#cw: yandere
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AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART I
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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || Part II -> coming soon! || masterlist ||
minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only
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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”
***
Suguru tries to tame you.
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✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧
cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader if you squint, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?
a/n: this is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab!! i have been working on this for awhile now and i am excited to share it! this should be about 3 parts...i am very close to finishing the whole thing so i should be releasing a part a week for the next two weeks!
thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <333
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“I think you’d be perfect.”
Suguru’s voice is a caress, low and soft, as he sits across from you.
Somehow, he always makes you feel like he is just beneath the surface of your skin, even if there is a respectable distance between you. He always makes you feel as if he is lurking somewhere in the lowest parts of you, pulling at strings you once thought hidden to yourself.
You’ve kept your distance for this reason.
You swallow hard.
And then you manage to get your voice to unstick, to find it somewhere inside of you and bring it to life. It’s firmer than you’re anticipating and you’re proud;
“I don’t think I would be.”
Suguru looks at you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s seeing through you, pulling you open slowly to gaze at all the inner workings of you. His dark eyes are keen, so sharp, even if they’re shaded by half-lidded lashes.
He smiles pleasantly and indulges you, but you know he believes very firmly that he is, in fact, right, “why not?”
“I told you when I agreed to join you—all I wanted in exchange for helping you, was to be an unbound Omega.” You force yourself to meet his eyes and to not get sucked into the dark tide of them.
“You asked for my protection.” He reminds you.
Your eyes flash this time, heated, a little spark that skitters to life inside of you.
“I didn’t—“
“Is that not what you’d call it?” Suguru asks, “when I interfered, every time, to be sure no other Alpha got to you? Or when I scented you to keep them away?”
Prickling warmth dots your cheeks, can feel at the back of your neck, too, the tips of your ears. You try a different tactic.
“I’m not a homemaker.”
His smile is soft, “I don’t want a homemaker.”
“I’m not obedient.” You counter again, as if you could dissuade Suguru Getou once he’s made up his mind.
“You’ve been quite good for me.” Suguru says smugly and this time, a little noise of embarrassment or frustration eeks out of you. A short, sharp little growl from your throat, almost a groan of irritation.
“I—I’m doing your dirty work. That’s our agreement! You give me assignments that I complete and in return, I get my freedom.”
“I don’t know why you’re so opposed to this. Is it not similar already to what we have now?” He asks simply, “I’d still let you roam, if that’s what you’re so scared of.”
“No it’s that—that power and mentality that I don’t want you to have over me.” You snap.
“I already have it,” he says and it isn’t intended to be cruel, but certainly is, “how long do you think you’d last, without the protection of an Alpha?”
“I didn’t have any before you.”
“You were starving, injured, and constantly on the run before me.” You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “it would still give you what you want.”
“I don’t want to be yours.” You say frankly, perhaps to be cruel yourself. And then you show teeth a little, flash them in warning, “I don’t want your mark.”
Suguru looks amused, if anything, by your display.
His smile is knowing and insufferable. It makes your anger ratchet up inside of you, hackles rising. You feel a little growl working its way out of your throat. It tears out of you in annoyance, when he says, “I don’t believe you.”
You slam the door so hard on its hinges that it rattles the entire wall. You wish it would rattle all the world.
***
Your cursed technique rips to life like a star exploding outwards.
Beast that you are, it overtakes you, transforms you until you are all claws and dripping, little fangs. Your body elongates, elegant, and built for speed, viciousness. The horns atop your head are sharp, too, curled the slightest into a crescent shape. The beast in you stretches and pulls at your bones, fits your skin to it in a way that you have come to know well.
(“Cursed technique: Cursed Creature,” Suguru hums, “allows you to turn into a cursed version of yourself, a sort of,” he pauses, looking you over, “monster?”
“That’s right.” You tell him, body trembling all over, in dire need of food. Care. Sleep.
He places a large hand on top of your head, strokes gently, until his hand nudges your cheek, beneath your chin so you are forced to look up into his eyes. Depthless violet.
“You have a deal.”)
The sorcerer is cast backward with the force of your transformation. In this form, everything heightens, sharpening into brilliance. So much brighter, clearer. So much more overwhelming.
You are a flash of darkness when you move, a mass of lethality.
The sorcerer doesn’t stand a chance, the moment you dash past him with a deep swipe of your claws, you know this will be an easy match. You chitter in this form, excited, warbly little sound erupting from you before you careen towards him again.
This time, he is warped away.
But you are fast, changing your trajectory mid-step to catch up to where he was warped.
Except, this time, a white haired sorcerer takes his place.
Your claws meet air.
A growling hiss erupts from your throat.
Satoru Gojo.
Suguru told you to stay away from him. At all costs.
And speak of the devil, your name is called, whistled almost. Your head turns to find Suguru appearing, too.
Faintly, the more human part of you wonders what the occasion is.
For a moment, all you can see is threat. Your hackles rise as your growling gets lower, more sinister, your form moving behind Gojo as if you might circle him, unable to let down your guard.
“Call off your pet,” Gojo says.
Suguru calls your name again and there’s something else in his tone now, a little sharper.
(Fear, you wonder faintly, in some far away part of your mind. Is he worried Gojo would hurt you?)
You come to heel at Suguru’s side, remaining in this form, making a low, threatening sound still. Warning. Your claws still drip with the blood of that sorcerer.
“Go,” Suguru says to you.
Your head snaps to look at him, eyes narrowing. “I’m not leaving,” you snap and the words have a bite to it, around the curves of your fangs. You look back at Gojo. If this comes to blows, you don’t want Suguru facing Gojo alone–you don’t want to leave his back suddenly unguarded.
It’s counterintuitive to you, goes against all of your instincts. You don’t leave him, you don’t leave his side, his back.
“Go,” Suguru says, harsher this time and the command seeps into you. You waver. And then, “I won’t tell you again.”
When you hiss at him in that warbling way of curses, he smiles faintly, almost fondly, as your teeth drip with venom. But you do listen to him this time.
And with your heightened hearing, you hear Gojo underneath his breath as you slink away;
“How interesting.”
***
When Suguru returns to you, he is unharmed.
You’d paced the length of the hallway outside of his room in the compound until you could have worn a hole into it.
Few would be brave enough to wait for Suguru outside his door.
When he arrives, he is mildly surprised to see you, before his expression melts into a sort of—smugness. A knowing glint to his eyes.
“Why would you send me away?” You snap.
“You could’ve gone in, you know, if it would’ve soothed you.” Suguru says instead, head nodding towards the door to his suite. “Would you like a key?”
You blanche, taking a half step back, “I don’t—“
It allows him to get to his door and open it. You’ve been here before, in the privacy of his suite, but now it feels strange. A little different. He holds the door open for you.
You glance at the threshold and feel as if you’re making an important decision.
“Come on,” he says smoothly and before you can think twice about it, you are being led inside, his hand drifting somewhere near your lower back. He never touches you, the feeling is a phantom one, the impression of it. You shiver a little.
But you round on him again, “why would you send me away?”
He doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he goes rifling in a drawer, digging around a little.
His suite is larger than others. The living room is open and attached is the kitchen. It’s all light wood, with tall windows that overlook the courtyard. You know, despite never being inside, that his bedroom is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is across from it. You’ve sat many times on the floor of his living room with him, going over assignments, plans that he has, and what he’d like you to do.
When he finds what he’s looking for, he makes a soft noise, before turning to you with a small, gold key.
“I don’t want a key!” You snap.
“It’s a spare, take it just in case.” He replies and when you don’t move to grab it from him, he takes your hand in his much larger one, and opens your palm to him.
He places the key in your hand.
And then his eyes catch yours, “you were worried.”
“No-!” you get out, “I don’t like being—I’m supposed to protect you.”
Suguru smiles, hand still swallowing yours, “isn’t that sweet?” he remarks, “an Omega attempting to protect an Alpha.”
Immediately, you jerk away from him.
The key is still in your shaking fist.
“Don’t start,” you snarl, low and vicious and hurt, “I’ve always been the one at your side.”
“Yes,” he agrees, hand falling back down to his side listlessly. “I already told you that.”
You’ve always been at my side, he’d said, when he was trying to convince you to–
“That’s not what I meant!” Your voice rises without your consent and you feel an embarrassed, angry flush through your face for being so worked up. The room is thick with your worry and anger and frustration, all of your pent up energy like a knot in your chest, in your voice. It’s in your heart and the way you look at him.
“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Suguru says easily, “it’s still the truth.”
When you slam the door this time, you hear something fall from the wall.
But the key is still in your trembling hand, digging indents into your palm, and your heart is still a beast in your chest.
And behind the closed door, Suguru Getou smiles fondly, and retrieves the fallen, shattered frame from the floor.
***
For a while, you avoid Suguru.
You stuff the key he gave you in your nightstand drawer, far in the back, in an attempt to keep it out of sight and out of your mind.
And at first, you think he is respecting your boundaries; you receive assignments through others from him. You see him only in passing and he never speaks directly to you. He hardly acknowledges you.
But after a week and a half, it begins to feel like punishment.
And the key is starting to burn and itch in your mind. You think about it at night, tossing over in your bed; you think about unlocking his door at this hour. What would you find? Would he be asleep? Awake? Alone? Fully dressed?
You think of him half bare and lounging, hair slipping over his shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood and fig. Tonka or something woodsy, maybe. You know it well and it lingers long after he leaves you.
You suddenly miss it, crave it.
Him.
You twist beneath your sheets.
Why did he have to–
You make a soft noise of frustration, turning over again.
You’re restless.
Something beneath your skin begins to itch and squirm.
