#literal yandere

[derpperp]

Ayo!!!???? New Shattered Dreams art???? Holy crap?????????

I think Dream isn’t ok guys. Also, OMG OFFICIAL OSN SHATTERED DREAMS DAWN DESIGN 😲????? So yes I know he basically wearing the same thing as his normal clothes just no vest and arm bands. bUt!! His CAPE is ON HIS hIP!! And he clearly hasn’t been taking good care of it aHA lol. If only Dream had his trusty crown back man, the look would be complete. Anyhow, new chapter coming out soon! It sure is an INKling of a CERTAIN SOMEONE’S backstory. Hehe. @calcium-cat I hope you like my art block breaker lol (aka Dawn)

[bloodstainedhair]

Holiday Season

pairing. obsessed 141 / polar bear-hybrid reader *scenario/headcanons

note. gender neutral reader. reader is physically described to be 6ft or over. common hybrid features such as animal ears, tail, nose, claws, and paw pads.

cw. unhealthy relationships/yandere themes, meat and blood mentions, a lot of eating from hands mentions, a weird type of infantilization, big bad bear is called cute a stupid amount of times, dangerous but passive reader, vague made-up base because i watch too many movies.

Holed up in the middle of fucking nowhere, Alaska, the white wasteland. That's how the 141 were going to spend the merry month of December. Endless snow in sight and no family to be found. A complete and utter joke of a holiday season.

It scarcely matters, the food that's been stored, the dense furniture they've been given, even the solace they find in each other. It's miserable out here. The freeze is always licking at their skin, seeping through their layered clothes to cling to the exposed nape. It's their constant company.

Yet, something else bothers them. A hint that only their trained eyes could catch in their misery. An entity, perhaps, something that follows the men without rest. It's a shadow of winter, blanketing itself around the base and leaving its warmth with no trace to its next destination. Only something another human could pull off.

Dishes left strewn on the counter are returned to their cupboards, clean and scrubbed. Leftovers are consistently missing a bite more than what Soap remembers wolfing the night before. If a blanket or pillow goes missing, best bet it doesn't come back. It doesn't take much convincing for Price to round up his boys to find out the root of their question. Not when they've nothing else to do.

It's Soap who finds you first. Rummaging through the fridge with a plastic container in your hands, that adorable black nose covered in spaghetti sauce. He wonders how they didn't hear you sooner with the way you carelessly scarf down the contents. You remind him a little of himself...

Little round ears perk up at the sound of his gasp. Soap freezes in place as your head cranes back to inspect him. Eyes staring at him with indifference, a lone noodle stuck to your cheek and tomato red staining your considerably large teeth. Sharp and big, enough to poke out from your mouth and dig into your chapped bottom lip. A similarly large grayish-blue tongue swipes out to clean the damning evidence.

So. Fucking. Cute.

Johnny is thanking the names of every God he knows when you let him lead you by hand to his team. A new warmth flows through his body, lighting up his dormant nerves in the winter night, your thick black claws prodding into his rough skin. You must be a docile ol' thing, obediently following him to his buddies, though only after he bribes you with more meals to come. He'll cook up the whole damn kitchen if it means you trail him like this daily.

Ghost is sure that Johnny's the one hiding furry ears and a tail when he rushes over like a dog with a fresh new bone. That, and he's more crazy than he imagined dragging over what looks to be a six foot something polar bear hybrid right his way. Ghost doesn't forget things easily, and he's confident that said bears are known to be the most eager predators in the presence of flesh. Not just by circumstance, no, by nature.

A strange thought does pop up in head. That fluffy white tail you sport catches his eye for longer than he'd like to admit. He wonders. If he offered up a nice, raw chunk of seal to you, would it wag in anticipation? Would your ears twitch at the sounds of his boots crunching in the snow, bringing you yet another delicious catch? He could be the perfect provider for you, he thinks. Maybe even have you hunt alongside him, a bonding ritual of sorts. Blood all over your mouth, allowing only Simon to dab away at your chin with a towel. What a sight to behold. Two predators in the same room.

Gaz takes a step away before doing the exact opposite a minute later. You're not just some wild animal, and he's half worried he just disrespected you to your face (you didn't see it). Any bit of nervousness he had melts away when you gently push your nose into his warm hands. He was going for a handshake, but this is surprisingly preferred. Seems he missed wiping some the cocoa from a recent pot of hot chocolate. He hadn't expected you to be so... soft. If you want more, he's got a heap of cookies hidden away in his room. No issue with you visiting him for a late night snack. Christ, he'll even handfeed you if you're feeling lazy, no worries.

