love if it means he could have you to himself

i hc that’s what he would’ve done if he got to william

like he’s killing the bfs and family and keeping you chained to him lowkey

anyway not much else to say i fear

please send me ur thoughts expanding on the characters lol i might’ve gotten the varients mixed-up or mushed them together idk sooo many characters to keep track off and sooo few clips of them that im basically making up my own personalities for these guys lolol

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Christmas Bells

Pairing: Dark Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: It’s your first Christmas with Bakugo and he makes sure it’s memorable. 

WARNINGS: Kidnapped reader; Implied Noncon/Abuse; Minor violence. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback 😊 Merry Christmas!

--

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, your name being called less than a moment later. 

“One minute!”

Suffocating back the sobs that insist on freeing themselves, your fingers desperately reach to wipe away the warm, sad tears that refuse to stop. You sniff, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the gross snot that clings to your nose. 

Looking in the mirror for a quick check turns out to be a mistake. Deep under eyes circles, runny nose, red puffy eyes - you look awful.

Even more when you compare your ugly crying face with the red and yellow soft cotton Christmas pajamas you’ve been coerced into wearing, the one Bakugo is matching.  

Couple pajamas, he had grumbled when giving you the box. Because it’s your first ever Christmas together and he wants it to be memorable. Special. 

Special for him yet a nightmare for you. 

The last couple days have been hell. Bakugo’s been unbearable to deal with, having taken a week off of the hero duty just so he can spend quality time with you. You fervently wish he hadn’t.

Every moment spent by his side makes you uneasy and anxious, constantly walking on egg-shells as you await for the bomb that Bakugo is to set off.

Truth be told, you don’t want to spend time with him. You simply want nothing to do with him. He has a special way to become abhorrently overwhelming. 

Forced to play house with a delusional Pro-Hero isn’t what you want. 

You don’t want to wake bunched up in the suffocating embrace of his arms as his thick cock forces itself inside you.

You don’t want to set up the Christmas tree with him, pretending to care every time he asks you where do you want each fucking shiny ornament to be.

You don’t want him to kiss you like you’re his everything - like you’re a happy loving couple that has just assembled their first Christmas tree together.

You don’t want to play the role of a diligent girlfriend that peels off vegetables, sets up the dining table and washes the dishes and yet you do all of these tasks, knowing otherwise you’ll receive nothing but a nasty backhand and a speech on being a ungrateful brat, something that will sour both of your moods for the rest of the day. 

You don’t want to-

There’s a harder knock on the door. 

“Hey, you died in there or what?” 

Tilting your face up, your eyes lock into the ceiling at the same time as you take in a deep breath that does little to calm your nerves. You’re so tired, so fucking exhausted. Can’t even spend five fucking minutes without the asshole hunting you down. 

Knowing you have less than 60 seconds till Bakugo gets angry or worried enough to break down the bathroom door, something you’d like to avoid given it’s the only door in the apartment that has a lock, you reluctantly drag your feet to the door. 

Bakugo pushes the door forward as soon as you turn the lock open, entering the bathroom as he takes a good look at you, fixing his glare at your red eyes, still moist from your latest crying session. 

“What took you so damn long?” his question resembles an accusation, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart around the bathroom, looking for whatever proof of an imaginary escape plan or so. 

“Nothing, was just washing my hands.” you lie, offering a placating smile. Bakugo nods, although distrust is still evident in his face but if there’s one thing you’ve learned is that suspicion is like a second nature to him.

Perhaps you deserve it but now, after almost 7 months after your last failed escape attempt, you’d think you’d been able to earn some trust. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” 

His hand reaches for yours, hot and firm as he always is, and you follow his lead as he takes you back to the living room. Confusion rattles your mind and you look up at Bakugo as he makes you settle on the couch by his side. 

“Hum…” you hesitate, lips parting as the blonde man lays his heavy arm across your shoulders, pulling you closer to him, “...I thought-” 

“Huh?” he doesn’t bother looking at you, busy fumbling with the TV’s remote control. He skips movie after movie till he finally settles at one of the Home Alone movies. A Christmas classic, you think. 

“I mean, isn’t it past bedtime?” A glance towards the digital watch on the wall reveals it’s  five minutes till bedtime. Surprising and shocking at the same time, as never once did he let you - or him - to stay up till this late. “I thought the curfew was nine thirty?” 

“Will you shut up and just watch the damn movie?” he snaps. You seal your lips tight after that, face immediately whipped to the front to stare at the cinematic 34-foot TV although you pay little attention to it. 

Awkward silence reigns as you watch the movie.

Nostalgia hits you hard as the movie carries on, your mind wandering through old dusty memories. You as a child, watching this exact movie curled in between your parents, laughing your ass off at the on-screen shenanigans. Simpler and happier times.

A dull pain stabs your heart at the thought of your family. How are they coping with the fact that their daughter went missing so many months ago, not even a single clue to her case. 

A part of you wonders how Christmas is going to be celebrated back in your home country, if your mom is planning to leave a sock for you in the fireplace, as she always has or if your dad is finally gonna buy that gift you had not to subtly begged for Christmas all those months ago…

Your nails dig deep into the back of your hand, a microscopic attempt to keep the tears from spilling as your eyes begin to burn. You can’t fucking cry - you reprimand yourself - if you cry, Bakugo is gonna be upset. If Bakugo gets upset, then you’ll have to deal with the consequences. And you don’t want that. 

“It’s Christmas.” his deep voice breaks out the silence, so random and unexpected you’re not even sure he said anything. He keeps his face straight forward, locked into the screen, even as you’re under the impression that he’s paying as much attention to the movie as you are. 

Bakugo sighs, finally looking at you and you don’t like how his red eyes pierce right through you, leaving you helpless and naked under his gaze. Like he can read every single emotion that boils inside you.

“It’s Christmas.” he repeats, voice softening. “First Christmas together, I mean.” 

“Yeah.” you stiffly reply. 

“Besides, we gotta wait till midnight so you can open your gifts.” he adds, pointing a finger towards the lit up Christmas tree, where some packages wrapped in red paper lay by its base.

A side of you feels curious about them, but another part warns you that nothing good ever comes with Bakugo. When did he ever give you something that is free of restrictions? 

