#tw yandere

[godnectar]

........pls gib me Yan dilf in skimpy outfit pls🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

・✶ ｡ﾟ☆ YANDERE DILF ☆ ; drabble

★ note: had one of the craziest and nicest nights of this year fr, so of course I had to indulge on this ask 😫😫 ( y'all can send more requests here! )

cw: gn!reader, big man has kids, not in a relationship yet, neighbors au!, slight feminization, subby yan, kinda suggestive, and reader is a bit mean. I'm just showing my pathetic boy some affection <3

I now seriously can't stop thinking about a yandere dilf! who would absolutely wear and do anything for his dearest darling.

it doesn't really matter what you're asking for. whether you want him in the tightest and most transparent shirt ever, or just wanna see him getting riled up while trying on some slutty shorts —maybe even a skirt if you're into that— yandere dilf! will always be up to indulging into your desires.

pictures, videos, calls; you'll receive whatever you want as long as you promise to get your hands on yandere dilf! as soon as you arrive back in the neighborhood. he would purposefully send the kids to daycare or let them have a sleepover at a friend's place, growing extremely excited and completely aware that he will be busy all night long with you at his side.

as embarrassing, humiliating, and probably pathetic as this might be for any other man, yandere dilf! thrieves and lives from your attention.

grope him, degrade him, and strip him to the sweet, matching underwear you've bought him some nights ago— he doesn't care. yandere dilf! certainly doesn't care, as he can only focus on the way your hands roam all over his body, too lost in the feeling of your lips kissing and sucking on every inch of newly uncovered skin.

you might be just using him, feeding bits of your ego, and destroying part of his in the process of satisfying your fantasies... but guess what? he's completely fine with it. he would do anything for you anytime, if at least that means having you show yandere dilf! some love.

"I swear– I swear you can do whatever you want with me... Just keep loving me tonight, yeah?"

© godnectar 2024. please do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

[crispy-armpit]

2k follower special <3!!!

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH TO MY BEAUTIFUL 2,000+ FOLLOWERS!!

even though I have bouts of inactivity and a lot of inconsistency in my work, I am so thankful for all your support and love <3 as a thank you, have a short 2k special featuring my most popular boys, Liam & Deimos!

may be suggestive at the start;;; and big poly vibes

"you're doing so good taking us both, songbird... aren't they, pretty boy?", Deimos purrs.

Liam gives a whiny response, "fuck... where'd you learn to move like that, y/n? you didn't even give me a chance to finish you!"

your hands grip further into the controller in your hands, a minor migraine beginning to form, "please refrain from using dirty words while I'm kicking both of your asses in Tekken."

you feel the sofa where the three of you were lying down shifting from both sides, as you had been seated in between both men.

on the left, Deimos who was leaning himself on your shoulder shifted his head on your lap. his nose and lips snuggling themselves into the lower region of your torso. he sighs, "just let poor Lili win at least once, songbird... it's late and I need you in the bedroom as my favourite body pillow."

on the right, Liam had left the comfort of the sofa and moved to the floor, sitting right next to your legs. with his most pathetic puppy eyes, he begs while hugging your right leg, "pleaseee baby, let me win!! I need at least one win so I can go to bed in peace tonight..."

"no. both of you need to leave right now, go to bed!"

this was another one of their tactics to get you to sleep with them (you have a terrible sleep schedule). which isn't a bad thing, you love sleeping in between them.

but most of the time, it really really sucks- like in a suffocating way. by that you mean sandwiched between two pairs of defined and humongous man tits type of suffocating. and they always have you cornered or have their hands on you all night, so there's absolutely zero chance of you getting away from their tight grasp. it's as if their bodies are trying to fuse us together.

this was your way of saving yourself. by going to sleep later than them, they would be forced to lay next to each other instead, therefore giving you a fresh supply of oxygen through the night!

..... which is what you had planned in mind. but fate and two overly clingy adult men had other plans by accompanying you until you finally succumbed to sleep.

"look, I still need to finish the story mode, so you guys just go ahead first- AAAH!!"

Deimos picks your body up over his shoulder with ease, "ain't no way we're leaving you, I need my pillow."

Liam looks at you with a pitiful smile, "and I need my baby next to me."

"nooo... why won't you two just snuggle each other instead? you guys always suffocate me in your sleep", you complain.

"cause you're you. and we like it better when you're with us."

Deimos bellows as he opens the door to your shared bedroom, "yeah right! ya just need y/n to rub one out at night!"

"don't act so holy either, Deimos." Liam glares at him from behind.

lord, please save me from these idiots...

[00-jammy-00]

Can you do a Yan spy fanfic where we get hurt on a mission and he goes crazy over it PLEASE 🥹🥹

Yan!Spy HC’s

Yan!Spy x GN! Spy! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, murder, nsfw mentions, mean yandere, easily annoyed yandere, possessiveness

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Yan!Spy who had gotten sick of your fucking nagging, he’ll take you on a mission if you just shut up. He barges into the locker rooms, grumbling the whole time as he grabs his bag and a couple weapons.

Yan!Spy who, when he’s done, rolls his eyes so hard he swears he saw a glimpse of his brain. You were struggling to put on your holster so of course he grabs you by your waist and does it for you. You were just taking too damn long.

Yan!Spy who just listens to you blabber on the whole way there, trying to stop his eye from twitching. He forgot how much energy you have. Not that he minded though.

Yan!Spy who engraved the plan into your dumb little head. Collect intel then get out. Simple. Well it would’ve been simple if you didn’t mess up your grappling hook and get yourself fucking shot.

Yan!Spy who grunts and shoots the guy he’s talking to in the face before rushing over to take out the bastard who touched his precious trophy. Once the man’s brains were on the floor, he hauled your ass out the window and back into the vehicle.

Yan!Spy who had a calm look on his face as he patched you up but was mentally strangling you. How could you be so fucking stupid?! What the fuck were you doing?! He taught you how to use your grappling hook so many times sweetheart!