Captain Price nearly drops the flimsy cup of coffee held in his gloved hands. Fucking giant thing you are. He nearly drops it again when your nose takes a sharp turn to the smell of his beverage. Not picky, are you... He'll keep note of that for later. From the looks of it, you're adapting well to the chaos of his batch, sniffing and patiently waiting for Soap to release you from his iron grip on your paw pad. He also takes note of what your wearing almost immediately, Arctic grade parka wrapped around your waist in favor of standard workwear, more akin to a jumpsuit than winter gear. Unbelievable. However, that does explain it now. You work here.

It makes sense, considering you're one of the more volatile hybrids. So many people, including your bosses, are uneasy about the predators. It must've been particularly bad for you. Hiding you away in a big and lonely base to eat dinner at an empty table. The world unable to appreciate you for what you are.

Price on the other hand, he knows his boys like the back of his hand. They understand your type. Would take you in without judgement or fear. Indulge you. Feed you fat red meat from calloused palms and let you lap at the warm blood still dripping on the snow. Gladly clean the droplets that stain your pure white parka. Make you warm.

[a-b-riddle]

Hear me out, but obsessed Simon Riley x reader.

When you’re accused of being a traitor, Simon doesn’t hesitate in getting to work.

Even though you handed over all of your passwords, given them access to anything and everything they him immediately, it did nothing to help. You were going to be crucified.

Price and Laswell had already made the call. A call Simon couldn’t stand by and let happen.

It’s not that Simon believed you when you tried to prove you weren’t the leak.

He simply didn’t care if you were.

He didn't care if you had betrayed them. He didn't care if your innocent nature had truly been an act all along.

It was instinct to get you out of there. Not even for your own safety, but to insure Simon that no one could take you from him. If you remained a free agent, it was only a matter of time before they brought you in. After that, it was out of his hands. You were theres to hurt, to kill and he could do nothing to stop it. So what better way to insure that they can't take you other than taking you for himself?

He simply can’t have someone hurting his bird. So he sets the plan in motion.

Price intends on waiting for the order before executing the extraction plan. They wanted answers. How much did you tell Makarov? What did he know?

Simon was a step ahead. It was easy enough hiding in your garage, waiting for you to come home. The darkness of the night had aided him. You were blindly walking to the door connecting to your kitchen before you felt it. The gloved hand around your mouth and the sharp pinch in your neck.

When you wake up chained to a bed in a dark room, you knew you were as good as dead. They had taken you. This was it and you couldn't plead your case anymore than you already had. All your efforts in trying to prove your innocence were futile.

When Simon stepped in, still in his tactical gear your heart sank. He still had on his mask. Fully equipped. The knives on his side gleaming menacingly as the one light in your cell shined down on him. You swore that you would never betray him, the 141 or Laswell.

“Simon,” you begged already scurrying farther back toward the headboard, trying to create more distance. “I didn’t do it. I swear.” He didn’t stop his slow steps. Even as you began to cry. Even as you curled your body into a tight ball.

You sobbed as you pleaded for mercy, begging for your life. Your shaking violently as you felt him get on the bed. The frame creaking under his weight. You closed your eyes, turning your head away as you readied your self for the final blow to come. Wordlessly began unlocking the metal cuffs.

"Shhh," he soothed. "None of that now." He took your wrists in his hand before softly running his thumbs where the metal cuffs had left an imprint. “Couldn’t have you running off.” He explained, his tone... gentle. Speaking to you as if you were child. "That sedative can give you a pretty rough wake up call. Didn't need you hurtin' yourself. Needed to have a chat first.” He went on to explain you were in his home. Where he wouldn’t disclose. Only that you were safe.

You were safe.

You weren't going to be tortured.

You weren't going to be killed for something you didn't do. Your eyes filled with tears as you realized he was on your side. “You believe me.” You said, the tears resuming for a completely didn't reason. Relief flooded you and you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.

“No,” his correction made your heart drop into your stomach.

"But..." You press your back hard against the wooden headboard. There's no where else to go. Nowhere else to run. "You said I was safe." He sighed. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he put his hand gently where your neck and jaw me.

