#& Yearning to Write Yandere Content for

[yanderegrizzsworld]

As an Apology for not posting for almost a Month, here's a Sneak Peek at a Yandere Pomni Scenario I'm determined to Finish

[yandere-wishes]

Normal People: "Why did u start writing Yandere content?"

Most Yandere Authors: "I wanted to express my dark desire for a forbidden romance through a creative medium. Forgoing social norms to create a love that is most cruel yet utterly true. To appease the lethal love that lays dormant within my bones, rattling me with its yearning for freedom. To show the world a love that is hideous, dangerous, yet wholly profuse. The sort of love only found under a moonless sky. A romance that can kill and heal with the same hand. To fashion ballads of broken hearts and damaged minds trapped in a waltz of shimmering hearts."

Me: I want to get kidnapped so I won't have any responsibilities.

[chococolte]

Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper

word count. 1.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!

Your praise.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted. 

When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience. 

If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.

For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.

Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas. 

His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.

Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.

It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.

When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.

Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers. 

For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.

Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant. 

He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.

"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.

You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so. 

He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.

“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”

You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.

He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.

All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.

A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears. 

“You have only ever done good by me.”

Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light. 

“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks. 

“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.

He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.

“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”

Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely. 

Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat. 

“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”

He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless. 

You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering. 

“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”

An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth. 

The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him. 

Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you. 

Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.

“Am I? Your favorite?” 

His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant. 

He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.

“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation. 

[marcyvampire]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[angelsrcute]

Haloo :D im wondering if u r taking requests now but if u r can u write a fyodor with immortal female reader ? It would be wonderful if u can can but u can ignore this request if u want to

“ But can't you see my dear? I am your doppelganger ♡”

⌗ A LOVE IMMORTAL SUCH AS MINE, WILL COME TO ME, ETERNALLY. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Immortal!Vampire!Fyodor + Sub!Immortal!Vampire!F!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, Jealous!Fyodor, Vampire themes, fwb → lovers, alcohol mentions, biting, unprotected sex + use of lube, tit play, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), slight Yandere!Fyodor(?), Soft!Fyodor.

꒰ † ੭ — this ended up being my longest fic ever, lol, 1.3k words!! I am taking reqs! + a lil inspiration from olgami, it's such a good webtoon. (人´∀`)♪ Translation: "Мышка" (myshka)

When humans age, they die and pass on to the afterlife, don't they? Death was something that never came to you, ah immortality, such a cool thing. It was more like a curse to you, humans coming and going, years passing by but still no one seemed to notice the same face walking among them for all these decades. Faces unrecognisable as you try to remember their names, their relation with you, not that it mattered anyway.

Relationships were a nuisance, blink and they're already gone, dead, as you stand in their funeral. It was a really funny thing, oh how you wished you could die instead of watching your loved ones die.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not a famous name for humans but for vampires, they say he's the oldest vampire to ever live. Have you ever met with him? You did, decades ago, in his bed, in his mansion, fyodor needed some relief and so did you.

He was the one who saved you from your death, why? Because he thought you were interesting. He'd take care of you and teach you how to hunt, how to kill people and make sure no one finds out. He seemed like a lonely man too, house deep in the woods, living all by himself.

The other vampires though, had this bloodlust, to kill him, to become the lord themselves. Everyone clawing at any chance they get, to paint their fingers red with his blood. You never understood their reasoning, what's so good living a life like this?

Dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, he liked seeing you in white clothing the most. He said it made you look like a saint, the saint that brought some change to his boring life. He definitely wasn't a fan of other vampires eyefucking you at meetings. Well, they'd end up going missing anyway.

Cleaning up after him was annoying, why did he have to be so busy? that also playing the piano as he drank wine. Blankly staring at the body in front of you as you clean the floor, muttering curses at him.

It didn't take long but you fell for him, yearning for his touches, but you could never confess, fearing it would ruin your relationship. Your body burning like fire as he kisses you, snapping his hips against you, dress ripped off and discarded on the floor.

“You liked that dress? I'll tell them to make one for you again, money isn't a problem for me.”

Cold slender fingers playing with your nipples as he decorates your neck with bite marks, drawing blood from them. Tongue darting out to lick the blood as he whispers about how sweet you taste to your ears. Your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes roll back from pleasure, his hands holding your leg up at this point.

Everything was going smoothly until one day he disappeared, without a single word. All the other vampires went crazy over this fact. Some were happy thinking he finally died, some just disappointed that they couldn't be the one killing him.

You returned to Russia after a lot of years, travelling all over the world, everything was different to you, with the years, technology also grew, like for instance, this human was staring into a phone. Bumping into you and not saying a single apology but they had the audacity to curse you instead, calling you blind.

Well, guess you just found yourself dinner, how lucky. Hiding the body with no effort, muttering to yourself “The world would be a little better without people like this.”

You went down an alley, there was a nice bar here, you remembered. Entering it, you took a seat after ordering your favourite drink. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a stranger coming up to you, sitting beside you, “I've never seen you around here, darling, do you need some help? I know a really nice place around here–”

The man went on rambling about nonsense, poor attempts at flirting, and why is he even talking about himself, you don't remember asking. Quietly sipping on your drink as you ignored the stranger. The stranger, though, seemed offended, “Hey I'm talking to you, whore, if you don't want attention, dress up more!”

Now that part really got on your nerves, what were you supposed to wear, a long ass winter jacket? You could just pretend to play along and just kill this guy, not even interested in drinking his blood! But someone else's voice stopped you, a voice too fucking familiar.