Yan!Spy who makes sure no one is looking before placing a soft kiss to your temple, whispering soothing words of how you were okay now. It wasn’t just for you, it was more for him, letting himself know you were safe again, safe in his arms.

Yan!Spy who made sure you never got in trouble for that incident, you had gone through enough with a bullet in your damn stomach. He stayed by your side during the whole healing process of course, couldn’t leave his baby alone but you better pray to every god on this big green earth because once you’re all better, he’s going to pound into you until you learn to fucking behave.

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[2-dsimp]

what would happen if temothy found out that their boss has developed feelings for them but won't go through due to rules on workplace relationships

Temothy may or may not have blackmailed the higher ups, who came up with such a ridiculous rule to begin with. It does help being an info broker as a side gig. He’s got everyone’s secrets and knows just when and where to use em.

A/n: switching him from the Spin-offs to the monster gang since he’s actually a bull hybrid. XD

[cumtastiics]

he starts thrusting harder and quicker than before, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into you with a hungry desperation. every breath he takes comes out in a ragged moan, and his hands roam all over your body, leaving streaks of pain wherever he decides to dig his nails in.

(oh shucks. with this post and the last, could user cumtastiics be writing something? maybe idk ask them)

[sourlove]

YANDERE KING PART II 👑(GN READER)

TW: OBSESSION, YANDERE THEMES, JEALOUSY, VIOLENCE, IMPLIED TORTURE

READ PART 1 HERE

You had never heard a room fall silent the way it did when you stepped in.

It was lunchtime and King Henry had demanded politely requested that you join him and some foreign dignitaries for a meal in the grand hall. However, none of the aforementioned were present. Instead, the Queen and her servants stared at you coldly as you halted by the entrance.

"Good afternoon, Your majesty," you greeted with a bow. "My apologies for-"

"You. Come here." The hall was empty, so the Queen's voiced echoed, coldly.

You glanced up and nervously stepped towards her. The head butler stood there as well, but he sneered at you when you looked at him. Queen Penelope's maids, two nasty girls who constantly tried to make your life miserable, began to whisper to themselves, eyes trained on your neck. Actually, you noticed that all of them seemed to be looking at your neck.

With a sinking feeling, you looked down at the garishly ornate necklace the King insisted you wear to lunch.

"It's the same color as my eyes. I want you to wear it and think of me," Henry had whispered into your ear as he clasped it around your neck. You hadn't thought much of it and had just planned to wear it for the afternoon and stuff it in a drawer with all the other gifts Henry had forced on you.

"That necklace, where did you get it from?" the Queen asked stiffly. Her face gave away nothing but disgust and hatred for you.

"Ah, this? It was His majesty that gave it to me, Your majesty," you replied, reaching up to touch the giant chunk of sapphire swinging from the thick gold chain.

"Liar!" One of the maids cried. "It is the same one the King gave Her Majesty on their wedding night! The one that went missing!"

The temperature suddenly dropped as you realized the situation you had just walked into. You opened your mouth to defend yourself but nothing came out, making Queen Penelope snap in anger.

"You dare try to make excuses? Hold them down!"

The two maids immediately grabbed your arms, fingernails painfully digging into your skin. The butler scoffed, "Of course someone of your status would resort to theft."

The Queen roughly yanked the necklace off you. "A filthy concubine," she hissed. "Dares to sneak around my chambers? You must think you can get away with anything just because you're warming the King's bed. But let me tell you something." She lowered her voice as if she were sharing a secret. "He will soon tire of you, and I will take great pleasure in dealing with you the same way I dealt with others who dared to think they were beyond their station."

You licked your lips shakily and stammered out, "Y-your majesty, I swear there must have been some kind of mistake. Hen-The King truly gave me that necklace! I would never dare to-"

Her rings caught on your face when she hit you and you stumbled back, only held up by her giggling maids. A warm, metallic taste filled your mouth. Blood. "How dare you speak his name?! You will regret ever crawling into his bed, you vile wench!"

She raised her her hand again to land another blow until a booming voice froze everyone in place.

"What is going on here?!"

Henry looked furious as he stormed into the grand hall, closely followed by an entourage of people; guards, servants and the dignitaries you were supposed to have lunch with. Before you could even begin to feel embarrassed, the maids holding you fled to stand behind their mistress, leaving you to stagger into Henry's arms.

His blue eyes scanned you and took in your bruised face, his face twisting into an expression you had never seen before. "Penelope!" he barked. "What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself immediately!"

The Queen balked at the face of his pure, unadulterated rage, but still pointed an accusatory finger at you. "My necklace! Th-they stole it from my chambers and paraded around claiming that you gave it to them!" All of a sudden, she burst into tears and you gaped at her. Who exactly was the victim here? "I-I just lost my temper, because that necklace is so dear to me! You gave it to me as a wedding gift!"

You could already feel the nasty looks being sent in your direction and shrunk back. Henry looked down at your trembling form and bloody mouth, seemingly unaffected by Queen Penelope's tears.

"Let me see the necklace," he commanded. The head butler stepped forward with the cause of all your problems and bowed to the King, handing it to him. Henry turned it over in his hand and chuckled dryly. "You foolish woman."

This seemed to surprise everyone, for the King was known for being kind and peaceful. "Y-your majesty?"

Henry flipped the sapphire pendant, revealing the gold backing on which your initials were carved. The Queen was at a lost for words and her mouth opened and closed multiple times without saying a word.

The butler stepped in for his mistress. "Your majesty, there is a chance they could have engraved it themself after they stole it!"

Henry cocked his head and hummed. "There is a chance. A very slim one, considering I was the one who engraved their initials myself." He stroked your hair soothingly. "I didn't want there to be any confusion between the two so this was a precaution. Had I known that the Queen would be so willing to strike my concubine over such a small issue, I would have been more careful."

"Your majesty!" A knight ran into the room, holding up a familiar object. "We found the Queen's necklace in the head butler's quarters!"