“I didn’t get you anything.” 

“Huh?” 

“I don’t have a gift for you.” you explain. 

It’s a silly statement, although evident. You spend all day caged in his heavily-secured apartment with no way of leaving, no matter how much you’ve asked for it, and the few online shopping you’re allowed to do is on Bakugo’s laptop with the blonde man hunched over your shoulder, eagle-eyes following every purchase of yours. 

Bakugo shrugs off his broad shoulders, seemingly unbothered. 

Lacking the strength to further keep up with the pointless conversation you leave it at that. After a few minutes, the film fails to maintain your interest and soon you start drifting into a calm slumber, eyes drowsily slipping closed and barely aware of when Bakugo re-positions you so that your head lays onto the comfortable muscle of his bicep. 

Just a small nap, you sleepily think… 

“Hey, wake the hell up.” 

There’s an annoying tug at your arm. 

“Wake up, it’s time.” 

“Hm?”

Opening your eyes proves to be a difficult task with your eyelids awfully heavy. You yawn, sleep coating your features. 

Bakugo is no longer sitting by your side, but is bent in front of you, occupying all of your vision field. 

“It’s Christmas, already.” 

That certainly catches your attention, hands pushing against the couch to leverage you into a standing position. 

“Oh.” 

The clock marks exactly midnight and you stare at it, empty-minded. For a moment, you believe none of this is real, that you’ve imagined everything.

Any moment now, your family is going to start cheering and hugging you, felicitations and merry christmas’s being thrown around while everyone exchanges their gifts. 

Instead, reality hits you like a brick thrown to your face in the form of Bakugo’s squeezing hug, your face being pressed against his toned chest. 

“C’mon, let’s open your gifts.” he drags you to the tree, sitting on the wooden floor with his legs crossed as he pulls you into his lap, heavy arms immediately caging you in. 

“Start with that one.” Bakugo nudges a box with a rectangular shape to your way. 

It’s a bit heavy but as soon as your fingers reach for it, you immediately figure out it’s a book. 

As you unwrap the paper from the book, Bakugo squirms and pushes you a bit backwards, so your back meets his brawny chest.  

The cover of the book shows him - well, Dynamight portrayed in a comic artstyle.

“Dynamight’s Explosive Adventures” 

“It’s a comic book. Part of the new merch.” he slowly says. "Hasn't been released yet, and I warned the jerk editor that it can’t be published until my girl gives it her approval.”

You are surprised to learn how much Bakugo cared about your approval and opinion. A pleasant surprise and warmth rises to your cheeks. 

“That’s… really sweet.” you comment as Bakugo gives your neck a small peck. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” he brushes it off, “Just make sure to read that quickly.”

“Okay.” you almost sing the word out. You hesitate for a moment. “Thanks.”

The atmosphere feels strangely lighter, happier. It’s silly to feel like this when it’s something so small, so insignificant.

Still, you can’t stop the little smile that tugs the corners of your lips as you open the remaining presents: a shiny golden hand bracelet that Katsuki immediately fastens it down your wrist, a lip oil collection that you vaguely remember being on your wishlist. 

All of them are just nice presents and you wonder if you were being a bit too dramatic about it earlier. 

Reaching for the last one, Bakugo practically throws the small box into your hands, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder, his breathing obnoxiously heavy in your ears but you don’t dare to complain.

His arms tighten around your waist for a moment and you wonder if he’s nervous about this one. 

You receive your answer soon enough, heart dropping to your stomach as soon as you open the velvet black box, revealing an elegant ring inside.

A diamond encrusted ring band, to be exact. A engagement ring. 

No. 

Oh God, please no.

All of your jovial carefree behavior vanishes into thin air as Bakugo takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto your annular finger and you wince when he pushes it down with a brutish strength until the overly small ring finally sits at the base of your finger. 

“Mrs. Katsuki Bakugo.” you can practically hear a satisfied grin behind those words.

That's all it takes for the dam that's inside your eyes to burst into miserable pitiful tears. From behind you, Bakugo growls - all traces of relaxation now gone - replaced by anger as he violently tugs your arm behind, forcing your body to face him.  

“No. No fucking tears.” his tone is harsh, and he takes it upon himself to swipe his big thumbs against your cheeks, cleaning up the endless fountain of water that your eyes have become.

Your hands weakly attempt to push him away, never meeting success in putting distance between your bodies as he immediately clutches your wrists. 

“I…Bakugo, I don’t want to-”

His lips capture your wobbling ones into a fervent, boiling kiss. His palm is large enough to cover the back of your head, stopping you from pulling away from the kiss. You’re trapped under his powerful strength, as you always have. You’re so stupid for fooling yourself into something that was never the reality. 

He kisses you with all of his ravenous, destructive passion until you’re nothing more than a limp body, until all signs of pathetic rebellion have left your body but not your mind. Your throat dries when his burning lips move to suck little spots on the sensitive skin of your neck, too many sharp teeth involved.

Your whole body itching to squirm away from him but somehow you manage to stay as immobile as a statue. You can only cry your eyes out. You’re weak, you’re pathetic, you’re-

“You asked ‘bout my gift, right?” his voice booms in your ear and you yelp as Bakugo pushes you down to the floor, crawling on top of you like the dangerous predator he is. His calloused hands already reaching for your pajama pants.

“You can fucking give it to me in nine months.” 

[yearninflowers]

Imagine…

Phainon, who would deem you as a sun and view you as the pinnacle of perfection in his life. He once saw you somewhere and decided to look into you after seeing how glaringly bright you are. Throughout his life, one haunted by the horrors of his past, you became the anchor to his reality, fully capturing his mind onto the present time.

The scream of the devil inside his mind hollowed out at the sounds of your laughter.

On some days, the scream was louder, harsher, even tempting.

Phainon, who would inscribe a sun over his neck just so he could get reminded of you every time he looked at a mirror. He sighed, caressing the sun softly as if he was touching you. Sometimes, once the sun had settled nicely to his skin, he would latch his fingernails to it, letting small prickles of blood flow out and taint the ever-so-lovely sun. His breath would hitch at the thought of you drenched in his blood.

Perhaps, the devil was him all along.