It was none other than fyodor, you watched as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you by his side, eyes narrowing at the stranger with a smile, “It's really rude to flirt with someone's lover, don't you think? You'll walk away from here and remember nothing.” The guy on command, got up and left the bar, the people in the surrounding, definitely didn't care.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Мышка.” He chuckled, as if he just met you yesterday and not decades ago.

“What the fuck? Where the hell were you for all these years!?” You shouted at him, burning a hole into his face with your glare, “Of course I'm surprised, am I not supposed to be when you appear like that? God!”

“Let's discuss it somewhere private, shall we? I know a hotel nearby.” You hated how composed he seemed to be, but still followed him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I was a bit hurt, dear, why didn't you tell the man to leave? or were you interested?” He asked while sitting down on the bed.

“Is that what we're talking about? Give me an explanation, fyodor, where the hell were you?”

“A bit busy, don't mind me, I had business that needed to be taken care of.”

“That's it? You could've at least told me a goodbye! or sent letters.”

“Ah, but that would give away my location, wouldn't it? I didn't want any disturbances, but enough about me, where were you? I couldn't find you in my mansion.”

“I was travelling, and I did not see a point in staying there if you weren't there but you really had me worried, you know?” You sighed, sitting beside him.

Well this was supposed to be meeting up with a past ‘friend’. So why did this turn into a fucking session? According to a certain someone, he wanted to make up for his mistakes!

Currently between your thighs, lapping up your folds like he hadn't eaten in years, savouring the taste like it was his favorite meal. He teased your clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth. Your moans and whines were music to his ear, he could feel you were close, his tongue speeding up to make you cum.

“F-fuck…gonna cum–” You stammered before cumming, lewd slurping sounds filling the room before getting up and kissing you, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. A string of saliva joining your tongue after he breaks the kiss, he definitely likes seeing you like this— face flushed, hair disheveled, neck decorated by pretty hickeys by him.

You don't remember what round it was, all you can feel is the way he keeps fucking his cum back in your cunt. Sweat glistening on your body as you can't help but let out whimpers due to overstimulation, “T-Too much, fedya…slow down–”

“I'm sure you can cum for me again, my dear.”

He kisses your tear soaked face while rubbing soothing circles on your clit to calm you down. You pull him closer to kiss again, running your hands through his soft hair before he cums in you for the last time and pulls out.

Fyodor runs you a warm bath and then puts you on the bed, climbing in to cuddle with you, well, such a memorable get together isn't it?

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

[bettymylove]

Heya dropping off a request !! Can you write a fic with bully mattheo and draco who hates the reader for being with the golden trio and mostly harry ?? They both hate seeing you guys all mushy in public and even get jelous of ron hugging you and God the rage they feel seeing harry pin you up against a wall and kiss you so they just snap . full dark yandere mode . Thank you in advance :)

more

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader x draco malfoy

content: read the askk<33

a/n: a part 2 maybee, if people want it!

rage, fury, and anger were just some of the emotions draco and mattheo were feeling, and have been for a while.

you were theirs, they talked to you daily, which was more like two boys being mean to you but to them it was the highlight of their day, they only teased you so they could talk to you.

you, however had decided to choose the so very popular, golden trio, whenever they spotted you, you were always with them, always touching them in some way, it made their blood boil.

just last night, they had seen you hug ron after he had won the quidditch match and they yearned to be in his position.

but surprisingly, ron wasn't even the biggest of their problems, you and harry had taken an interest of a special kind to each other.

they noticed the looks both of you gave each other, but they also saw the looks you gave them and they were nowhere near similar.

they both hit their peaks when they saw harry with his tongue down your throat while you were pushed back to a wall.

it was late in the afternoon when you found yourself walking in one of the scarce corridors, when all of a sudden you felt a hand pull you back, pining you against the wall and putting a hand around your mouth so you couldn't scream.

you soon recognized the man, mattheo riddle, your long time bully along with draco malfoy, "well, well, well isn't it our little girl?" the blond boy spoke up and soon the hand covering your mouth was removed but you didn't say anything.

"don't you think you're being too much of a rebel, doing what you were doing with potter" mattheo spoke this time.

"how do you know that?" you asked, you were frightened but you know the only way they bullied you was with words.

"we always have an eye on you" he said, tracing his finger down from your lip to your chin, hooking his fingers to have you look into his eyes.

"don't you wish that was us, instead of little potter?" draco spoke in a low voice, moving slightly forward.

you were embarassed on how quickly you were getting wet, and you knew they were aware of it, they knew everything about you, better than yourself.

and you knew right there in that moment, when you slowly nodded that this was going to be the end of you.

mattheo's lips met yours and you slowly sank in them, while draco was kissing your neck from the back, you felt like you could reside here forever.

soon mattheo's hand slipped down until they reached where you needed them the most, he started going in and out as quickly as you could and all you could do was grab draco's hair as he was making out with you.

soon you finished and he put his fingers in your mouth to let you taste yourself, "if you want more, you know where to find us"

[mitfloya]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

pairings. Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 6.8K

synopsis. He believes that by isolating you, he can protect you from the outside world and ensure your happiness together. In his twisted mind, this is his way of creating a perfect and eternal bond, you’re his muse, his statue of beauty, his own aphrodite.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiyaaa! Thank you so much for the people that have helped me make my post manage to slip through the timeline! I kid you not I had to break my spine with this issues I kept running into (the ori yandere Zayne post is gone, I’m sorry for the inconvenience), if any of you have any suggestions on how to make my post made it into the tags please tell them on the comments section. Get ready and have some snacks and hope you enjoy reading another hc I made

♡ Please reblog and comment on this post are much, much appreciated ♡

A manchild…? you love this guy? Me being a slander and simp at the same time

To put it simply, Rafayel is always the damsel in distress and YOU are his knight shining armor. He needs your attention and protection 24/7, you don’t want him to end up dead, do you? The whole universe will miss him. 