The man gasped and shook. "Framed! I've been framed!" He dropped to his knees as the guards surrounded him. "Your majesty, please believe me!"

Henry barely spared him a glance. "Take him to the dungeons and have him whipped. Such is the punishment for a thief." He turned to the Queen who paled in fear but Henry wasn't done. "Take the maids too. Cut off the hands that dared to hurt what is mine."

They screamed as they were dragged away, pleading for mercy, and you winced. Henry turned to reschedule his lunch meeting with the dignitaries as if it were nothing, as is he didn't just order for people to be tortured. The events of the day started to catch up to you and you swayed in Henry's grasp.

He swooped you into a bridal carry immediately, barking orders to call a physician. He cast a final glance back at the Queen who had just watched her most loyal servants be taken away. Tears, perhaps real ones this time, filled her eyes.

Henry turned back to you. "Lock the Queen in her chambers until further notice. She has done enough damage today."

"Your majesty! Your majesty, you cannot do this to me! I am your Queen!"

Her cries were cut off as the doors to the grand hall slammed shut. Henry strode quickly to you chambers, lips pressed in a thin line.

"...I'm fine, Henry," you said softly. You knew calling him by his name would calm him down from the thoughts in his head. He glanced down at you.

"She hit you."

"But it's not serious. I will heal very soon."

Henry shook his head in frustration. He said no more until you were tucked in bed, after being thoroughly examined by the palace physician. After the old man had given you some medicine and left, the King crawled into your bed. "I'm sorry, my love."

You patted his hand tiredly. You wished he would leave you to sleep in peace, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen. "It's not your fault, Henry. It's not like you planned this."

When Henry said nothing, you turned to find a look in his eyes that made you sit up straight, sleepiness fading away. "I didn't think she would hit you-" he began but you cut him off.

"Is that why you insisted I wear it to lunch? Did you plan this whole affair to humiliate me?"

"You don't understand, I did it for you! To help you establish your place in the palace!"

"As what? As your bed warmer? The King's whore? Is that what you wanted?" You glared at him. "Why can't you understand that there is simply no place for me here. Not when I was forced to be here."

"...you're right."

You glanced at him, frowning in confusion but Henry was staring into space, lost in his thoughts. "It's too dangerous for you here. Who knows what that woman will do to hurt you?"

"Are you-are you saying that I can go home?" You couldn't help feeling hopeful of returning to your old life but that feeling soon crashed down when Henry smiled.

"I can't just let you go, my love," he chuckled, pulling you closer to him. "But I will take you somewhere you never have to go through anything like this ever again."

Later on, you would wonder if anyone ever questioned your disappearance or if Henry had spread some story to stop them from searching for you. Either way, it's not like anything that happened outside of the safehouse mattered. It was your only home now.

And the only thing you needed to concern yourself with was loving your King and serving him, and only him, until death do you part.

READ ASK ON 'What happens if Reader tries to run away?' HERE

A/N: Please like, reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed this! Feel free to request any headcanons for this character but I might not write anymore full fledged fics of Henry for a while lol.

@pinkrose1422 @justabratsworld

[digital-domain]

Retrieval

Alastor x Reader // word count 4.4k

Pt 3 to Spring Cleaning and Clean Slate

In which you attempt to leave.

Tags/warnings: yandere, intimidation, noncon kissing, choking, Alastor’s shadow doing things a shadow should not be able to do

A/N: Really thought this was gonna be a one-off but here we are. I usually don’t even write one follow-up, much less two, so this is unfamiliar terrain for me. Alas, I could not resist. Enjoy (or don’t. I’m not in charge.)

You remember a time when this was good. Well - no. You’re sure, now, that it was rotten from the beginning. But there was a time when it felt good. When you invited it in. When you wanted more.

Time for bed, my dear. 

He’s said this to you many times. Now, each repetition deepens the never-ending pit in your stomach. But the first time…how long ago was it? You don’t remember. You don’t even remember how long you’ve been here. Here at this hotel, or here, in hell - each one distorts hours and months in its own way. They tug at you until you slip through the fingers of time, and end up on a day you don’t remember arriving at, in a place that is only yours if you forget what has happened there.

It’s far too late for you to be thinking as deeply as you are.

You’d been sitting on the top of the stairs for a long time that night, however-long-ago, fending off the inevitable onset of your dreams. He’d been gone all day, and when he had finally returned (from where, you never found out), he’d seen you from the lobby. Called out to you, in a voice far too quiet and gentle to carry to your ears as well as it did. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you, but it was the first time he’d spoken to you alone. And even if that wasn’t true, there would have been something different about it. 

And, in my opinion, far too fair a night for such misery.

From the beginning, you’d known that nothing about him was entirely unfiltered. The first time you’d met, he’d given a wonderful little performance. Shaken your hand, taken you by the shoulder, quickly escorted you away from the people who would soon warn you not to trust him. And you’d known it was fake. Of course you had. You weren’t, perhaps, the most excellent judge of character, but you knew no one acted like that by instinct. It was calculated. Not to be trusted.

It struck you oddly, then, to hear such an allegedly inhuman character talk about something as mundane as the joy of pleasant weather. It felt entirely real, even at an hour when almost nothing seemed real at all. Hell did have its decent moments, now and then; there were no seasons, so to speak, but very occasionally you’d get a day that felt like summer, and a night to match. It was nice, when it happened. Delightful, even. 

But, if you insist upon staying awake - and I admit, I do understand that impulse better than most - I suggest you do it somewhere with an open window. 

The realization had hit, somewhere in the middle of this, that he was being kind to you. You hadn’t wondered why at the time. You’d take anything you could get, in those early, confused days after your death, and receiving it from an unexpected source somehow made it better. He didn’t do things like this out of obligation. He cared, for some reason you could only guess at.

You’re still guessing, now. But that night, you hadn’t thought so deeply about it. You’d only stared back at him, and nodded almost imperceptibly at his suggestion. 