Perhaps, he was the one screaming inside his mind, scratching his soul with the itch to let loose and claim you as his one and only treasure, his sole sun.

Phainon, who would eventually relent to his desire, taking you all to himself. He would beg, down on his knees, for you to love him as he loved you. His heart soars high to wrap itself on your own, swallowing your whole being to be all his, alone.

“It’s my sign of love for you, Sunshine.” He whispered to your ear, forcing your hands to wrap around his neck.

He smiled, soft, as if proud of the bloody sun he had made.

[candiiee]

Was supposed to be Izuku x childhood friend reader, pure fluff, but then I was like: what if I made it yandere fluff??? warning: implied fem! reader, implied sex

@cvnt4him , @dokidokidraft need your opinion 🙏

Izuku! Who's been in love with you since you were five.

Izuku! Who was head over heels for you when you have him an innocent little peck when he 'saved' you from the top of the slide.

Izuku! Who fought tooth and nail for you to notice him ever since then, even going as far as picking fights in front of you, hoping for another peck. After all, you kissed him on the cheek when you were five, so you obviously liked him.

Izuku! Who was determined to be your husband, practicing marriage proposals when he was ten.

Izuku! who beat your bullies when you were twelve, and to his joy and delight, you thanked him with another peck. Yeah, you were the one.

Izuku! Who scared boys (and girls) away from you, making you think that something was wrong with you, that you weren't attractive.

Izuku! who reassured you weren't, and told you that they were just blind bats.

Izuku! who wanted to get into UA to impress you, and was devastated when he didn't get in. you however made him feel better, hugging him and pecking his cheek again, telling him he was amazing.

"I'm amazing, right?"

"amazing!"

Izuku! who worked hard in highschool, eager to go to college, and university, so he could get a degree or two, propose to you, and get you round and plump, carrying his child.

Izuku! who was devastated to see a classmate flirt with you and ask you out. the teen went missing the next day, and Izuku spent the whole day comforting you. the murderer was never found.

Izuku! who got into a good college, and helped you get into it as well, making sure your schedule let him see you between classes.

Izuku! who got the nerve to ask you out, and to his joy, you accepted.

"will you go out with me?"

"yes!"

Izuku! who couldn't wait to get his hands on you.

"mm, you like this, don't you darling? You love my nice thick cock stuffing you, don't you?" he purred, being nice and sweet with you the first time he had sex with you, his thrusts gentle as he made love to you. You were his darling, he would never hurt you.

Izuku! who once you two graduated from university, proposed.

Izuku! who got you pregnant at 24.

Izuku! who's never let you out of your sights since.

[snail-day]

I love your yandere fics so much!! You write them so well like how imagined them to be! Can i request a yandere!gojo with celebrity reader. Gojo is a smitten fanboy (he finally found his match a beauty that can be on par or surpass his looks) who then kidnaps reader and with somno and mindblowing smut (he is intimate and makes love, very sensual — but sometimes can be cruel when reader is not cooperative), very obsessive and possesive behavior, where reader eventually falls into a stockholm syndrome when she realizes he is the only one who can lover her like that.

Ah, anon, fanboy gojo is a horrifying gojo. I couldn't fit the somno in there my bad but I did let em get frisky. Yan!Gojo x Idol! Reader TW: Yandere Behaviors (Heavy in obsession & manipulation, stalking, trapping), Non Curse AU, Noncon / Dubcon, Stockholm Syndrome, Unbalanced power dynamic, Lifesize Doll, Gojo is just a fucking creep in this one. Reader has bad ending and is going through it. MDNI A/n: There's something absolutely horrifying about just anyone with too much money. Also, this one gave me an icky feeling, like really icky to the point where I had to go play some wii sports for some serotonin . So just fair warning on that everyone.

So this would definitely take place in a non-curse AU where the Gojo family reigns supreme over an empire of companies, including your idol agency. Satoru’s obsession with you began long before his parents handed him the keys to your career as a "gift" for his 21st birthday. By then, he already had an entire shrine dedicated to you—a collage of your debut album covers, grainy videos from your first audition, and meticulously preserved cut-outs of you in your signature frilly stage outfits.

He even went as far as purchasing your stockings and, disturbingly, a vial of your sweat from an online auction. Because when it came to you, no price was too steep, no boundary too sacred.

Satoru had been such a good boy, after all. He kept his record spotless, avoided any scandals, and played the part of the dutiful heir to perfection. So, for his birthday, the Gojo family rewarded him in the grandest way possible: a private concert (in their household theatre)  featuring none other than his favorite obsession.

Lucky you.

"Why do I always end up with the creeps?" you muttered under your breath backstage, steeling yourself for what was to come. You’d been expecting a small, exclusive audience—maybe a handful of elite guests alongside the infamous Gojo Satoru. Instead, the venue was eerily empty, save for one man sitting dead center in the front row.

Of course, it was him.

Satoru lounged in his seat, his long legs spread comfortably and his unrelenting gaze fixed on the stage. Those icy blue eyes shimmered with a kind of deranged excitement.

Still, you plastered on your most radiant smile, the same one that had been drilled into you since your debut, and stepped onto the stage. "Satoru-kun!" you called sweetly, your voice dripping with feigned delight.

That simple acknowledgment sent him into a visible frenzy. He straightened immediately, his grin stretching impossibly wide, the edges almost unhinged. His hands clutched the armrests of his chair as if holding himself back from leaping onto the stage.

"Satoru-kun," you repeated, your tone syrupy enough to mask the bitterness in your throat. The way his eyes sparkled, as though you’d just handed him the universe, made your skin crawl.

Why did he have to smile like that? Why did it feel like this wasn’t just a concert, but some kind of trap?

You swallowed hard and launched into your first song, your voice steady even as your heart raced. Through it all, his gaze never wavered, and you could swear that he wasn’t just listening—he was memorizing every note, every movement, every glance in his direction.

The worst part? You could feel that manic, suffocating grin even with your eyes closed.

The final note faded, and you lowered the mic with a practiced flourish, painting on a dazzling smile despite the tight knot in your stomach. Applause didn’t erupt—just a slow, deliberate clap from the lone figure seated in the otherwise empty venue. Each measured beat sent an icy shiver down your spine.