"You are safe." But, if he didn’t believe you... why were you here? “I don’t care if you did it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. Then he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was talking more to himself than he was you. “Not going to let anything hurt you.”

It took you a moment to process it.

Simon had taken you... You were in his home and no one knew you were here. You didn't even know where exactly you were.

And Simon was touching you.

He was touching you. After years of working together, Simon was caressing your cheek. Showing such softness that it actually scared you. He took note of how he could feel your heart rate even through his glove.

"Why?"

“I’m protecting you.” He said, growing irritated that you weren't getting it. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?" He asked rhetorically, waiting rather patiently for you to be thanking him for saving you.

"Do..." Your head began to spin, trying to pull your mind away from all the possibilities on what could have happened. "Do I have to stay here?" You asked.

Simon was a patient man, but you beginning to test that patience. He let out a huff before pulling his hand away and placing it on your bare knee.

"Just until it all gets sorted." He lied, giving you a squeeze that he could only hope was reassuring. Even after they found the leak, you wouldn't be leaving him.

"Oh." You swallowed, nodding in understanding. "Okay." You let out a staggered breath trying to calm down. You were going to have to stay in this confined space, already feeling the claustrophobia creeping in as you felt the dark cement walls move in closer and closer. "Is there a bathroom I can use in here?" You asked, praying he wouldn't leave you with a bucket and a roll of toilet paper.

Simon laughed. He actually barked out a laugh, making you jump. "I meant you'll have to stay here with me." He clarified. "Not in the basement."

"Oh," the tenseness in your body seemed to ease up. "Good. It just feels..." you didn't finish. Too afraid to insult the man who quite literally held your life in his hands.

"No worries." he assured, finally taking his hand off of you to stand up. He held his palm out waiting for you to take his hand.

Without thinking twice, you did. Letting him help you stand even though your legs felt like they would give out at any minute. At the slight wobble of your knees, Simon took the liberty of scooping you up. A gasp escaping you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Afraid that even though you had seen the man basically serve as a human battering-ram, you were afraid he would somehow drop you.

Simon's fingers ached to feel the softness of your thighs. He wanted to badly to come downstairs without his gear on. Bare himself to you. Reveal the face of the man behind the mask. Scars and all. He was worried that would have made it worse. Waking up in a basement, handcuffed to a bed with an unknown man aching to touch you.

He would show you his face soon enough. You would grow to love it. Each scar and imperfection on his face. His crooked nose and the touch of his calloused hands.

He planned to have you begging for it. To pepper kisses along his cheeks. Beg for his touch on your skin. Begging him to bury his fingers, his cock inside you. You would ache for him just as he had ached for you all this time.

You would fall as deeply as he had.

You would come to love your life with Simon.

No matter how long it took you to accept it.

[yourdoorisunlocked]

I'll Never Meet Another You - Part 1

📺 【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 】📺

𝐀/𝐍: Is that...? Oh my god- It's the sound of another WIP in my endless void of fanfic ideas that managed to see the light of day!! It also means I've added another demon husband to my ✨cOlLeCtIoN✨

So, I'm definitely doing a continuation of this- I was having WAY too much fun writing it.

Enjoy your yandere, stalking, creepy-ass television man! :)

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏,𝟒𝟏𝟓 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐯, 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴛᴀɴɢᴏ | ᴀᴜᴛᴏʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

. . .

Electricity bounced across clawed, neon-blue fingertips as Vox’s collection of monitors booted up, lining the walls in a cyan-hued excess of the latest tech his company manufactured.  

With but a wave of his hand, the devices were slaves to his command. 

As Vox sat upon his electronic throne that was centered before it all, he closed every work-related tab within his mental browser, before slumping in his seat within the darkness. The demon rubbed where the bridge of his nose would’ve been with a stressed crease in his brows; a little habit that he had acquired from his life above.  

To say it had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century. For the first twelve hours since he had emerged from his quarters, Vox had been bombarded with underlings shoving incessant workloads into his lap.

Ensuring the reputation of the Vees, the new VoxTech Angelic Security system that he had been developing, the countless amount of paperwork and maintaining the digital grid, and to top it all off, he had to manage the temper of one pissed-off Valentino. 

Ugh... Fuckin' Val and his goddamn runaways... it's not my fucking fault he can't manage his toys. 