He’d paused, matching your silence for a long stretch. Considered your expression, in the way those unblinking eyes always seemed uniquely suited for.

Shall I escort you to your room, my dear?

You’d nodded mutely, and he’d ascended the stairs, offered you his hand, helped you to your feet, guided you to your door.

And then, a mistake. Grateful, exhausted, feeling utterly alone in a strange world - you’d invited him in. 

He’d opened your window for you, and lingered beside it for several quiet seconds before you asked him to sit down in your desk chair. He’d smiled strangely at that, softer than you were used to, and left quickly, almost hastily, after only a few minutes. But he’d stood motionless in the hallway for several seconds before you’d heard him walk away. 

After that night, you never invited him in again - you didn’t have to. He came of his own accord. Only occasionally, at first. Then, more often, until hardly a day went by without it. It was almost pleasant, at first, and then a slow, unyielding creep towards what you have now. Something you don’t understand. Something you only started resenting after it was too late to back away. 

You’ve spent a long time wondering why he chose you, of all people. Why he feels so entitled to your space, to your life, why he wants it to begin with. Why he holds onto you so tightly. You’ve even asked him, in roundabout ways, to no avail. But somewhere in your mind, a shoved-down place that only now rises to the surface, you think that it might be your fault. Your fault, for being so desperate for solace, for company, that you’d take it from anyone you could. For feeling proud to have gained his attention, long after the point where it stopped doing you any good.

Now, lying above your bed covers, you toy with the hem of your slip, which you’ve absently pulled up to mid-thigh. Perhaps you don’t need to be wearing it tonight. Alastor has been mysteriously absent from the hotel in the two days that have passed since his last appearance in your room. You doubt whatever’s called him away has left him much time for spying upon you. And still, you feel compelled to act as if he is watching. As if he might return to your bedside at any moment.

Your memory flashes back to two nights ago, and you try to yank it away. You don’t want to think about what he did to you then. You certainly don’t want to think about why. The way his eyes were fixed not on your body, but on your face, as if it was your shame he wanted to see, and nothing more.

It was unsettling. But perhaps not surprising. If it was only your body that he wanted, after all, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to control the rest of you. That, you don’t understand. That - it’s what really keeps you awake.

The light from your lamp, which you have no intention of turning off, stings beneath your closed eyes as you lie rigidly on your back. You barely slept the night before, either, so this day passed in a sort of stupor, the adrenaline of early morning giving way to a numb, heavy feeling as the afternoon dragged on.

But the numbness is good, in a way, you think. It lets you do things you wouldn’t otherwise. With your eyes still closed, you bring your other hand to the hem of the slip. The lace and the silk above it are delicate, and you pull hard with both fists. The light ripping noise that follows is beautiful, for a moment.

Then, the familiar dread snaps back into place, worse for your act of stupidity. 

He will be back, before long. His sudden absence has not been a reprieve, but a looming threat, a two-day stretch in which you have not taken one proper breath, and you have the feeling that he will know what you have done the moment he returns. 

If he does not somehow know already. If you haven’t already summoned him back by the rebellious movements of your hands. There is panic coursing through you, fear not of what is here now but of what has been, and what will be. It’s not the panic you’d feel at an immediate threat, like a wild animal baring down on you in a dark forest - instead, it’s the sort of inescapable head-buzzing sensation you experienced often in life, when you’d been in a room for far too long, and were not yet allowed to leave. An overwhelming feeling that you are trapped, not by physical bonds, but by the consequences that might ensue if you walk away.

If you were to walk away, to run away…what would happen? You do not know, and you don’t want to think about it. You want to leave. No - you need to leave. If you do not do it now, now, you never will. And the idea of never leaving, of this stretching on until he decides that it’s time for it to end - if he ever does -

You sit up, and swing your legs over the edge of your bed. He will be back soon. You’re sure of it. And you cannot bear the thought of being here when he returns. 

What can you do about it? You can do something. You can stand up. You can find the large backpack stuffed into the corner of your closet, and start shoving things inside. You don’t have many things at all, and most of the things you do have are not important enough to keep. You’re certainly not bringing any of these clothes with you. 

All these things, you do quickly, in a sort of daze, driven by a single motive. Get out, get out. It is easy, if you don’t stop moving. If you don’t think more than you have to, if you let this one idea drive you all the way out the door. One set of clothes, you do have to bring - the one that goes on your body. The only one that you feel even remotely comfortable wearing. Black trousers, red sweater. The contents of the small compartments of your dresser have been replaced, so you do not feel comfortable with the things you are wearing underneath these clothes, but they are quickly hidden. You are not in strong enough possession of your body to feel them clinging to your skin.

You’ve discarded the slip onto the floor, and with the way it’s crumpled, you can’t even see the small rip in the hem. It’s not enough. You pick it up and rip it further, until it is torn all the way to the neck, before dropping it like it’s on fire. Perhaps it would be better to take it with you, to get rid of it in a place where he won’t see the remains, but you do not want to have it for a second longer. It flutters back to the floor, and you cover your clean, white, unfamiliar socks with the ragged sneakers you’ve somehow been allowed to keep. 

Where do you go? Where can you go? For reasons that you certainly didn’t come up with yourself (reasons that seemed like cloying but utterly convincing advice, at the time) you barely speak to anyone outside of these walls. You haven’t even got a phone. And even if you did, you can’t imagine pulling anyone into this mess - your mess, a quiet voice in your head reminds you. This is your creation, and you will see it through alone. There is a motel, you remember, a shoddy building a few streets away that you’ve taken notice of every time you’ve passed. You will go there, and you will sleep, and tomorrow -

Tomorrow does not matter yet. Tonight, you only need to leave. 

