Tumgik
#yancore
yandere-romanticaa · 13 hours
Text
I'm not done with the 2.1 mission, apologies if I botched his character, I'm purely going for ✨vibes✨ here. Aventurine is kicking my ass to the curb.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Yandere! Sunday, who forces you to act like the picture perfect spouse in each and every public gathering you attend with him. He has a public reputation to maintain and he will not allow you to squander it. He watches over you like a hawk, his golden gaze piercing the very fabric of your soul and the people around you are none the wiser.
Sunday has perfected the act of a kind and caring husband. People often mistake his gaze as fondness. My my, he's so smitten with you that he can't help but to look at you without fail, even if he's married to you and sees you every day. People across the universe swoon over this romance, dreaming about finding such a doting spouse such as Sunday.
However, there are times when he is not acting.
Despite his calculative nature, Yandere! Sunday truly does love you.
Oh yes, most earnestly so...
He likes to indulge himself in the sweet presence of your company. While he is the type of man who likes to have everything under his control, even he is not immune to some simple pleasures in life. Please, be a dear and indulge your husband a little. Ease his worries, talk to him , tell him all about your day. Even if you think it's nothing worth sharing, Sunday begs to differ. Even if he hears you say the same exact words hundreds of times, he will never grow tired of them.
Your voice, to him, is like cold dew on a warm summer day. It refreshes him, soothes him beyond belief.
Yandere! Sunday, who secretly likes it when he gets to hold your hand. Public displays of affection are not allowed but in private, he can be real damn shameless.
If he is so inclined, he will wrap his gloved hand in your own, fingers tightly intertwined with yours as he steals countless kisses from your darling lips.
The wedding ring on your hand is proof enough that you belong to each other. It's only natural for him to want to kiss you.
414 notes · View notes
ozzgin · 2 days
Note
Ozz.. at this point I think you should just make fic of yourself… I call thee :
“Ozzgin, The groom of many, Poet of depravities, Maker of the Ancient House of whores (readers), and Hands of the illustrator.”
Faq, wait, now you sound like Zeus….
Yeaaaah, I do very much enjoy my consent, thank you :’) But mythological scoundrels aside, you did give me a very funny idea, anon. Like...
Yandere! Tumblr Writer x Literal Reader
TW: stalking, obsessive behavior
"Oh, a new post!" You roll over to the side and begin scrolling. Your favorite writer just shared a new story, and you can't wait to get your yandere fill.
You scan the paragraphs with a wide grin, yet as the story progresses, your features begin to twist in confusion. Are you imagining things? The author's notes mentioned something about a particular kind of Reader for this plot. But this...
It starts rather generic, then the details are fleshed out. Details eerily similar to your own life. "W-well, many people look like this, I suppose", you tell yourself reassuringly. That's right. A lovely, unexpected coincidence. At least you can insert yourself better into the story.
Oh, but it goes on. Isn't this your nickname? The place described sounds so much like your own home...and your family situation...and your street. You sit up and stare at the phone. What the hell?
Not only is everything an exact account of your life, but the plot dutifully replicates your last week, almost as if someone had followed closely behind. The times you left your place, what you wore, where you went. You just realize you've been holding your breath.
The story moves on to what would be tomorrow. The yandere finally decides to make a move, essentially trapping the Reader. You continue to gawk at the words, unable to look away.
It must be a misunderstanding. With trembling hands, you type in an anonymous ask. Funny coincidence, you explain, you nearly thought this story was about you.
Seconds later, you receive a notification. The writer just responded: "I have to get my inspiration from somewhere, (Y/N). I'll see you tomorrow :)"
Tumblr media
304 notes · View notes
yandere-wishes · 3 days
Text
𝓦𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓦𝓸𝓵𝓯
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: Heritage pricks Wriothesley like a valley of thrones, it's unnerving to find someone with the same pains. 
Warnings: Yandere Behavior, werewolves, gore, older man/ younger woman if you squint.
Tumblr media
January 15th; 12:00 Am  
There's blood on your face and a blade in your hand when Wriothesley first meets you. A body at your feet half gutted and half eaten. If not for the flickering shade of gold in your eyes, he'd have summed you up as just another alleyway murderer. 
Not a monster.
Not a creature he was all so intimately familiar with. 