Dealing with the lustful moth Overlord's temper tantrums were usually the absolute highlights of Vox's day, but this time in particular there was quite the treat in store for the overworked Overlord.

Hm... Maybe that's how the name came to be. Ah, who am I kidding? Velv just sits on her ass all day.

Of course, Vox pushed his indignation aside and swept everything up with a winning smile of pure showmanship, the pinnacle of excellence in front of the public.

And just as everything seemed to fall into place, like any other day of Vox cleaning up the messes of his fellow Overlords, something just had to go fucking wrong.

Imagine being the literal fucking backbone of the Vees, ensuring that their picture-perfect reputation of utmost excellence and being called up by an irritated Velvet to play babysitter and manage the man-child because of fucking Angel Dust- 

And then catching wind of ḧ̴͇͕́̍i̷̡̹͋͂̓m̵͈͔̳̭̙̍͝ returning... 

A few sparks flew from Vox's antenna as his overheated fans whirred rapidly. That old timey, triangle-assed p̴̲̩̮͙̜̎́̋r̸͓̟͆̀͆i̸̼͕͓̺̹̪̔͛͊̋͗c̸̢̤̐͂͜k̵̻̭̦̣̪͈̕-̸̢̡̪͇̖̈́... 

Slowly, he took a deep breath, stretching his knuckles and tilting his head to the side with a deep frown. He had the evening to himself, now. No Radio-Pricks, no need to maintain the perfect facade he had so carefully crafted for himself and his allies, and no Valentino.

Time to unwind... 

A cup of coffee materialized in his hand with a spark of electricity that lingered around his hand, dancing upon his fingers. He scooted just a bit closer to the large, main monitor within the center of TVs installed in his office, and his mental request was immediately answered by the large computer screen before him. 

A zipped file containing possibly the most sensitive information that you couldn’t fucking torture out of the television demon happened to be the very first result of his search, almost teasing him with the overtness of his little obsession. 

Vox clicked on the file quicker than ever before, and he took a long, slow sip of his drink as he focused solely upon the pretty little blessing that had graced his screens since a few months ago.

You were lounging on your couch, scrolling haphazardly on your phone in your less-than ideal apartment, but hey, it worked for you, so who was Vox to judge? Even if he would've placed you in one of the most mind-bogglingly extravagant penthouses that you'd ever seen in your afterlife, he had no qualms as long as you remained untouched. 

And luckily, his position and occupation made it more than easy to ensure that you had no one in particular in mind to take his place. 

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, nothing about you remained unseen by Vox, and no stone was left unturned when it came to your private life. 

And Vox was always there. Watching. Adoring you through digitally enamored eyes without moving an inch from his seat. 

Small, pixelated hearts floated across his interface as you looked through your phone, blessing him with a plethora of reactions. Whether it be with a small pout of your lips, to the furrow of your brows, to that cute giggle-snort you made whenever something seemed funny to you, the electronic Overlord drank it up like red wine from a golden cup glorified by gods themselves.

Lord, Vox had it bad.

Every step you took, every breath you inhaled, every purchase you made, every club or restaurant you went to, your exact order at your favorite diner, your taste in fashion and jewelry, he memorized every fact, photo, and video and saved it all in a private file.  

It was Vox's most precious possession, the closest he could ever get to you, for now.

Vox’s smile stretched across his flat-screen face; a neon hue of razor-sharp teeth pulled into a fond simper as the sound of your chiming laughter rang out across his office. 

How he wished to capture the sound, perhaps place it into a bottle for him, and only him to hear, your smile a treasure of the rarest quality to keep. 

There was no doubt about it, Vox was your number one fan. 

More monitors across the room lit up, whether it be with your beautiful face or your soft, angelic singing, there was nothing but you, you... 

Y̵̼̜̿o̴̝͕̾ṷ̸̇.̶͈͍̎̔ ̵̟̒̚ 

Vox hated the idea of having to share this with anyone else. Share you with anyone else. Every time he ended the night like this, he had to fight the urge to steal you away and seat you upon your rightful place, a throne beside his, towering above his empire with no unworthy, sinful eyes to look upon you. 

“Huh... I’ve actually always wondered what that ‘Vox’ guy is like in real life...” said demon froze at the sound of his name pouring from your lips, and a soft blush mixed with the bright blue glow of his face, coloring it a light lavender pink. You were talking to yourself again, something Vox binged like a talk show whenever he was off work.  