You’re sure that no one in this building is awake. Or at least, no one is awake enough to check on the noises your feet make as they collide, painfully loud, over and over, with the creaking hallway floor. And yet, you advance as slowly and carefully as you can manage, barely keeping at bay the adrenaline that urges you to run. The night is pleasantly warm, but a shudder runs through you as you crack open the front door of the sleeping hotel. This, too, you keep at bay, instructing your feet to keep moving until you dislodge the disarming chill from your bones, and settle back into your skin. You are walking quickly, but not running, as you wade into the dark streets before you. It is a bad idea, being out here alone, at this hour, and running is loud. 

Then again, you think your breathing might be harsher, at this moment, than any noise the soles of your shoes could create.

You didn’t realize until now that you already had this route mapped out in your head, so clearly that you can follow it without thinking. It’s not far. Quicker if you slide through the little alley to your left. Quicker still if you speed up, just a bit, just enough that your breath catches oddly in your throat, exertion mixing with the faintest glimmer of hope. There is a breeze flowing out from behind you, gentle against the nape of your neck. The streets are mercifully quiet. 

You are not thinking. If you were, you might not be able to tell yourself that all was well. 

As it is, you buy yourself a few more seconds of hope. But your eyes are wide. Too wide and too alert to miss the strange thing that comes your way. Once you see it, you cannot look anywhere else.

Your stomach drops. You slowly ease your bag off of your shoulders, and let it fall to the ground beside you. You will not be taking it any further than here.

You know this, because there is an inexplicable shadow pressed against the side of the alley. It is cast by nothing, darker than the night that surrounds it. A long, abstract shape unfurls bit by bit, extends its tendrils across the worn brick, and drips down until it spills onto the polished boots that have appeared suddenly on the ground in front of you. 

There’s a horribly familiar sigh, but no words. No touch. Not yet.

Soon. Too soon, you’ll hear his voice.

But you find that you do not have the impulse to scream, like anyone else might in this situation. Nor do you want to run. You do not want to take so much as a step backwards. You do not do these things, because you are not scared like you might have expected. No. The thing that quickens your pulse is not fear, but anger. You were so close. You could have made it. And you should have made it.

You should not have had to run to begin with.

You answer a question that you didn’t realize you were asking until this moment. This is not your fault. None of it. Nothing that makes you feel like this could possibly be your doing alone. So, instead of looking up and apologizing, you stare at the ground, and imagine that your eyes shine as intensely as the ones above you. It’s a striking contrast, your worn, comfortable shoes toe-to-toe with polished leather. A victory, in its own small way.

You feel Alastor lean over you, and your hands curl into fists of their own accord. 

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively calm, “what a terrible risk you’ve taken?”

“Some idea.” You’re seething, just as you know he must be underneath the surface - the only difference is that you aren’t bothering to hide it. “You’ll forgive me.”

“Oh…I’m not talking about my own impulses, my dear. Running was a terrible idea for many reasons.” His glove catches you beneath your jaw - you press back against it for a moment before following its guide. Before looking up into the eyes you never wanted to see again, and the grin that bears down upon you. “You might find it hard to wrap your head around, considering its current misguided state, but I assure you that I am far from the only threat that the nights of hell have to offer.”

“But you are a threat.” He’s shown his hand, you think. It’s satisfying to point out - until it’s thrown back in your face. 

“Only when provoked, darling.” His eyes are a brighter red than you’ve ever seen them, glowing with some intense emotion - whether it’s hatred or a deep appreciation, you don’t know, and will never know. He releases your jaw, runs his finger slowly down the line of your neck. “But you’ve no need to worry…it would take quite a lot of provocation for me to hurt you. Even now, I’m not even close to taking such drastic action.” 

Your teeth grind together, clenched as tightly as his pasted-on smile, as the fist wrapped around his staff. “You think you haven’t hurt me already?”

“Oh, my.” He laughs gently, dismissively - but it’s not quite as convincing as usual. He’s standing rigidly, pressing the bottom of his staff tightly against the ground, holding his free hand not behind his back, but at his side. Fingers stiffly curled, practically trembling with the effort of holding still, as if they’re itching to grab onto something.“You are feeling bold tonight. Not as if I couldn’t tell by the little present you left behind in your room…but it is rather strange to experience it in person. You’re usually such a sweetheart.”

You tune out the syrupy condescension of his voice. You’re done with listening to him. Done with beating around the bush, done with getting brushed aside again and again. “What do you want from me?”

“Cliches don’t suit you, my dear,” he intones darkly. “Especially not when paired with that expression.” He slowly raises his hand, and reaches for your face, as if he hopes to rearrange the features he finds so unpleasant. Without a second thought, you jerk backwards, and slap his hand away.

He holds it frozen. Poised in midair. The last time this happened, it was enough to make you tug back everything you’d just done. 

Not this time.

“What,” you hiss, taking another full step back, “do you want from me?”

The corner of his grin twitches so severely that you can almost imagine it dropping from his face. “At the moment, I only wish for you to return home.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You hold your fists at your sides. Spine straight, shoulders pressed back. Toes curled inside your shoes. You can feel the unfamiliar undergarments clinging to your hips, your ribcage - you want them gone. You want him gone. 

“Then pray tell, my dear”-

“All of it.” You hold his gaze as his head tilts slowly to one side. Listen to the cracking of bones, and press on, before you can think better of it. “You won’t let me go. You can’t. And I don’t even get to know why.” There’s a desperation in your voice, rising with the volume of it, quickly spiraling out of your control. “All I know is that you’re - you’re trying to control me, and that I hate it, and that I don’t fucking understand it.”

Images from two nights before descend upon your mind, and your train of thought comes entirely undone. It’s more than images, really. You can certainly picture him standing over you, his red eyes flaring as you stripped yourself bare in front of him, but you can also feel it, the awful heat under your skin battling with the chill of the air, the brush of his finger along your hip, the gentle kiss to your forehead. The hands pulled tightly behind his back. And the way you felt then, the thing you’d be afraid of, if it was anyone else.