Previously, Suguru had hardly mentioned your status as an Omega. He rarely acknowledged it; you were too brilliant of a sorcerer for him to care, you thought. You were too powerful. The only instance he brought it up was to scent you, a form of caution in a particular instance, for a particular mission. The memory still simmers in your mind, the way he’d rubbed the gland on your wrist with a careful thumb. He’d given you clothes of his to wear. He’d had you sit in his quarters for long hours, until it seemed as if you were his, in some way.
But now that he’s actually brought it up, offered you his bite, to be his, it paints him in an entirely different light.
Had he always…wanted you?
Was he always planning this?
The naive, desperate parts of you want to believe this is a recent thought of his. Previous to this, he only ever saw you as another sorcerer, a powerful one that aided him. You had always been one of the closer ones to him, at his heel, his beck and call.
You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of Suguru this way; as an Alpha. An unmated one, who kept your company.
And he does, no matter how badly it burns to admit it, protect you.
You know he wards off Alphas.
You know he perhaps does more than even that.
But you don’t want—
You don’t want to be mated.
You don’t want to suddenly be coddled by him, held back, don’t want to be the little thing that keeps his bed warm.
Your face heats with the thought.
Images flash through your mind, flickering, melting together like film that bleeds and runs, of him overtop you. Shrouding you. His hair on your shoulders and back. You think of his mouth on your throat, teeth in your neck.
You rub at your eyes suddenly as if to clear them.
You know he leaves on a mission for a week in two days.
You assume, at some point, he’ll speak to you. And break this strange silence.
You’ll both return to normal then.
And then perhaps you won’t lose any more sleep over him.
***
Suguru never says goodbye to you.
It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you just figured he’d finally drop this silly little silence game.
You suppose he must’ve thought the same of you.
Besides, what were you expecting from him? An apology? It’s foolish to even entertain. You knew you weren’t going to apologize either. The least you’ll do, when he returns, is act as if all is normal again. Perhaps it’s better that way, not to address what he’s put in his head recently.
The more you speak of it, or think of it, the worse it unravels in your mind.
On the second day that he is gone, you realize you miss his scent.
You realize it has become such a staple in your everyday life that its sudden disappearance is almost alarming. It makes you more irritable, more vicious. You snap at the others faster, bite out insults and brutalities.
You—
Well, you miss it.
Him, maybe.
The admittance is a hard one to swallow around. It burns going down.
On the third day, you’re genuinely craving his scent in a way that makes your teeth ache. You had no idea you could even miss a scent like this, need it so bad that your body would betray you with a physical pain in your chest. Somewhere in your mouth, under your tongue.
You try to ignore it.
You go on with your life.
But by the fifth day, you are agitated and aggressive. Everyone knows something is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with you. You can feel it beneath your skin, crawling, squirming. It makes you want to tear out your hair, rip at your nails, or sink your teeth into something. You’re restless.
You can’t sleep.
You can hardly eat or think.
And as you lay awake in your bed, kicking at sheets, sweating and twisting, you know what it is you need.
You’ve known the whole week.
You throw back the covers and wrench open your bedside drawer.
The key rattles, hot, like it knows it’s finally about to be used. It’s musical sound a siren song, it’s been burning away in there the whole week.
You swipe it and turn sharply from your bedroom. From your own apartment.
It’s the middle of the night; not a soul sees you in the compound.
Like a person possessed, you walk. Your back is straight. Your steps are quick. Your mind is set, on fire.
Suguru’s door has haunted you the whole week.
The key in your hand digs into the flesh, carving it’s divots there like your hand might be the lock itself.
You try not to think about it–you unlock the door. You throw it open.
You shut it behind you, slide the lock back into place.
Darkness greets you.
You wander in like you know the place (you do, you do–)
You wander in like it’s yours to wander in.
Instantly, something loosens inside of you.
You exhale hard.
Inhale sharp.
The smell of him, fainter because he’s been gone, assaults your senses, sweeps over them. You take in a lungful like gasping for air, you smell faint traces of fig and sandalwood. Notes of tonka that you long for, that urge you to move deeper into his space.
In the dark, you make your way down the hall, towards his bedroom.
You haunt the arch for a moment.
Guilt or regret or embarrassment almost seize you. They make you pause.
Some sane part of you is clawing at your insides, wailing to turn around and leave. Leave now.
But he gave you a key.
He gave you a key, you think in circles, again and again. He gave me a key.
You cross the threshold.
You sink down into his bed and his scent is strongest here, even still, after several days it’s his.
You turn over the covers to get beneath them, cool sheets against your legs, sliding and smooth. You turn your face into his pillow and inhale.
A soft little groan works it’s way out of you.
Instantly, your muscles slacken.
Everything leeches from you; your anger and irritation and restlessness.
It soothes you so deeply and so swiftly it makes your head spin.
You curl beneath his blankets and take deep pulls of breath, squirming a moment if only to bring his scent tighter around you. You envelope yourself in it.You shroud yourself in it.
And finally, after five days of restless nights, you fall asleep almost instantly.
Not a single dream. Not one moment where you wake or stir.
You sleep deeply.
In the morning, the sun warms you through the broad windows like a content cat.
You stretch lazily like one, too.
Suguru will be home tomorrow.
You know you need to leave his bed, hope that your scent dissipates by the time he returns.
You didn’t do anything wrong, you know—he gave you a key.
He gave you a key.
But rather, you know he would never let you live it down. He would use it instantly, as ammunition for his argument, the debate that the two of you keep circling.
You don’t quite leave as quickly as you should still, though:
You linger.
You’re comfortable.
Calmed for the first time all week.
And when you do slip out, it’s silently, locking the door behind you.
Like maybe you won’t ever let yourself back in there, trying to shut it like it was a one time indulgence and gone now from your mind and body.
But his scent clings to you.
And little do you know, your scent clings to his sheets—and to Suguru, it’s sweet as can be and unmistakable—irreplaceable.
He collapses in his own bed when he returns and knows you’ve been all over it. He can smell the crush of dark berries, jasmine, the soothing note of vanilla that clings to you, that he’s come to adore.
He grins to himself and knows then, he’s got you right where he wants you.
***
For a moment, you think Suguru is going to make you be the bigger person and apologize upon his return.
Instead, he finds you.
And he doesn’t say he’s sorry for his recent behavior, but he does say;
“I’d prefer if you didn’t avoid me in the future.”
It feels like sorry enough.
And for some time, things return to a state of normal.
A version of it.
It isn’t quite like it was before—in fact, you seem to spend more time around him than previously. He calls on you more. He brings you into his space more frequently, often urging you to eat with him, beside him, at his table.
This is ideal for you. Close but not too close.
Although, he begins to ask, don’t you have your key? Can’t you let yourself in?
You say you haven’t used it.
He hums like he knows differently, but doesn’t press you.
Until finally he asks you to retrieve a notebook in his study and bring it to him.
Fetch, he says.
“It’s locked, isn’t it?”
“You have your key.” He answers simply, not looking up from the book he is reading.
For a moment, you almost protest, but something stops you. Maybe the twitch in his brow.
It’s a useless argument to pick, anyways.
You do have a key.
It would be fastest, easiest, to just use it.
So you do.
And you hand him the notebook he asked for, fingers brushing against his as he takes it from you with gentle hands.
“Thank you,” he adds, voice so smooth and low, almost tempting.
You swallow a little.
Then you quickly avert your gaze.
“Whatever,” you grouse, but he smiles fondly, amused.
And it opens another door, more than just the one to his suite.
***
Tentatively, you begin to come and go.
The first (second) time you use your key to enter without his order, he is careful not to react to you any differently than how he usually does.
His eyes brighten a little, though, like a leopard that’s caught something interesting in its sights and is waiting to see what it’ll do.
Still, you grow more comfortable entering his space on your own.
You claim portions of it; a corner of the couch. A particular cushion around his low table. All of the sunny patches in his suite become yours, scented with you, indented with you. More than that, some horrible, hidden part of you adores that your scent is all over his space.
It’s comforting to find it beside his scent.
It soothes a part of you that you don’t wish to admit to.
His hands grow bolder.
Now they’re always hovering at the small of your back, the nape of your neck. He tucks strands of your hair away from your face and though you jerk away from him, it’s often half-hearted. You snip at him and he only smiles.
Pleased. Smug. Knowing.
His hands guide you as you walk beside him.
You grow accustomed to his touch in some way—he makes sure of it.
Then, as if to prove something—
Another cult member begins to cause trouble with you; he is another Omega. He begins with snide comments and remarks that test your patience. He doesn’t stop until you are growling and bristled and ready for a fight.
And all it takes to stop you is Suguru’s large hand coming down on the nape of your neck.
His thumb rests atop one scent gland at your throat, fingertips pressing delicately into the one on the other side. Hand wrapped around the back of your neck.
“Easy,” he murmurs and just like that, you can feel some of your aggression slip from you, deflate like a balloon.
It’s involuntary, the energy and anger unspooling from your body in an instant. In the back of your mind, you’re alarmed; how easily it was for him to effect you. It’s terrifying.
You swat his hand away, lurching from him, another little growl in your throat.
But you don’t fight him or the look in his eyes, the way he tilts his chin up in the barest hint of dominance.
You storm off.
Instances as such continue to happen, though, where he’s able to sooth or quell your temperament with a touch. A word. A look.
It comes to a head while you’re eating dinner with him.
“You’re so wound up,” Suguru comments lightly, “your scent is so sharp with it. What’s bothering you?”
Reflexively, you snap, “you are.”
And it’s meant to be some sort of insult but Suguru’s lips twist into this hitched little smile. “It’s my fault you’re wound up?” He asks lightly.
“Don’t twist my words.” You respond, fixing him with a glare, “you bother me.”
He’s still deeply amused by this, you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. The smug way he holds himself.
“Would you like me to help you?” He asks.
“No,” you say reflexively.