He could watch you all day like this. And God knows that he would massacre any number of demons, conquer any area of territory simply for a few minutes in your presence.

A casual conversation, witty banter, fuck, he'd rather talk about the goddamn weather with you than be deprived of your presence any longer. Not behind a screen, but in person.

Vox needed something, anything with you, romantic or platonic, though the former would surely grow an insatiable craving, if you kept teasing him like this.

He needed you to be there for him, to just treat him like a person.

Vox normally wouldn't mind the fact that he was always perfecting himself for others, catering to their every desire. A machine. Meant to serve the masses, and in turn, they'd fall to their feet before him like flies to honey, insatiable, pathetic worms. 

But it'd drive anyone to the brink of fucking insanity, to keep up the same, cheery yet suave charade every draining day.

And with you? Even if you never knew about your secret admirer’s ever-prying eyes watching your every step, it felt like Vox didn't need to put on a show for you. He could simply watch and listen as you, sweet, mischievous, lovable you talked his ears off for the rest of his day.

What I'd give to just kiss the hell out of her-

“Heh, he’s actually kind of cute. Y’know, for a TV, I guess...” you giggled at the end of your sentence as you scrolled through more photos of him, drinking up every piece of content that featured the demon that was watching you through your camera.  

A little side-menu of exactly what you had been looking through immediately popped up, and an intense zapping noise from above signaled to Vox that, once again, the demon was two seconds away from overheating and having to reboot himself as he nearly spit out his hot drink. 

Vox nearly short-circuited in his seat as you smiled warmly down at your phone, directly into his eyes as his cold, mechanical heart pounded in his chest, and bright red spread across his screen like a virus.

“Oh... Ohoho...” 

“Now that’s good television...” 

. . .

End Notes: Ok, holy SHIT-

I really like this one. Like GODDAMN this was so fun to write!! I'll definitely be doing headcanons for yandere Hazbin Hotel very soon. Also, that A03 shit I just pulled at the end? You're welcome ;)

Btw I'm working on my Masterlist, so if anyone has requests or drabbles that they'd like to enter, don't be afraid to ask! I think I'll make some rules clear later, like no EXTREME asks or kinks or anything like that.

Smut is on the table though don't be afraid lmao. I'll be the one shaking in my boots when I'm about to post it- 😓

Anyway, thanks for reading!! See you next time✨

[bunnygirllover45]

CG work for vn project "Something Rots"

[on-leatheredwings]

18+, dark themes, tw somno mention

more about these types:

stalking + spying yandere - Self explanatory. A lot of cameras and audio bugs used. They will literally stalk you and find out everything about your life. What they do with that info varies. Mostly, they enjoy the surveillance, simply watching you. This yandere often is a voyeur. They would do all this recon in order to best appeal to your personality/interests, and get in your good graces once they initiate contact.

manipulative yandere - They have the upper hand on you intellectually and make sure you know it implicitly. You may fall for a lot of their lies because of perceived inferiority. After all, they're just so much smarter than you! What they're saying has to be correct or for your benefit. This yandere most likely turns you against your family/friends, gaslights, etc. You only reach a breaking point in the far future, like the idiom of frogs in boiling water.

isolating yandere - They will physically isolate you in a room, cage, etc. Methods of subduing you vary (whether by violence or drugging). The whole point is that they're your only source of social interaction from now on. This yandere enjoys quality time, and every time they see you is a 'date' in their eyes. They're most likely to have a jealous/possessive streak.

never-lets-on yandere - Essentially, this yandere never lets on that they're a yandere. Everything is done without your knowledge. Either they get lucky because things play out to where you don't against their plans; or they're simply amazing liars/actors. They tend to just run your life without your knowledge, pulling you around like an unknowing puppet. Because you're totally unaware of it all, you view them as perfectly normal, and perhaps even one of your closest friends (if not already dating). This type differs from stalking and manipulative, because while they can overlap, this yandere doesn't change your life perceptibly. You can still have friends, family, a life, a sense of agency - they're just secretly a control freak behind the scenes. You've never had true 'free will' since they met you. Most likely to commit somno.