First of all, he loves you. Second of all, he hates you. 

You’re like a goldfish, how could you not remember the vows you both made when you were just a little kid?! The mere fact that you failed to recognize his face shattered his heart into pieces, for you hold immense significance in his life.

The weight of your indifference crashed upon him like a tidal wave, leaving his emotions in ruins. It was like a tornado tearing through his soul, causing a gut-wrenching ache that seemed to consume him from within.

It creates a twisted cycle of emotions that he struggles to contain. He yearns for the love you once shared, yet despises you for not remembering the bond you had. 

Perhaps he regrets not taking action in the past to ensure he could always locate you, to have left a distinctive mark upon you as a means of tracking your whereabouts.

You should���ve recognized him at first glance. Where have you been? He thought he lost you, he doesn’t even want to wish upon your death but you make it harder for him not to.

You’ve grown so much and so many changes but you’re still the same person he met at the beach, and it makes him feels so many emotions at once, it’s the first time he has managed to put a rein over his emotions, he could’ve coax you to come to his studio and locked you up, if you were to recognize him.

His heart longed to show much he misses you yet his mind tells him to seek revenge. It’s like his body and soul is splitting. Do you know how much damage you are causing him?

You must understand, my dear, that he is determined not to repeat past mistakes. It is time for him to take drastic measures, to make a promise that will bind you to him forever. He sees you as his ultimate protector, his unwavering shield. From this moment forward, you will never leave his sight again.

In his eyes, you have always belonged to each other, from the very beginning. Your destinies intertwined, your fates entangled. He craves the security of knowing that you are by his side, guarding his every step, his every breath. No longer will he allow even the smallest sliver of distance to separate you.

From the beginning you are his as much as he is yours.

His artistic talent is both his greatest strength and his greatest weapon. Through his art, he immortalizes his love and hatred for you, capturing the complexities of his emotions with every stroke of the brush. His creations serve as a constant reminder of his twisted desires. 

Initially consumed by hatred, he concealed his love, allowing it to resurface gradually, in subtle and tender ways. 

It’s the slowest burn you could ever imagine. Painstakingly slow.

As Rafayel's hatred gradually diminished, he began to express his feelings more openly, albeit subtly, leaving significant hints about the depth of his emotions towards you. Similar to a small forest fire that grows steadily, each progression was deliberate and methodical until it consumed the entire forest, an uncontrollable blaze that can’t be extuingish.

Say goodbye to freedom and welcome to his world, now that you’re his. He will be the center of your universe.

Clinginess is an inherent trait of Rafayel's nature. He craves your presence and attention, unable to bear the thought of being separated from you even for a moment. He will go to great lengths to ensure that you never leave his side.

You've grown accustomed to his playful nature and constant need for attention, but be prepared for an amplified version, as his demands intensify. Good luck dealing with your man ♡

He is a man of pride, he immortalizes you through his art, proudly showcasing pieces dedicated to you at his exhibitions. While abstract in form, this exclusivity serves to intrigue others, leaving them pondering what makes you so special in his eyes.

Unknown to you hidden away within his personal stash, there is a gallery dedicated solely to you. Every piece of artwork revolves around your existence, capturing his obsession with meticulous detail. The walls are adorned with portraits, each stroke of the brush reflecting his twisted love for you.

But at the very least, he showers you with lots of love and affection, no more holding back.

In relationships, he presents himself as a calm and romantic partner, radiating an aura of serenity akin to the sea. He enjoys spending quality time with you, whether it be casual outings or simply sharing space in silence. With him, you will never feel alone.

But do not be deceived by the calm waters, for they possess the ability to draw you into the depths of darkness, leaving you submerged and unable to resurface. His obsession remains unpredictable, much like the ever-changing tides of the sea. 

Oh, how you've stumbled into his clutches the moment you made that fateful vow. There is no turning back, my dear. You have fallen into the siren's trap, lured by his haunting charm. You are now forever entwined in his grasp, unable to break free. You should have thought twice before crossing paths with him if you weren't planning to stay.

He has two preferred methods of dealing with nuisances. He may choose to be smug and show off his superiority, rubbing his success in their faces. He revels in flaunting his success and talents, using them as a means to intimidate and belittle those who dare to steal you away.

However, if they persist, he is unafraid to resort to physical means, utilizing violence to eliminate them from your life. He goes to extreme lengths, even shedding blood and concealing the evidence of his actions, all in the name of safeguarding your well-being and maintaining his possessive hold over you.

His possessiveness knows no bounds, his desire to claim you as his own overpowering any sense of reason. He will go to great lengths to ensure that no one else can possess you, viewing you as his ultimate masterpiece.

When faced with difficulty or resistance from you, Rafayel won't hesitate to take drastic measures. He is willing to use any means necessary, including drugs, to put you to sleep and kidnap you. He will isolate you in his studio, ensuring that you will be together forever.

His studio, the place where he creates his art, becomes both a sanctuary and prison for you. Within its walls, he controls every aspect of your existence, dictating your every move and stifling your individuality. It is a place where his obsession can flourish unchecked.

You will forever remain under his possession, as he claims you and binds you eternally.

