llonelygoddess

[llonelygoddess]

Sexy HCs for The Hanks

Hank One

Likes treating his partner softer

Kisses all over your body, everywhere, compliments you as he goes down onto you

Usually asks you about the pace for it, not necessarily being bossed around, but gives you a little bit of power. A cutie and a softie, you dig?

Kinda of likes mocking you in a soft and sweet way, that kinda sounds nice, but he's also very much still mocking you

6 inches, but not a bragger. In fact, barely uses it, prefers using his fingers, unless you happen to beg really nicely

Listen, he's like a nice soft bully. No, you're not allowed to ask me if I'm into that.

He likes missionary the most and usually has your hands tied so you're forced to see what he's doing

Hanks Two

A total service type of guy, likes being told what to do

Makes sure that you're comfortable beforehand and ensures you two are safe n sound!

No need to fall off the bed or bang your head on the bed frame to have to pause in the middle

Has a scent kink too, sometimes might be caught smelling your shirts.

He likes giving you soft kisses, but if you listen closely, while he's kissing you, you can hear him sniffing ever so quietly.

3.5 inches, please don't tease him. He's so cute, do don't, you got it? He can use it really well if that helps

Prefers it when you ride him, but he always pulls you close so he can kiss you

Hank Three

Talks a big game, but... man's a total sub

Likes being bossed around, what can I say? Likes a partner who takes charge and will take the lead

Probably really goofy in bed, likes giving you stupid little flirts while his hips buck up into you

Likes kissing your neck, and getting his hands all over you. Squishes and squeezes where he wants to

Makes sure that you cum before he does every time, he loves seeing you satisfied

About 5 inches, but does brag sometimes

Favorite positions are when he can see your face, so missionary or riding positions are his go-to

Hank Four

He's like a dog.

Hard, fast thrusts, bites you and licks you where he can, probably even pants in your ear a bit

Jesus Christ, get this man a collar he'd be into it

When he goes down on you, he cannot tell anything that's going on anymore, so you will need to shove him off in order to get him to stop

Has a piercing on it, probably. A ferenum ladder. And a tongue piercing too

About 5.5 inches, but it's not like he brags. He just likes shoving it all the way in as deep as he can get it

Kinda holds his partner in a sort of headlock position most of the time, unless he's pushing them down into the sheet. Usually doggy style.

Strong ass motherfucker too, his fingers leave behind lots of marks

Hank Five

Def has a breeding kink (Listen, LISTEN. The man knows where kids come from. And he wants some. Sooo)

He kind of whimpers and whines a little bit when he cums inside (if you let him), and it's the cutest noise

Might get on muttering about being a dad and you being the other parent, refers to you with various different terms too. If he gets to this point, he absolutely out of it

Also kind of gets off on doing vary romantic things for you, likes thinking about being married to you.

4.5 inches, cute n average-ish. Doesn't terribly care, just as long as you let him use it right

Likes missionary, but it almost always turns into a mating press kind of position

(i promise hank 4 isn't my favorite, but that's clearly a fucking lie why do white boys do this to me-)

[llonelygoddess]

💕🥹 more plz?

I’m too gay for this to be a one and done 😔

pathetic!yandere girl desperately wants to be with you. why won’t you love her back?

╰┈➤ content warnings - 18 +, non-con, fem reader, yandere, obsessive love, stalking, possessiveness, corruption, bondage, crying, lesbian sex, body worship, dirty talk, marking, dark romance, dead dove

The behaviors she exhibited had been endearing at first. Cute, even. Unwavering insistence, complete devotion from the moment you’d said ‘hello’. She was an unassuming girl; admittedly adorable but equally unsettling. The devotion was strangely foreign to you. Though you weren’t entirely inexperienced, this was distinctly different from the casual hookups and private messages you were accustomed to. Having an admirer, to put it kindly, just isn’t quite the same.

Her incessant pining had started innocently enough. Usurping your best friend's seat in your English lecture, an impossibly wide smile plastered across her face the entire class period. Denying her was next to impossible, the naive girl visibly sulking anytime somebody beat her to the prized seat. You almost felt a pang of guilt when it came time to deny her pitiful attempts at romantic advances. The girl possessed an almost mystical ability to guilt trip. Even though she was practically a stranger, it was undeniably flattering to meet somebody who was so boldly smitten on you. If not also a bit unnerving. Despite the complete lack of any visible interest, her yearning never seemed to simmer down. 

But you had shown interest, hadn’t you? When you’d so benevolently allowed her to borrow your pencil, that was personal, wasn’t it? You’d felt the electricity, right? The cosmic, undeniable spark that came alight when her skin brushed yours? You’d be an absolute fool not to. Continuously rebuking her offers to sit together in the dining hall wasn't going to be enough to deter somebody with such passion. You’re a busy girl, so very popular! Miss Popular wouldn’t want to be seen with the campus creep, that’s understandable. She gets it. Not to worry, when you’re finally together - she'll make sure you have unlimited time for romantic lunch dates.

Care packages are heartwarming when they’re from your parents back home, less so when they’re from an insistent stranger - adorned with ominous notes professing her devotion to you. Either way, what college sophomore would pass up free top shelf booze and artisanal snacks? She’s harmless. Your sense of safety was fragile; the lock to your dorm started to mysteriously unlock itself anytime you left. Word was spreading, whispers through the hallway questioning your relationship status. The blabbering freak couldn’t be satisfied simply professing her love to you, she needed the whole world to hear it! Something about the whole ordeal was chipping away at your sanity, and confronting her behavior started to feel like an impossible task. 

Between weekend fraternity jaunts and Wednesday night bar crawls with your roommate, your busy schedule was the tacky craft glue that (barely) held you together. You’d spent many Saturday nights like this; the hem of your glittery getup hiking up your thighs as you tripped over your own feet. Heels clicking against pavement, a loose giggle fell from your throat - sloppy and unkempt, your breath reeking of alcohol. The kind fraternity brother who escorted you home was a doll to put up with you. One of the good ones, thank God. Evenings like this had become unfortunately common, your drinking increasing in intensity alongside the stalking. Less common, however, was the lingering stare of a familiar figure - her body leaning silently against the brick exterior of your dormitory. An unseen investigator, honing in on her suspect. 

“Woah there, come on, you’ve got it.” The young man encouraged as the two of you approached the steps to your residence hall, your feet twisted out of order. This was unlike you, the way your body was flung over the side of his larger form - you looked… slutty. Alcohol had that effect on you; there was a succubus living inside of you and she only emerged after 2.5 drinks. Another disheveled titter slipped from your glossed lips as you struggled up the cement steps, clinging to the toned man like he was your saving grace. The world spun on its axis, scenery spinning around you as your guardian angel guided you up to bed. Soft fleece brushed against your chin, the young man wishing you well, his voice the last thing you heard before slipping into darkness.

“You really gotta be more safe out there, there’s a lot of shitty people waiting to take advantage.” 

Pounding awoke you, the pressure inside your head making it feel like your eyeballs might pop out. A soft groan fell from your lips, the crusted mascara around your eyes flaking off as your lids fluttered open. Instinctually, you attempted to stretch - the world coming into focus around you. This ceiling was not the foam tile of your dormitory, and as your gaze trailed down to your body - you found your ankles bound, joints tied tightly with fraying rope. Your wrists endured the same treatment, bound body spread eagle on a bare mattress. Sequined minidressed scratching against your sensitive skin as the inevitable thrashing commenced. The fear wasn’t instant, surprisingly - confusion was. Once you had the realization that your familiar shared bedroom was nowhere to be seen, then the terror set in. Surrounding you were bare and white plaster walls, the worn wooden floorboards stained from rainwater leaks. A single door laid against the right wall, paint peeling and doorknob rusting. The only window in the room was clumsily boarded shut, a worn tarp nailed over for extra protection. 