[ddarker-dreams]

kafka encouraging yan blade's behavior and even helping him in his questionable endeavors ...

the selfish decisiveness his mara evokes vanishes when his lucidity reigns. he's less sure of himself. specifically, of his conduct. how much of your happiness can he sacrifice for his own? he doesn't want you to be miserable. he doesn't even need you to like him, necessarily. although he'd greedily devour your favor, should you bestow it upon him.

blade experiences this pleasant rush when watching you go about your daily activities. how your voice takes a soft cadence to soothe a crying child, when you help an elderly neighbor bring in their groceries, the supernovas born in your eyes when you learn your favorite drink had been paid for by a stranger (him). it's organic, it's you — uninhibited, stumbling around through life.

he could take so much. he could ruin you. he could drain every ounce of goodness from your body like a parasite. he's acutely aware of this, even derives a sick satisfaction from it, if he's honest. you're in the palm of his scarred hands. this is the focal point of his dilemma. should his grasp loosen, you'll fall through his fingers. however, if his fist clenches too tight, you'll break.

blade doesn't want you broken. he just wants you. smiling, laughing, whole.

everything you wouldn't be if he acted on his impulses.

kafka, vigilant as ever, picks up on blade's morose mood. she knows what's troubling him before he even parses it out for himself. and so her gentle suggestions begin, woven so subtle at first, that they almost go unnoticed. she stresses how safe you'd be under his dutiful watch. that you wouldn't want for anything. how if he shares parts of his past, you, being the bleeding heart that you are, won't be able resist empathizing.

sometimes, she'll tell him, a gentle hold is the trickiest to escape.

he might not acknowledge her advice outright, but as time ticks on, each lonely night feeling colder than the last, he wonders how much longer he can go without your warmth.

[hana-no-seiiki]

FLIRTY! READER: Uh . . . What are you doing?

YAN! TSUN! PRETTY BOY: *learning 73648336 recipes so that he can be your male-wife one day, in cute, pink, frilly apron + shorts to boot*

YAN! TSUN! PRETTY BOY: . . . Your mom.

FLIRTY! READER: . . .

FLIRTY! READER: Fair enough. Nice legs by the way. Looking breedable as al—

YAN! TSUN! PRETTY BOY: Sh-shut up!

[nerdy-talks]

I love Solomon 💙

The greatest sorcerer just keeps winning me over with his jealousy.

He's so cute and precious and protective and possessive, I just.... Ahhhh!!!!! *fangirls obsessively*

[tutterypuff]

tbh though if you look at the older episodes, Betty was always like absolutely 100% fully and irrevocably unhinged, and her going insane was barely a departure from the status quo at all

like this woman is and always was nuts, and I think it's for everyone's benefit that they're both equally obsessed with each other, because that means nobody else ever has to get involved with their fucked up dynamic

I think it's less that she put her life on hold for Simon's benefit, but that she's a scary lady who knows exactly what she wants, and what she wants is a relationship with a nice autistic guy who's really into femdom

[robo-milky]

Rook

Oh nooooo~ What’s this? My legs are suddenly giving out after 1 second of running?! Pwease Master Mr. Hunt, go easy on this poor, delicate, helpless cat maid— won’t you? How can I possibly have the energy to indulge you in a hunt after a long day’s worth of chores?! 🥺🥺

[eustassslut]

Thinking about Sabo falling in love with a pretty noble. They're everything Sabo hates; rich, spoiled and unaware of their privilege, but he can't help the way his heart skips a beat every time he sees them in public or in the news. Of course it all ends up with him in their bed putting them in their place and punishing them for their spoiled attitude, even if he later gives into their pleas to let them cum.

[yanderederee]

[loveyoubestest]

♥︎♡♥︎♡

.

“i’m mentally stable! i’m not a stalker! i’m in love!”

.

♡♥︎♡♥︎

[silky-nereid]

— i don’t know why i bite

tw : manipulative behavior, minor injuries, dead things as an gifts, major injuries, barn and farm inaccuracies, implied death.

yandere!caretaker x monster!reader/you

Yandere! Caretaker who lives on a farm and harvested a couple of corn cobs for side dishes and notices a trail of blood in their barn.

Yandere! Caretaker who finds you injured curled up in the hayloft, surrounded by hay and manages to catch you despite your claws scratching them and biting them.

Yandere! Caretaker who immediately puts you in a metal tub to wash you and tries to put a muzzle on you to stop you from biting them.