© 2024 mitfloya — all rights reserved. kindly refrain from altering, translating, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[n0tamused]

dottore having to dispose of a faulty clone (maybe bc they were threatening reader) and then handfeeding reader parts of it like cannibalism as a metaphor for love…. do we see the vision or is this a little too 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 💔💔

A/n: pookie you're all good, thank you for feeding my brain worms with this idea I'm sending you smooches. I do hope I executed this well. I had a lot in my head that I wanted to write for this but I didn't want this to turn into a word scramble so here's this. Enjoy <3

Content: Dottore x GN reader, dark content(?), a bit yandere, implied unhealthy relationship, implied cannibalism, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, idk what else to tag as I never posted something like this so if anything else needs tagging feel free to lemme know

Words: 735

Several candles lined the polished oak table, its surface smooth and almost sticky, the light rippling over the dark lines of the carvings on top like little light bugs chasing one another. The golden hues danced over the plates as well, but the dim light scarcely allowed for a good look at the dishes.

The fork extending forward to your lips was the only thing that held your attention long enough to be observed, taken in fully, lips closing around the bit of meat and vegetables. The juice and oil fills your mouth, sinking past your teeth and around your gums, the taste is rich yet stale all at once. You couldn’t comment on it, you didn't know what to say about it. Not with the Doctor sitting at your side and being the one to feed you so, so gently.

It's hard to remember when was the last time he looked so gentle, kind even, perhaps when he was lighting up the candles with such care, as if his own breath would blow the flames into a blaze, allowing you to see your plate in full.

The meat was well done, seasoned to your liking, and something told you it was Dottore’s own hand who prepared it, gave it his all to make it so perfect for consumption. Parts of him were laced through every sensation, every smell and every bite. Your own plate is set before him and he's cutting all your bites, spearing pieces of meat and salad onto the fork before feeding it to you, making sure you ate well.

The dull ache in your arms is brought back into memory as you languidly chew on a bite, and your fingers absentmindedly touch over your sleeves over where the bruises lay, feeling the ache grow.

“Do they still hurt you?” His voice called out amidst smoky smells and brown fog, calling you to the present. “Have you gotten any rest at all, my dear?” He added, his head tilting in your direction, his bird-like mask not allowing you for a glimpse of his ruby eyes, but from underneath you can see glimpses of the scars peeking through, teasing your eyes. For some reason he chose to wear it here, now, only puzzling you further. 

“No.. no.. they're fine… I’ll get some rest later tonight, sir..” you reply as you swallow and watch how he grimaced at the title, and you nearly cough from how big this bite was, but you would have taken a bigger bite had Dottore allowed you to feast yourself. Perhaps not, but you told yourself you would. Be it the rich taste or some other factor, you yearned to take up each bone from the meat and lick it clean, sucking out the marrow from within and letting it melt into your guts.

Would he be satisfied then?

Would you be?

The candles flicker. He's still looking at you

“Are you still afraid? I've already told you so, and explained it many times. You have nothing to fear here. This was just an error in the system which will not ever happen again.. and you shouldn't have been around to witness it, anyhow..”. You have to wonder how he can say all this with so little fear. Then again, the clone was his creation. He knew it inside and out, every crevice and every wire.

“I understand.. it's just that.. I'd rather not face the others now..not after that..” 

Truth be told, having him around was also slightly unnerving, as he wore nearly an identical face as the one that harmed you. They were the same, but also not. He was gentle, but he was not.

The one that hurt you was long disposed of and would never harm you again, but Dottore was once the one that hurt you, and now he has poured himself out before you, all for your pleasure and the sweet poison of safety and love.

He hopes to convey it to you through each meticulously put bite, every sip he graces your lips with. He had cut himself open for you and would do so again, just as he hurt you through that error. It came as easy as drinking and breathing. 

“That’s understandable. I assure you are safe, and however dark the night may get - I'll be there with you… But for now, you must eat, not fear. Open wide..”

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

COD Sex Bot Au - General and Character Specific Facts

Requested: Yes. By uh…..pretty much everyone. SO many people begged for something and while this isn’t exactly a part 2, I hope it will help tide you all over til I can get that completed.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Child Abuse, Adult Abuse as well, Mention of Murder, Mention of Self-Destruction (Robot Suicide), Mentions of Knives, Mention of Blood, Spice, Probably very incorrect Spanish

A/N: So! A lot of people, along with requesting a part 2, have also been begging me for Price as well. I know I’ve only done the 4 characters for all of my Cod works so far but I do want to expand the character list! That being said, I’m just not entirely comfortable with writing them yet. I am looking more into Gaz, Price, and Roach specifically and I promise to let you guys know when I feel comfortable enough to write for them! But until then, please enjoy!

✨General✨

Their eyes get this kind of colored sheen to them sometimes. Different colors for different things.

Yellow is absorbing new information

Pink is the color during sexy times

Red is malfunctioning/in need of repairs (but can also be a sign of embarrassment or shyness)

Light blue is curiosity

White (still) is powered down

White (pulsing) is powering down

White (flickering) is low power

Grey is rebooting/charging

Black is enraged

Lilac is contentment

Plum is upset/hurt

All the boys come with their uniforms on but what’s underneath depends

For Ghost’s model, simple black briefs

For Soap’s model, silly patterned boxers (think hearts or something)

For König’s model, usually some fancy lace panties since he’s very popular amongst Doms who like that sort of thing

Alejandro’s model? Absolutely nothing

Ghost

Ghost’s model was MEANT to be a scary bad guy kind of deal, to be marketed towards fans of slashers and the like. But he…..didn’t end up being that way.

At least, not your Ghost. Many of the other Ghost models are that way, but not yours. For some reason.

Granted, that programming is definitely still in him, though not exactly in the way it was meant to be.

Instead of it being just for fun rough sexy times, it’s more…….actually will kill for you. And has, in fact, killed for you.

Something that he’s NOT supposed to be able to do.

“Gee, I wonder what happened to that Barista that insulted me the other day.”