“You - you don’t”- You feel strangely distant from your body, as if your mind is a separate entity, floating somewhere slightly outside of your skull. Your mouth takes a sharp breath, and more words cascade out before you can return to stop them. “I was fucking naked in front of you, and you didn’t feel anything. If you don’t want - that”-

Any other stupid words you might say are cut off by a rising buzz of static, which emanates from him as his staff disappears before your eyes, and his newly-free hand takes on the stiff, barely-restrained posture of the other. You wonder, in that detached manner your thoughts take on when you are frightened, if he’s doing this on purpose, or if it’s somehow leaking out in a way that’s beyond his control. 

You feel tears welling in your eyes, and try in vain to shove them back down. You don’t know where they came from. “I don’t understand.” 

For the first time, you see his grin drop - not all the way, but enough that the line of it changes, enough that it becomes a grimace. It’s so unsettling that you wish the usual, terrible smile would return. “That much is obvious, my dear. I wonder if you even realize how tragic what you just said really was.”

You freeze as your wrists are snatched by coils of shadow, smooth and inexplicably solid. Your arms are yanked straight down, and when you try to tear them away, you fail. Your hands are free to form fists, but remain trapped against your sides.

“That you can only fathom being desired in such a shallow way…”

His image flickers before you. You’re already half-turned around when he reappears behind you a moment later, but there’s nothing you can do to stop his hands from curling, one finger at a time, around your shoulders, far too close to your neck for comfort. You stare straight ahead as his face twists into the periphery of your vision. 

And he whispers in your ear, his voice bare of any effect, just the hint of some old, earthly accent slipping through. “I’m afraid that I want much more than that.” 

He slides around you at the same moment the bonds around your wrists release, and effortlessly turns you by your shoulders - he does not push you against the wall that now stands behind you, but you step back out of instinct and flatten yourself against it. He matches your steps with his own, traps you between himself and the rough brick at your back, and latches his gloved hand beneath your jaw, wrenching your face upwards. With his other hand, he reaches down, flips your palm so that it’s no longer facing the wall and interlocks his fingers with your own. His grin springs back into place, and oh - you wish you could run now. You would, if you could.

His eyes slide away from you for a moment as he puts something together in his head. “These little acts of rebellion from you…I think I ought to thank you for them.” He blinks slowly, and returns his gaze to your face. “I don’t think I would have realized just how close I wanted to keep you, if you hadn’t attempted to leave. And now…oh. I understand perfectly, now. I know exactly what I want.” He bows his head, lowers his lips to your ear, so that you can hear the shudder of his breath. “I’ll have your soul one day, my dear. A day when you’re already bound so tightly to me that such a contract will be a mere formality.” 

“And until that day comes…” He draws back from the side of your face, stares not into your eyes, but through them. His teeth part. His tongue flicks out from between them, and slides quickly over their jagged edges. “I feel as if I’m prepared to do anything, if only it will bring you closer.” 

The last vestiges of your anger burst forth, and you attempt to wrench your face out of his grasp. He lets you, and moves his hand to the back of your neck, his long fingers pressing harshly into the sides. You look up, eyes wide with terror, as the palm that has been flattened against your own releases your hand from the wall, and rises to curl tightly around your waist. 

He pulls you close. You do not see the moment that his smile disappears, as it surely must - your eyes are already closed when he kisses you, screwed tightly shut as his hot, rancid breath works its way into your lungs. There’s a hint of whiskey beneath the rot, and something metallic, the same taste that floods your mouth when you bite the inside of your lip a bit too hard. His hand slides around from the back of your neck, and closes at your throat - he keeps it there after he’s pulled away, and watches as you struggle against his grip. 

“You have a decision to make now, darling.” He takes a deep, satisfied breath, the tension leaving his posture even as you fight to breathe beneath his hand. “You can return all by yourself…” His fingers curl tighter around your neck, and tendrils of shadow lash at your wrists and ankles, slowly twisting their way up your limbs. “Or, I can bring you back. I imagine that would cause quite a scene..but the choice is yours.” He tilts his head, stares down at you through narrowed eyes, and - after another moment of watching you struggle - eases his grip just enough for you to answer.

You don’t hesitate for a moment. Even if you had the air to argue, you wouldn’t dare. “I’ll - come back” -

“Lovely.” He releases you, and takes a step back. Pulls one hand slowly behind him, as if doing so takes a tremendous amount of effort. “Since you’re so attached to your freedom, I’ll allow you to walk back unsupervised.” He traces the back of his other hand gently down your cheek, stopping only briefly to press the tips of his fingers against the hardened clench of your jaw. You let it go slack - only then does he pull his hand away. “But as I told you before, darling…there are many threats lurking in the shadows of these streets. So I do suggest that you watch your step.” 

His image fades away before you. In the same moment that you watch him disappear, there is a shift in the surface under your feet. You no longer feel the familiar soles of your shoes, but the ground beneath, rough with the texture of cracks and debris. Cold. Not damp, exactly, but carrying the faint suggestion of something wet having only recently become dry. 

Your toes curl inside your pristine white socks, which will soon be stained by the filth of the ground beneath them. There’s a new shadow against the wall - it slides along with you as you carefully retrace your steps home.

[raine-soft]

🅐🅣🅣🅡🅐🅒🅣 ​ 🅐🅝🅓 ​ 🅖🅐🅢🅟

The wolf and bunny

‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆Everyone needs someone sweet, tender, a special little person who brings joy to your life, that ray of light in the midst of the darkness. Nick, unfortunately, found it in you and well, in exchange for being his emotional support, he would take care of you all the time.

ʚ🥕ɞYou were protected by everyone because of your clumsiness and your impulsivity, you never thought about the consequences of your actions, you never thought if it would affect you. Nick took it upon himself to take care of yourself, taking care of you because you had little or no sense of survival.