A beat of silence before he says, “come here. I’ll help you.”
There’s a command in his voice, laced there, and doing something strange to your head.
You hesitate.
He pounces, “just a massage.” He soothes, “I can tell your shoulders are knotted up and tense. I can see it.”
His voice has dropped into that soothing lull.
Warily, “away from my glands?”
He smiles, “of course.” And then, “come here.”
Your body moves easily now and he murmurs, “sit in front of me. Back to me—there, that’s it.”
It feels more vulnerable than it should to show your back to him, to sit in front of him like a child to their mother. You try to keep your posture straight and careful.
But then he sets large, warm hands to your shoulders. His fingers dig into the meat of them gently, pressing into your muscles which spasm and twitch in pain. You yelp, jerking away.
Suguru tsks, “see how tense you are? You’re in pain.” He scolds softly and you feel heat smart across your face, “sit still for me. I’ll be gentler.”
True to his word, he eases up, fingers careful as they run into your tense muscles.
He finds bundles of twisted up tension in your back and shoulders, pressing into them until a noise springs from you—a groan, a whimper, a little growl. He works the sounds out of you. You swear he’s doing it deliberately and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was all just to humiliate you a little.
But you finally loosen and slacken for him.
When you finally sink into his hands, he murmurs, “I don’t know why you fight this so badly.”
You let go of a heavy sigh, “you do know why. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.”
“Because you’re stubborn?” Suguru asks lightly and you snort, despite yourself, “because you don’t know what’s good for you?”
“You’re no good for me.” You respond.
Suguru’s turn to sigh and if he digs his fingers in to make you yip in pain, he’d never say it was purposeful.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”
Reflexively, you jerk away from his touch, you turn to look at him over your shoulder with a sneer.
“I’m not a pet.”
Suguru does not heed your warning and instead gently pulls you back towards him by your waist.
“No?” He asks lightly, fingers resuming their steady massage. You go completely still like prey, unsure, wary. Angry. Humiliated. “It’s not a bad thing to be a pet. You’re thinking about it all wrong.”
His fingers ease up towards your neck and you stiffen again.
“Suguru,” you say in warning as he nears your scent glands. Perhaps to what he’s said.
“You’re my pet now,” he continues, “though you don’t like to admit it. It’s not so bad, is it?”
Stubbornly, you don’t answer him.
But after a moment, you say, “if I’m already yours, why do you need this last bit of me? If you already see me as your pet, why do you want me so terribly, in this way—“
Suguru suddenly pulls you back deeper, into his lap, against his chest.
You squirm, but he holds you tight, hooks his chin over your shoulder.
Alarm bells ring frantically in your head now that he’s so close to the glands in your throat.
“Don’t play dumb,” Suguru muses, half-mocking, “it doesn’t suit you.”
“Let me go,” you snarl low and hot.
“What are you scared of?” Suguru responds, “that I’d trap you? If you’d take my Bite, I’d let you roam further than I do now. You’d be safe.”
“Liar,” you hiss, “I’m not dumb.”
“I’m not trying to stifle you, I’m trying to set you free.” Suguru almost purrs and his voice is warm and low and creeping up over your spine and trying to find its way inside you.
You begin to squirm this time, thrashing in his hold until you manage to wriggle free, falling forward onto your hands and knees.
Instinctively, you turn to keep your back protected, scrambling away from him. You bare your teeth at him.
“I don’t believe you.”
He watches this show of aggression with amusement, tilting his head slightly. And then he sighs, “I don’t think anything I say will convince you at this point.”
You narrow your eyes at the tone. Your hackles rise.
In an instant, he has grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him.
Underneath him.
You shove hard at him, twisting and fighting as he settles himself over you.
You realize how solid he is, how strong, and large. He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Suguru,” you hiss at him, pushing as hard as you can on his chest.
“See how easy it was for me to subdue you?” He says then, voice smooth and low. “If I wanted to take you, I simply would’ve already. You’re no challenge to me; if I wanted to trap you, I would’ve.”
“Get off me!”
You thrash hard beneath him and in an instant, he has your hands uselessly pinned above your head, stretching you out beneath him.
His nose dips, near the scent gland at your throat. You squirm.
He squeezes your wrists, “stop squirming.” He murmurs low, “or my instinct will be to bite.”
Your stomach does a horrible flip, a flutter of—fear, excitement.
“Just—get off—leave me alone!” You get out, voice high and tight. You try not to arch away from the way he lets his face fall to the crook of your neck.
“Hush,” Suguru hisses, nudging his nose beneath your ear.
He’s scenting you.
He’s done this before and despite everything in you, you finally go slack. You force yourself not to tilt your head or offer up more, rather let him urge you into the way that he prefers.
He nudges his cheek and nose against your jaw. He lets out a relieved breath, fitting more of his body to you and you feel the push of chest into yours, his hips.
You squirm a little and a growl erupts from his throat.
You fight back the sound that almost works its way out of you now, swallow around it.
When he’s finished, he asks, “would you like to scent me?” And instinctively, you want to say yes, but you temper yourself. Then he adds, “I’m sending you away on a mission alone. I’ll be scenting you until the day you leave now.”
You catch his eyes, glinting.
“So, I thought it only fair if you’d like to scent me, too.”
You don’t know why, but something squirms inside of you, something a little hurt.
“You’re sending me away?”
Suguru hums softly, “I need you to take care of something for me. I only trust you to do it.”
You flex your hands a little in his hold, but he doesn’t budge.
He nudges at your jaw again, gentle, and murmurs, “this would be easier if you’d take my mark.”
You turn your head then to shield your throat, and face him. His nose nearly brushes yours and you look up at him through your lashes. You bite your tongue from any further complaints, dipping down to the crux of his throat now.
Easily, perhaps eagerly, he bares his throat for you.
Satisfaction erupts beneath your skin as his scent washes over you, dark fig and oud, sandalwood and musk. Carefully, your nose runs along the column of his throat.
“I’m not even—“ you huff, retry, “I haven’t had a Heat in—it wouldn’t take, anyways.”
“Ah,” Suguru says and you wish you hadn’t told him at all. Realization dawns over his features the way a cat might realize it’s caught its mouse beneath its paws. “Is this what you’re so scared of?”
“No—I prefer it this way. It’s another reason that you can’t. It wouldn’t work.” You say stubbornly and perhaps in your irritation, you burrow further down into the crook of his neck, tuck your cheek to his skin to nudge.
“I could give you a temporary one,” he murmurs, “I’d let you do the same in return, of course.”
You go quiet, brushing your lips against his skin, hesitating.
“I don’t need it.” You finally decide, even as you let the blunt side of a tooth nick gently against his neck. “I can protect myself.” You pull away to look at him again, “am I not one of your strongest?”
“You are my strongest.” He agrees, he praises. “But am I not also strong?” He asks, “and yet you still insist on protecting me.”
You open your mouth to protest, but he takes your chin in hand suddenly, words dying before they can escape.
“You are my strongest.” He says, “I would like the world to be aware of it.”
“I told you, I don’t want to be yours–”
“Then stop protecting me. Flee. Run away and never return.” Suddenly, his touch, his body, all of him is gone. He rolls off of you and onto his back beside you. Cold air sweeps in. You can feel his touch like burning imprints on your skin.
You turn your head to the side to look at him.
“You would hunt me down if I ran.”
A flicker of a smile ghosts his face.
“And if I ran from you?” He asks, “if I discarded you?”
Something twists so viciously and sharply in your chest that your eyes sting with it. You lock your jaw tight. You stare up at the ceiling.
“You refuse to speak but your scent is spiced with distress, sour with despair.” He turns to look at you, “not so easy to hear, is it?”
“I can’t stand you or your games.” You get out.
“There are no games.” He says evenly, “only the one you’re playing with yourself.”
You scoff, “which is?”
He sits up slightly, over you, looking down at you, the inky silk of his dark hair sliding over one shoulder.
“Seeing how long you can outrun what you want.”
You exhale roughly, in exasperation, and then you ask dryly, “and what do I want, Suguru?”
“To be taken care of.”
“I don’t need–”
He cuts off your growl before it can start, taking your chin in hand to turn your head towards him once more. “You never have, but it doesn’t mean you can’t want it.”
“I don’t want it either.” You snap. “You have some grand delusion of me in your mind that I am some weak, submissive creature in need of your care.”
“I’ve said none of that, have I?” He hums. “Now you’re twisting my words, being purposefully churlish–in hopes of, what? To scare me off?”
His palm opens up against your jaw, your cheek. His thumb touches your bottom lip.
“You snap and you snarl and posture as some ferocious, independent creature to scare everyone off. I don’t blame you–I am certain you protected yourself many times this way from lesser people.” His voice is soft, almost a lull, you allow his palm to open against your lips, to turn your face into the cup of his hands. “You don’t believe anyone can handle you and you hope if you bite hard enough, tear into them, they’ll run off. And then you’ll feel vindicated; you were right, you are too much to handle. You were right, you are a monster. You’re unworthy of care or companionship or protection.”
His hand moves upward, baring his wrist to your mouth now, “go on,” he encourages, “bite me. As hard as you like. Scream and cry and tear into me. Loathe me and scorn me.” He leans closer, over you, as he hushes like a mother to their child, “I’ll still be here, with the rings of your teeth marks littered in my skin. I’ll be the only one, bruised and bloody, still taking care of you–no matter how badly you fight me.”
Out of anger or frustration or something else entirely, tears prick your eyes. As if to hide them, you open your mouth against his wrist, gentle first–warm and soft lips and tongue. He looks enraptured. He looks starving.
You sink your teeth into his skin viciously.
He hisses in pain, sharp, but doesn’t pull away. “There,” he coos, leaning over you, sinking into the pain, “is that what you wanted?”