“Gee, I wonder.” *cleaning a bloody combat knife in your sink*

Speaking of knives!!! Ghost’s model does come with a lot of fun knives! Granted, they’re dulled into being just (mostly) harmless kink knives but he made quick work of making them a lot more harmless by ordering a knife sharpener.

So uh, yeah. You have received not just a sex robot, but one that borders on Yandere and will probably self-destruct if you reject him.

Have fun with that!

Fun fact: YOUR Ghost actually used to be a child bot MANY years ago, bought by a man who only wanted to be able to legally abuse a child. So he was broke down and put back together so very many times. And when they recycled and reprogrammed his AI chip, the scarring from that was still imprinted into him.

Soap

While Soap’s model is marketed more towards romantic oriented people, he’s generally seen as a Jack of all trades.

Doms, subs, romantics, first timers, just about any kind of person. He’s good with all of them, though he thrives with Romantics since that is his programming.

And also just because your Soap is so very lonely. He yearns to be loved by you, to melt under your affection.

And also just because your Soap is so very lonely. He yearns to be loved by you, to melt under your affection.

He doesn’t want to be seen as just a sexual object, he wants to be yours. And you to be his.

König

Ah yes, the gentle giant that was supposed to be marketed more towards Subs but ended up being a bit….Soft.

None of the programmers can explain it but every model of him is just inexplicably shy and quiet, thriving in an environment where he has no control.

So now he’s more marketed towards doms. Usually soft doms.

They once tried to change his model to be smaller and more petite and people started BOYCOTTING.

It affected their sales so much that they very quickly changed him back.

People still seethe when they think about it.

Probably equal parts the most loved and most abused of the different models.

Probably equal parts the most loved and most abused of the different models.

Just because of how quiet and meek his model is, how they almost never fight back when hurt.

Alejandro

Alejandro’s model is VERY popular among submissives so he’s programmed to be pretty dominant and also to have a caring nature.

Due to said caring nature, many mistake his model as good for beginners.

I can assure you, he is NOT.

So SO many of his models have been returned cause he’s brought them to tears from so much pleasure, absolutely overwhelming for any beginner.

“Cry for me, Amor. That’s it, just like that.”

His model is one of the only ones that isn’t returnable unless something is malfunctioning and even then, they’ll try just about anything to fix the model instead of just taking them back.

If you’re the type to forget meals and such (I’m not projecting, shut up) then he will literally drag you away from whatever you’re doing and make you eat.

Will set up a rewards system if you have trouble with personal upkeep as well, like household chores and stuff (again, not projecting).

How much pleasure you get throughout the day is all dependent on how well you follow the schedule he makes based on your personal life.

He can and will have you call him Papi, in and out of bed.

“Be a Good Little Cachorro and get on your knees for Papi.”

You only get called Amor when you’re good or when you’re upset. Anything else and it’s Cachorro (Puppy).

[aliceattheart]

Can I request a Yandere Alastor, Vox, and Valentino(separate) please?

Yan! Hazbin Hotel x AFAB reader

Yeah! I totally don't mind at all :]

Sadly at the moment the only character I feel comfortable with writing for is Alastor. I don't know much about Vox and Valentino. I do apologize 😭

I kinda skimmed it for slight spelling mistakes. All in all, I got it done. :D

Yan! Alastor

Alastor is deadly obsessed with your scent. That's what led the Doll maker to you. His little Doll.

Alastor is sickened with existential possessive tranquility. To gaze at your smile only makes him yearn for your touch.

It was only a matter of time before he put his nerves beside and spoke to you. "Well hello there Miss, may I aquire a little bit of your precious time." Kissing the back of your hand. The charmer he appears to be. With a mouth full of sharp teeth and sharp claws. You found it weird that he was so gentle.

You have no one to blame for failing madly in love with his elegant charm and sweet voice. A voice that carried endless symphonies of love and no regrets.

You were content with his lack of Physical affection but none the less you did want to embrace and fall into his lips. He would give in every now and again but you couldn't shake of the somber ravenous guilty of intimacy.

Deciding that you couldn't keep a facade, you wanted to break things off. "Y/n, my Moon in the Red sky. Are you saying you don't want me?" When he put it that way you feel disgusted with yourself. But you can't give in.

"Alastor, my heart yearns for something more. Something you can't give. It's not because you've failed to love me. I'm just greedy and selfish."

The last words that came out of your mouth. Did you really mean it? After that you started to spill like an over flowing sink. Words you've never thought came out. "I was wrong for ever thinking of leaving you. I'll stay with you for all eternity, even if I don't have that. In death I wouldn't want to part from you." You were confused and apparently your mouth wasn't listening to your wants and demands.

Alastor sat facing you with big dark eyes, smiling benevolently at you. Opening his mouth to speak he said. "Y/n, you are my muse I can't just let you run off. No need to think or hide away. Let's keep you as my favorite Doll for all eternity, please?" He formed it as a question but in reality he wasn't giving you a choice.

With a snap of his fingers your body became silent to your pleads for movement. Alastor humming a tune, picked you up. You felt like a sack of potatoes heavy, yet weightless in his arms. Opening a demon circle to his residence. He proceeds to take you to his basement. Strapping you into a chair.

"My Sweet Doll Face. He whispered into your left ear. "This will only hurt for a while. I shall break you and put you back together. For my love for you is true. You shall move to my wishes and mine alone. Your heart shall not want for more." He kissed your lips. And sewn them shut.

For the first time in all your existence you wanted to beg for mercy, to god. Irony isn't, you couldn't speak.

Alice here :D

I this would be my first ever request. I want to make it short. In the future I'll specify the characters I right for. I pray that I'll be able to build the courage and make a Master list.