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧You left your apartment in a hurry to go to university, Nick finished his degree a long time ago and had a lot of money, so he could see you on his cameras all the time. Nick noticed that you left the stove on, again, he went to turn it off while he wondered how you survived without his care, you were so distracted that you didn't even notice your bed made, your clothes organized, your dishes clean, the food in the refrigerator that was never left. Finished, the medications you had on your desk when you needed them, your pet fed and bathed all the time. Nick studied you all the time, he knew your clothing size, your style of clothing, your favorite color, your favorite food, he knew everything about you; He was just waiting for the precise moment to be able to take you into his arms and finally claim you as of your property. He thought he deserved a reward for taking care of you, so at night he went and put you to sleep with chloroform so he could fully masturbate with your naked body. He wouldn't do anything. That you wouldn't want, but maybe a small reward wouldn't be bad at all.

₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎ Nick had been studying you for months, thinking about how to approach you, and finally he found it: Approach your brother. Well, he was a smart guy with money, which made life easy squared away, he knew that your brother was going to rent the apartment to share it, but he had to be trustworthy, and who could be more trustworthy than the guy who met you? Brother in a bar for spoiled rich people and who shared some cannabis with him. Yes, you and your brother were stupid enough to invite a dangerous stranger to stay at your house. Nick felt victorious to finally be so close to his beloved, it was like being close to his favorite artist. Nick arrived in his expensive car and took his things down, then left them in a room next to you that was your property. You approached with an apple pie, although you didn't know anything about how to take care of yourself, you knew how to cook perfectly, Nick saw you with a nervous smile. In your face.

Y/N: Here, I made this for you Nick: T-thank you <3 Y/N: You're welcome.

🂾⛦☯ And so you were able to strengthen his strong obsession with you. Are you perhaps so perfect to be everything he is looking for? He doesn't know it, but now he loves you more, and he will take a photo of the pie to keep it with the thousands of other stupid things he stole.

[beloved-blaiddyd]

If you think I'm not doing this poll, yall are absolutely WRONG.

Anyways, here's the first cover of the WhoDrankIt? [Yandere Half-Dog!Gallagher x Cafe Owner!Reader] comic lol

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yves has an impossibly high tolerance for mind influencing drugs. But it doesn't mean that he's completely immune to it.

It's almost impossible to know if he was drugged as he knows how to function normally despite being spiked with dosages that can kill a horse. Everything is still under his unyielding control and to outsiders, nothing is out of the ordinary. He's lucid, still extremely smart and poised.

Yves has to be. Because living in his body would be an absolute overwhelming hell for an average person; a lot of his bodily functions aren't done automatically. He has to consciously and manually maintain these processes. Examples of which are: blinking, breathing, swallowing excess spit, producing spit, lowering or increasing his blood pressure and modulating his heart rate. Even digestion.

This was a result of decades of experimentation and mutation inflicted towards himself. Yves decided that it's much better for him to be aware and controlling of these processes.

However, if you pay attention enough, a dead giveaway that he's under the influence of something is the size of his pupils. Most of the drugs that can actually affect him lower inhibitions and forces Yves to revert back to automatic contractions.

He loves you so much that when his resolve is weakened, his pupils will dilate more than twice as large whenever he sees you- or anything relating to you. Almost making the irises of his eyes appear black. Under normal circumstances, he's able to choose the degree of pupil constriction to appear "normal".

However, when presented with something he isn't interested in or even disgusted at, drugged Yves's pupils will shrink to a point where it's almost invisible. It doesn't help that his eye colour is green, making his true feelings very obvious despite his behavior being aloof and he's putting his poker face on.

He would be wearing his sunglasses a lot until his body clears up all the unwanted chemicals, because he has lost reign over the contractions in his eyes, that he couldn't constrict it fast enough when faced with blindingly bright lights- causing him a great deal of pain when stepping outside.

And, if you're with him, his eyes are in a constant state of dilation out of adoration for you, allowing too much light to enter and inflicting a headache.

Yves doesn't like being drugged. He despises losing control over himself, so he would do anything and everything to prevent that from happening. Although rare, but possible, he would allow himself to consume such substances in order to test his bodily limits, or to even run experiments on behalf of you.

So pay attention, you would never know when you'll get to witness Yves's power and control faltering again.

[lovezbrownies]

Dressing up! (Chief of Military Yan x GN!Reader.)

Masterlist

Gen Ludenhart x reader

Synopsis: Gen adores your outfit, so she obviously has to do something about it.

You were getting ready for a ball you and Gen were invited to, you had a nice dress blouse on, with a form fitting pair of dress pants, the blousewas slightly oversized to give off that poofy elegant look. The sleeves were poofy up until the cuffs which also made you look even more elegant, there were gold accents all over your blouse. The pants were a simple dark brown, however they hugged your form beautifully, you looked great! Or at least you thought so but all that was left was get your wife's permission.

Gen is... very picky of what you wear. Nothing tight, nothing revealing, and the Ludenhart family symbol has to show somewhere on the outfit, you did take her last name after all! (Take is a word she would use, but you would say forced.) You didn't put on the Ludenhart family crest yet but other than that you checked out all the boxes! Tight pants never bothered Gen but only enticed her to grab at your rear even more!

And now was the moment of truth. You walk out of the walk-in closet inside your shared bedroom, Gen was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to finally finish. She got up and walked closer to you, Gen looked you up and down scrutinizing the outfit you carefully put together. You couldn't get a read on what she was thinking at all, but you can tell the pants bother her in some way as she keeps glancing at it. Gen grabbed your hips and turned you around.

"Hm." she let out a thoughtful hum, you looked back at her, not daring to move anything other than your head, you see she was staring directly at your ass. You flushed, you guess sure the pants do kind of accentuate your ass a bit but you didn't think she would get upset over it! She usually liked it when you wore tighter pants! Gen smirked, obviously liking what she was looking at. "Cute. But get your ass back in there."