Thoughts swarmed through your mind like a kicked wasp’s nest, bewilderment intertwining with dread. Deep breaths wracked your frame, eyes shut tightly as you willed away your fear enough to focus. Her. It could only be her. You’d seen nearly every room in the fraternities you frequented, and this room was not in a frat house, despite what the mess may imply. Why, though? Why you? What made you so special? What made you so magnetic to a freak like her? The halfway silent settling of an aging house was driving you just as mad as the painfully gripping restraints against your joints. Of course she lives in some halfway functional home on the outskirts of town. Of course she does. As little as you knew about her, you could make lots of hurtful assumptions nonetheless. And assumptions you were forming; plenty of them, in fact. With every passing second that you spent bound in this sad chamber of a room, your thoughts became more and more volatile. 

Light footsteps approaching the door remained unheard by you, uncharacteristically violent revenge scenarios spinning through your mind. Door hinges caked with rust, a loud creak filled the silence, snapping you out of your angry trance. Beneath the worn frame, there she was - an apologetic smile plastered across her typically sullen features. Before you could utter even a drop of your prepared vitriol, she was rushing to your side, hands tentatively tracing over the skin of your cheek. Breath catching in your throat, your whole body stilled. 

“I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.” She rambled quietly, tears welling up in her eyes as she spoke. Somehow the mousy, tentative behavior seemed more frightening to you in the moment than outright aggression. Her calloused skin continued to draw mindless patterns on the side of your face as the apologies and pleading blended together into a blur of blubbering mumbles. Lassoing in the courage to confront her, your breath shook through you, exhaling a sigh before clearing your throat. The expressive storm of desperation dissipated instantly. 

“Why are you doing this?” A flood of emotion crawled through your body as the words spilled from your chapped lips. The waterworks flowed into motion, tears blurring your vision as her limbs retreated from their position cradling your face. Her hands snapped upwards; chipped teeth gnawing at the nubs of her fingernails. After a few moments of palpable fear, her attention turned back to you, her sleeve sliding up to wipe away your tears. What don’t you understand? How could she possibly be more clear? Can’t you feel the love radiating out of her? Ripping her heart in two? The depressed demeanor she usually carried was fading away, her brows furrowing in frustration as the tears continued to flow. How could you be sad when you’re surrounded by such powerful adoration? Do you need to be shown? Do you need help understanding? None of this was going according to plan. You were meant to be stunned by the gripping realization that you’ve found your one-and-only soulmate. She could fix this. She could make you understand. 

Without warning, her sweater clad hands wandered down your neck, fingers gracing over every inch of available skin. Your breaths were uneven, shaky, wracking through your body as choked sobs increased in power. None of this fazed the determined lover. Don’t worry, don’t be scared. You’ll feel so much better once you realize your destiny. Digits toyed with the scooped neckline of your glittery minidress. She stilled, head tilting curiously as the sequins glimmered under her hands. Such a promiscuous little outfit, it just won’t do. Taken women have no business walking around in such attire. Her lips pursed, eyes wandering down your restrained form. She couldn’t simply take it off in this position. It wasn’t possible, unfortunately. 

“I’m sorry, baby… I promise I’ll get you lots of nice new outfits once you move in.” The words lulled out in a sing-song tone, cooing at you like a wounded animal as she produced a pocketknife from her jeans. Noticing the increased tempo of your whimpering cries, her head shook vehemently. 

“Oh, don’t worry! I would never, ever hurt you. Ever.” The reassurance flowed out in that same melodic tone. “I just need to take off this… thing you’re wearing. It’s in my way. I’ll be careful, promise.” Everything she said was so theatrical, as if a more dramatic performance would win over your affections. Scenes replayed through your mind as your fearful sobs carried on. Every interaction you’d had with had been a careful act, meticulously rehearsed. The blade made contact with the seam of your dress - sharp metal ripping away at the cheap nylon fabric. Your wails filled through the small room, her peaceful shushing only adding to the foreboding and dreadful scene unfolding. As the pocketknife shredded away the remnants of your favorite party dress, another apology spilled from your captor’s throat.

“You’re crying so much, so much crying. I’m sorry, I’ll make it all better.” Desperation coated her words, and it was unclear whether she was trying to convince you or herself. Scraps of fabric tossed aside, she climbed atop the bed, resting at the end of the mattress, right between your bound feet. Hands ran up and down your calves, a gesture that would’ve felt soothing in any other circumstance. Your body tensed under her touch, eyes squeezing shut in a desperate attempt to block everything out. This can’t be happening. Tears, whines and cries echoed through the small space, but you felt entirely detached from your body. Tingling skin lit up your senses, grounding you into reality against your will; the pads of her fingers pressing firmly into the skin of your inner thighs, gripping the flesh like you might somehow break free and run away. When you finally got the nerve to meet her gaze, her sickeningly desperate and nervous smile bored through your skull. 

“I love you so much. This is the greatest day of my life, being here with you.” She kneeled down, crawling towards your center. Her face hovered just inches away from your core, utter awe emanating off of the trembling girl. Fighting wasn’t an option; your position leaving you feeling defenseless to do anything but accept your fate. Rivers flowed down your face, dry skin still crusted with yesterday’s foundation. Your nipples hardened against the chilled draft wafting through the room, back arching in discomfort as yet another pathetic whimper spurted from your form. Hot breath fanned over your pussy, your sensitive nub twitching against the stimulation. Your captor’s breath audibly hitched in her throat, no doubt in reaction to your involuntary bodily reactions. 

“...Please.” a measly plea broke through your weakening sobs while her lips made contact with your pubic mound, gentle kisses fluttering around your sacred center. Please? Oh, sweet girl… Begging for more already. Your apology definitely did not incite the desired effect, an animalistic growl rattling from the disheveled girl. Baggy sweatshirt falling down her shoulders as she readjusted, her arms hooked underneath your thighs - holding onto your limbs as if you were anchoring her down to Earth. 

“No! Wait, plea- ohhh…” A choked moan broke from your throat, wet tongue swirling circles around your clit. With what the loser lacked in experience, she made up for with overwhelming excitement. Experience wasn’t necessary, just love. She has plenty of that. Enough for the both of you. Tears intermingling with strangled gasps, your wrists strained against their clumsy bonds. The rusting metal bed frame creaked loudly with each jerk of your limbs. Her loud moans vibrated against your cunt, eyes rolling back momentarily as the pleasure overrode all logic. Warmth tangled in your lower abdomen, the rising pleasure writhing around in your gut. Each wave of heat taunting you, blaming you for not realizing the danger you’ve been in. Don’t enjoy this, you can’t. 

“P-please, wait! Stop it!” Your anguished cries were quickly morphing into whimpered mewls, the fight draining from your body - instantaneously replaced with unwanted euphoria. Her writhing tongue prodded at your entrance, lapping up any fluids,  moaning like it’s the first drink she’s had in weeks. Daring to peek down at her, your heart fluttered at the unfolding scene. Jesus Christ, she’s an animal. Strands of greasy hair glued to her forehead by the beads of sweat rolling down her temples. Her eyes fluttering upwards, thick lashes fanning rapidly in sync with the scooping motion of the appendage within her mouth. It was utterly depraved; her hands desperately grasping at the fat of your quivering thighs. You couldn’t help the needy whine that slipped from your throat. Fuck, you’re trying. Jesus Christ, you’re trying. Don’t enjoy it. You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Sniffling away the remnants of your long-forgotten tears, your lip caught between your teeth. Canines dug deep into the soft skin, a quiet groan regrettably slipping between the cracks. The pulsing, aching need that was building in your core rapidly ate away at the measly crumbs of willpower you still possessed. Her mouth intertwined with your cunt, her swollen lips tirelessly snogging your folds, tongue writhing deeply within you - each twist and turn causing your spine to exude a powerful jolt. Sensitive buds upon your chest longed to bloom, nerve endings alight without any stimulation. A plea caught in your throat, transforming into a soft, broken sound before your own eyes. 

“Don’t…” A quiet whimper. “Ohhhhh, fuck… God…” Resentful of the knowledge that you’d be intertwining your fingers in her hair right now if you could, you managed enough self-control not to encourage her further. 

