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mamamangaka · 3 months

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(No one has posted this and I need it so I shall cook for myself)

- Yandere!Alastor with a g/n reader who likes toys and art stuff -

Okay so here’s the thing I kinda see about Alastor:

Hes a fucking looney who will do anything and everything to keep you if he happens to fall in love.

But lemme tell you if you break past those walls and manage to ameliorate his aceness to the point that he’s yandere about you then baby you done.

You might as well have signed over your soul to him.

I like to think only one thing in particular would peak his interest at first.

Maybe your drawing outside a coffee shop -

Or reading tarot cards at the park?

Perhaps even reading under a tree, who knows?

But whatever it is, Alastor saw you and he froze.

He never once expected to fall so deeply in love (especially not at first sight) and I feel that when he did finally succumb after a bit of denial, it would be a quick realization and he’d make a decision to seek you out immediately.

He’d closely stalk you for some time but when he gets you, he’d keep you in his radio tower, where no one else goes and where his world really is.

He’d probably kidnap you mere weeks after realizing he’s enamored, it wouldn’t take long before he came up behind you out of nowhere.

He was someone you’d only seen once or twice in passing but found attractive each time, though you weren’t exactly thinking about a partnership.

He wouldn’t be asking you, he’d simply take you.

(You didn’t need to know he’d been admiring you anyway.)

You weren’t someone of great power or who was well known. You simply met a tragic fate and unfortunately ended up here by mistake due to being involved in “black magic”.

It was unfair, in your opinion, to be cast down simply due to your divination talents and history.

Never once did you misuse your gifts yet here you were.

When you come around, you’re in Alastor room in the hotel.

He explains the situation and gives you options.

You ask to go, not interested in whatever he’s offering and he explains that’s not an option so you need to pick another one.

After demanding to leave, trying to open the door, banging and calling for help and eventually pleading and sobbing with him, you realize you aren’t going anywhere.

You wheep and hoarsely beg as he carries you into the wooded area that seems to pocket into another place.

You realize later that it was a path to the radio tower.

There’s a wooden door that leads to his own personal “home” in that tower.

And inside, I’d expect it’s quite nice.

Greenery everywhere, plants and/or herbs hanging from the ceiling and a cozy woodstove. Lovely flowers and pretty trees surrounding the outside, blocking the view of the horrors that hell had naturally.

A earthy, modest but very comfortable and exquisite environment and cottage style house with at least one library on hand.

But he can take all this beauty away quite easily, so don’t forget or step out of line. The view is a luxury he gives based on your behavior; do not tread lightly.

Now, he’s very commanding and strict with his darling, often times dictating what they eat and wear, bossing them around and physically moving them to where he wants.

• “My little doe, you were simply taking too much time to get to me, I was just helping you along.”

• “Oh darling, don’t you know I’m doing this for your own good? Don’t cry, come here: give me a kiss.”

• “No no, little doe. It’s best if you rest right now. Ah, yes, I can see you don’t want to sleep. How about I read to you or turn the radio on, hm?”

But he’s also super old timey and you would immediately be considered his spouse, and he would pamper and treat you with such respect (at least as much as he could)

If he found out you liked dolls or soft toys, well he’d be all over that and try to use it to his advantage.

I feel like it would be a rag doll copy of himself or a porcelain/ball jointed doll (dressed in 1920-1950 attire) as a Victorian styled Queen or what not.

• “You seem so lonely honey bun, so I picked you up something nice. Hopefully it will warm you a little when you think of me.”

• “I can see you fiddle with your hands a lot, mi amor. Here, have a doll to dress and play with for when your pretty hands need a break from the books.”

• “Oh my, it seems a nap is in order for your crankiness. Where is your toy? It’s better for you to have something to sleep with while I’m doing the broadcast.”

But he wouldn’t have bought it for you, oh no, because the only thing he buys you is the most pristine art supplies and most flattering jewelry and clothes —

— he’d have made this himself for you, from his own power.

And he’d use it to keep an eye on you no matter where you happened to be.

Needed a moment alone? Not without the doll he gave you.

Was hiding from punishment? Not without the doll.

If you left it somewhere in a vain attempt for distance, you’d find it on your person the second you reached in your bag or turned around.

And when Alastor found out you left it? He’d be livid.

But you wouldn’t know he was mad by his face, only his voice and the static crackle in the background.