[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!- Hello, I would like to request a love letter for Alhaitham. NSFW and Yandere response please, and any pet names work but if you could use Habib that would be great 💖 (I hope I did this right)

_______________________

"To my favorite feeble scholar,

I hope this letter is finding you well! I have arrived safely in Fontaine and haven't known a moment of peace since I have arrived. The chaotic cocktail of getting settled into a new city, preparing for this research project, and missing home makes me yearn for the simpler times spent in Sumeru.

Especially my time spent with you.

Thats enough of my lamenting, how fare things with you back home? Have you finally shaken the title of acting Grand Sage yet? Is Kaveh being too much of a "menace"? (Also, please let him know his mother says hello and sends her best wishes to you both). Regardless, I hope you are taking care yourself. Archons know I can't ensure you are eating well while I'm nations away. I will just have to trust that you are treating yourself with the same kindness I would extend to you.

On the topic of kindness, I have a gift for you attached to this letter. I know while I am here doing my research for the next six months we won't be able to have our usual meetings at Lambad's to discuss books over good food, but I hope these books will entertain you well during my absence.

I'm eagerly counting down the days until I can see you again. I find myself thinking of you often and it is a truly vexing experience to see you on whim like I would do so before. It makes the days seem to drag on even longer, but I pray time will fly by regardless of this.

-Sincerely, your wayward scholar

[In a simply decorated box, there are three books: one is on the topic on Fontaine's hydro transportation system and infrastructure, the second is about the complexities surrounding Fontaine's judicial system, and lastly is an infamous and popular erotica anthology from Fontaine (think the Karma sutra but French)]

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Alhaitham, Alhaitham calls you "habib", lightly implied abuse of power, unhealthy possessive and obsessive relationship from Alhaitham, mentions of sex toys, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: He tipped me extra and requested me to be extra careful with the delivery so I'll hand it over to you directly instead of leaving it at your door as per usual procedure! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

There’s a knock at your door when you’re relaxing in your room, opening it shows a hotel staff member who passes you a delivery. And it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s from your beloved feeble scholar.

Alhaitham sends you a simple package, nothing too gaudy or showy, just a few accents of turquoise to denote who the sender is. It’s secure and durable, perfect for weathering long and bumpy trips. 

When you open up the package, you find a few gifts he carefully arranged so that nothing would be broken if the contents were jostled around a little too hard. Gingerly, you lift out a lacquered box which reveals a set of headphones and a music player that’s almost identical to the one he owns. It rests in its cushioned groove in the box with the colours of the device matching your favourites instead of the shades of green on his set.

There’s a small note attached to the music player, “In case you ever miss me too much, you’ll have my voice as background noise for your moping, habib.” On the back of it, he’s written something akin to a track list. Flicking through the different audio files for a quick sample, you realise there’s one for every mood. Tracks with words of encouragement (...or as encouraging as someone like Alhaitham can get), ones scolding you for overworking. There’s even a really cute one where he softly hums a love song that both of you adore, his voice low and soothing. However, the best track of all might be the one where you get to hear his grunts and moans, as if he were right next to your ear in person. The sounds are so sinful and wet, you could just picture him grinding on his dildo, trying to reach his peak. And the way he pitifully breaths out a “I c-can’t cum witho- AH! -without you!” has you yearning for him yet again.

Taking the headphones off before you get too carried away, you retrieve his letter in the package. The envelope is the one from his Grand Sage office, not that he ever really uses them for work purposes. Inside it, his reply is written on parchment, the kind that’s provided for him due to his high position once again. His handwriting is as tidy as ever, the font and formatting standardised throughout the letter. His reply reads:

“Reply for: My springtime sublimity,

I was wondering when you were going to write back to me. After all, there’s no way you would’ve forgotten me in the midst of your research or from meeting someone new, right? Regardless, you have not left my mind since your departure and I’m sure it’s the same for you too habib. 

Do let me know if the gifts are to your liking. I’ve managed to recreate my headphones and they will definitely be useful in blocking out anyone else who might be getting on your nerves or when you’re trying to focus on your research. I included my latest read in the package as well. I'd like for us to discuss our thoughts on the book, even if it’ll have to be done over pen and paper. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on it.

There’s also no reason for me to answer whether I’ve managed to resign from my title as Grand Sage, as evident from the envelope and parchment used. I simply have an unfortunate one last thing to wrap up before I can do so.

Moving on, habib, you know Kaveh is always a menace. I relayed his mother’s well wishes to him earlier and he just smiled. Now he’s locked himself in his room. I never have any idea what’s in that mind of his. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t have to drag him out before he starves. Although I must ask, since when were you privy to Kaveh’s background? I don’t recall him bringing it up around us. Habib, just how close are you to him? How close has he gotten to you? Do write back to me and explain.

Now, this is where I must thank you for your gifts. They all have proven to be succinct and informative. However, I must comment on the choice of one of the books. My, I knew you were lewd before, but to send me an erotica anthology habib? Though, I never said I minded it. I am simply inspired, that's all. Perhaps, you should come back sooner and we can try some of the positions referenced in it. In the meantime, habib, I can only pleasure myself with toys, although, they’re nothing in comparison to you. I’m addicted to you, the caress of your hands on my skin, how only you can make me shudder and cry out your name. You have me wrapped around your finger.

I crave you desperately, habib. There are so many words I could use to describe you with my extensive vocabulary, but the most fitting one would be blossoming. You’ve managed to sow all these emotions in me and now that they’re blooming, you’ll take responsibility right? I’ve always been logical but the degree of affection I feel for you is irregular, all-encompassing and ever-growing. Almost as if you’re twisting the very essence of my mind, rotting and changing me from the inside out. It matches in a way, spring being the season of rebirth.

This letter has gotten too long, I will end it off here habib. I trust you will stay safe and return in one piece unharmed. I await your reply.