Blood bursts into your mouth in a way that is almost startling, sharp and metallic. It should be gross and horrible and–you whine a little, somewhere in the back of your throat and bear down harder.
If that’s what he promises, you’ll make him prove it.
If he wants to be the one beside you, you’ll make him pay.
He leans down to kiss at your cheeks, gentle, humming. You realize there are tears. Your jaw aches.
But you don’t let go and he doesn’t even flinch.
“Does that feel better? To get your teeth into someone who isn’t scared of you?” He murmurs, nudging at your tense jaw, kissing there. “Shall I do the same to you?”
You release his wrist and shove him off, hard enough that he gives and he goes.
You stand up and storm out of his chambers, slamming the door on its hinges as hard as you can. You hope it knocks over every painting on his walls. You hope the entire compound somehow hears it. You hope it breaks something in the same way that something has been broken open inside of you.
You wipe his blood from your mouth with the back of your hand.
Suguru doesn’t even bandage the wound. And he wears his sleeves high, so that all the world might see it.
#suguru getou x reader#suguru geto x reader#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru getou x you#getou suguru x you#suguru geto x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#cw: omegaverse#cw: yandere#cielo writes!#cielo's writing!
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Yandere Miguel O'Hara x fem! self insert
MDNI // cw: implied future non-con, tying up, kidnapping, yandere, breeding kink.
Took me way more time than I had planned x'd but here's the guy! I also tried something new and made different versions of the drawing with the self-insert having different skin tones and hair. You can find them under the cut.
#yandere#yandere miguel#yandere miguel x reader#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere x reader#yandere spiderverse#yandere spiderman#yandere atsv#cw: yandere#cw: noncon#tw: noncon#Perdón si el dialogo en español no está como picosito pero no sé como escribir un sexy latin lover sin sentir cringe#es decir ya sé que todo lo que dibujo es cringe#pero es diferente con esos dialogos ustedes ya saben como
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Part 2 is here! You can see the name of the OG artist on the lower right corner of each artwork ★~!
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Yandere!Zenitsu is a freak, he's such a fucking loser.
He wants nothing more then for you to touch him. Do whatever you like with him just use him as a toy made only for your pleasure, please ruin him.
Hurt him, praise him, choke him, degrade him he'll let you do anything to him Claim him as yours, give him bruises and hickies all over his body. His body is your canvas, use your pretty nails to make scratches all over his body he wants to be covered in your art.
He's like an untamed dog, always wanting your attention, grinding himself on your thigh begging for you to touch him. He'll grind himself on your shoe any day. Panting like a dog with his tounge sticking out so happy his master granted him such a reward.
He comes so quickly on your shoe, coming undone before you, after just a few minutes of grinding against you.
Tears brim his eyes as he whines like a baby begging you for a sweet release. How pathetic.
Don't even get me started when you fuck him with your strap. He's so squirmish, he can never keep still always grabbing your thigh, even when you clearly told him he's not allowed to touch you. Slapping him, when he disobeys you making his pale cheek turn red, fucking him harder and more roughly then before whilst you pinch his nipples.
He whines so loudly when you play with his nipples, it always sends him over the edge making his mind get so foggy. He always cries when you slap him, his wet shiny lips pouting at the harsh contact. The pouting doesn't last for long when you're fucking him so sweetly.
His mouth opens so widely, drool sliding down the corner of his mouth as his eyes roll back blabbing absolute nonsense with whines and moans.
"U-uh huh huh ha ha hnnh h-ha"
And.
"Ffuck fuuuhck please please please please... oh fucckk.."
He's like a broken record, your name falling out of his mouth he can't concentrate on anything but the pleasure you're giving him. He's so so grateful a goddess like you would ever even look at an weirdo like him.
He wants to serve you at all times, he wants nothing more but to be a toy for you.Buy, him a nice collar with his name on it and he'll wear it with such pride. He'll be so happy you thought about him and spent money on such a gift for him.
Drag him around from his collar with your finger, he'll go absolutely insane. Put a leash on it and pull on it when you fuck him from behind, choke him, make him grab the collar desperately trying to cough the words up that it's too much. He loves it though, the lack of oxygen makes his head spin, panic rushing through his body making the pleasure intensify.
His shaking orgasm hits him like a wave. His cute plush thighs wobble so much he can't hold his body up anymore. His body goes limp, only the leash you're still tightly holding keeping up.
He whines so loudly when you continue to fuck him, let go of the leash and let his body fall on the bedsheets as you continue to harshly fuck him. Making his voice break and go higher with every thrust, till nothing comes out of that pretty mouth of his but sobs as you overestimulate him.
Yandere!Zenitsu will let you do anything to him, it's so fucking pathetic. What a loser.
𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 <3
#✮⋆˙Willow writes#Zenitsu thirst#zenitsu smut#Dom reader#Kny dom reader#Anime dom reader#Dom reader x sub character#zenitsu kimetsu no yaiba#Kimetsu no yaiba#Kny#kny smut#Kny fanfic#yandere#yandere zenitsu#Yandere kny#sub yandere#Zenitsu#cw: yandere
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Okay so I’ve loved your papa Balerion but what about protective Cannibal? 🐉
See... I absolutely love the Cannibal. He's my second favorite dragon (first being Vhagar). Like, he completely rejects the Targaryen family, and never (in canon) had a rider. He's very much a wild dragon, and I love him for that.
However, if we're talking about bastard! (Name) and Cannibal, I can see them connecting very well. Neither of them wants anything to do with the Targaryen's, and both are sort of pessimistic about life, at least to a certain extent. The Cannibal's bond with bastard! (Name) is much different from Balerion's, though.
Balerion is pretty old, and his temperament is pretty mellow, considering his war days are over. The Cannibal, however, is very violent towards anyone other than his little rider. He doesn't like people, and he likes the Targaryen's even less. I love how dragons and their riders are connected emotionally, so he can basically feel the resentment (Name) has for Daemon, and he's always on the verse of killing Daemon due to feeling her emotions.
The Cannibal is extremely protective, though. (Name) is absolutely invincible once she bonds with him because he's so terrifying, and no one is willing to become his next meal. That being said, (Name)'s life would be easy once she bonded with her beloved dragon. She doesn't have to worry about much, except for keeping him distanced away from the other dragons on Dragonstone.
Bastard! (Name) isn't a huge fan of Daemon and Rhaenyra, but I imagine that she'd become close with the other children, particularly Luke and Rhaena.
She doesn't want Cannibal to eat their dragons, and potentially kill her 'siblings', so she keeps him on a small island located near Dragonstone. She spends a lot of time there doing some upkeep on her dragon. Since Cannibal had been a wild dragon for so long his scales and skin would be a little out of shape. (Name) enjoys cleaning his horns and scales, and he likes it as well.
They have spa days together!
my favorite dragons in order: Vhagar, Cannibal, Rhaegal, Viserion, Drogon, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, Caraxes, Balerion, Meraxes, Meleys, and Syrax
taglist -> @your-favorite-god @apollonshootafar
I was a little drunk writing this so if it's bad you guys know why <3
#cw: yandere content#cw: yandere blog#cw: yandere#yandere cannibal#yandere daemyra#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere rhaenyra targaryen#yandere hotd#yandere house of the dragon#yandere got#yandere game of thrones#yandere asoiaf#yandere headcanons#yandere drabble#yandere blog#kay writes#rhxegal#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere content
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Fragile Apologies (Yandere! Miguel O’Hara x Gn! Reader)
Content notes: minor spoilers for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, unhealthy/abusive relationships, verbal & emotional abuse, physical intimidation & violence, minor injuries, implied future imprisonment
Word count: around 4k
Short summary: You thought it would be easy to leave your dying relationship with Miguel. This turned out to be not true.
The sun was setting. It cast a long, orange beam on the wall, and you slowly followed it with your eyes as it advanced, gradually fading.
You purposely didn't look at the clock on the wall, you didn't want to know how much time had passed since Miguel decided to pull you onto his lap, not caring that you were right in the middle of preparing dinner. You were relieved you had not boiled the water in advance. You were not sure if the kitchen would burst into flames by the time your boyfriend lets you go.
Miguel's arms wrapped around you like iron bands. He didn't squeeze tightly enough to cause pain, but even so, you wouldn't have been able to move an inch, no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do for your own comfort was to wrap your legs around his hips and let your hands hang by your sides.
From experience, you knew it wasn't worth begging to be let go, no matter how stiff you were or how important a task you had somewhere else. The easiest way was always to simply wait for him to finish.
Your stomach growled loudly. Maybe… Just this once, he might let you go.
Miguel buried his face in your neck, you felt his hot lips and closed eyes on your skin. Softly, you patted his back with one hand, while attempting to slide the other in the gap between your bodies, hoping he would let you push him away.
He didn't move at all, so you let out a frustrated sigh.
“Miguel” you whispered “Miguel, please, let me go. I'm very hungry.”
Despite trying to move and signal that you wanted to break free, you were ignored. Panic started to set in, but you were trying to overcome it. You grabbed his shoulder to try to push yourself away with full force.
It felt like you were trying to move a concrete wall. He showed no reaction, not even his face moved on the skin of your neck.
"Miguel," you hated how whiny, how sharp your voice was. It sounded annoying even to your own ears. "Please, please, let me go!"
“Enough.”
You immediately stiffened. There was something in his voice that made your throat tighten. You waited for him to say something else, anything, as you lowered your hand to its previous place, but in vain. It seemed like it was enough for him that you didn't protest anymore.
The sun set behind the skyscrapers of Nueva York, and the room plunged into darkness. With a defeated sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder.
Miguel began tracing playful circles on your back with his thumb, pressing slow, deliberate kisses onto your neck. As if your protest woke him up to the fact that he was holding a living being in his arms. The touch of his skin ignited a flare across yours, and your chest tightened with pain.