• “Don’t you ever leave that doll again sweetheart. Do you understand me?”

• “This is how I protect you, darling. It’s best for everyone if you follow direction.”

• “Now honey, you don’t want to lose your privilege to wander around the hotel and mingle with the others, do you? Then you best keep that doll close, hm?”

If you possibly took a liking to the doll he gave you, well..

His heart might soar, he won’t lie

How cute and innocent you were, so completely unaware of the horrors he possesses — the doll possesses — if you step out of line

It’s something he really loves about you; you trust him (mostly bc you have to)

And if you took up sewing to make outfits for the doll?? He’d be so over the moon and even conjure up a little wardrobe for them if enough clothes are made.

And your drawings??? Oh don’t even get me started

too late I did it myself here I go

He would parade you around like you were the messiah of the demonic art world

It didn’t matter if you or anyone else thought you were good

You like doing it? Hes gonna over indulge you.

You drew something just for him???

Then it’s getting a golden frame and you’re getting the radio host fame.

He wouldn’t let anyone touch your sketchbook. He’d actually kill anyone who destroys any piece of your work.

He always coos over you, he’s literally obsessed with you.

Admires you while your drawing like you are the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Always begs to see your drawings.

Does everything in his power to help you with inspiration or getting out of art block.

Hangs up his favorite pieces you’ve done around the hotel and talks you up to everyone.

• “My my, who would have guessed my little doe was so full of talent? Ah-ha, well me, of course!”

• “Oh yes, they’re nothing short of extraordinary and excel in everything they attempt. It’s absolutely magnificent.”

• “Quite the looker, aren’t they? It’s no wonder I fell so hard, they made this old withering heart beat once more.”

NOW LETS ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM:

What if you broke a rule? Either accidental or on purpose?

*rubs palms together deviously*

I mean it’s hell, so it’s not like you could actually die and he’d permanently lose you, but I could see him considering killing, traumatizing and horrifying you to make a point for when you came back. If you broke the rule on purpose or left the hotel without a damn good reason or asking him, I definitely think he’d ponder on it.

But I honestly don’t know if he’d be able to go that far if he’s to the point that he’s fallen for you.

I definitely think he’d be the kind to chain you away for a bit and ignore you for a while after really scaring you though, having only come in when you cry out for him or need to be attended.

He’d be condescending and emotionally manipulating for sure.

• “Well dear, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if you would have just listened and been good, hm?”

• “No no, you can’t come downstairs. I told you this time out is for two weeks. It’s been only two days darling.”

•“Now that’s not the way one of such class as ourselves behave. Shush your crying, my sweet.”

He wouldn’t tolerate a darling openly defying him, he’d put you over his knee and bruise your behind so quick and wouldn’t think twice.

And getting off punishments easy? Nah.

Good behavior or not, you’re gonna be going through the whole thing every single time. He won’t let you have even an ounce of wiggle room on that.

Your bottom stings after only thirty spanks? He isn’t stopping. He said 50 and he meant it, so buckle up buttercup, this is gonna be a long ride.

You don’t want to finish your plate? Well that’s a nice opinion, quite cute! .. but he doesn’t recall asking you what you wanted, so eat up ~

You aren’t tired? Well, allow him the pleasure of wearing you out and soothing you to slumber.

I think he’d allow the darling to cling to him though, that’s the kind of yandere I see him as. He’d maybe mock you a little at first and seem patronizing but all in all, he finds the need to touch him endearing and he does become fond of it.

I think he’d make you dependent on it, really. He’d always encourage you to cuddle up to him, always making sure you sit or stand directly next to him and that’s he’s always got his arm around you or you hanging onto his own.

He’d be tolerant of your crying. I think he’d find you cute while in distress, so that would be his favorite time to hold you tight. He’d caress your tearstreaks and kiss away the droplets.

•“Sweet sugar plum, you’ve been so emotional lately.”

• “Pretty crybaby, what can I do to make you feel better? Come now, there must be something your husband can whip up for you.”

“Oh, my poor, darling y/n..” he’d tsk, stroking the side of your face and nuzzling noses, “don’t cry, hush now, it’s alright, your faithful and devoted protector is here.”