When you'd first met the Duke of Meropide, there had been a full moon hovering overhead. A little too haunting for your taste. The stars cowered behind heavy clouds as the taste of metal rang in your mouth. His frigid fingers had tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. Tracing it's shell that had yet to lose its unnatural edge. "Qutrub" he mumbles, low and rattling as he drapes his jacket across your shoulders. 
You've yet to tell him that that night still haunts you. Not the blood or the first kill. Not the face of the man as you tear out his intestines with your teeth. No, the nightmares come from his voice, how easily he spoke of the horror you'd turned into. He'd known you before you'd even known yourself. 
His familiarity is what haunts you. 
All too deep and knowing. 
You still shiver when the beast's name leaves his tongue. 
He's blunt and brutal when he tells you of the curse you've inherited. What manner of creature resides within you. He speaks as if he's the Archon of wisdom, all lethal facts and icy truths. You couldn't really speak back then, brain still split between two worlds. Too feral to be human, yet too meek to be a threat. "The first transformation is always the worst, kid. It'll take a while before your mind's set straight again." 
You didn't understand what he meant back then. Too busy focusing on the permanent buzz in your head. It felt like a fever dream, sticky, slow. Your limbs weren't your own and neither were your thoughts. You think you may have collapsed back then. Vaguely recalling the sensation of his calloused palms against your forehead. 
 It's only by the end of a brutal week that you finally realize what his words signified. You're starting to act human again. Morphing back into something normal, something tame. It's only on the seventh day that you remember how to form words. And even then it's only half-slung phrases in your mother tongue. Wriothesley answers when you speak. Mirroring your words, your accent, your tones. That had been around the time you'd begin to understand what he was. What you where. 
Not human. 
Never human. 
 It's another excruciating week before you remember the language of Fontaine.
 Another long endless month until the new moon. 
January 30th; 1:00 Am
There's blood on your hands again, a shade too red to have a name. You stare at the body, his face shredded beyond recognition. 
His bone reverberates between your teeth. Beckoning you to crush it, to crack it open and gulp down the marrow like nectar. 
Wriothesley hums in approval, slinging himself over the ring ropes. The Pankration Ring is abandoned. Reserved only for the warden and his new "pet". It had become routine over the last few weeks, Wriothesley would bring in a "misbehaving" prisoner, some he -and by extension Fontaine - needed gone. And you would take the opportunity to whet your new, primal powers. 
"bloodlust does not define us." He circles you. Predator and prey. "Our kind has existed since the dawn of Tayvat. We're not monsters, although that's what everyone likes to think." he stops, his fangs tickling the side of your neck. As if trying to simulate a reaction, he needs you to feel the antiquity that courses through your blood. To understand where all this is coming from. 
The bone in your mouth cracks, something thick spills out. Just as Wriothesley's fangs pierce your precious flesh. 
"We're not monsters..."
"Not quite" 
January 31st, 11:59 Am
His voice is haunting. It slips into the cracks of your psyche, pulling apart the open wounds until there's enough room for him. Only him. The glib timbre of his voice stalks you through the corridors and past the darken rooms. Slithering over walls and echoing in your skull. Cauterizing doubts of what you are. He needs you to feel his pain. To live with his curse, his blessing. 
There's a window five meters from his office. It's the only time you catch glimpses of the world outside the metal dome. Your mind is fractured now too preoccupied by new sensations and emotions to fully recall anything from the topside world. The blurry scenery has long since faded from your memory.
 Somewhere a clock chimes. You start to race for the boxing ring. 
February 1st, 12:15 Am
You recall the first lesson he ever taught you. Back then you had yet to shed the ferocity running ramped across your veins. Preferring to use your teeth, to tear and sheer, hacking at whatever flesh you could reach.
You lay in a pool of gore, fresh enough to make your mouth water. Still, you keep your eyes locked on him. Longing for some acknowledgments, a shred of affection. 
Wriothesley's shadow is casted above you, white fangs glowing. He looked every bit the predator he'd raised himself to be. "Tired already?" His voice carries a tone of mockery. It's to be expected you guess as you'd laid on the metal floor heaving. Black dots danced across your vision, laughing when you tried to block them out. Wriothsly stands proud, metallic boxing gloves reflecting what little light they can. "We're qutrub's (y/n), not animals. Stop acting like one." 
Today's prisoner had put up a fight. A dirty one at that. His blade had pierced you more times than you dare count. it had been Wriothesley who had finished the job. Who had saved you from your target. A heartbeat later you feel him pulling you up, cradling you in his arms as he departs for his chambers. 