“Watch it!” They grumbled. “I’m trying to help you.”

Rolling up their flannel patterned sleeves, holding a simple hose and different types of shampoo bottles to see which one would work better.

They filled up the metal tub but you had other plans and scurried out of the tub. Trembling and immediately curled up in a ball, your clawed hands still desperately tried to tear off the muzzle.

Yandere! Caretaker who still searches up methods to gain your trust and carefully dressed your wounds.

Yandere! Caretaker who buys equipment to take off the matted fur/matted feathers if you weren’t able to preen them due to your state.

Yandere! Caretaker who tries to figure out what type of food that you’ll eat and makes sure that you get daily meals.

Your face had been buried in the fresh bowl of meals rather than leisurely being sprawled in the hayloft surrounded in a bed of hay. You finished eating and dug your nails in the wooden poles climbing up into the hayloft, blood filled your mouth and hearing the familiar boots hitting the gray concrete.

They watched you climb down and saw the blood dribbling down your skin which immediately caused them to pace towards you with a first aid kit. A dead rat was spat out from your mouth onto the concrete floor.

“You got me worried.” They wiped the blood from your mouth. “Don’t scare me like that. Is this a gift for me?”

The corners of their lips formed into a smile when you purred/chirped in response as you climbed up the wooden poles to the hayloft and buried yourself in the hay.

Yandere! Caretaker who ‘upgraded’ your living space from the barn to their farmhouse and has to bandage up their own injuries but they weren’t as deep now; progress.

Yandere! Caretaker who increasingly grows protective of you after you curled up next to them and they noticed a collar around your neck that they somehow hadn’t seen before.

Yandere! Caretaker who begrudgingly contacts the number on the back of the collar after doubt sets in as they look at you, somehow sleeping on the tiny couch and immediately hangs up after a single hello from the other line.

Yandere! Caretaker who throws away the collar and goes back to the couch where you’re still sprawled on and slowly wakes you up to treat the infection from the collar.

Your claws scratched the doorframe of upstairs, hanging upside down and occasionally gnawing on the top of the frame.

“Get down from there. You’ll get hurt,” they said. “Your breakfast is almost done.”

They knew that noise of you climbing down the doorframe and still struggling down the stairs. Hearing the knock on the spring door and leaving the pan on the counter to see a well dressed duo on the other side of the door, they walked to the spring door and took one foot out.

“Can I help you two?” They asked.

“You have what’s ours,”one said. “It escaped and we tracked it down here. Hand it over and we will be on our way.”

“You must be in the wrong place.” They crossed their arms. “You both should go back on your way and leave.”

A familiar purr/chirp echoed throughout the silent farmhouse that made their heart drop.

Yandere! Caretaker who isn’t afraid of getting their hands dirty if it means to protect you and finds your trembling form poorly hidden and tries desperately to calm you down because they hate to see you in pain.

Yandere! Caretaker who slowly spoils you to make it up for the bloodshed but you seem to refuse every time which slowly chips away at them; were you starting to be ungrateful?

Your gaze stuck on the outside, bright blue sky rather than the stuffy farmhouse that seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each day that passed. Perhaps they would like a gift for a farewell? You left a small mouse on the counter, it didn’t move as it just lied on its side.

The fresh breeze against the clean body and you started to move further and further away from the farmhouse. It bloomed with a unrecognizable sting as it wasn’t the familiar pain that always embedded itself into you but it was freeing; better than—

A loud ringing echoed throughout your head, guttural cries escaped your lips. Your face buried in the fresh grass, it hurt to breathe, a familiar scent came in. Through your blurred vision, you saw the intricate designs on the boots that belong to them, your claws desperately grabbed the lower pant leg but failed and grabbed the dirt instead.

“You’re hurt,” they said. “Let’s get you inside now. I’ll patch you up and you will be good as new.”

They meticulously moved you back inside and back onto the familiar comfort of the small couch yet the trembling continues throughout your body, desperately clinging to their warmth. Your face buried in their abdomen, a familiar soft purring/chirping escaped your mouth.

“I don’t know what I would do without you.” They cleaned the dirt from underneath your nails, wrapped and cleaned the wound on your back. “Stay here with me and I’ll care for you.”

[bunnygirllover45]

Some old seth drawings. Tbh I only like the first one. tw: screamer under the cut.

sethfield.