If only it had always been like this with him. Or at least sometimes, when you would have been open to him too. He was completely unpredictable, never knowing when he'd acknowledge your existence. From the very start, you knew he wasn't an easy personality, but this was something different. You felt both completely abandoned and overwhelmed at the same time.
You raised a hand to ran your fingers through his hair and felt his hands relax around you. You gently kissed his temple.
Suddenly he tensed, and you stifled a quiet scream. You know he would never hurt you, you told yourself, but you weren't convincing enough. You saw with your own eyes how the iron rods bend under his fingers as if they were made of clay.
You watched every news report on TV and every video that Lyla showed about him. You were well aware of what he was capable of. Even in this moment, he could have snapped your spine at any time, a slightly stronger squeeze would have been enough.
“Okay, that's enough," said Miguel, as if you were the one who didn't want to let him go, not the other way around.
"Hey!"
He pushed you off his lap. You would have fallen if he hadn't caught your arm to hold you. You grabbed onto him to regain your balance while he turned his attention towards his watch.
“Lyla, is there anything new?”
“Yes there is, but I didnt want to disturb you lovebirds. It seems like there’s some new info about Vulture, but nothing imminent. Still no info about his whereabouts.”
Miguel hissed in frustration and then turned his back to you. He started heading towards his own room.
"Didn't you want to make dinner?" he threw back before the door closed behind him.
You just stared after him for a few moments, standing alone in the dark room.
"Asshole," you said to the door. You sounded more tired than angry.
You went back to the kitchen and continued preparing dinner. Your home appliances could have made anything you wanted, probably cheaper (and tastier) than you, but there was a certain comfort in this simple routine that you couldn't let go of. Right now, you needed your hands to be busy as you thought through your situation, likely for the hundredth time in the past few weeks.
You didn't want to live like this. That was the simple truth.
When you first got together, Miguel was different. Not by much, but different. He was still willing to put energy into your relationship. However, since then, there have been more and more threats, work and problems, not to mention the number of Spider-Men he kept track of.
He doesn't have the time or energy for those little things that made you fall in love in the first place. You knew what had happened to him before you met, what happened to his daughter and that other universe. You tried to be understanding, genuinely.
Honestly, if it were only you suffering, maybe you could let go of all this, but it seemed like that Miguel also didn't want this relationship that much. Those tender moments that used to be so common between you, the hugs, the kisses, the intimate touches were increasingly scarce.
No, scarcity is not the right word for it. These moments between you slowly condensed into a single point, first daily, then weekly, lately almost monthly, when you often could do nothing but endure whatever he put you through.
You didn't want to think this way about the person you loved more than anything, but when you looked deep inside yourself, you knew you were starting to fear him. It didn't help much that when he wasn't being controlling, he often just plain ignored you, like he was doing right now.
When it first occurred to you that you should move out, you dismissed the thought. Then again. And again.
And then you didn’t.
It was much easier to find a rental apartment than you thought. Even Lyla helped when you asked her to. She hesitated, but not much, she just said you definitely have to talk to Miguel about it, and you agreed with her. You didn't understand why you haven't brought up the matter to him since then.
Maybe because you knew trying to reason with him wouldn't accomplish anything, as you had asked him many times before to consider your feelings. Maybe because you felt this was a much bigger step than anything you've brought up before. Or maybe it was the guilt you felt over the fact that you were increasingly looking forward to the date when you could finally move out.
This date was tomorrow.
You finished dinner. Two plates of boiled egg sandwiches with salad and a soft drink. Nothing special, you just tried to drag out the preparation as long as possible. You laid everything out on the table and then leaned against the counter. It's been so long since you've eaten together like this. Lately, Miguel ate everything in his own room or wherever he happened to be on a mission.
You took a deep breath, then pushed yourself off the counter. You started walking towards Miguel's room to knock. You thought you'd have to beg again, so you were surprised when the door slid open in front of you.
You entered the dimly lit, cold room filled with humming and blinking computers. You didn't like being here. You never knew when you'd see something on one of the screens that you couldn't get out of your head for weeks.
"What is it?" Miguel sounded annoyed, but at least he turned in his chair to look at you. You saw his eyes searching your hand for the plate of dinner you usually set outside his door, as if he were a teenage kid and you a resigned parent. When he realized you were empty-handed, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"
You cleared your throat. You felt your heart racing, making you feel like an idiot. You had prepared for this moment for so long, yet now you wanted to turn around and flee. But why am I still so scared?
“No, I just want to talk to you. Can you come out a bit? I've set the table outside.”
Miguel looked like he would rather say he was too busy, but when he looked at your face, it was clear that he knew something was wrong. After a brief silence, he spoke up in a surprisingly gentle tone.
"Just give me a minute to finish this. Lyla!"
You didn't wait to hear all his instructions. You went back to the kitchen and waited for him there.
"If this matter is so important, you can tell me now," Miguel said.
"Let's eat first, please. We can talk after. I promise, this will be the only time.”
It was clear that this did not decrease his suspicion, but rather fuelled it. Nevertheless, he sat down and without any further talk picked up his sandwich. This compelled you to do the same.
As you ate, you tried to formulate in your mind what you would eventually say to him from the myriad of possibilities you had gathered. It proved to be surprisingly difficult, and you didn't feel ready to speak when you finally finished eating.
Miguel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well? I'm all ears.”
There was something so condescending in his voice that your jaw tightened. You closed your eyes for a moment before you spoke. You tried to keep your voice calm.
“I've been thinking a lot lately. About you, about us… You know this isn't working. I don't know if Lyla told you, but…"
Miguel slammed the table so hard that the cutlery clinked. Your breath hitched. You didn't even see him move.
“Again, seriously? Look, I don't have time for this. I understand that you're not happy with the current situation, and believe me, neither am I. But still…”
“I want to leave you, Miguel.”
He immediately stopped talking. You just stared at each other. The sound of the impact was still ringing in your ears.
Eventually, you broke the silence again.
"I'm sorry. Believe me, I really am sorry. I know we've tried a lot…" I tried, you told yourself, “but I don't want to continue this. It will be better for both of us if we can move on."
“Vale” he said dryly.”And what are you going to do after this? Do you have any idea what's out there in the city?”
"Yes. I've already found an apartment, well, we've found one with Lyla."
Another silence followed. You stood up from the table.
“I'm sorry” you said again. You didn't even know what got into you when you reached out to stroke his hair.
"Don't," he hissed, causing your hand to stop in the air. He turned away from you.
“What are you waiting for? Pack your stuff and get out of here.”
This time you didn't hesitate. You turned around and left to gather your things.
***
Unbelievable. Just fucking unbelievable, really.
A week had passed since you moved out. Miguel refused to use the word ‘permanently’. At first, he didn't even want to believe that you were really capable of going so far as to bring up the breakup, and he never dreamed that you would actually go through with it.
As you packed, he waited for the moment when you'd break down and apologize, when you'd take everything back to let things return to how they used to be.
As it turned out, he waited in vain. Somehow, you had enough backbone not to waver as you always did before. This was his mistake, he should have noticed the signs that this time you are not just planning, but also acting.
His fist clenched at the thought that Lyla helped you without telling him. This could never happen again. When you told him this, he was so furious that he was on the verge of smashing the table between you. He was so angry that he feared he might actually harm you. This is partly why he didn't stand in your way when you started pulling your suitcase out.
But now? Now he was left alone, and he knew he would never be able to truly let you go.
He lay alone in his bed. He managed to fall asleep on the first night, perhaps he didn't even dream, but then he woke up in the middle of the night. He was so used to you being next to him when he slept, regardless of the time of day, that when he didn't hear your breathing in his sleep, panic immediately set in.
He woke up to his heart almost bursting out of his chest, while clutching the spot on the sheet where you usually lay. He hated himself for being so predictable, and he hated you for eliciting this from him even when you weren't near.
Since then, he hardly slept at all. He was so tense that even the slightest slight could push him to the brink of a rage fit. For a while, Lyla didn't even try to reason with him.
He immediately got your address from her, of course, then checked it out for himself. He deliberately didn't go when he knew you would be home, but he couldn't help it, he had to cling to the walls of the surrounding buildings to watch when your figure, shrouded in shadows, got home.
Villains came to his mind. They were the ones who thought like him in this moment. Obsessively focusing on a single target as if his life depended on it… In a way, it was a very petty mindset. Not suited for someone responsible for the safety of others. But that's exactly what he was doing – watching over you and ensuring no threat reached you. Of course, he continued to track Vulture and the others as well, not to mention the other Spider-People, but it was true that they all took a backseat when it came to you.
No, he wasn’t like the villains. He did this because you were important to him. If you had a little sense, you could have seen this too. That's why he waited through this week to calm down enough to speak to you in a normal tone. If possible, it would have been best if you came back to him of your own free will, but if he scares you, he might achieve the opposite.
Actually, what he wanted most was for you to come back on your own with your stupid suitcase, but so far you've held firm. It seemed you were doing just fine without him. Sometimes he even caught you humming to yourself on the way home. You haven't done that in months at his place. Miguel didn't even want to admit to himself that this made a small part of his heart ache.
The problem was that as time went on, he didn't become calmer, quite the opposite. If he wasn't thinking about you, then he was thinking about the things that could harm you while you weren't with him. If something were to happen to you when he wasn't there…
He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't.
A soft beep came from his watch. A reported robbery. Since it seemed the local patrol had already dealt with the matter, he almost settled back down, but then he glanced at the holographic map.
He immediately jumped to his feet. His blood thudded in his ears so loudly that he could barely hear Lyla's responses to the instructions he barked at her as he headed out.
The robbery had occurred near your block. Right next to you.