"Bravo! Amazing, as always," Satoru called, his voice laced with the kind of excitement that made your skin crawl. His bright grin stretched wider, his icy blue eyes fixed on you like a predator watching its prize.

Suppressing the urge to grimace, you clasped your hands in front of you and tilted your head, letting out a bubbly laugh. “Aww, Satoru-kun, you’re too sweet! You always know how to make a girl feel special!” Your voice was light, airy, laced with the charm your agency had drilled into you since day one.

His grin widened, if that was even possible, and he leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin in his palm. “Only because you are special, [Y/N]-chan.”

You swallowed back the bile creeping up your throat and gave a coy wave, bowing deeply. “Thank you so much! I’m so glad you enjoyed the show!”

The second you turned and stepped offstage, the smile dropped from your face like a mask sliding off. Your jaw clenched as you made your way backstage, your mind racing. What is wrong with this guy?

Inside the dressing room, you immediately set to work peeling off your stage outfit and shoving your things into your bag. The faint hum of the mirror bulbs was the only sound as you yanked off your heels, wincing at the ache in your feet. “Just a few more minutes,” you muttered to yourself, your tone dark and venomous, “and I’m out of here.”

A sharp knock at the door shattered the momentary quiet. Your heart sank. “Just a minute!” you chirped, forcing the syrupy sweetness back into your voice. But your hands trembled as you zipped up your bag. He wouldn’t come backstage, would he?

The door creaked open without waiting for a response, and your worst fears were realized.

Satoru stepped in as though he owned the place—which, you supposed, he technically did—and shut the door behind him with a soft click. The sound of the lock sliding into place sent a chill racing down your spine.

You plastered on another sunny smile, turning to face him. “Satoru-kun! What a surprise! Did you come to say goodbye?” Your voice was an octave higher than usual, chipper and fake as it could get, but he didn’t seem to notice. If anything, it only made his smile softer, more adoring.

“Goodbye?” he repeated, tilting his head as if the very idea was foreign to him. “Oh, no, [Y/N]-chan. The night’s just getting started. I thought we could spend some time together. Just the two of us.”

You laughed, the sound forced and overly bright. “Oh, Satoru-kun, you’re so funny! I’m sure you’re busy, though, and I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

He interrupted by stepping closer, and you instinctively took a step back, your spine hitting the edge of the dressing table. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous now, something far too intense.

“I made sure I wouldn’t be busy,” he said softly, his voice unnervingly calm. “This is a special night, after all.”

Your hands tightened around the strap of your bag, but your bubbly mask stayed firmly in place. “You’re so thoughtful, Satoru-kun! But really, I’m just so exhausted from performing—I don’t want to ruin your night by being a boring old workaholic!”

His smile faltered, just for a second. The glint in his eyes shifted to something colder.

“Ruining my night?” he echoed, his voice dropping a pitch. He stepped even closer, his long fingers brushing against the edge of your bag. “Oh, [Y/N]-chan, you could never ruin anything for me. You’re perfect. That’s why I waited so long for this.”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thin. Still, you kept the mask on, even as your pulse thundered in your ears. “Satoru-kun, you’re such a charmer!” you said with a giggle, though the sound nearly cracked under the weight of your fear. “But really, I—”

“Enough.” His voice was soft but firm, and it froze you in place. The playful tone was gone, replaced by something sharper. His hands found your hips, firm but not painful—yet. “You don’t have to pretend with me, [Y/N]-chan. I know what you really need. What you deserve.”

For a split second, the mask cracked. Your smile faltered, your eyes betraying the panic clawing at your chest. But you quickly forced it back into place, stretching your lips into something resembling a cheerful grin. This wasn’t just any creep—this was the owner of your agency. The man who could ruin your career with a single word. Rejecting him wasn’t an option.

“Oh, Satoru-kun!” you said with a bright laugh that sounded hollow even to your own ears. “You’re too kind, really!”

His expression softened at your attempt, though the unsettling hunger in his eyes never wavered. “I want to show you something,” he murmured, his voice low and syrupy as he stepped closer.

Before you could react, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The sharp scent of his cologne—overly expensive and cloyingly strong—invaded your senses, making your head spin. You froze as you heard him inhale deeply, the sound sending an involuntary shudder down your spine.

“That’s it,” he sighed, as if your discomfort was the most intoxicating thing in the world.

You swallowed hard, suppressing the wave of revulsion rising in your chest. “Y-Yeah, sure. Anything you want,” you said, forcing another fake giggle. The bile was starting to creep up your throat, but you choked it back.

Satoru straightened, beaming like you’d just granted him his deepest wish. Without another word, he grabbed your hand and tugged you along, his grip firm but not painful. His long strides made it hard to keep up, and you stumbled slightly as he led you down a long, opulent hallway.

“This way,” he said brightly, his excitement bubbling over as he opened a door at the end of the hall. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to show you this.”

The room you stepped into wasn’t just a bedroom—it was a shrine.

Your face froze in a practiced smile, but your stomach churned violently. Every inch of the walls was covered with photos of you, from professional headshots to candid moments you didn’t even know had been captured. A glass case in the corner held memorabilia from your career: props from music videos, outfits you’d worn onstage, and even a pair of shoes you’d discarded years ago. The bed, an enormous thing with crisp white sheets, was adorned with pillows printed with your image.

And in the center of it all, on a pedestal near the window, was a life-sized figure. You.

Your knees nearly buckled at the sight. It was a doll replica, eerily accurate down to the smallest details. The same smile you forced onstage, the same sparkle in your eyes. But the longer you stared, the more disturbing it became.

“Oh, this isn’t even the best part!” Satoru chirped, oblivious—or perhaps delighting in—your horror. He dropped your hand and strode over to the pedestal, gesturing at the figure like a proud artist showing off their masterpiece. “It’s perfect, don’t you think? Just like the real thing.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling as you clutched your bag to your chest. “I-I don’t even know what to say, Satoru-kun,” you managed, your voice strained despite your best efforts to sound enthusiastic.

His gaze snapped to you, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. “Say you love it,” he demanded, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

“I love it,” you echoed immediately, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you might vomit right there on the pristine floor.