#yandere #yandere!Alastor #Hazbin Hotel improper headcannons #my brainrot #the radio demon #yandere alastor x reader #I’m tired #gender neutral reader #unhealthy relationships #I do not condone this behavior IRL #Hazbin hotel #Alastor #trigger warning

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targaryen-brainrot · 1 year

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mine // aemond targaryen/f!reader

based on mean!aemond from @tinfairies blog

cw: mean aemond, implied assault (not from aemond), smut-ish, implied murder (lemme know if i missed sth)

Her husband is cold. That much she's used to. Aemond Targaryen doesn't show emotion unless it's anger or, though rarely, humour.

They've been married for months and that much hasn't changed. And yet she cannot complain.

Despite his rough exterior, and his cutting words, he's not awful. She's heard of much worse.

At least he cares for her in their marital bed and doesn't take his anger out on her in ways she knows other men are partial to.

Aemond might fuck her roughly and call her names all the while, but he always makes her see stars and cleans her up after, going as far as to kiss any bruises he might've left when he thinks her asleep.

It's the only time he's ever gentle.

She jumps when his hand settles in her hair.

"Why are you crying?"

Instead of answering she pulls her legs up against her chest, trying to take up as little space on their bed as possible. Then she buries her face in their pillows a little more. It stiffles the sounds of her sobs and she hopes it might be enough to appease him.

She's wrong.

His grip tightens on her hair and then he forcefully turns her head around so she has to look up at him.

Aemond's gaze makes her shiver. It's as cold as ever, with anger at her noncompliance creating a storm, but there's something she can't make out on his face as well.

"Answer me."

Aemond's voice leaves no room for argument but another onslaught of tears and sobs render her unable to speak.

To her surprise, he doesn't reprimand her for it, instead he leaves her alone on the bed for a moment and returns with a cup of water.

He helps her drink and waits for her breathing to normalise before he tells her again, "Speak."

Normally the need for him to repeat himself would mean she won't be able to sit for a week but she prays he'll be merciful for once.

"He- They all laugh at me."

She knows he doesn't like it when she avoids his gaze, but she can't look at Aemond while she tells him.

"They- the ladies, the maids, everyone- they call me names when you're not there. It's bearable, normally. But- he-"

She has to swallow around another sob and risks a quick look up at her husband's face. Fear strikes through her at the rage clearly written all over it.

"Today, Lord Bulwer, he stopped me when I was leaving the library and he- he repeated some of the usual things. That I wasn't good enough for you, that clearly you don't care for me, that I'm-" She stops to breathe before she continues, overgoing a repetition of the names they've called her. "I was trying to leave, but he-"

The words get tangled and stuck in her throat, she can't produce another sound.

"Did he touch you?"

His razor-sharp tone makes her flinch, and she merely nods.

"Did he-" His hand grips the fabric of her dress so tightly his knuckles turn white. "Did he rape you?" Now Aemond's seething.

She shakes her head and finds enough strength to say, "I managed to leave before he did much more than- than touch."

Aemond leaves without another word.

Later, after she cried herself to sleep and night fell, she's awoken by his mouth on hers.

Aemond devours her, holds down her arms, rips her nightshift and makes her cry from pleasure. He lets her hands pull on his hair when he gets tired of holding her down. His own hands pinch and grab her skin, her breasts and stomach and the thick of her thighs, no doubt bruising her.

He's leaving his mark.

Aemond's teeth sink into the sensitive skin over her collarbones until he draws blood and has her screaming.

All the while he talks.

"You're mine."

Another pinch, another bruise, another hard thrust.

"Let them hear how my whore of a wife screams for me. Let them know I take you with pleasure."

His teeth breaking the skin of her lips before his tongue laps it up.

"No one will touch you but me. He won't ever touch you again."

His hands craddling her face and sapphire and amethyst burning into her.

"You're mine."

Her hands pulling on his hair until he cries out lowly, while she comes undone.

"Keep something like this from me again and see how you like the outcome."

Her head on his chest while her breathing settles.

An accident, a broken neck after a tumble down some stairs. Scared faces and eyes that won't meet hers when she walks through court.

Her husband's hand on her, always, and his lips on her neck even when people can see. His eyes burning cold on anyone who looks at her too long.

No more whispers, no more name-calling, no more Lord Bulwer.

Aemond Targaryen is cold, and remains it, but his wife learns that a dragon will protect what is his with fire and blood.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #my brainrot

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