Back then you'd seen him as a predator, a beast. No difference in what he decided to call himself. Now all your eyes can convene is a saint draped in black. Wriothsly wears his heritage on his sleeve. Proud of the beast he has become. Proud of the way his bones rearrange to turn in into something odious, something ethereal. Someday you wish to make him proud. To be the creature he envisions, to be more than a monster, more than a wolf. To be worthy of him. 
"I love you" Wriothesley mutters, warm breath hitting the side of your neck. You wonder if monsters can love if that sentiment isn't stripped from them the moment they grow claws. You think it's ludicrous to believe either of you can still harbor such human feelings.
 The new moon feels like a lifetime away.
Febuary 8th, 2:00 Am
 "Until you learn to control your powers, they'll always reign over you. Never bend to them. Remember they are an extension of you. Not the other way around."
The bloodlust has grown more ferocious as of late. Its vicious howl rings through your head, blocking out Wriothesley's voice. It's a welcomed difference, a much-needed rest from his constant yammering. 
You've taken to hunting for sport. Slaughtering any you can corner, any you can out-match. Cherishing the blood that dries under your nails and the liberating ache of your body after the fact. 
At first, Wriothesley had made a show of decorating his desk with any blood-soaked trophy you'd brought him. Now you think he's growing vexed. 
He has you perched on his lap. Ankle cuffed and chained to the stone floor. A security mechanism he'd insisted on after you'd brought him the heart of the Coupon Cafatria's chef. 
Wriothesley never keeps animals in the fortress. He insists it's cruel to cage such a free thing. You wonder if you'll be the first exception. 
Wriothesley drinks tea religiously. it's the only thing keeping his heritage flowing within his bones. You wonder if the flavored scorching waters keep the violent urges at bay. You wonder if their soothing is all that keeps him from ripping out people's jugulars. 
He offers you a sip from his adorned glass. The tea's aroma is overwhelming, it reminds you of a place you've never been to. It burns your tongue on the way down. Enough to make you consider shattering his cup. 
February 11th, 3:00 am
Wriothesley flinches when he sees the blood coating his hands. Flashes of a hell he'd long since buried flicker through him.
A part of you wishes to tell him that he's clean. That killing isn't a sin. At least not here, not to them. He tells you of the night he first transformed, a tiny boy who, at the time, had only ever pulled his punches. 
He tells you why he killed and maimed, why his powers awakened when they did. "I keep trying to tell you." His words are phantoms, restless spectators that cloud your mind. "We're not monsters, not really. Sure all they see is the bloodshep and claws and they take off running. But the truth is our kind have been guardians and protectors longer than their kind has existed." 
His fingers trace your cheek. Leaving red waterfalls to drip down your chine. You think this is love in its rawest form. You think this is desperation in its strongest form. 
Wriothesley's kisses taste of burnt ice and ash. Filled to the brim with sorrow, too deep to understand. You claw at the back of his neck. breaking skin on a childish whim. Desperate to unleash the monster he insists, doesn't exist.
In a blinded second of rage, of passion, of some emotion, no word could properly describe. He has you sprawled on the cold ground. His body hovering over yours. You see his eyes bleed into the most perfect crimson. You see the monster start to break out. 
Febuary 14th 11:58 Am 
It takes too much effort on his part not to baby you. To remind himself that regardless of your age and lack of experience you are still an adult. He gives up on most days, opting to just cradle you on his lap and hum some forgotten tune until you fall asleep.
Tonight's the new moon. He doesn't know what to expect.
You hear his voice in the back of your head telling you to calm down. 'It's just the way we look, you're alright.' you ignore it favoring the sensation of your claws digging behind your eyes. You feel his claws on your wrist prying your hands away. They cut into your veins and you howl, something inhuman, something feral. 
Wriothesley kisses your eyes, staining his lips a doleful red. He listens to the cacophony of your bones rearranging, cracking, and slipping into their new positions. 
he teaches you how to box. Tells you it's a way to stay in touch with your human side.
he tells you about the murders, about how, even at such a young age, he'd known he was a monster, he'd known his heritage sang hymns of moons and blood between his bones. He tells you how he overcame it, where he became something more than a monster. The stories ease the transition, piquing your interest enough to distract you from the natural way your body bends. 
"I want to be human again" you choke, tears marring your cheeks "I hate this, I hate you. Why couldn't you have left me in that alleyway? Why couldn't you have left me alone!"