Satoru’s grin returned, softening into something almost tender. “I knew you would,” he said, stepping closer until he was mere inches away. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a touch that made your skin crawl. “It’s because it’s all for you, [Y/N]-chan. All of it. Everything I do is for you.”

Your smile wavered as you nodded, the muscles in your face aching from the effort to keep it in place. Inside, you screamed.

He began to ramble, his voice drifting into an almost giddy monologue as he circled the room. “The doll is great, don’t get me wrong,” he said, gesturing at the figure with a flourish. “But it’s not you. It doesn’t feel like you.” His words trailed off into something quieter, almost wistful. “At least… not yet.”

You didn’t want to know what he meant by that, and you weren’t about to ask. Instead, you kept your fake smile plastered on and nodded along, praying he’d lose interest and let you leave.

“But…” He stopped mid-sentence, turning to face you with that same soft, disarming smile that would’ve melted hearts if it weren’t attached to someone so terrifying. He stepped closer, and you instinctively backed up, only to find the edge of the bed pressing into the backs of your knees.

“You can be the real thing for me, right?” he asked, his tone almost teasing, as if this were some innocent joke between friends. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, deceptively gentle as he guided you to sit down.

“Satoru-kun…” you began, your voice high and airy with forced politeness. “I-I’m not sure what you mean—”

“Oh, come on.” He crouched down to your level, his face just inches from yours now. The smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, [Y/N]-chan. I mean… heh…” His laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating, but the threat behind it was crystal clear. “Imagine if the media found out we did something together? Your career would be over, wouldn’t it?”

Your blood ran cold. The bile that had been simmering in your throat threatened to rise, but you swallowed it down, forcing another laugh. “Satoru-kun, you’re so funny! You know I’d never want to disappoint you, but—”

“You wouldn’t disappoint me.” His interruption was immediate, his voice firm but still unnervingly calm. He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he was eager to solve. “You’d make me the happiest man in the world, [Y/N]-chan. That’s all I want.”

The weight of his hands on your shoulders grew heavier, and for the first time, the mask you wore faltered completely. You could feel the edges of your resolve cracking as panic clawed at your chest.

“I—I think I should go,” you stammered, your voice trembling now. “It’s been such a long night, and I’m so tired—”

“Shhh.” His finger pressed lightly against your lips, silencing you. “No need to rush. You’re home now. With me.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating, as he gently pushed you back onto the bed.

You felt caged, trapped beneath him as he leaned down and kissed you with a fervent passion that left no room for doubt. His lips moved against yours with a confidence that sent heat spiraling through your body, surprising you with how skilled he was. How is he this good? you wondered, a flicker of reluctant curiosity slipping into your thoughts. For someone with a room like this, you didn’t expect him to know his way around intimacy so well.

When his kisses trailed down your neck, you couldn’t suppress the small sounds that escaped your lips—tiny, breathy moans that only encouraged him. You hated how natural it felt, how easy it was to let yourself melt just a little under his touch.

His hands moved with practiced ease, unbuttoning your soft frilly blouse and sliding it down your arms. The fabric fell away without ceremony, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air. He unhooked your bra without even looking, his attention fixed on you as if you were the only thing in the universe.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “So beautiful. I can’t believe you’re real.” His voice was thick with awe, the kind of adoration that would have been flattering in another context. Here, it only added to the strange, heady mix of fear and something else stirring in your chest.

You didn’t stop him.

Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your mind a blur of conflicting emotions. Part of you screamed to push him away, to escape this madness before it consumed you. But another part—a quieter, insidious part—was starting to crave the way he made you feel. The way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

When he pulled out a condom, your breath hitched. He held it up with a playful smirk, his icy blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Can’t have my favorite girl off the stage because of a baby,” he teased, the words delivered so casually it made your head spin.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your body caught between tension and reluctant desire. “S-Satoru-kun…” you murmured, your voice softer now, less forced. You weren’t sure what you were trying to say—if you were trying to stop him or if you were giving in.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, [Y/N]-chan. I’ll take care of everything. Just trust me.”

And for some reason, at that moment, you did.

His actions surprised you. For all the unsettling obsession and the manic energy that seemed to define him, he was unexpectedly gentle. Every hitch of your breath, every flinch, had him pausing immediately, his hands soothing against your skin. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your jawline, as if trying to reassure you, as if trying to prove that this was about more than just possession.

Each movement was careful, each thrust deliberate, his pace slow and measured, as though he was determined not to hurt you. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice how his body seemed to move in perfect rhythm with yours, how his touch sent shivers coursing down your spine—not from fear, but from how good it felt. It felt almost too wrong for it to feel this good. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “So much better than I ever imagined. So much better than… than her.”

You knew exactly what he meant by her—that unsettling doll that resembled you sitting in the room. But there was no malice in his tone, no frustration, only unbridled awe. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a breathless babble. “So warm, so soft… so real.”

His hands caressed your sides, trailing down to grip your hips with a reverence that made your chest tighten. “You don’t understand, [Y/N]-chan. I’ve waited for this. For you. I’ve dreamed of having you here, like this, for so long.” His lips found yours again, and this time, you kissed him back. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of obligation—or perhaps something else entirely, something you weren’t ready to confront.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and steady against your skin. His hips ground against yours with a practiced ease that sent shivers through your body, small, involuntary moans slipping from your lips. You weren’t even sure anymore if they were fake.

His icy blue eyes softened, a vulnerability shining through that you hadn’t expected, a strange mix of desperation and adoration. “So happy you’re finally here with me. You belong here. With me.”

The words sent a wave of unease crashing over you, yet his touch—so deliberate, so intimate—made it harder to hold on to that feeling. His pace quickened, his rhythm building into something that pulled soft cries from your throat, cries you weren’t sure belonged to the person you thought you were.

And then it was over, leaving you breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. You stared blankly at the ceiling, the tension in your body refusing to dissipate even as the room fell silent.

Silently thankful for that condom.

Satoru, however, seemed perfectly at ease. He snuggled into you with a satisfied sigh, his face pressed against your chest, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you’d disappear. 