***
You stood with your arms crossed in front your chest in the window of your third-floor living room. The sirens had long since gone silent and the police had left. The case did not seem serious, and you were not overly worried. These things were not unusual in this city. Before you got together with Miguel, you often saw similar crimes.
Miguel. You thought you would miss him more, but from the very first days you felt the invisible weight lifting off your shoulders. You unpacked the few belongings you brought with you and started creating a new life for yourself.
It was good to occupy yourself with something other than ruminating about your ex. It was strange that you no longer had to think about when you would push him away or make him angry with some insignificant detail.
At first, you didn't even notice the dull thud that sounded like a heavy object had hit the wall of your panel apartment.
Then your bedroom window burst.
You slapped your hand over your mouth before you could scream. You looked around the room, then crouched behind the couch in the corner, using the clatter of the glass shards to cover the sound of your movement. You didn't turn on the light in the living room because you didn't want anyone to notice you watching the police cars, but the light was on in your bedroom. The intruder must have seen this.
Who was currently out in the city? Vulture? Venture? And who else? They shouldn't have known who you are. While you were with Miguel, you barely left the apartment. No one has seen you two in the same place for months.
You covered your face with your palm as a massive thud shook the wall behind you. That might have been the door that led to the hallway.
“Where are you?”
Your breath hitched. This can't be happening.
You almost answered him, but changed your mind at the last minute. You flinched when another blow shook the house. It was the wall mirror.
You pulled your knees to your chest, using one hand to stifle the sob rising in your throat, and the other to pull your phone out of your pocket. Who should you call? You can't send normal cops after Miguel. Plus, you've never heard him like this.
A superhero wouldn't harm innocents… But a superhero wouldn't break into his ex's home like this either. If he just wants to save you from something, then why did he smash everything in his path? No, you felt that you shouldn't come out, but with his senses, it shouldn't have taken much time for him to find you.
As if he heard your thoughts.
“I know you're here. I can smell you.”
His voice was slightly calmer than it was a few moments ago. You heard him take a deep breath. This meant that it was quiet enough that if you started crying now, he would find you instantly.
You didn't dare to move. Tears freely flowed down your face, but you didn't feel it. Suddenly, you became very aware that you really had no idea how good his hearing was.
He stopped in the hallway. What was he doing? Fiddling with something, but what…
Your phone rang in your hand.
The next moment, the couch disappeared in front of you. You didn't have time to end the call before Miguel grabbed your shirt to pull you up. Your back hit the wall, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Your phone fell to the ground, but you didn't even try to catch it. Sharp claws tore up the fabric of your clothes where he held you.
You cried out in pain and terror.
For a moment, you locked eyes with each other before Miguel's red gaze slid down to scan your body. It took a little time for you to realize he was looking for injuries.
When he was convinced that you were unharmed, he slightly loosened his grip, but not enough for you to break free. You desperately clung to his wrist, despite knowing that if he wanted to kill you, nothing would stop him, especially not your weak human hands.
"Please, don't hurt me," you whimpered from the depths of your throat.
He growled. You had never heard this sound from him before.
“Hurt you? Are you out of your mind? I'm here to take you home.”
You didn't dare shake your head, but he must have seen something in your eyes. Suddenly, you felt your feet on the floor again.
Miguel dragged you by the remnants of your shirt like a ragdoll. Your mind was foggy with panic, yet you instinctively tried to dig your heel into the carpet. As you passed by the doorway, you reached out to grasp it, but it didn't slow him down. You felt something crack in your shoulder, then the burning pain flooded you. You had to let go.
You needed all your willpower not to scream when you saw what he had done to your apartment. It was as if someone had let loose a small hurricane. Your knee was scraped raw on the few feets leading to your front door, not to mention the shards of glass Miguel dragged you over. You were so terrified that you barely felt the pain.
You thought he would drag you straight out of the apartment, so you squeaked in surprise when he stopped in front of the door and let go of your shirt. As you collapsed unceremoniously onto the floor, he stood in front of you.
"I want you to pay very close attention to me, because I won't say this again. What do you see?"
You looked at him in shock. You followed his gaze with your eyes as he pointed to the lock.
"The door handle?”
He growled so loudly that your chest trembled. He reached down to roughly grab the back of your neck. His claws left shallow scratches on your skin as he forced you to stare at the lock above the door handle.
"This is a damn biometric identifier. Do you know how long it takes for someone to get a few samples from you? For God's sake, do you know how hard it would be to break in here?”
You were afraid that a stronger jerk and he might just tear your head off. You whimpered like a cornered animal.
"Answer me!"
"Very easy?" you muttered.
“Exactly! And do you know what's the deal with your windows? Anyone can see in, from anywhere, not to mention breaking in.”
Yes, you demonstrated that very well, you thought numbly, but you had the sense not to say it out loud. He let go again, and you took the opportunity to slide against the wall. You huddled up just like you did in the living room only a few minutes ago.
Miguel said something in Spanish, but he spoke too quickly for you to understand. He paced back and forth in front of you.
"I simply don't understand what was going through your head. It's a miracle you're still alive. What if those on the streets decide to break in? What if they follow you to your apartment?"
He roughly ran his hand through his hair.
"I know foresight isn't your strong suit, that's for sure, but even you have to see this. You need to come back with me. It's obvious you can't keep yourself safe."
You were about to shake your head, but you stopped yourself. Instead, you covered your face, and agonizing sobbing broke out of you again.
A little time passed, which seemed like hours to you, but could only have been a few minutes. Miguel stayed silent, and you had no idea what he might be doing. You didn't hear him move among the shards of glass, but that didn't mean much. If he wanted to, he could remain completely silent.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to wail.
You flinched when you felt his hand on your arm. His claws were no longer out. You didn't answer him when he called you by your name. You were still crying.
“Damn it” he said quietly. “Please, calm down.”
You tried to hold yourself back, you didn't want to anger him again, but you couldn't. Even though every part of you protested when you felt him gently pull your hand away from your face, you didn't resist. Now you could see that he had squatted down in front of you. He wiped a tear off your face with his thumb.
It was evident that he wanted to say something more, but then he changed his mind. This time, much more gently, he reached out to pull you into his arms. As he drew you close to his chest, you responded by clinging to him and burying your face in his shoulder.
You could feel the movement of his muscles beneath his skin as he let out a sigh.
"God, I missed you so much."
You had no idea what expression he might be wearing. Tears were still streaming from your eyes, soaking his superhero suit, but it no longer seemed to bother him.
"I'll never let you go again."
#yandere#yandere miguel#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere across the spiderverse#yandere miguel x reader#yandere x reader#yandere spiderman#yandere atsv#yandere spiderverse#cw: abuse#cw: yandere#cw: violence#cw: injury#cw: imprisonment#gn reader#possum writes
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dan heng (IL) x reader (devour)
content warning: references to cannibalism (no real cannibalism takes place), yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, kinda suggestive
notes: i been listening to loveit? and love cat for the past few hours. loveit? and love cat are good songs. y’all should listen to them. also this is more on the horror side
let’s start this with a few questions. how long can an animal survive without eating, or letting instincts take over their mind? are they aware that they’re making the conscious decision to not do that? dan heng surely would love to know. he would love to know that he’s not the only “animal” that does this. of course he’s been eating normally but there’s one thing that normal food cannot satisfy.
he shouldn’t.
but he wants too. the urge to dig his teeth into flesh and taste his love’s oh so delicious blood made it all the more difficult. their scent drove him mad. dan heng couldn’t understand why he’s having thoughts such as this, it’s wrong. it’s inhumane. brutal even, but he wants too. of course the more human side is stopping him, if he did devour them- then who will be there to keep his humanity?
they somehow bring out the worse and the best out of him.
the way he looks at them with love, though his eyes showed them- it also showed desire. as if he wants to claim them here and now. he wants to hear their moans and pleads for more, but he had to restrain himself.
“i love you…” he whispered
he wants their love, attention and heart more ways than one. he wants to taste their blood- take in their scent, have their soul. he wants their love that can satisfy his hunger. his hands gripping their face as he stared intently at their eyes. their eyes showed fear yet hint of love- dan heng finds it intriguing. he leaned in and placed a kiss on their lips.
“i love you…”
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#yandere hsr x reader#hsr dan heng#yandere dan heng#yandere dan heng x reader#dan heng x reader#dan heng#cw: cannibalism#cw: yandere
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Can I request a yandre Nanook and yaoshi and god /aeon reader the reader is like that unknown god in genshin impact that can control time and destiny
What if Nanook had a fascination about this aeon and slowly developing an obsession with them and yaoshi being the same and would bless their devoting followers
to chase destiny.
characters: nanook, yaoshi
contains: YANDERE CHARAS, obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, brainwashing(?), unhealthy relationships, power dynamics(?), vaguely religious language (nothing heavy, it comes with the aeons stuff lol)
a/n: mmmmm yandere aeons <333 love that for them. ngl i kinda forgot about the time part so this is primarily focused on the destiny part so yahoo!
...follows you like an incessant plague. Wherever you go, wherever you may run, they and their Antimatter Legion follow, bringing destruction and devastation with them.
Nanook first met you in the early days of their existence as an Aeon. Back then, they were but a young one, still weak in the eyes of the others. Back then, they saw you as another obstacle in their Path, another nuisance.
But then, in a clash between you two, Nanook witnessed your abilities for the first time. In the midst of a Legion invasion, a battle that was sure to end in the destruction of another planet, you managed to turn the tide. Your hands weaved a different path, a path that destroyed Nanook's forces and forced them to retreat.
Just one word from you, and fate was reversed. Just one sweep of your pen, and a losing battle was won.
The image of you that day is forever etched into Nanook's mind, burned into their memory. You, powerful, beautiful, and the cold glare of your eyes as you met their gaze. You, the weaver of fate itself.