You gaped at her, "Don't you like it?" This time she met your eyes, and now you understand why she wants you back in the closet. Her bedroom eyes are always intense. "I fucking love it, so if you don't take it off willingly I will rip it off with my bare teeth." Gen pulled you in by you hips, grinding onto your ass. You turned red at her implications. "W-What about the party?!" Gen growled, "They can fucking wait but I can't."

[zennotixs]

[2-dsimp]

Honestly I fell head over heels for Xavier! He's so stinkin cute the little tsun tsun, how'd he react if mc kissed him on the cheek randomly during one of their movie nights together?

『Featuring your yandere Poltergeist being completely whipped for you 』

—-;———-;————

Eventhough he is a resident tsundere. Xavier’s got no trouble in taking what he wants from his darling whether it be cuddles, kisses, getting his hypothetical dick wet, and overall terrorizing them most of the time. So it comes as a great surprise when all of a sudden he felt a soft pressure against his cheek. His eyes widened and nearly snapped his neck to look down at you akin to dumbfounded shock, awe, and extreme flusterment.

Xavi: “O-oi where the hell did that come from? Are you sick or something?”

His voice was a garbled echo as his existence flickered in an out. Finding himself abruptly phased out of his physical form and into his ghostly one. You had him floating high around the ceiling with his hand practically stuck to his check that you had blessed with your plush lips. His scarred fingers trying to cling onto the temporary warmth that you’ve left on his form.

Y/n: “Nah Im not sick ghostie, just felt like giving a cutie a kiss that’s all”

Xavi: “…Fuckin hell, give me a warning why dontcha?”

The Poltergeist grumbled his eye rolling as he shifted his body to avoid your smug face. His body curled in on itself like a flustered hamster in its rolling ball. Whilst he hid the faintest hint of a genuine smile cracking upon his face from your cheesy words.

[daydream-with-twist]

Jason Todd x 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 Headcanon

•When Jason found out that you were pregnant, he became overwhelmingly protective of you. Never letting you out of his sight.

•He wanted to be there for you in every waking moment and not providing any personal space. He was constantly wanting to be near you and being overly protective of your pregnancy.

•When you two sleep together, he lies behind you. He gently rubs your pregnant belly, telling you how beautiful you are and playing with your hair. He kisses the back of your neck softly, expressing his gratitude that he is lucky to have someone as beautiful and unique as you as his wife and the mother of his child.

•If anything were to threaten you while you are pregnant, like someone trying to cause you harm, it would only make Jason snap. He would do anything in his power to protect you, his beloved wife. He would go so far as to kidnap and cause unspeakable pain to the person who dared touch you. He would ensure they suffer and break every bone in their body.

•If Jason had a daughter, he would give her the utmost princess treatment. He would make sure that she is spoiled and cared for, just like how a real princess should be.

•On the other hand, if Jason had a son…………… *god of war soundtrack ragnarok starts playing in the background* as soon as he finds out that it is a boy and a different side of him would emerge.... Something darker and more…….evil!!!!!!!!

[cumtastiics]

as he continues to ravage your mouth, his hands roam over your body, squeezing and pinching at your breasts. "you're such a dirty little slut," he mutters between thrusts. "i'm going to fuck you so hard that you can't take it anymore."

[sourlove]

How would Henry react if reader decided to run away?

🩷🌸

READ PART 1 HERE

READ PART 2 HERE

Thanks for the ask!

Henry is a very intelligent man. Part of the reason he led his people to victory in so many wars is because he's such a good strategist. He can think ahead and prepare for any possible scenario. He knows you would try to run away.

So Henry strategized. While you were in the palace, you tried to run away multiple times, only to be caught each time. What you didn't know was that Henry had stressed over every single possible escape route and placed roadblocks to stop you. But after the incident with the Queen, he couldn't trust the people around you.

Moving to a safehouse was a simple matter. Things got complicated when you finally reached the end of your rope and seemed to be doing everything you could to frustrate him.

But Henry had planned for that too.

What a flighty little thing you are. The moment a door was left open by 'accident', or the guards weren't looking, you slipped away. Only to be captured, not by Henry, but by people much worse than him. People that beat you and threaten to use your body as they please. Just as they were about to make true on their promise, there comes Henry, your valiant King on his stallion, slaughtering them all and taking you back to safety.

He nurses you tenderly, cooing when you cry into his arms. All his guilt from arranging the attack goes away when you become so pliant and sweet for him. Well, as long as you learned you lesson, there was no reason for him to spoil anything. Besides, he mused with a slight smirk, the only people who knew the circumstances had been taken care of.

On another hand, if you actually run away and manage to hide away somewhere, that changes everything. The King everyone is knew is gone and with it goes every sense of reason.

Henry had never felt a connection or affection with anyone in his entire life, not even his parents or his wife or his children. The curse made him actually yearn for a love that could save him. Meeting you changed something in him, something in him grew into some dark and twisted form of love that he desperately chased like a drug. For him to suddenly be deprived of you flipped a switch no one had expected.

Henry became increasingly violent the longer you were gone, lashing out at basically anyone who tried to approach him. His visions were coming back and he refused to sleep, for fear of nightmares. He turned away food and only focused on finding you. When nothing came from his search, Henry went ballistic.

He burnt down the forests one by one so you wouldn't have a place to hide. He had villages searched and threatened with execution if they were hiding you. He sent droves of knights into the farthest ends of the kingdom for anyone who even looked like you.

At the end of the day, the message was clear: the King had gone mad and the destruction left was because of you. As long as you were returned safely, peace would be restored and the good King would rise again as their kind and strong ruler. The people had no reason to doubt Henry or the narrative that was being spread. After all, he had done so much for the kingdom, it was their duty to find his lost treasure.

And find you, they did. You were dragged back to the palace in chains and Henry, uncaring of who was watching, wept and kissed you all over your face.

From that day on, any sense of privacy you might have had was gone and you were never left unsupervised. The only way you can escape Henry is through death, and even then, he swore to find your spirit and bring you back to your rightful place by his side.

Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed this!

@pinkrose1422