His white hair tickled your skin, and without thinking, your fingers found their way into it, absently threading through the soft strands. The motion felt automatic, like muscle memory from a life you weren’t supposed to be living. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, questions you didn’t have answers to. Yet, as he murmured something incoherent against your skin, his voice content and heavy with sleep, you found yourself continuing the motion, stroking his hair in a way that felt far too natural.

Because even if it’s love from some creep, maybe that’s the kind of love you crave.

The thought sat heavy in your chest, an unwelcome truth that made your stomach twist. You’d never had someone hold you like this, never had someone look at you the way he did—as if you were the entire world, as if you were the answer to every question he’d ever asked. It was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet…

It was something.

Your fingers paused in his hair for a moment, hovering as if they’d been burned by the thought. But then his arms tightened around you, his face nuzzling deeper into your chest, and a soft, contented sigh escaped his lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

Maybe you didn’t deserve something better. Maybe this was all there was.

So, you let him hold you. You let your fingers tangle in his hair again, let yourself relax just enough to make it through the moment. Because even if it was wrong, even if it wasn’t the love you’d dreamed of, at least it was real. At least it was something.

[ctghost]

Based off @cheschesterpossum CITF AU lmao i can't stop thinking of the shenaningans that happened, like you can't tell me while the primes are yet to properly know/control their powers, one of them would atleast trrrry to do something with it.. *side-eyes vector probably doing some small time loop and accidentally folds a room*

Rung is trying to defend vector with his best supportive dad voice

"It was controlled--"

Anddd then folded when you gave him The Look™

Rung: slowly sits on his knees next to vector in the shame corner.

You sigh and gestures your one hand holding the broom. "No powers. No experimenting. Not without supervision."

"Yes sire..."

(Additionally i like to think while vector's still growing he has tf one color palette but later has mix of his legacy united color lmao xD)

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 2

Day 2: Fate [Yandere M. Ghost x Gn. Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list

Tipjar :)

Dead Dove Do Not Eat! MDNI! Tw. Possession, Death, Murder, Forced suicide, haunting, general ghost stuff, Nsfw themes, groping, soulmates

In which you find out your soulmate haunts your new apartment.

1.9k words

Everyone had a red string tied around their pinky finger that connected them to their soulmate. You were no different. For years you had absently twirled the thread around, dreaming about the day when you would meet your one and only.

That all came crashing down one day in your early 20s. 

You had been sitting in a lecture, diligently taking notes and listening when the red string, normally taut, went gray and grew limp in your lap. You had instantly broken down, screamed, cried and clutched the last vestiges of your other half leaving the realm of the living. 

Your soulmate died one cold autumn day, and you had felt hopeless ever since.

Years later, in your late twenties after you had worked like a slave in a corporate office, you had finally managed to save up to be able to afford a nice place in the heart of the city. You began touring different apartments you could potentially live in, and, though there were many options, you ended up going with a cozy and surprisingly cheap one bedroom place with a great view of the nearby river.

Upon further inspection, about almost a decade ago, a young man died here from a surprising and tragic accident.

It was a bit of a turn off, but it was too nice to pass up. You could picture yourself having a life there, and for whatever reason, your heartstrings tugged every time you let your hands run over the antique carvings on the doorway.

So you put down a deposit, packed up all your things, and moved into the place within a week. 

The windows were large and wide, lighting the whole place light up with sun and a cool breeze, The floorboards were made of a rich, old mahogany that creaked under your every footstep, and each of the rooms had this nice, homey feel to it that seemed like it would be perfect for a young couple living together for the first time. You felt relaxed there. It suited your needs perfectly, and never once did the thought of the previous owner cross your mind.

A few weeks into living there, and suddenly strange noises would be made beyond your bedroom door. 

Squeaking, groaning noises, too. They sounded like heavy, uncoordinated footsteps, and you grabbed a knife you kept near your bedside and peered out with fear twisted in your gut into the rest of your home. There was no one there, and you were left feeling paranoid and confused, unaware of your severed thread twitching despite the lack of wind.

Stranger happenings began to occur after that.

Lights would flicker, objects would be knocked over randomly, and you’d feel a chill take over your body randomly. They were all things you could consider to be kind of normal, so you tried your best to ignore them for the sake of your own sanity. Your pinky would ache slightly with each thing, though. It gave you pause, but your thread remained lax and gray as the day the other owner died.

But other things weren’t as easy to brush off.

It would become so cold in your house that you could see your breath come out in wispy puffs, your teeth chattering as the mirrors and windows would become frosted over in the dead of summer, only for the whole frigid interior to disappear with a quick blink of the eye. It would drive you crazy, but you could only chalk it up to being stressed from work and the recent change of scenery. Another odd thing was the fact that when you would come back from a long day at your job to find that nearly every object on your bookshelf, your couch pillows, and shoes had been scattered on the ground.

You called the police and contacted the building in a panic, but nothing came out of it. No one had broken in, nothing was stolen, and nothing happened. Your finger burned the entire time they searched your apartment. 

You began to feel unsettled in your own home. Something was most definitely wrong. There was this familiar, twisting feeling deep in your gut. It was the same feeling you had that fateful day, the one where you had screamed and cried out for someone you had never actually met before. There was nothing to justify it, but you felt it anyway. You felt it when the candles you had lit would suddenly blow out despite the windows being closed. You felt it when the doors would remain shut no matter how hard you tried to open them when it was time to leave for the day. 

It was only when you saw someone else standing in the mirror behind you when you knew it was validated.

You froze in shock, your heart nearly stopping in your chest. You let out a little whimper and slowly turned your head to face the tall, slouched man whose face was hidden beneath the shadow of his hair. But there was no one there. You blinked, your hands trembling and laughed as you wiped your face.

“Holy fuck… I really am losing it,” You gasped out in a mix of relief and dread, yet it was cut short when your eyes met your pinky finger. The thread was still ashen in color, but it was taut once again for the first time in years. It was connected to the open air.

Your expression was blank, and you turned back to the mirror. The man was still there.

“What the fuck?” 

You stared in horror at the mirror as he approached you. You felt like your feet were rooted to the ground, but for some reason, a glimmer of hope ignited in you.

“Are you… are you my soulmate?” You asked, barely a whisper, and the shadowy figure paused in his steps(?). It tilted its head, and you could faintly make out the fully connected string, scarlet as blood. A dark hand reached for you, and you stayed still, allowing it.