Pulling back with an exhausted gasp for air, your insatiable captor left you whining like a cat in heat, hips jerking upwards at the loss of contact. Shame flooded your body; a hot, dreadful flush creeping up your cheeks in reaction to your total lack of restraint. What have you become? How could this happen? A depraved whore writhing upon the bare, dingy mattress of a strange girl who you know nothing about. You love it. Why don’t you just admit it to yourself? She’s right. You’re meant to be. The freak and the slut; a perfect match. Quiet panting painted the background of your downward spiral, your self-loathing dissociative episode swiftly interrupted by your forced partner as she leaned back on her heels. She observed you for a moment; a researcher examining their prized discovery. 

“I’m so glad you’re already feeling better, baby.” A sickeningly proud grin graced her face, hands coming to rest upon your bound ankles. Her fingers gently massaged your joints through the wiry rope. The embers of the pleasure she’d lit upon you moments before helped ignite a small flame of affection - the blush upon your cheeks deepening ever-so-slightly at her gentle gesture. Stop. Stop it. You’re not stupid enough to sympathize with a sicko. Leaning over your legs, she swept a midsized cardboard box out from under the bed, a mischievous giggle accompanying her movements. Flipping the flaps of the container open, she practically bounced with exhilaration.

“You taste amazing, I could go down on you for hours…” She trails off, tone dreamy while her concealed hands clattered through the cardboard sheathed items. “But I need to be able to talk to you. It’s the most important part. So you know how much I love you, how hard I’ve worked for us to be together. You’ll be so grateful after this, I think.” Love takes dedication, love is worth fighting for. Love needs to be forceful sometimes, doesn’t it? Just so she can make you understand, that’s all. A small gasp interrupts her train of thought, digits folding around the treasure she’d so desperately sought. 

Your dazed, trance-like state shoves itself to the side - stare landing firmly on the 8 inch silicone dildo gripped firmly between your captor’s grasped fists. At least it’s familiar. Nothing you can’t handle, look at the bright side. Stained hoodie sleeves were theatrically shoved upwards, hair flipped behind her shoulder with palpable excitement. A jittery, gleeful sound somewhere between a squeal and a sigh vibrated against your eardrums, your supposed lover assuming that similar animalistic stance, lurching towards you. Her small hands wrapped around the curve of your hips, running along the skin with a distinct hunger. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the girl was harboring a secret desire to cannibalize you entirely. 

“I’ll be gentle,” A breathy whisper wafted over your stomach. “It’s important that you feel good. So you can feel my complete devotion to you.” A kiss landed softly on your hip, then your tummy - your whole abdomen peppered in a smattering of her adoration. The whole thing was very hard to ignore; it unleashed something deep inside you. Some small, miniscule inkling of something soft and warm. Compassion, or affection, maybe. Something that fueled that warmth in your belly, that flush in your cheeks. Swimming in cognitive dissonance, the mushroom tip of cold silicone slid up your now-thoroughly lubricated folds. 

“So wet… Is that your love for me?” Her frantic whispers floated through your ears, thick logs of perfect firewood stoking the flames within you. 

“Perfect, completely, and utterly perfect.”

“Every inch of you, just incredible. Not a single flaw.”

“So disheveled and messy… just for me. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

There was too much conflict in your mind to stop the lewd groan that flew out of you when the first few inches of her toy slid into your tight canal. Crazed eyes gawked at your unkempt form, hair flying in every direction, splayed out on the mattress like a beached siren. Your inadvertent expressions of pleasure motivated her deranged display of obsession. Thrusting the entirety of her faux member into your core, your back leapt off the bed - choked scream of relinquished power forcing itself from your throat. 

“Look at you!” She exclaimed, bouncing on her heels as the dildo pistoned in and out of your pulsating core with surprising casualty. “Accepting my love so well… Can’t you tell we were meant to be?” Her sentence faded to a close, mouth closing in on your hip. Maybe you were. Maybe that wasn’t so terrible. If she could make you feel like this forever, maybe it wasn’t all bad. Sensations overpowered every inch of your body, concentrated especially towards the invading toy that pulled in and out of you with incredible force. You feared your whole body might collapse like a deflated balloon. Suction faded in and out of your peripheral, your tummy a canvas inviting a painting of hickeys. The stinging sensation was hardly enough to distract you from the overpowering lust. 

Anger, fear, dread - all negativity was a distant dream. The only thing you knew in this moment was the obsessive, all-consuming adoration of the girl embracing you; devouring you. The bruises framed your belly button, a wreath of dedication visible only to her. For now, but maybe forever. All hers. Forever. Coiling snake of pleasure striking for the prey, your eyes rolled so far back that it seemed they might get stuck. The insistent pounding of silicone against your fleshy sweet spot drove you almost as mad as her. Your fluids soaked the dildo, coating your new lover’s thin hands in sweetness. This was far from over, her energy was hardly depleted. Somehow, you found yourself feeling shockingly calm about the whole ordeal. Forever wasn’t so long, not if it felt like this. 

[llonelygoddess]

I feel dizzy after reading this 🥴❤️‍🔥

" STAINED IN RED "

OBSESSED WORSHIPPER — an angel who used to be numb without your existence . . .

gender neutral reader / yandere (??) oc x reader / obsessive / unhealthy asl / emotional dependency / he hasn't even met reader yet and he's suppper down bad

masterlist | intro post | character info . . . a/n: I wrote this a while ago in a big rush for my friend's birthday, so please excuse if it's repetitive or a little bad!!

Crimson streaked across pale ivory, seeping into the ridges of Abrin’s back like veins of molten gold in fractured marble. If his hands were not bound in chains, he might have traced his fingers over the scars, felt the raised edges of old wounds and the fresh sting of new ones. Yet, no tears would well in his eyes.

Not because he thought himself strong, nor because he believed pain was some holy trial to endure. He simply just did not care. If that celestial glow bestowed upon all angels at birth still flickered within him, dim and faltering, who would mourn its loss?

Nobody. The thought echoed in the hollow of his chest. He had wept once. Had cried, had screamed, had begged. But now, he no longer knew the difference between thought and voice, silence and sound. Whether his anguish spilled from his lips or curled within the confines of his mind, it changed nothing.

And he was not alone.

Row upon row of iron cells stretched into the shadows, each holding an angel just like him—bound, broken, fading. Their clipped wings twitched with every tremor of pain, their whispers of despair dissolving into the damp air. Even among them, Abrin felt out of place. They wept for freedom. He prayed for death. Life had emptied itself of meaning long ago, so hollow that not even a blade to his wings could carve a feeling into him.

A sliver of light spilled through the narrow vent above his cell, pooling in pale, shifting patterns across the stone floor. He watched with a vague, detached amusement. Even the sky mocked him, offering glimpses of freedom just beyond reach. If he could break loose, if he could spread his wings just once, he would not fly to escape. He would ascend only to fall. Higher, higher, until the heavens blurred behind him, until gravity reclaimed him, until he shattered upon the earth below. How many times had he longed for that? To fall, to crash, and to end?

A metallic rattle tore him from his thoughts. The heavy door groaned open, spilling dim light into the cell. Abrin turned his head, already expecting the sight of the guard. And there they stood—shadowed against the flickering torchlight, clad in indifference. But there were no chains in their hands this time, no tray of tasteless rations.

They hesitated, shoulders stiff. Then, in a voice as cold and impassive as ever, they spoke. "Someone’s bought you. You’ll be leaving in a month."

Abrin blinked. The words settled over him like distant thunder, low and rolling, incomprehensible in their weight. Someone had bought him. Someone was taking him away. He should have felt nothing. He had long since forgotten how to feel. And yet, his chest twisted.

Twisted with something raw, searing, unfamiliar. A feeling more visceral than the wounds burned into his skin, clawing up his throat and lodging itself deep beneath his ribs.