Wriothesley's facade cracks, your trained eyes pick up the slightest indication of concern weaving across his face. "They'd have hunted you like a wild animal". "I am a wild animal" You protest. "You should have let them kill me!"
There's blood in the back of your throat, metallic, pungent. It feels like holding the sun between your teeth and letting it burn you from the inside. You wonder when you'll be strong enough to deny the bloodlust, to relish in the transformation. Will a time ever come when all this feels natural? When you're as calm and composed as him?
Wriothesley kisses your forehead. It's the last thing you remember before the world turns red. Your brain and body are no longer your own, governed now by the fanged creature inside you. 
If ever there was a time to die, now's not it. 
Febuary 15th 11:00 Am
You wake up in a soft bed. Wriothesley's arm tucked under your head. Your nails have lost their supernatural edge, you trace stars and moons into his chest absentmindedly. His pale blue eyes, shift to you, shaking off the netherworld they'd been engaged with.
"There's an old story about us." His gaze is as cold as the blizzards of Snezhnaya. "About how we were cursed yet survived. The divine turned us into soldiers, they didn't expect us to thrive."
You used to be a fickle thing, all so arrogant and free. So sure of your place in this world. When did that change exactly? When did the world morph into an endless stream of gore and despair? When did you start hanging onto his every word? Despreat for him, all of him?
"What is a monster anyway" you ask, voice too frail that it cracks when met with open air. "A guardian, an outcast, the child of heroes who shares none of the glory its parents once had." You feel the burn on your tongue from the tea he gave you. Suck on the flesh before replying.
" It's inexperienced shoulders buckling under the weight of duty."
"Maybe" he shrugs, "I guess it could be that too."
Somewhere along the lines, Wriothesley forgot how to love. He's not even sure if he's ever understood the emotion in the first place. Maybe it all comes with being a feral, creature of the night. Maybe it all comes with being born only partially human. He rolls your name off his tongue. Nicking his bottom lip on his fangs.
He wonders if you'll like chameleon or mint tea for breakfast. Or maybe something more bitter. His lips find you delicate ones, an exchange of exhaustion. You're so soft and sweet under him, a stark contrast to the beast he's come to tame. 
Tumblr media
Masterlist
146 notes · View notes
crushingcasanova · 3 days
Text
I want to love again. Unconditionally, obsessively, and with all I am. Let me love another with everything I can. 
87 notes · View notes
120 notes · View notes
Text
121 notes · View notes
thegvlaxyrvanger · 3 days
Text
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
✧. GALAXY RANGERS NOTE -— While I'm still working on 💌 anon's request, take this short :] sorry if this felt lazy because it is lolololol -3-
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
‧₊˚ ⸝⸝ ♡. -— Pairing : Yandere! GN ! Mean Popular Student x GN Student Reader (Yandere is unnamed and goes by they/them.)
☆. Taglist (Please lmk if you want to be added :]) ;
𖥔. @dead-dove-yandere
TW : Stalking, Obsession, Implied Violence.
You just reached Senior High, and today's your first day of school, you lazily tried to get up from your bed but failed miserably, it took you a few minutes to do so because you were still sleepy.
Eventually you managed to get up after what seemed like forever for your mom, you then ate breakfast, took a shower, changed into your uniform, brushed your teeth, took your bag and lunch, and went to school.
You were a little nervous as this was a different school, as soon as you entered, everyone's eyes were flying at you, gazing at you like vultures. It was nerve-racking, really, it made you feel very uncomfortable.
Rushing through the hallways to find your locker, you accidentally bumped into the popular student, they were with their little minions, they then raised an eyebrow, eyeing your looks, “Ahhh, so you're the new one that everyone's been talking about, huh?”, you then nod, slightly nervous as you just wished that they'd just leave you alone.
Though they had other plans as their minions circled around you, a huge crowd of students were starting to grow as them and their minions teased you and pulled your hair, after what seemed like forever, the bell finally rang and everyone started to go to their classes, “tch, you just got lucky.. I have my eyes on you, you little shit.” they said as they walked away along with their cronies. You went to your class, got introduced to your classmates and it went normal which relieved you, looks like it's gonna take a while for you to eventually get used to things here.