Cold. He was so cold. You gasped, your lips trembling, and you realized you were crying. His hand passed through you, and you shuddered. “O-oh,” you whimpered, and you could feel him in your bones, your organs, your everything. You raised your head as a transparent, frigid finger prompted you to raise your head back. 

It was exploratory, almost innocent at first. He was like a shepherd guiding a flock of lambs, gilding your fingers, limbs and body into different poses, and you felt how amazed he was. You could only keep your gaze ahead, for you were afraid that if you blinked or turned away, this would all somehow vanish. There were alarm bells screaming in the back of your head, but the chill embraced you. He embraced you. It was all you had ever wanted.

And then it felt like something inside of you had been grabbed.

“Urk!” You let out a shocked noise as the feeling spread through your entire form. Every cell, every follicle of hair, even the way your nose wrinkles and twitched as whoever inside of you, no… no as your soulmate smelled for the first time in years. A hand you didn’t control touched your face. You touched your face.

He made you examine your face, laughing softly as he traced over your features with your own fingers. You wanted to scream and cry tears of joy at the same time. Instead, he smiled, and in the mirror you smiled back.

“I can’t believe it,” He spoke in a way you would never, the words feeling unnatural as they left your grinning lips. He laughed, you laughed, and he hugged you. He trailed up his touch over your body, shuddering with pleasure as your cheeks flushed red. 

“Stop that,” You wanted to say. “Don’t touch me there.” But your tongue even belonged to him now, and the thread on your pinky had formed into a little loop, twitching on itself every now and then. He looked at it, and you viewed everything through your eyes. It was a strange feeling, as if you were watching a show where you could feel, smell, taste and hear what was happening on screen. 

“I hoped it would be you. I hoped that I was right. I thought I was going to spend forever without you,” He whispered, a solemn expression crossing over you both. You wanted to throw up for some reason. It was like you could sense what he was thinking. Was it because he was your soulmate? Or was it because he was actually inside of you?

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” he said, a giddy warmth blooming in him, but your stomach dropped. His face twitched, you both flinched, and he hummed.

“You know… I was so happy when I realized you were mine. I’m glad that I finally got to talk to you,” He looked directly into the mirror, so you looked into your own eyes, so you could stare at him. You couldn’t look away. He touched you, and pulled open your shirt. You felt sweat roll down your temple as did he. He just kept going.

 More. He pulled your pants down. More, he shoved your own fingers down your throat. More. He posed you as he pleased, touched were he wanted, groaned and laughed in euphoric bliss as he made you watch. Goosebumps raised all over your skin, and he clicked his tongue.

“You just don’t understand. You wouldn’t get it. I watched you for months and you never even noticed. And then you would try to drive me out when all I was doing was trying to talk to you. Do you know what I thought when I died? I thought of how devastated I was that I was never going to get the chance to meet you.”

Your hands crept up, trailing over your naked torso, tracing your chest, until the reached your neck and began to squeeze. You gasped, and he laughed in two disjointed noises, both vying to use your vocal cords.

“Plea-”

“I would’ve died for you, you know? If you died. I wouldn’t be able to live unless I had you. I think you owe me that,” He drawled in wheezing, short gasps.

Fear gripped you, and you crashed to the ground. No, no he didn’t understand! He didn’t know how long you mourned, how long you grieved for the loss of him, how many times you wished you could join him. He didn’t know. Tears slipped out of your eyes, and he darted your tongue out to taste them. Your heart began to beat rapidly within your chest, trying to fight for your life.

“Die for me [Name], die for me.”

You curled onto the cold floor, almost as cold as his embrace. Your lips parted like a gaping fish, your skin turning blue. You could feel him smile despite it all. You heard your pulse thundering in your ears.

"Our.. forever.. starts …now.” Your voice was so foreign now. In your dimming, fuzzy vision, you could almost pretend he was whispering in your ear. It was like your feelings echoed and overlapped over themselves. Betrayal, anger, sorrow. All of it clashed with his absolute excitement. You were hurting, and your soulmate didn’t care.  Your body shook one last time, his freezing grip tightening, and then your heart stopped.

[angelyuji]

webbed-up

spider-man x f!reader (noncon/kinktober week 1)

cw // noncon, shitty smut, implied stalking, dubcon

18+!!! minors dni!!!

“HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP!” it was the middle of the night and no one was out. you were all alone when someone had snatched your purse and ran. you chase after them, screaming for help, but no one was coming. you follow them into an alley and before you could continue screaming, a familiar voice comes from behind you.

“woah woah, what’s the issue here, cutie?” you turn to see spider-man standing before you.

“s-someone t-took my p-purse.” tears streaked your face as you sobbed.

he tilts his head and lifts his hand, “this purse?” you blink. your purse hung from his arm.

the relief came in waves, “oh my god thank you so much-” as you reach for the purse, he tosses it into the air and webs it to onto the wall of the alley. “-what are you…”

“since i helped you, you can help me, can’t you?” his voice was deep, and as he moved closer, you could feel your heart in your throat.

“y-you’re not spider-man, spider-man wouldn’t…” you back up, alarms going off in your head.

you hear him sigh, “spider-man has needs too, you know…. i mean, it’s only fair." you back up, looking around for a way to get out, “uh oh babe, are you trying to run?” before you could move, you feel your arm slam against the wall. “just stay still.” he grabs your other arm, forcing it against the wall, and webs it. you try to struggle, but you weren’t budging.

“please d-” your words were silenced as he webs your mouth closed.

“for today, i’d prefer your mouth closed.” his spandex-clad fingers go under your shirt, “god, how i’d love to really feel your skin.” chills go down your spine and you choke on your sobs. he coos, softly, his hands wandering down to grope your ass.

you try to scream through the webs, but your sound comes out strangled and muffled. spider-man taps your butt, “we don’t have much time, jump up and wrap your legs around me.” you shake your head and he huffs, “don’t be difficult. the faster we get this done, the better it’ll be for you.” he tilts his head. you test the webs trapping your arms once more, seeing no change, you try to jump in little space you have. he makes sure to grab your ass, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. you could feel his hard cock under the suit, pressing against your cunt. you let out a panicked sound at the feeling. he groans, letting his head drop to your shoulder. slowly, he rolls his hip into you, pressing himself closer. you let out a muffled moan and you hear him chuckle.