He had never known anything beyond these walls, never believed there was anything beyond them. No possibility of escape, no future beyond the loop of his waking existence, each day morphing together.

Yet now—someone would take him away. Someone would pull him from this pit, from the cold, from the endless hell he had grown accustomed to. Someone…

His savior. His mercy. His answered prayer.

Abrin’s breath came sharp and uneven. He barely registered the guard’s lingering glance before they turned on their heel, footsteps fading down the corridor. The door shut with a hollow clang, sealing him in once more.

For the first time, the walls did not press so tightly around him. His mind did not compress, suffocating under its own doing. Instead, it reached outward towards the unknown, toward the one who had spared him.

He wondered what they might look like—the shade of their eyes, the way they would be something new for him to grow used to. Would their gaze be sharp as cut glass or gentle as twilight? And their skin… would it bear the weight of scars, marred and broken like his own?

He hoped not. No, he would never wish such a fate upon the one who had reached for him, the one who had would lift him from the dark. They should be untouched by suffering, unmarked by cruelty—something untainted, something he could call grace.

My savior, my savior, my savior, my savior.

Ever since the news, Abrin had not been himself. The change unsettled not only the guards and the other prisoners but even him. After so long without feeling, without even a drop of emotion stirring in his hollow chest, a flood had overtaken him; an unstoppable tide crashing against the walls he had spent years building. And yet, he did not resist. He let it consume him, let it pull him under. He drowned in it, and for the first time, he did not mind.

He spent his days adrift in thought. How was it possible to be so wholly devoted to someone he had never even met? He knew—knew that the moment they stood before him, he would not remain standing for long. His legs would fail him, and he would fall to his knees, to the cold, filthy stone floor. Would they like him that way? Bent, broken, trembling beneath them? Pathetic? Everyone here seemed to.

Only three more days. The thought pulsed through his skull like a heartbeat, relentless. He traced the tallies carved into the stone wall with trembling fingers, ignoring the sting of his ragged nails, the gnawed-up skin around them. Pain no longer mattered. Hunger, exhaustion, none of it mattered. For the first time in his life, there was something beyond the endless monotony of waking and waiting. Something to look forward to. Something worth opening his eyes for.

My savior, my savior, my savior, my savior.

Stop. Stop it. Abrin could not contain it, this swelling, aching thing inside him. Love, devotion, obsession—whatever it was, it filled every hollow space in his body, too vast for him to hold. He was terrified that the moment he saw them, he would spill over entirely, empty himself at their feet, and drive away the only thing keeping him tethered to life.

The clang of metal startled him. A guard passed his cell, tossing a tray of scraps onto the floor, the same as every day. But before they could leave, words slipped from Abrin’s lips, sudden and unbidden.

“Can… Can I have a piece of paper and a pencil?” His voice was hoarse from disuse, barely louder than a whisper. “I want to write a letter… for the one who is taking me away.”

The guard stopped. Stared. Abrin barely spoke, never even asked for anything. After a pause, they gave a slow nod before turning away, their footsteps fading down the corridor.

Not long after, they returned, pushing a thin scrap of paper and a worn-down pencil through the bars. For a long moment, Abrin simply stared at them, hands trembling. Then, carefully, reverently, he took them into his grasp.

“To the one who has reached for me,

I do not know your name. I do not know the sound of your voice, nor the shape of your face, and yet I think of nothing else. I whisper to you in the dark. I see you in the flickers of light on the wall. You are everywhere, even though you’ve never stood before me.

Since I heard of you, of what you’ve done, my thoughts have not belonged to me. They are yours now. Every breath I take is in anticipation of yours. Every second stretches like a lifetime, and yet three days feel too little time to prepare myself for you. I do not know how to contain this. This ache. This reverence. This need.

You’ve done what no one else has. You’ve chosen me. You saw the ruins of something once divine, and you reached for it. For me. Why? I don’t understand it. I cannot. But I would give you everything. Everything I have, everything I am, though it may be broken and bloodstained and pitiful. I would crawl to you if I could. If you asked, I would press my forehead to your feet and stay there, unmoving, until you gave me permission to rise.

I’m scared. Not of you, never of you, but of what I might become in front of you. I am afraid I will fall apart the moment you speak. That my voice will shatter. That my heart will give in. That I will beg, not even knowing for what.

You must understand: you are the only light that has ever reached me. And I… do not know how to survive brightness without burning.

Please. Whatever you do when you see me, do not turn away. Do not leave. If you knew what you mean to me already, what I've imagined you to be, perhaps you would. But I pray you won’t. Even if I disgust you, even if I’m not what you wanted, let me stay. Let me prove I can be good. I will be anything you need. Anything.

I don’t know how to stop this. This obsession, this devotion, this desperate, aching worship of someone I’ve never met. I only know that when I do meet you, I will fall apart, and I can only hope you’ll hold the pieces.

Even before you asked for me, I was already yours.

Abrin”

He could only pray that the words he had so carefully etched, each letter trembling with devotion, would reach them more clearly than the fractured whispers of his voice ever could. That his unsteady hands might be worthy enough to place the paper into their divine grasp. That they would cradle him gently, or break him apart and remake him at their will. He would not resist. He would thank them for it.

And if he faltered, if he ever angered them even by the smallest breath or careless misstep, he would carve the mistake into memory and never repeat it again. He would beg for their forgiveness, over and over, until they no longer had to hear it.

Please, his heart sobbed as tears slipped silently down his cheeks. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t cast me aside.

[llonelygoddess]

Reposting from my bed cause it’s so hard to find GOOD twilight fanfiction like this nowadays.

Daddy's Credit Card

Cullen Family x Female Vampire Reader (Platonic)

PART 9

Summary: Edward and Bella return from their honeymoon and the family is quick to rally around them. Y/N is quarantined for the safety of the other Vampires while Carlisle tries find a solution for her illness.

TW: Mentions of pregnancy/injury/illness, threats, lack of regard for the feelings of others, secrets/denial, medical testing, blood.

It had been two weeks since Edward and Bella returned home from their honeymoon. Her belly had grown tremendously since their return and Carlisle had no way to see what was inside.

Ultrasound and needles weren't able to penetrate the embryonic sack, but blood tests showed that she was definitely pregnant. Carlisle questioned Edward when they returned home, trying to discreetly assess for whether or not he was sick.

Carlisle was relieved to find out that whatever illness Y/N had was not passed on to Edward. Carlisle still decided to keep Y/N away from the rest of the family in case her sickness was contagious. He didn't need anyone else getting sick in the home, he already had his hands full with Y/N and Bella.

Y/N hadn't been able to keep down animal blood since that day in the woods, she started to desiccate as her body dried out. Carlisle was able to procure human blood for her and it seemed to be the only thing she could stomach for the time being.

Carlisle was uncomfortable with the idea of offering her human blood, but he didn't have another choice.

She stayed in her bed for days on end as her body continued to grow weaker and thinner, dark bags appearing beneath her eyes. Carlisle offered her more blood, but she was continuing to lose weight and he was at a complete loss as to what she could possibly need. In a desperate attempt to try something, he brought her a lone piece of buttered toast.

She looked up at him when he set the plate on the nightstand, "What the hell is that?" She questioned.

"Food," Carlisle said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

"I need blood, not carbs," Y/N grumbled.

"Blood isn't helping you. Try it," Carlisle said, picking up the plate and holding it up in front of her.

She grimaced at the smell, turning her head away, "Don't be like that," He said.

"It stinks," Y/N mumbled.

"You need to try it," Carlisle pressed.

"Did Edward ask about me?" Y/N questioned, attempting to change the subject.

Carlisle sighed, lowering the plate slightly, "He is focused on Bella right now," Carlisle said.

"Who are you focused on?" Y/N asked.

"I'm looking after both of you," He stated, raising up the plate again.

Y/N glanced between him and the slice of toast before reluctantly reaching up and taking one of the four triangular slices. She looked down at it with disgust before taking a small bite and chewing it slowly.