Classes have finished, and as you were about to go to your locker, a group of students then went up to you, asking for lunch money, when you politely refused, they threatened you and said that they'll be waiting for you by the gate the next day and walked away eventually. You tried to shake off what they said but you couldn't, all that you could think about was what those bullies said, you couldn't even focus on your lesson as you kept thinking about what they said, looks like luck isn't on your side today's first day on your new school.
Though to your surprise, those bullies weren't by the gate, it seems that they either forgot about it or something. But when the bell rang and you eventually went to class, you saw one of them, badly bruised, this confused you but brushed it off. As your first period ended, you saw the bullies that threatened you yesterday, they were all badly bruised up, and when they saw you, they avoided you which only made you even more confused as you then questioned yourself.
Who beat them up? Was it to protect you? And how did they find out?
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
41 notes · View notes
Note
Laura being asked for cuddles by her darling (who loves her back)
Maybe darling is just very tired and wants cuddles with Laura.
Your writing is awesome and anything else about this request is up to you
Have a great day :)
This sounds cute - this would definitely be something Laura dreams about a lot.
Tumblr media
Your shoulders ached and pins and needles ran through your arms and fingers. The blankets underneath you did little to comfort your sore hips. You sighed heavily with each breath, the cramp from being stuck and tied in one position for so long exhausting you, making you tired and frustrated. You wanted to struggle again, but you knew you’d only tire yourself further. The door to the messy bedroom slowly creaks open, and Laura peeks inside, wearing a terry cloth pyjama set. You look up at her, hopeful as she shuffles inside, closing the door behind her, and locking it tight.
“Please,” you plead, but you’re so tired, your voice is barely a whisper, barely audible. You aren’t even sure if Laura heard it. She shuffles over to you, and crouches down in front of you.
“It’s bedtime,” she says timidly, messing with the sleeve cuff on her pyjamas. “G-goodnight… my- my love.”
“Wait,” you gasp, just as she goes to stand up. She pauses.
“Can I-? Can I come lie in the bed with you, please?” You ask, your voice desperate. Her eyes widen at your request, a soft gasp on her lips. She hesitates, and you fill the silence with more pleading.
“I won’t try to run. I’m just so cold and uncomfortable here. Please.” She stands up and paces back, and you lower your head, squeezing your eyes shut, convinced she’s going to abandon you. But then she returns, a pair of scissors in hand, and she snips off the ropes keeping your bound. You sigh and groan with relief as blood rushes back into your arms and you stretch your limbs, every muscle tight and protesting against the sudden freedom. You shakily stand, like a newborn foal getting its balance, and without even thinking, you follow Laura over to her bed, a cozy nook with a makeshift canopy. She crawls under the covers and you quickly follow suit. Before you know it, sleepiness washes over you, and you can barely think as you find yourself wrapping your arms around Laura, snuggling up to her as you bury yourself in the covers. You close your eyes as you hear another gasp from Laura, and she freezes, tensing up like a board, before slowly relaxing and wrapping her arms around you too. The last thing you feel as you drift off to sleep is Laura running her fingers through your hair.
Tumblr media
Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post
Tumblr media
37 notes · View notes
illicit-eclipse · 1 day
Text
Tumblr media
31 notes · View notes
chewtoy-lover · 2 days
Text
I want you to need me like I need you, that way we’ll be inseparable and obsessed with each other.
35 notes · View notes
zennotixs · 2 days
Text
creepy anons, cute anons, stalker anons, lovesick anons.... i love them all! (✿///ᴗ///)
31 notes · View notes
kel-lance · 21 hours
Text
Quickie w Yuta
-- Warnings: MDNI!! DC/NC, exhibitionism, creampie, humiliation, manipulation, ownership, etc...
(just a quick thought i had)
He’s aloof and cruel
“Yuta….” 
“Hurry up or we’ll have to leave early.” He threatens. You put the rest of your weight down on his lap, pushing further into your cervix than you can handle. you hold a a hand over your mouth to not let out a noise. 
He sighs as he releases himself in you. So deep it feels like his head broke through your womb, like it was poking through your organs.
Your toes slip and your body hangs off his cock, heightening his orgasm as his head grinds further into you. 
You focus yourself on holding back a yelp, this was gonna hurt so much more later, as healing always was the worst part.
You were trying your best to seem normal, maybe just a little tipsy and needing the support of your boyfriend, but to be sitting on him at a party was way out of your comfort zone. 
You were just talking to him before you felt the bulge in his pants hardening. You almost wanted to get up but knew bt then that it wasn’t up to you. 