May your days be peaceful,

- Alhaitham -”

Setting his letter back in the package, you pick up the book he entrusted to you. Flipping through the pages, it’s littered with markings and annotations from the scribe, he even wrote some questions for you to ponder over. “What do you think about this point?” “Why would the author write this in?” But there are a few unrelated… unsettling annotations that you probably shouldn’t dwell on for too long such as, “Do you know just how much I miss you?” or “How were you able to corrupt my reason and rationality to this extent?” These annotations were left in here for a reason, Alhaitham is a smart man, a renowned member of the Haravatat. There’s a message behind his carefully selected words, waiting for you to unearth it before it festers and decays into something even worse.

Lastly, written neatly on the inside of the back cover, is a puzzling riddle, each word written in a different ancient script. After deciphering the question, an unpleasant awareness worms its way into your mind.

It reads, “Would you still extend your same kindness to me after realising what I would do for you?”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[genshin-side-piece]

Love Me True

Follow up to Love Me Tender

Warnings: Yandere Content, Dark themes, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual themes, not smut (sorry),Not Fluff, Uncomfortable themes, Angst, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

At times, it was hard to hate Neuvillette. His kindness and his willingness to do anything for you almost made you forget the circumstances of which he kept you. The life he built for you wasn’t a bad one. In the correct context, it could be described as tolerable. He wasn’t abusive or beastly. Outside of his wandering hands, one could even say he was gentlemanly. He provided for you. He protected you and on some very weird level, you believe he loved you; or at least he loved you as he understood what love could be.

Many had it worse than you did. That fact didn’t stop you from thinking that being returned to your old life was still preferable. You missed the freedom you had once taken for granted. It wasn’t like the so-called freedom you had here. In your old life, you weren’t bound by Neuvillette’s endless rules. You weren’t observed every second of every day.  You weren’t cooped up in a drafty house, subject to restrictive diets for your health and dress codes that encouraged Neuvillette to look with his eyes long before he ever used his hands. You could hide from the world, from him if you needed too. You could lock your door. You missed being truly free. Now your freedom was limited to being able to wander the prison you shared with your captor, provided he decided not to chase you from one end of his house to the other. 

The only thing that made the life you had now tolerable was that Neuvillette was seldom home. His work kept him busy, so in turn, you were generally left alone. You had your little wardens in the melusines, but they were generally no trouble. Unlike the Iudex, they knew how to keep their distance when you preferred to be left alone. They, like him, swore your imprisonment had been done for your own good. All of them claimed the world was far too dangerous for you. That you would be safer here, under his watchful eye. He was such a good provider, was he not? Didn’t the good monsieur keep you in such excellent comfort? Weren’t you given all that you needed to be happy? That’s all they wanted for you, both of you, was to be happy. From their perspective at least, one of you had achieved the happiness they clamored for. It didn’t hurt that from Neuvillette’s perspective, you had brought warmth to what had been an empty life. 

You could almost pity him in his loneliness. The key word being almost. Over the many months that you had been with him, you had certainly become somewhat sympathetic to his circumstances; born to blend in yet be kept apart, abandoned at birth, forever fated to be alone. It couldn’t be an easy existence. Not when his most relatable trait was that he yearned to understand himself much in the same way that all beings searched for their own understanding. In the few conversations you’d had with him, which were mainly him speaking at you and you simply trying to ignore him; he had confessed he had long wished to understand the emotions that plagued him. Whatever he was, didn’t process them in the same manner as humanity. So the concept of human emotions was a foreign thing for him. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t manage to understand them. That was where you felt you came into the odd arrangement you had with him. Neuvillette learned through observation. Clearly he felt he could learn something from you. What that was, you weren’t sure. 

His self professed connection to you didn’t help your confusion. He was insistent on protecting you to the point that he had isolated you from the world. To you, him bringing you here was an irrational reaction to a problem that didn’t exist. Up until a few months ago, you hadn’t even known him. Like many other citizens, Neuvillette was little more than a name to you. You hadn’t cared about him one way or the other. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think that not only would the Iudex of Fontaine personally track you down during a holiday in the mountains, but that he would proceed to hold you hostage ever since. It was like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. In the long hours where he was away you had wondered if he expected you to help him with the affliction that was his emotions. You fantasized about that being the key to your freedom. He would finally figure himself out and there would be no need for you anymore. You would be free to resume your life, presumably in another country. Somewhere landlocked, with no large bodies of water, just to be safe. It was a nice fantasy, one that made you smile whenever the rain came. Your new home would be sunny and warm and free of anyone who was emotionally impotent. A hermit on the side of a mountain seemed ideal for that or perhaps you could trick an adeptus into hiding you in a domain. Whatever it ended up being, the last place you wished it to be was Neuvillette’s drawing room. Like the man who owned it, you’d had enough of both.

For a man who held Fontaine’s fate in his hands, he was woefully unobservant of his own surroundings. There had been far too many nights where you had woken to his clammy hands running themselves all over your body. You had endured his hot breath fanning its way across you skin as the wet sounds of him working his fist over his c*ck filled your ears. Your instinct was always to pull away, but the second you tried to move, his hold on you tightened like a vice, leaving dark bruises that lasted for days. He never apologized for them, but his eyes always tended to linger on the spot where they were during the day. It was difficult to know if he was truly sorry, or if like your whimpers when he left said bruises, the knowledge that they were there spurred him on. He was always quick to return to your side when you had them, often opting to stay overnight so that he might hold you in his sleep. On those nights, he never sensed you were awake. He never stopped himself from overstepping his place as your jailer. The best Neuvillette had done was on the mornings where he spent the night, he would quietly excuse himself, offering you a reprieve from the ritual that was him watching your morning levee. You were still expected to endure his company at meal times, but for that morning at least he left you alone. The fact that he could act as if nothing had happened, that you hadn’t woken with his entire body wrapped around yours, was utterly annoying. It killed any will you had to help him. Instead, you sought to torment him in any manner possible. You had long resolved yourself to make him suffer, even if the suffering was nothing more than a minor inconvenience for him, it was still something.