Carlisle watched her, smiling softly when her stomach growled. She began to eat the toast faster, finishing the entirety of it in minutes.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"I need more," Y/N stated.

"I'll get you more," Carlisle assured, standing up from the edge of the bed. He moved across the room, stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

"What's wrong with her?" Edward asked.

"Edward, you should be with Bella," Carlisle said, keeping himself between his son and the door to Y/N's room.

"Alice was thinking about it. Why didn't anyone tell me?" Edward questioned.

"She told us not to," Carlisle stated.

"Can I see her?" Edward asked.

Carlisle shook his head, "I'm still not sure if what she has is contagious and I can't risk exposing anyone else," He said.

Edward glanced down at the plate, "Did she eat whatever you brought her?" He asked.

"She did," Carlisle nodded.

"Can you keep me updated?" Edward asked, shifting slightly on his feet.

"Of course," Carlisle said.

"Good," Edward replied, turning around and making his way back down the hallway.

Carlisle brought Y/N as much food as she could possibly stomach before he connected her to some IV fluids. He took her vitals and was happy to find that she was doing much better with some food and fluids in her system.

After a few days of calorie-dense meals and intravenous fluids, she was able to function almost normally again. One unfortunate side effect was the need to use the bathroom, which she had not dealt with for a very long time and found to be an incredible annoyance. Her vitals had shown an increase and were finally within the normal range for humans.

She had shown a significant improvement and Carlisle found himself focusing on Bella as her health had continued to decline. The fetus had been starving Bella and breaking her bones.

No amount of IV fluids or food had been able to improve Bella's situation and it was likely that her heart would give out before delivery. Bella had been constantly exhausted and nauseous, but had nothing left in her stomach to throw up.

She was wildly gaunt and pale with almost every bone poking up through her skin. The child was going to kill her, but Bella insisted that Carlisle could change her at the last second.

...

Y/N quickly found herself bored and annoyed at the prospect of being trapped in her bedroom. She stood out on the balcony, staring down at the ground below while silently pondering how many bones she would break if she jumped.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Someone said.

Y/N turned around quickly to find Edward standing in the middle of her bedroom. His eyes were dark and she wondered how long it had been since they had fed.

"Too long," Edward stated.

"What are you doing in here?" Y/N asked.

"I needed to see you," Edward said, taking a few hesitant steps towards her.

"Isn't your wife dying in the next room?" Y/N questioned.

"She is dying and it's my fault," Edward stated.

Y/N stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by his statement, "Wow, I really wasn't expecting you to take accountability for killing your wife," Y/N said.

"Can you talk to her?" Edward asked quickly.

"You do know that she has done every single thing I have told her not to do, right?" Y/N questioned.

"I don't know what else to do," Edward admitted.

"You must be really desperate to be coming to me for help," Y/N said.

"I am... Please, I need you," Edward pleaded, taking her hand in his.

She grimaced at the tightness of his grip and he quickly released her, "I need your help, Y/N," He repeated.

"I can't help you," Y/N replied.

"Can't or won't?" Edward snapped.

"Won't and don't really want to... If you haven't noticed, I have my own problems to deal with at the moment," Y/N said.

The door to her bedroom opened and Carlisle stepped inside, "Edward, you need to leave," He ordered.

"Fine," Edward muttered, storming out of the room.

"Are you alright?" Carlisle questioned, closing the door.

"I'm fine. He just came to beg for my help," Y/N replied.

"He's desperate, Y/N. You can't fault him for that," Carlisle said.

"I told him that something terrible would happen if he married her. It just happened in a different way than I expected," She said, crossing her arms.

"He's your friend," Carlisle stated.

"He's an idiot," Y/N corrected, sitting down on the chaise.

Carlisle made his way over to her, "Be gentle with him. He's fragile right now," Carlisle said.

"I've never been that person and you know that," Y/N said.

Carlisle wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm, she held up her other hand and he placed the probe on her finger. Carlisle turned on the machine and the cuff began to inflate as he took her temperature.

"Can I get out of here soon?" Y/N asked.

"No talking," Carlisle instructed, watching the screen of the vitals machine.

He wrote down the values as they popped up, "We still have no idea what you have, Y/N. It also doesn't help that the wolves are watching us. If you leave the house, you'll surely be torn to shreds in your state," Carlisle said.

He removed the cuff from her arm and took the probe from her finger, "I hate this room," She stated.

"I wish I could help you, but we need you to stay here for now," Carlisle said.

"This house is a prison," She grumbled.

"You'll survive," He smiled, putting the items away on the vitals machine.

"What if I don't? What if I die in this room and you wouldn't even let me go to the kitchen in my own home?" Y/N asked.

"Don't say things like that. Your vitals are stable and you're doing well," Carlisle assured.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I'm climbing the walls, Carlisle. My god, if you're not sick at this point, I obviously can't infect anyone else," She said.

"I'll think about it," Carlisle replied.

"Think faster," Y/N grumbled.

Carlisle smiled, "You never have been a very patient person. I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised by your persistence," He said.

"Now that I can't use mind control, I'll just have to annoy you into letting me go free," Y/N said.

"I've dealt with you for a very long time, Y/N. I don't think there's anything you could do that would surprise me," Carlisle said.

"Don't challenge me, Carlisle," Y/N replied.

"I'll bring dinner in an hour. I trust that you can keep yourself busy until then," Carlisle said, Y/N nodded.

Carlisle stepped out of her bedroom, closing the door behind himself. Y/N stood up from the chaise quickly and rushed into the bathroom.

She moved her tongue around in her mouth before hesitantly reaching in and pulling out a bloody tooth. Y/N looked at it with disgust before her eyes found her reflection in the mirror.

Her mouth began to fill with blood and she spit into the sink, her eyes glossed over with panicked tears when she saw another tooth in the bottom of the sink. Y/N picked them up quickly and wrapped them in toilet paper, stuffing them into the bottom of the trash can. Y/N washed out the sink, rinsing the blood from her mouth before returning to her bed.

She laid down with a grimace, dragging the blankets over her body before settling against the mattress. Y/N's body was falling apart around her and it was infuriating, her joints ached terribly and her hearing was beginning to fail. Carlisle believed that she was doing well, but she wasn't and she didn't want him to know.

Edward clearly couldn't see anything beyond his own issues and Y/N was grateful for that. Edward was begging for her help while on his downward spiral that would ultimately lead to Bella's death. The hell spawn that grew in her belly would be the end of everything and Edward seemed to understand that. Edward wanted to hear Y/N tell Bella that she was making a terrible mistake, but nothing was going to change her mind.

Bella thought that she could have this perfect child and change into a Vampire at the last second. It was completely ridiculous, but she was stubborn and not even her husband could change her perspective on that.

Y/N was dying and she didn't want to spend the rest of her days under a microscope or trying to talk Bella out of something that everyone already knew was a mistake. Carlisle wasn't going to be able to save either of them and Y/N was the only one who was willing to admit that.

...

Y/N sat in her bed with her back leaned against the headboard as she read from her book. She heard some yelling, but couldn't make out what anyone was saying. The curiosity eventually became too much for her and she closed her book, setting it aside before she stood up.

Y/N made her way over to the door, opening it and lingering in the doorway as she heard more screaming. She leaned out into the hallway, looking both ways before slowly venturing out. Y/N made her way out to the living room, immediately spotting a broken Styrofoam cup on the floor in a pool of blood.

Y/N continued on passed the gory scene and made her way into the kitchen. She looked through the fridge before moving on and checking the cabinets for something to eat. Y/N huffed when she found nothing, returning to the fridge and opening the freezer.

"Oh, yes," She muttered, pulling out a small pint of ice cream.

Y/N grabbed a spoon from the drawer, hopping up to sit on the counter as she took the lid off. Y/N ate her ice cream silently as she listened to the screams from wherever everyone had run off to in the house.

It was obvious that something was happening with Bella, but Y/N couldn't be bothered to go and check on them. She paused in her snacking when the screams eventually stopped.