“i wish i could taste you.” he groans into your ear, as he grinds against you. you could feel heat starting to pool at your abdomen as he gets rougher. “my good girl, my pretty girl.” his voice was dripping in pleasure as he breathlessly groaned, getting faster. you couldn’t hold back your moans and spider-man gets faster hearing you. you let out muffled pleas, as you feel the coil tighten in your abdomen. “i hear you, cutie, i hear you.” he grinds you against him for the final time and you feel that coil snap as pleasure washes over you in waves. you hear him groan and slump, pulling you as close as he could without hurting you.

a few minutes pass before spider-man collects himself, letting your legs drop to the ground, “this-” he gestures between the two of you, “-was great. let’s do this again sometimes.” he blows you a kiss and swings away, leaving you attached to the wall. after another 15 minutes, you feel the webs start to disintegrate. you rip your arms out and pull the webs covering your mouth off, letting you loudly sob. you snatch your purse off and dig out your phone, in between your choked whimpers.

the phone rings for a few minutes, before he picks up, “p-peter? c-could you come pick me up? p-please?”

his voice was sympathetic, “god, of course, (y/n)… i’ll be right there.”

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

TW: Yandere; Implied Kidnapping; Forced Breeding Kink.

You know how in the punishments scenes, the yandere always goes "For each spank you fail to count, that's 10 more."

Now imagine a yandere with a massive breeding kink who warns you with a huge grin on his face that for each established rule of his that you break, it adds up one more baby to your tab.

You think he's all bark, no bite. That he's bluffing with you, scare you into submission.

But by the end of your first year with him, the yandere casually reminds you during dinner that you owe him 7 babies.

6 babies actually, he corrects himself.

Baby no. 1 is already on the way.

[cheschesterpossum]

CITF AU rant: height

In Transformers one- cogless bots are smaller than cogged bots, Sentinel Prime look really big in comparison to D-16. Im pretty sure the Primes are massive compared to other cybertronians.

You guys seen in my arts, baby Primes is pretty much around the size of a baby, i like to think when they're fully adults they're still around human's height and only a bit taller (maybe a head taller than y/n or Rung's height).

In a timeline where the abandon arc didn't happen and the 13 Primes are alive. You visiting your robot children in plain sight would cause chaos among the native cybertronians (assuming is their first time seeing a human). BREAKING NEWS: GIANT ORGANIC APPEARED IN IACON.

The flabbergasted look on Sentinel's and Starscream's faceplates when the 13 Primes run toward you for a hug and calling you 'sire'.

[sevenwishesonshootingstars]

Long Awaited Wish: Descent of Our Beloved Star

Really short sagau thing that will probably only have a few parts

Next

The Stellar Reunion wasn’t enough. Nothing ever was, it seemed. Although you came back to them for the Reunion, you didn’t stay for long. There was always something else to grab your attention, always something to pull you away from them. The game wasn’t enough. They needed something bigger, something more special, something just for you. Having noticed a change in their own presence around you, finding themselves closer to you than before, they decided to take a chance.

You were sitting on your porch, taking in some fresh air. You closed your eyes and listened to the chirping birds and distant buzz-like whistles. There was always so much to do so moments like these were a treasure. You leaned back in your chair and inhaled as the crisp breeze caressed your face.

There were lots of sounds, but for once it wasn’t overwhelming. The open air carried them around and past you instead of wrapping them around you, allowing you to breathe despite how busy the world was in your moment of rest. The air was cool and fresh, relieving in contrast to the stale air of so many interiors. Maybe you should open the windows more now that it was getting warmer.

In your time of relaxation, you choose to occupy yourself with calming things, things you hadn’t seen in forever. For a while, you sat silently at a table on your porch, coloring in a coloring book like you used to do when you were younger. It was nice. You should do this more often, if you get the chance. Next, you went for a walk around the block. You forgot how much you enjoyed this. You realized that you were surprised whenever you saw someone else outside. It saddened you a bit. Finally, when you got back to your house, you decided to play a game.

You had recently been able to get a new, albeit slightly older (not that you minded at all), phone. It was a surprise gift you’d been incredibly thankful for, one so unexpected you had simply stared wide-eyed at the box when it was presented to you. After seeing how much storage this new phone had, you realized you could download one of your favorite games: Genshin Impact. You’d been playing it on a different device for about a year or two now, but being able to play it more often because you could literally carry it with you sounded great. Maybe you’d play it during your lunch breaks.

You loaded up the game and began going through your routine. Going through the routine, you checked the mail, your realm currency, decided you would do some exploration in the place of your commissions, and checked the events tab. If only you had stopped there. 

You were greeted with a new event, one you’d seen no promotion or discussion about. The event image welcomed you with the Traveler in the foreground, reaching for the camera as though beckoning for you to come along. In the background were the archons, seemingly just as eager. You tilted your head, eyes scanning the image. There were decorations and lights, and shooting stairs falling across the sky like a rain of wishes. There was no description, only the title “Long Awaited Wish: Descent of Our Beloved Star.”

“Holy crap,” you muttered as you checked the rewards. It included just about everything. You skimmed the event details, their vagueness going unnoticed as you took note of how much you’d get from this. Your mouth fell open as you tallied up what was worth about fifteen ten pulls. They usually never gave out anything close to this… And that was just the primogems. There were skins for each of the archons, seemingly related to the festival they appeared to be celebrating, and— 

“A skin for the Traveler!?” you exclaimed. “Finally!?” You, like everyone else, had been waiting years for the Traveler to get a skin, and now here one was. There were also various smaller items, such as a multitude of dishes from each of the nations and a number of keepsakes and mementos, presumably for the teapot. There was also a building, a cross between a temple and a palace. “A new realm style?” you pondered. 

Well, you couldn’t not do an event like this. Not when there was all of that to gain from it. Although you were incredibly suspicious of the amount of stuff that was being offered, assuming you probably wouldn’t be able to get all of it because it was too hard or something, it was too big of an opportunity. Besides, you need to get used to playing on mobile so…

You pressed Go To Quest.