You were the key to purifying the world of the cancer of civilization. You were the missing piece they never knew they needed. With your power, Nanook could create a perfect, clean world.
They would like nothing more other than to take you away for themself, to lock you away in a separate realm from the rest. But alas, you are older, stronger than they were.
But Nanook wasn't one to give up. As the Aeon of Destruction, they have many other Aeons as enemies, such as Xipe or Yaoshi. They knew how to get their way, even if they would have to fight tooth and claw for it.
And so they follow you. They stalk you throughout the galaxies, chasing you much like the Hunt would. Any planet that has the misfortune to garner even the slightest glance from you is reduced to rubble, for Nanook despises the mere idea of your attention being on anything other than them.
The person they hate the most is Elio, the seer that you've seemingly blessed with your favor. If it weren't for your protection, Nanook would've killed him - blessing him with a long, torturous, drawn-out death with you as their audience.
But it's fine in the end. In the end, Nanook will have their way. They will take you, no matter what it takes. And when they finally do, only then can an untainted world be made.
You may claim to change destiny, but Nanook knows that the future can be changed by those with enough ambition, enough drive.
They isolate you, crushing both the people and the worlds you love. They whisper in your mind of how the greed and hubris of civilization weren't worth saving, and show you only the ugliest parts of humanity. Their words cloud and befuddle your mind with distrust, fear, and abhorrence towards the sentient species.
Soon, your loom of fate becomes tangled in their hands, and Nanook is the one who pulls the strings. They are the only one you can trust, clean from ugliness and impurity. They are all you need. And in return for your power, they offer a faux love.
You watch from within their embrace as the universe crumbles into nothing, watch as countries and planets collapse.
This is how things should be, they whisper, feeling nothing in their heart as they hold you. This is the right way of the world.
And you believe them.
...is an insufferable thorn in your side. Yaoshi yearns for a paradise free from suffering and despair, a paradise that wouldn't be complete without you.
Ever since the day they saw you, they've known. Their heart that loved each and every being in the universe, bloomed for you, longed for you.
They weren't sure just what had attracted them to you so badly, but Yaoshi didn't think they needed to. There was never a need for a reason to love, was there?
Every day, every hour, without fail, Yaoshi clings to your side. You could try to foresee their movements, forcing them away from you, but even you were not free from the cruelty of fate. Yaoshi would always find you, arms open for an embrace as they fill your space with promises and sweet words.
Let us make a paradise together, they'd propose, taking you into their arms as they coo into your ear, caressing your arms with their fingers. Think of what we could do, what we could bring to the galaxies.
Yaoshi is convinced that you were meant to be theirs, the gateway to a world ridden of death and disease. With your power alongside theirs, no one would have to suffer any longer.
The only problem was that you were a little stubborn. No matter, for Yaoshi was patient. They knew you wanted to bring salvation to the universe alongside them, you were just a bit scared of venturing outside your script.
Yaoshi wears you down bit by bit. First, they guilt trip you. They lament over the pitiful mortals, succumbing to disease and war. Perhaps if you had taken them up on their offer, those mortals would be alive and happy right now. They remind you about the lives you could've saved. Yaoshi never outright says it, but you know that subtly, they call you selfish for ignoring the plight of the weak.
Then, they gain the favor of your followers. They bless your devotees with immortality, curing them of any disease or injury they may come across. They coddle and care for them, so that even when Yaoshi isn't physically by your side, your followers who sing them praises constantly remind you of them.
It's even worse when Yaoshi is present. As your followers gush about your so-called love, a love you don't ever recall partaking in, Yaoshi preens at your side, holding onto your arm as a noble lady would her lover.
And as they do, they whisper into your ears, crooning like a venomous snake.
Play along, they murmur, playing with your hair as they kiss your temple. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?
And so you do. You play the role of lover to Yaoshi, forced to give up your pen and your being to the Abundance.
Even though you know of the despair that would eventually come of immortality, you are powerless to stop it, lest you face the scorn of your people.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr#hsr x reader#honkai star rail nanook x reader#honkai star rail yaoshi x reader#honkai star rail nanook#honkai star rail yaoshi#yaoshi#nanook#yandere#yandere x reader#cw: yandere#tw: yandere#reader#y/n#yandere nanook#yandere yaoshi#yandere honkai star rail#yandere hsr#yandere hsr x reader#tw: manipulation#archives 🏵️
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AFFECTION'S EDGE: MASTERLIST
━─━────༺༻────━─━
|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 18k || ao3 ||
minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only
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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”
***
Suguru tries to tame you.
━─━────༺༻────━─━
✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧
cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?
a/n: this lil series is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab event!! i've been working on it for awhile now and i'm excited to share!! i have most of it done and you can find the posting schedule below!
━─━────༺༻────━─━
PART I: Friday, April 26th
PART II: Friday, May 3rd
PART III: Friday, May 10th
━─━────༺༻────━─━
#suguru getou x reader#suguru geto x reader#getou suguru x you#getou x reader#getou suguru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#suguru getou x you#cw: omegaverse#cw: yandere
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Well aware of requests, but I would love your favourite slasher yandere hcs!
🥀Yandere Norman Bates hcs🥀
THANK YOU THANK YOU ANON!! ^^ So excited to get a slasher request!! Sorry if this seems rushed I was just super excited to write it
!Warnings!: yandere trope, spoilers for pyscho, stalking, murder, kidnapping, mentions of reader possibly dying
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● You're more than likely just another person passing through, staying the night, wanting nothing more than to sleep and be gone in the morning, off to your destination. Having gotten lost off the main road, after all, no one stops by anymore unless they've done that.
● He greets you with the same friendliness he gives most of his guests, ushering you in, offering you food. Quickly becoming enamored with you as soon as you walk in. Obsession festering from a simple small chat.
● At first your fate seemed like it would end up like the rest of the people Norman's shown interest in, dead by the hands of his "mother".
● However in this case by some miracle after bickering and pleading with himself, he manages to convince his other personality to not kill you. That you're different than the rest! Who knows, maybe even mother will start taking a liking to you.
● You're given room one, right next to the front desk if you need anything, walls so thin you can knock on the wall if you need anything. Thin enough to poke a peephole through. With you none the wiser.
● Then there's issue of you leaving.. he can't have that can he? It's unlikely he'd never see you again. The only person his mother approved of. The only chance at any kind of connection that wouldn't immediately end up as a body in the swamp. No, no, he can't let you leave.
● He'll make you stay, wether it be by begging, by slashing your tires, by locking you up in his home, or keeping what remains of you in his basement with the delusion that you're still there.
● If he dosen't take the most extreme option, you'll wake trapped up in the guest room of his home. With Norman doting over you, frantically trying explain and rationalize his actions to you as you scream and cry to be let go.
● He understands to a degree, but at the same time he dosen't. He dosen't understand entirely what he's doing is wrong, but he isn't oblivious either.
● As for example he's shown in the film to show some remorse about Marion's death, before quickly cleaning it up and hiding the evidence. He's aware it's wrong to some degree.
● He knows that the law and general populous would view what he's doing to you as wrong, but he excuses it in his mind. He needs you here. Its better for both of you this way. In his mind you just need time to adjust and you'll be fine. He just needs to be patient. That's what he tells himself.
● An escape wouldn't nesscarily be easy either. Not many people stop the motel, let alone Norman's house. There's no places nearby within walking or running distance. Then of course you have norman wacthing over you like a hawk, one that will swoop down and stop your plans, unlike the lifeless stuffed birds that decorate his parlor.
● You'll haft to walk on eggshells, while Norman tries his best, swearing he won't hurt you, who says his mother side won't get fed up with you? What stops him from killing you in a last dicth effort to make you stay? He wouldn't even see the difference. As long as he has your body, has the delusion in his head, you're still alive to him.
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#writers on tumblr#dweller's writing#yandere#cw: yandere#tw: yandere#yandere slashers#slashers x reader#slasher#yandere norman bates#Norman bates#1960s pyscho#pyscho 1960s#Norman bates x reader
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Finally translated the Hiori and Ness versions, people who follow me likely recognize her, but the OG artist is @mmk_x00x on Twitter (◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。
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Yandere! Scaramouche x GN! Reader
summary: reader lives in a small town and hates it, scara drops by, and then they get kidnapped.
A/N: tiny-whiny, teeny-weeny lil ficlet!