"Sweet serenity," She sighed, taking another scoop of the ice cream.

Y/N watched as Rosalie suddenly rushed by carrying a newborn baby wrapped in a blue towel.

"Is she dead?" Y/N questioned, Rosalie whipped around at the sound of her voice.

"You shouldn't be out of your room," She stated.

"Not like anyone's here," Y/N replied, gesturing to the empty room with her spoon.

"You still shouldn't be out here," Rosalie huffed.

"Did she die or not?" Y/N repeated.

"She did. Edward gave her the venom, but her heart had already stopped," Rosalie said, Y/N nodded and took another bite of her ice cream.

"You know, I usually do my best to stick up for you, but this time you are the one in the wrong. Edward has been awful to you, but he needs you right now and you should be there for him. You shouldn't be sitting here and listening to his wife die," Rosalie said.

"It's not like I can help him, Rose," Y/N stated.

"Nothing can help him. Bella is dead. But he needs someone to lean on right now," Rosalie said.

The infant squirmed in her arms and she looked down at them, "It's a girl. Bella decided to call her Renesmee," Rosalie said.

"That's an awful name," Y/N stated.

"It is, but Bella picked it," Rosalie replied, "I need to get her washed up, but you should go and see him," Rosalie continued, Y/N nodded.

Rosalie made her way into the bathroom while Y/N hopped down from the counter. She set her spoon in the sink and tossed the ice cream back into the freezer before following the panicked voice of her friend.

"Please, please, please, please," Edward whispered softly to Bella. He moved over her body, biting into her flesh while her lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. Y/N lingered in the doorway awkwardly, taking in the scene in front of her.

Edward's shirt and face were covered in Bella's blood, his blood-stained hands were trembling as he cupped her cheeks, "Come back to me, please, baby. Bella, Bella, please, please," He mumbled shakily.

"Edward," Y/N said.

He looked up at her with wide eyes, "I was too late," Edward mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Y/N replied.

He stepped away from her body, moving over to his friend and pulling her into a tight embrace. Y/N grimaced at the feeling of Bella's blood soaking into her shirt before slowly wrapping her arms around his neck.

"She's gone and it was my fault," Edward mumbled, gripping onto the material of her shirt.

"You're going to be okay," Y/N assured.

He pulled away suddenly when he heard the sound of the Werewolves approaching in the forest, "What is it?" Y/N asked.

"They're coming," Edward mumbled, "Get up to your room and don't come out," He instructed.

"Alice! Jasper!" He yelled, returning to Bella's body and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Alice and Jasper rushed down to meet him while Y/N reluctantly returned to her room. She washed the blood from her skin and changed her shirt before sitting down on the edge of her bed. Y/N couldn't hear what was happening outside and it was absolutely killing her.

She could hear the growling of the Wolves, but not much else and then she heard absolutely nothing. It was completely silent and Y/N stood up, lingering in the middle of her room as she waited for something to happen.

Had everyone been slaughtered? Were the Wolves searching the house for the child? Would they kill her if she was found?

Maybe it would be a more forgiving death than the one she was destined for. Y/N's heart began to race as she heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Was this it? Was this the end for her?

[llonelygoddess]

*taps microphone twice* “hello?? are we alive on here???” i say, ignoring the echo of my dumbass question “tough crowd”

Lol made me giggle so i have to respond,

sorry guys for being MIA my mental health is truly a rollercoaster rn and most days i can't really get outta bed. I'm always here though just lurking and trying to work up to writing again. I really appreciate everyone's patience and kindness rn <3

[llonelygoddess]

do you ever plan on adding bran and rickon headcanons for the yandere house stark ones?

I wasn't thinking about it recently but if people would like that let me know what age you'd like me to write for them ^.^

[llonelygoddess]

how are the yandere house lannister headcanons going?

Almost done! I'm kinda excited to post cause i can already see the places yandere house lannister could go, just like different one shots and stuff i could write.

But i can tell ya'll it's written during the time Joffrey is king and he's gonna have his own set of headcanons hopefully but I'm also thinking of how interesting Yandere Tommen/Faith Militant would be 0.0

[llonelygoddess]

Still writing yandere House Lannister headcanons! Just a lil behind cause of work but I'm gonna write some more tonight ^.^

Feel free to leave any thoughts or requests in my inbox! <3

[llonelygoddess]

when do you think yandere house lannister will be finished?

Hii!

Tbh I've only written about two paragraphs for it so far but I'm hoping by Monday I'll have it out ^.^ I'm watching a lot of Game of Thrones for inspiration lol

[llonelygoddess]

tweaking after worshipper theon lost the poll is insane for me but very necessary😝😝😁

lol right!? I’m a lil shocked but Yandere House Lannister will be just as juicy I promise ☺️😇

[llonelygoddess]

i have a question, are the headcanons in the poll all things that you will write eventually, or are they suggestions and you will only write the one that has won?

Hiii!!

I plan on writing everything that I put in the poll eventually, I just wanted an idea of what ppl would like to see first ^.^

[llonelygoddess]

Got some recent inspiration, help me choose what headcanons to write!!

[llonelygoddess]

manifesting you’ll be writing more cuz your stuff is SO good🙏🙏🔥

Thank you! 🪐✨

Currently working on Yandere House Lannister headcanons but I’m still open for requests as well!!

[llonelygoddess]

hotd x oblivious reader

I’m thinking about a reader who’s kinda oblivious. They aren’t super aware of everything going on around them, they’re just confused as to why no one is getting along.

You’re really close with both team black and green, to the point that they’re fighting over you, but you’re not even aware of the actual conflict; you just think it’s petty interpersonal drama.

They’re over in the corner threatening each other with dragons and swords and you’re just… hanging out with Helaena, looking at butterflies and asking to pet her dragon.

the second you express interest in the dragons, there’s practically a line; you’re the most nervous with Daemon and Aemond’s dragons, for obvious reasons given their reputation, but Luke has a pretty small dragon so you grow closer to him through that. Rather than the size of the castle, Arrax is about the size of a particularly large horse, or maybe a big bear. More manageable when you know they can’t swallow you in one bite.

This drives a wedge further between Aemond and Luke, with Aemond outright glaring every time he so much as catches a glimpse at Luke. Not only did he take his eye, now he’s taking a bonding opportunity out from under her?! He’s pissed and challenges him to a duel. You still think it’s all fun and games, and you’re cheering for both of them, and they’re both trying to fucking kill each other, it’s pretty intense.

no matter who wins, you’re ecstatic, and you hug them both and kiss them both on the cheek. The blush that blooms on their faces and the almost goofy smiles that stretch across their cheeks are perhaps the only thing they’ve had in common in years.

Aemond totally uses his injury to ingratiate himself with you. It makes you feel bad for him, and while he doesn’t normally want pity, he’s fine using it to his advantage. Once Luke is out of the way, he reckons, he’ll be able to reveal his true self slowly over time.

Daemon’s also pretty likely to get into physical fights, though he sues his silver tongue to make you blush just as often. He really is quite sly, and he’s the only one to outright proposition you. He’ll get Jace to take you out for a night in the town, slowly working their way to the brothels, trying to sully your reputation just far enough that you’ll have to marry him. It worked for Daemon, after all, and he just wants you connected to him. He’s fully aware that he’s not going to be able to live without you. Having you tied to Jace is just the perfect way to keep you close.

Rhaenyra is also taking advantage of your oblivious and gullible nature. She definitely tries to take advantage of the fact that you aren’t able to catch on to her true intentions. She’s convinced you to cuddle with her by telling you she’s too cold, and that Daemon’s too busy, and you felt so bad for her you were totally willing.

She’s more straightforward, pushing Jace to try to court you. He’s fighting off any of your various suitors, and anyone who is trying to take advantage of your obliviousness to secure a connection to the family.

You’re targeted by people from all over, mainly because of your close bonds to the various members of the nobility. Everyone has to work together to keep you safe when it’s announced you’re willing to court some random lord. You think you’re in love, they need to convince you otherwise.