Yuta's friendly smile was what everyone always saw, you knew you couldn’t do much but play along.
48 notes · View notes
miserablelove · 21 hours
Text
Tumblr media
28 notes · View notes
youcancallmemikuu · 11 hours
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
tw/cw;; got too excited , couldn’t wait for opinions , decided to make the frickin poppy playtime thingies,, mentions of gore , violence , kidnapping , sadism , regress , body horror , cannibalism , drugging , more things that these sillies have done.
Tumblr media
mommy long legs is probably one of the most soothing yet terrifying creatures in the entire game. She gives the “comforting protective mother” vibes and that’s so cool yet so creepy. Also the song “Mommy’s Here” by CG5 just fits this stereotype perfectly he perfected her image. Have a few headcannons for her about her connections with the player, mainly around her being a motherly figure toward them. Their first meeting would be violent but then after the player realizes that shes a mourning mother — its canon she lost daddy and baby long legs to The Prototype — and decides to finally confront and comfort the mourning mother. She’d be so shocked that someone would approach a “monster” like her. The player would reassure her that shes the best mother in the world and it’d make her so happy and give her the closure she needed since she felt like a horrible mother letting her child and lover fall to the hands of The Prototype. She’d most likely believe that since the player has been so kind to her that they want to stay with her forever so she takes them back to her “web” which is just the playground section of Playtime Co. she’d probably try to feed the player human carcasses that were left over from the Hour of Joy; the player doesnt want to eat them but doesnt want to make her angry so they comply and end up living off of human meat. Soon enough they become dependent on her (Stockholm syndrome) and whenever a new person finds their way into the abandoned factory theyre met with an instant death.
huggy wuggy age regresses and you cannot tell me otherwise. I dont think people realize that these are actual children that have been tortured and molded into these monstrous bodies. Headcannon that he’d randomly stop his pursuit of the player and regresses back to his childlike state once more, forgetting all about his bloodlust and going back to the toy maker to make more toys. Just like kissy missy , his limbs are like jello , their bones having been replaces with wires. So he’d sometimes try to move his limbs to regain some control of his body. Have a feeling that he and kissy are actually twins — i hate when people ship them — and were made remotely similar to each other because of it. He tries to detach his limbs sometimes just out of curiosity but is stopped by his sister who is the more rational and understanding one. Catbee is definitely their best friend and huggy’s caretaker because he’s been around her for so long. The idea of huggy actually just wanting to do his job and give people hugs to make them happy makes my heart cry. Just give him a big ‘ol hug and reassure him that he’s doing good , and he will melt. He probably keeps all the toys hes made while regressing in the vents somewhere because he knows them by heart and its his comfort place. Like if hes scared he’ll retreat to the vents and go find one of his toys to hold and forget about it all. I dont care what you fuckers say , hes a little baby that should be treasured.
catnap is a straight up sadistic fuck. I really don’t care what y’all say “oh its from the experiments and the trauma and bla bla bl-“ dawg its so canon he laughs and gets a boost of dopamine whenever he witnesses someone fall victim to his schemes. Hes just a sadistic fucker who likes drugging his victims to the point where they see him as their god. Idea that he did that to the rest of the critters , the only one able to get away was dogday. And no , theyre not together. They never should or would be. He literally took dogday’s legs and tortured him. This one time there’s no Stockholm syndrome. Catnap is quite literally the definition of god complex. Imaging that he and player’s first meeting would consist of him having a long ass speech and then drugging the fuck out of the player. They wake up and soon realize that they're in a den-like place and immediately try to get out but to their shock a large paw holds them back and more nap time mist fills their lungs,, and this keeps repeating until the player is a mindless husk to which catnap can mold to his liking, making them believe that every word he says is law , that he is the only being they should please, and soon enough they're just another servant for him but he likes them the most because he can manipulate them easier than the others who mindlessly follow his commands which is just no fun.
Tumblr media
And im doneee
Honest,, i like doing these type of rambles ! !^^ it rattles my brainnn
More of this??
24 notes · View notes
crushingcasanova · 10 hours
Text
I would do things for you that I wouldn’t even do for myself. 
32 notes · View notes
mochixkisses · 21 hours
Text
do you love me enough that i may be vulnerable with you? that i may undress myself and pull off my skin for you? will you love me, then, when i stand bare and raw in front of you?
24 notes · View notes