!!! do not read if you are not comfortable with yandere content !!!
warning(s): YANDERE, yandere content, kidnapping, toxic relationship, unhealthy relationship, forced affection, forced marriage, scara has a bad temper and is irritated af literally all the time, mention of blood and gore for two seconds
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people in your little village had always told you that your reckless behavior would lead to something dangerous. something that you wouldn’t be able to handle. the warnings had been thrown at you throughout the years, but never seemed to have any effect on your behavior.
in fact, they had warned you about him before you had even met. the second he came into town, actually. he was the fatui harbinger that walked across nations like he owned them, looked at people as if they were weeds at his feet, and spit burning words with an acid coated tongue. he was shrewd and had an explosive temper that matched his arrogant personality. he spilt blood without care, laying battlefields in rivers of crimson. he was not merciful, not kind, and you were certain there were no traits that could have possibly redeemed him as a man, much less a human, now that you knew he was made from clay and paint rather than flesh and blood.
it was just a way to have a little fun; that’s how it had started, and that’s how you had rationalized it. for once in your life, you were flirtatious, bold with reckless abandon, and charmingly lovely with a man, doing your best to grab his attention. the only appeal of trying to form a relationship with him came from the fact that he was a harbinger and had seen the world, something that you had always dreamed about; it mattered little to you that he was cross and sarcastic, as long as there was a possibility that he would let you see the world outside of the quaint huts and humble farmland that you grew up in
you did recognize that you were practically walking to your death; you really did. you weren’t so stupid to think that pestering a harbinger, someone so desensitized to human suffering, blood and gore alike, would leave you with no consequences.
but, you had lived in a small town in the secluded countryside, with homely people and an itch to see the unknown. your life felt repetitive, stuck, and it nearly drove you mad. so yes, when one of the harbingers of the Tsarita, a god among mortals, suddenly lodged himself into the boring domesticity of some random no-name town on secret business, you became a little overexcited. for once, something big was making waves in your life, with the violet haired man at the center of it all. the rush went to your head quickly, and you found yourself playing a game that had dire consequences if (when) you lost.
you were friendly at best, and coy at worst. you vied for his attention. you greeted him cheerfully when he obviously did not want to be greeted. you smiled when his temper went off and he snapped at you with that vile mouth, all cruel words and biting remarks.
worst of all, you talked with him. you spent time with him, walked and made conversation, not noticing how he almost relaxed around you. looking back on it, you think that was what had put the nail in your coffin.
there was no sign that he was attached to you, and you were content with your rocky companionship in the end.
one day even, he said he had never met someone so forward, but he spoke the words with a sneer that revealed his displeasure at your persistence.
you took that sneer as a sign that he wanted nothing to do with you, however persistent you may have been. that he would simply use you as a source of entertainment, and then leave, leave your little town, like you so desperately ached to.
and you told him this, too. you told him about your dreams, your hopes, one day with a sad smile and a bitter laugh. perhaps it had just been the fact that you were talking with someone who might sympathize with you, or at least, consider your words of traveling the world and treat them as if they could actually become reality.
on this day, his eyes did soften. he looked at you not with irritation or annoyance, but with a placid and neutral expression. he did not speak. his eyes only looked through you, meeting your gaze and not turning away. his silence quickly began to make you uncomfortable, and you changed to subject with a forced laugh, excusing yourself to go back home, as the sun went down behind the hills and the glow began to dim from your skin.
he left the next day. that was all you expected to see of him in the end. you returned back to your daily life easily. you were not happy, but remorsefully indifferent towards the fact that the last bit of something new you would probably ever see had left forever; you tried to be.
one day, however, when night had come over your village and all was silent, there was a knock at your door. you got up, not expecting to see the harbinger standing there with his arms crossed, that same placid expression on his face.
you watched his eyes narrow. he dismissed your reasoning with a wave of his hand. he dragged you outside.
that was the last you saw of your little town.
you travel now. You have to, with him being your husband. but, you never got to see the world. you could not take a step outside of the little bubble he had formed for you. the only joy that came of the never ending travel that was now your life happened when he allowed you to come and walk by his side to explore, letting you gawk and flitter around until he dragged you back with into your little bubble, his hand on your wrist.
you are draped in riches, silks chosen by his hand, and are given every luxury you could ever need.
most importantly, you are his spouse, first and foremost, and are expected to act as such. you entertain yourself at home while hes gone, and greet him when he comes back. it was an easy routine to follow. almost as easy as the one you had back in your old town, which now whenever you thought back to it brought tears to your eyes. at least your life had belonged to you solely, back then. now you are the spouse of a fatui harbinger.
you had stopped trying to get him to let you go, after your last attempt to protest him ripping you from your ordinary life only got you a dismissive wave of his hand and a disinterested glare. never mind that this isn’t what you had meant when you said you wanted to travel the world; he was making it happen. it was better than being stuck in that quaint village for the rest of your mortal life, right?
hadn’t he given you what you wanted? the only price was to stay here, with him, with everything you could ever need at your feet. the only price was your freedom.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin#male yandere#yandere#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#yandere scaramouche#yandere wanderer x reader#yandere scaramouche x reader#cw: yandere#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#x reader#yander wanderer#wanderer x reader#wanderer#scara x reader#yandere scara
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i think daemon's bastard little girl really hates her father (because this man is really a stupid) but with rhaenyra she would be soft without realizing it
as if she told daemon to go to hell and then decided that she wants to go flying with grandpa balerion, but she realizes that if she goes with her hair down it will probably get tangled and then it will be ugly, so being a bit harsh she asks to Rhaenyra to help with her hair
And Rhaenyra would be happy to braid her hair!!!!
Rhaenyra desperately wanted a little girl, so she was so happy when Daemon brought his daughter to Dragonstone. Rhaenyra, though, understands that (Name) won't warm up to them immediately, and I think that she would be the most patient with (Name) after she was brought to Dragonstone.
Rhaenyra is absolutely dying to do domestic things with her new daughter, though! She wants to experience mother-daughter bonding with (Name), despite the fact that she isn't (Name)'s actual mother. It becomes so painful for Rhaenyra when she realizes that she will never have a daughter, but that pain was alleviated with (Name)'s arrival. Nyra just wants to dote on her sweet girl, despite how hesitant (Name) is when it comes to her new family.
As for (Name), she misses her mother dearly, and she absolutely resents Daemon from taking her away from her true family. However, she doesn't hold the same hatred for the rest of the Targaryen's on Dragonstone. I feel like she would be especially close with Lucerys, Joffrey, and Rhaena. She doesn't hate them and treats them cordially. However, she has an odd dynamic with Rhaenyra the first few weeks after being basically kidnapped. (Name) is fearful that her father's wife is trying to replace her mother, but eventually she just starts seeing her as Rhaenyra, the future queen.
Rhaenyra absolutely spoils her new daughter, too!
She loves getting dresses specifically made for (Name) and seeing how the fabric looks so cute on her. Rhaenyra especially loves doing (Name)'s hair and loves when the sky is clear because she knows (Name) will be going on a ride with Balerion. I feel like Rhaenyra and Alicent probably did each other's hair when they were younger, so it's definitely bittersweet for her :(
Anyway, this is just how Rhaenyra bonds with her daughter <3
#cw: yandere blog#cw: yandere content#cw: yandere#yandere daemyra#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere rhaenyra targaryen#yandere hotd#yandere house of the dragon#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#yandere#yandere blog#kay writes
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Azul Ashengrotto. | Character interaction | Genre: Dark?
⤷ Summary: He realized that everything was unreal. This world, his life, a mere playground for others in sake for entertainment.
He has always liked your expressions, it's a shame he can't touch or feel your warmth, although the first time that he defied his code, he has learned to pretend, reading his scripts, sometimes he can't help himself, he craves to see and hear you... more clearly.
“Shall we have a discussion together?”
Had you known, if only.. if only, you could reverse your time. You would not download this game as your friends suggested you.
Your future self lamented about your fate.
As you pondered what type of event was this about.
“Free of charge, let's say, it won't be harmful to you.”
It was a blatant lie, to cross a bridge, one must pay the toll.
The white haired merfolk addressed with a wide smile, there were options of words to choose. Yes or no, it depends with you.
....But then you can't move anything nor press on them.
You were albeit— curious about it, who wouldn't be? You were creeped out that there weren't the usual monologues.
“What the heck....? Did the system crash...?”
How could he had forgotten? You seemed spooked by this.
“Not Yuu's answer, I want your answers.”
You must be delusional, no, how... can a freaking 2D character verbalize with you, right—? Right? Have you lose it yet-?! And in perfect English too? He seems quite fluent in this... somehow?
“I'm going to 'delete' you out of this, I swear.”
That earned a fit of laughter from Azul as he gazed at you, with a hand on his chest and back with his feigned sorrows at you.
Despite the fact that he was in a sprite and on the screen.
His utterances to you will haunt you days and nights.
Your terrified face reflected in his narrowed turquoise pupils.
“I'm afraid you don't have the privilege, my dear player. Not when I already found a way to take you to Twisted Wonderland.”
#twisted wonderland#twst scenarios#twst x you#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland x you#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere azul ashengrotto#cw: yandere#twst azul x reader#twst interaction#twst self aware au#yandere twst#disney twisted wonderland#gender neutral reader#etihw.writes
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˚✧₊• with two hands firmly grasping your thighs, Ajax wishes this moment would last forever. you’e under him and you’re so so very perfect. everything he’s ever wanted. and yet, he knows he’s going to ruin it. such careful planning was not to be forgotten and disposed of so easily even in the face of his own impending orgasm. his frame trembled between delighting in the sounds of your slick and the heavenly whispers and gasps you let out and becoming sick with need for what he was about to do. he forced you down into a mating press, head colliding with your neck, to suck bruises into your skin; ones that would never heal.
his spend seeped out with every pulse of your sex, soiling the sheets with unholy juices borne of misplaced trust and foul copulation. the sighs still leaking from your mouth rattled between eardrums focused in on every little sound, every little movement. he tightened his grip only to hear you groan and to that he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as a form of apology, though, it was not one that would suffice his following actions. through bated breath and shaky pupils blown wide, his hands travelled from your legs to your neck and he squeezed. Ajax pressed around your windpipe like a python, murmured declarations of love passing his saliva coated lips. he could hear the rush of blood in his ears and feel the adrenaline coursing through the marrow of his bones; he was loving this. though he loved you, he loved keeping you a bit more. loves you, loves it, loves you, loves it; a sick game of loves-me-not played on the petals of your quickly fading life. his teeth dug into your shoulder.
had you been alive, you would’ve noticed and felt as he tore through the flesh and muscle with pointed canines. Ajax took out chunks to suck them clean of blood before letting them fall out of his mouth and back onto the more than disheveled bed. he pawed uselessly at your form, tears mixing with your blood but god he couldn’t help it.
to consume was to be one, no?
#cw: cannibalism#cw: yandere#cw: noncon#sorry cannibalism brain working overtime rn#idk… i think it’s a little bit romantic#he wants you so bad he’s willing to EAT you#*sighs delusionally* i want him#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#yandere childe#yandere tartaglia#genshin impact x reader#genshin smut
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