Daemon immediately gets to work sullying the reputation of that lord. Then, he murders them. He’s not above paying a prostitute to seduce them in a place where you catch the two of them in the act, ravaging your heart.

Aemond and Jace both try to step into that void. Aemond, who takes a slightly more subtle approach, asking you to ride on Vhagar, fails; Jace, under the advice of Rhaenyra, takes a more direct approach and is able to begin dating you.

Alicent practically loses it, seeing her child so defiled by Rhaenyra’s child. She’s trying to convince you to marry Aemond or Aegon instead. Aegon shows up naked in your room; you can’t miss that clue, after all. It doesn’t work, you’re convinced he just mistook your room for his. Your rooms look nothing alike, but Aegon’s too charmed to even mention it.

Finally, Otto steps in to prevent Alicent from snapping and attacking someone. He’s not willing to let his precious grandchild fall into the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s bastards, after all.

Viserys is informed, even on his deathbed, that you should be married to Aemond. It’s to secure the familial line, after all, and your children will surely be strong and loved, the perfect combination.

So, he announces that you will be married to Aemond, breaking your relationship to Jace. Jace is heartbroken, Rhaenyra and Daemon are ready to burn the castle to the ground.

Thus begins the fight of the century.

[llonelygoddess]

can i request some yandere!robb stark?

Yandere Robb Stark

Robb Stark always had the capacity for yandere behavior but never a strong enough connection to anyone to really explore it. He's had flings here and there but nothing that fed his soul or gave him any fulfillment. I picture him finding his darling during The War of the Five Kings after a failed marriage arrangement with the Frey's and the murder of Talissa at the Red Wedding.

You were a low born nobleman's child from the north that volunteered to provide aid to soldiers. After Robb barely escapes the Red Wedding with half his men, you nurse him back to health on the harsh road back to Winterfell.

Broken and nearly defeated, Robb questions if he should be leading anyone at all. But you, a fiercely loyal Northerner with an affinity for handsome broken men, set him straight. You remind him who he is, what's at stake, and the lives still willing to risk it all for what he stands for.

After months of travel and many late night chats Robb Stark has a newfound spark for life and its all for because of you.

Once you all make it back to Winterfell Robb is immediately in planning mode. Not only for how to get back at the Frey's while doing his duties as Lord of Winterfell, but also how to keep you by his side forever.

He insists that you stay as one of his advisors, a move that confuses everyone but you. Those late night talks were filled with whispers of what life would be like once you both got home. When you express your disappointment in having to go back home to White Harbor, he wastes no time assuring you that you'd always have a home with him in Winterfell.

You're moved into the castle right away and it doesn't take long to realize you were as close to Robb's room as you could get.

Before he'd start to court you, he'd be expecting you to spend almost every waking hour by his side giving him advice and company. When not in meetings or watching him train, he'd find time to take you on walks through the Godswood or share a meal together. It's his way of keeping you safe during this time of war and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy being the center of your attention.

Truly, he's worried someone as brilliant and beautiful as you would be quickly snatched up in a cold place like his home. He can't bare the thought of you with someone else, and trains extra hard on the days the image of you being taken away lingers in his mind.

The routine you fall into with Robb was thrilling but it was exhausting keeping your true feelings to yourself. You knew it was best that way though, the King in the North had more important affairs than the feelings of a low born noble. You settled with writing your affections down on a few parchment pieces and burning them after they piled up in secret.

Unbeknownst to you, Robb's yandere tendencies develop into sneaking into your room when you were away. At first it's simply to make sure your living quarters are up to his standard and comfortable ( he wanted to feel close to you) but when he saw your dirty clothes pile the secret pervert in him couldn't resist. It became a normal part of his routine, waiting late till you bathe to sneak into your room and switch out the clothes he had with new dirty ones.

But one night he finds himself standing in the middle of your room with pages of your love for him detailed out in your perfect handwriting. It doesn't even matter if he can read it properly, he sees his name next to words like "love" and "marriage" and everything else blurs. This is destiny in his eyes, and he'll see it fulfilled.

When you finally come back to the room his eyes are tearing and he's smiling like an idiot. You were mortified at first, being half naked and having your personal thoughts read by your King, but before you could ask what he was doing he has you in his arms whispering like a mad man the details of how he fell in love with you like sweet nothings.

That first night you discover your love for each other you have to stop him from immediately moving you into his bedroom. He's ready to go all in with you but you know strategically and for both of your reputations it's best to hold off until the war is over. More than anything you'd like to keep him and your territory safe.

But let me tell you, once that man has a ring on your finger and declares his love and devotion to you in the Godswood it's OVERRRR. He's moving you into your now shared room, getting you handmaidens to keep you company, assigning 2 personal guards to you when he's not around, and ceasing your duties as his advisor. The last one may have started a few arguments but ultimately as his spouse your responsibilities now lie with the people of Winterfell. ( What he doesn't tell you is he caught some of his bannermen leaders staring at your ass during council meetings and almost killed them...Theon advised otherwise)

His possessiveness just barely lessens after you get married. He doesn't see a need to be so overtly possessive when he trusts you... and your personal guards that report to him. You rarely leave Winterfell as is and no one would dare come onto the King in the North's beloved.

[llonelygoddess]

<3

Yandere Bisexual Best Friend

Male Yandere x Fem Reader He just wants what's best for you. If he has to tell a few white lies now and again, then so be it.

When you first saw him, he had his tongue down your boyfriend's throat.

It sure as hell would not have been the start of a friendship, except...

He was the one who ran after you when you stormed out of the club, mascara and eyeshadow running in silvery streaks down your cheeks.

He was the one who hugged you and apologised and said your boyfriend was a piece of shit for doing that to you.

He was the one who got you home safe, cleaned off your makeup and left aspirin on your bedside table.

In your half haze of alcohol and tears, you clung to him and nuzzled into his neck and told him you were so grateful, that he was such a nice guy.

It wouldn't have been the start to a friendship and maybe it shouldn't have been. But you called him the next morning.

You apologised for being such a mess, stuttering just a little at the deep gruffness of his morning voice. He laughed and told you not to worry about, that you should've seen what a fool he made of himself when his boyfriend cheated.

You weren't sure how, but a phone call turned into lunch together. Both of you just a little tipsy from bottomless mimosas, his arm tossed across the back of your chair as he sketched out the horror of his last situationship.

"So you're gay?"

You should have noticed it then - the way he narrowed his eyes just a little, the way he let his fingers graze your bare shoulder, the way he seemed to take just a second too long to answer.

"Yeah. I'm into guys."

That was the first lie he told you. Not entirely untrue. He was into guys.

He was just into girls too. And he was especially into you.

He could have been honest with you, he could have told the truth. But you were still reeling from your boyfriend's betrayal, too guarded and hurt to let another man into you life.

And he so desperately wanted to be a part of your life.

The next time you asked him to hang out, you were so at ease. You hugged him when you saw him, your tits squished against his chest. You held his hand and dragged him along behind you. You fell asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He smoothed your hair away from your face and any idea of telling the truth crumbled.

He told himself he just wanted to be your friend. Lord knows you needed one after such a nasty break up. But anyone who looked at you together could tell friendship was the last thing on his mind.

He took you to watch his favourite band performing live and hoisted you up on his shoulder for the encore, his hands inching further and further up your thighs.

He took you to his favourite club and bought you drink after drink until you danced with him, your arms thrown back around his neck and your ass grinding into his crotch. It was only the pulsing neon lights that kept you from seeing his hard on.

He invited you over for a movie night and pretended to lose the AC remote, just so he could share a blanket with you and keep his arm around your waist.

And the longer it went on, the worse it got. You were cute and clever and funny. You could yap together for hours about fashion and music and video games. You brought him little presents every time you came over - small packets of his favourite sweets, a new flavour of ice cream, his go-to Starbucks order.

Could you blame him for wanting you?

He started calling you his wifey, even in front of his friends. Would crack jokes about getting married if either of you couldn't find a guy by next year. And you went along with it. Ran your hands up his chest and fluttered your eyelashes at him and called him your strong, handsome fiancé - oblivious to the way it made his heart race.

When he walked in on you changing, he kept his face deadpan and told you red was definitely not your colour, even as you scrambled to cover up and spluttered at him to get out.

"Why? You aren't exactly my type babe."

Another lie. Not even remotely true this time.

And soon you got used to him walking in on you. Started asking him for fashion advice while you were in just your underwear and heels. Started asking him to tie your bikini tops and unzip your dresses. You didn't notice him always slipping away afterwards, one hand shoved deep in his pocket. You didn't notice the way his hair was always slightly messed up when he got back, his cheeks just a little flushed.

And if there were ever any warning bells - any subconscious instincts that told you he touched you too much, hugged you for too long - they were drowned out by his parade of boyfriends and flings. Why would he be into you when he could be dating a ripped surfer or hooking up with his personal trainer?

You never realised you were the reason his relationships were always so short lived. He couldn't fall for any of them the way he fell for you. They were all just quick fucks to get the frustration out of his system.

He could have continued just like that - fucking a new guy every weekend and getting brunch with you right after.

But then you went and met someone.

He froze when you told him, his smile a rictus, hand clenched so tight around his wine glass that he was lucky it didn't shatter.

He gritted his teeth and managed to choke out a congratulations. You beamed at him, flushed pretty with young love. You squeezed his hand and said it was only a matter of time before he found his love too.

He had to excuse himself after that. Had to splash cold water on his face and fight down the urge to scream. God, why was he so fucking stupid? He should have made a move on you ages ago, back when you first met. If you rejected him then, at least it wouldn't hurt as bad as it did now.

He somehow managed to make his way back to the table and smile at you like you hadn't just clawed his insides to shreds.

"So when can I meet the lucky guy?"

When you got up to wash your hands he slipped your phone out of your bag. He scrolled through your gallery, over analysing every pic of your new boyfriend. Cute, but you could do so much better. And he wasn't even that much taller than you. God, are you really gonna date this loser?

You kissed him on his cheek when he left and he spent the entire walk home rubbing the spot and thinking up ways to get rid of this new... disruption.

Later that afternoon you called him up and asked if he'd like to come to a bar with you and meet your new man. And just like that, the wild ideas in his head clicked into place.

"Sure wifey, I'd love to come."

He showed up late and spilled a drink down your dress before you even finished saying hello. And while you rushed off to try and get red wine out of satin, he scanned the bar for your new boyfriend.

And when he finally found the bastard, he turned on all his pretty boy charm. Bought him a drink and slung an arm across the back of his chair and pretended not to hear when he said he had a girlfriend. Managed to get the guy flushed and stuttering even after he claimed to not be into men.

When he pulled your boyfriend into a kiss, the fucker had the nerve to actually kiss him back.

He was careful with his timing - going in for a second kiss as soon as he saw the flash of your dress through the crowd.

He pulled away just as you reached the table and looked up at you with oblivious innocence.

"What's wrong baby? Why do you look so shocked?"

Your boyfriend shoved him off and stood up to grab you, to claim he didn't kiss someone else, the guy just came onto him swear to God. But the damage was already done.

Who would you believe was at fault? Your best friend who didn't even know what your new boyfriend looked like? Or the asshole kissing someone else while you were gone?

You threw your drink in your boyfriend's face and called him a filthy liar. When you grabbed your best friend's arm and dragged him away, he struggled to hide his smile.

He took you back to his apartment and popped open a bottle. Poured you a drink and kissed your forehead and let his hand settle on your lower back.

"Men ain't shit baby. We're all just manipulative assholes deep down."

He let you drown your sorrows in the bottle and then pulled you onto his lap when you were too drunk to object.

"I'm the only man you need in your life, yeah?"

You sniffled, too drunk and hurt and dizzy to notice his hands moving to your bare thighs.

"Yeah."

"C'mon, say it. Say I'm the only man you need."

"You're the only man I need."

His fingers slipped under the hem of your dress and he pressed his lips against your skin, teeth oh so close to your jugular.

"And I'll take care of you. So just sit still and I'll make it all better."

[llonelygoddess]

Can you please write for a yandere NWH Peter Parker x reader who is smarter than him? Like they knew right away he was stalking them and played along?

Also omg I can't believe we are mutuals now, I adore your page so much <3

A/N: I hope I understood your ask properly. Aww that's super sweet! I try to follow back people who interact with my content a lot and show support back! Glad we are moots too. <3

Warnings: mentions of stalking..

Masterlist

Requests: open

Okay i'm going to say on record that if I *had* to have one of the Peters as a stalker...I would want it to be his. Not because I'm a fan girl of Tom or anything but his Peter is by far the most harmless. Like if I saw Tobey's or Insomniac's spiderman stalking me, I'd be absolutely terrified. Tom's Peter is just a ray sunshine and rainbows lollll

Here's the thing, Peter cannot be stealthy to save his life. Which is rather ironic because as spiderman, he is insanely cunning...

Maybe at first he's able to tiptoe around you a little better. You might notice his presence oddly always being around,,,even at places you know he'd never go to but you brush it off. In the beginning his obsession is more like a subtle crush. He doesn't particularly act out of the ordinary when he's around you. Awkwardness, stuttering, poorly witted banter are all Peter's signature when speaking to anyone.

But you still take a mental note of his light stalking.

As he spirals deeper and his attraction towards you becomes more obvious, you know for sure that he's stalking you. It's even become more frequent. Like I said this Peter is so harmless that you just find his behaviors to be more amusing than anything. It's funny because you can tell that he thinks he's being inconspicuous but his gooey smile alone is enough to give him away. lol

You probably don't do anything about it at first, he's not really hurting you. The man just is lovesick..but maybe eventually you decide to have a bit of fun with it.

It becomes a game of making Peter as flustered as possible. Like you'll purposefully wonder into dead-ends, secluded or intimate places (libraries, locker rooms, underwear stores ect) just to catch him in the act and be like "Oh hey Pete!....whatcha doing here?" It's fun watching him freak out and created some stupid excuse. You always act oblivious and go along with his answers.

Sometimes you'll touch caress his arm, ruffle his hair, and make intentional eye contact to watch him squirm. Even choosing more endearing words that you know he'll hang on to. He's probably convinced himself that you are falling in love back. Do you understand what you are truly doing to him??

Maybe you purposefully leave your house unlocked on your blinds open to make his endeavors a bit easier. You're curious to see if he'd be willing to go far enough to actually go in your house... or photograph you from outside..

As light as he is with his steps, you can feel his presence over you as he's watching you rest...

You notice things going missing from your drawers..

It intrigues you as you watch him go from being a total creep behind you back to acting innocent in your face. He easily falls right into your traps. It's almost painful how gullible and clueless he is.

You kind of don't want to give up your act as you've become obsessed with him in your own way. Maybe not in love but just with the peculiarity of the situation... No one would believe you if you told them about this whole thing. If you weren't so calculated about it, you probably would've thought you were insane too.

It was hard not to laugh in his face when he asked for your address to pick you up for a date when you know for a fact he knows the layout of your house like the back of his hand.

Maybe you do end up giving up your cover one day. You know that he's hiding in your closet, watching you study when you finally blurt out..

"Peter, it's been months now. I know you've been stalking me. I know you're hiding in here, you can come out."

Can you imagine the pure look of fear and guilt on his face.. Peter doesn't even know how to react. Like he's fully freaking out in the closet and you can here his little curses and shuffling. He's so adorbs. "Peter...just come out" he says something stupid like "uhh it's not Peter it's...Ignacio, your....cleaning lady..??" He eventually comes out and he feels far too guilty to even look at you. If he had a tail it's be between his legs ahhh... He's completely convinced that you are going to tell him to stay away from you or yell at him.. Like it's so embarrassing how slick he thought he was.