Suffer, he did.

Endlessly. With cause. From clothing, to scents, to distance, to attention. You learned what cut him the deepest. What tormented him the most. What punished him to a level that you found gratifying. It was petty. Were you still in your old life, it would have been beneath you to be as you were. You hadn’t liked being petty. It was a waste of time and energy. You had always thought it best to take the high road. Fate caught up to everyone in this life, eventually it would find those that had wronged you. In this life though, it was one of the few things you were allowed to not only have, but exercise with complete regularity. You could burn your excess energy and boredom on punishing Neuvillette for his crimes against you. It was only fair that the chief justice got his. If he was going to sacrifice your freedom in the name of protection, then the same could be done with his love. His love could suffer for the sake of your autonomy. After all you had been put through, it was no less than he deserved. 

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Batfam/Batboys with a Yandere S/O

[This is something I wanted to write personally and decided to share with all of ya'll. Please remember this is fiction, since it has come to my attention that it needs to be stated. I do not condone this behavior, I just enjoy writing it. Thank you, enjoy.]

-

Batman/Bruce Wayne:

Yan S/O is devoted to him, would literally kill anyone just to make him happy.

Even if Bruce knows that your love for him isn't healthy, he doesn't let you go. He honestly finds comfort in your love, it's tight like collar on the both of you. Yet, he can't help himself but let your chains keep him together.

You love him to the point of no return. Willing to forsake the world, morals, everything. Even Talia can't do that. You want to hold him and keep him safe in your sickingly-sweet embrace.

Bruce has a case of savior complex with you, thinking he can change you. Where your desires to coat Gotham in red aren't necessary for him to love you.

But to you, it matters that you try to kill anyone in your way to Bruce's heart, or maybe just managing to keep them at arms-length.

Those finky, so-called, "villians" are apart of your anger. They CRAVE Batmans attention, which should only be for YOU.

Bruce and Batman do their best to keep you from killing villians. Most times failing and trying to cover it up for your sake and his reputation.

I could see Yan S/O just straight up telling Bruce that they are gonna raise his childern..

Which is kinda true, since they managed to get Alfred's approval. 《No clue how...》

Anyway, Yan S/O is around for all of the Batfam. Being the kindest and sweetest parental figure ever. Often threatening and hurting villians when they try to get in the way of family outings or straight up killing them under the guise of "self-defense."

You teach your way of "love" to Dick and then so on and so fourth. Causing a horrible cycle and generation of yandere Batfam. It's kinda funny.

"Just what exactly are you teaching him (Y/N)?" Bruce asked you, his tone accusing as he watched you clean up blood off the floor of the parlor room.

Jason sat on a small armchair, a notepad in hand as he re-reads over his notes. 

Dick strolls up beside the older Wayne, watching the scene. 

"Oh! I remember when you taught me that trick, gotta remember this little-wing!"

Richard [Dick] Grayson:

This man has been emotionally starved, having been raised by Bruce. 

Dick has been in many romantic relationships, but they mostly fall flat and him and his romantic partners become just friends. Which is fine, but he still yearns for a romantic connection.

Or honestly a positive connection that has someone caring for him instead. Yes he's a good brother and son, but Bruce and his brothers mostly depend on him as the "happy-go-luck Dick Grayson".

Not the moody and depressed part of him.

Yet he meets Yan S/O, who is pretty much his personal everything. Cheerleader, bestie, (beside Wally), cuddle buddy, ect.

In your eyes, he could do no nothing wrong. You hold no high standard as how he should be seen.

He doesn't need to be the "Nightwing of Bludhaven" nor the "sweet and handsome Grayson".

He is YOURS, and you are his.

"Hey~ Welcome back," you whisper kindly. Aiding him inside the apartment. More-so dragging him in with strength he didn't know you possess.

Dick smiles at you, his eyes tired and body woozy from working late hours. 

-

Jason Todd:

Jason never really grew up in a loving home, when he did however, it was taken away from him very early on.

So when any once of love he gets from Yan S/O, he tries to push it away. Thinking he'll loose it, somehow.

Yet if Yan S/O proves their devotion, Jason will accept their advances.

He doesn't see you as a total threat to himself, to other's though, that's a different story..

You listen to him, wanting to know every bits and fucked-up pieces of him.

You don't see him as some type of puzzle to finish, you just want to know him. To love him.

Holding his hands in your own, you place them on your forehead. Breathing out a content sigh, tracing his fingers gently. As if he was made out of porcelain and not a monster he saw himself as.

Tim Drake [Wayne]:

Tim is concerned about Yan S/O affections, finding them perfect. Too perfect.

He's afraid to love them, because Yan S/O is all he could imagine as a perfect lover for him.

Kind, attentive, uncaring of his coffee addiction.

Someone who'll listen to him need out about ANYTHING.

It could be the stupid-est thing ever, yet you'll stare him like a love stricken idiot.

Even when he talks about someone he likes, you'll still smile. With clear hurt in your eyes, yet never sabotage his dates or try to change his mind. Just listen with a open heart, hoping for the privilege to let you love him.

He honestly doesn't want to push it, knowing you'd have to have a limit.

But you never crack..

It drives him mad.

To the point where he surrenders himself to you.

There was no one who could be as "perfect" as you.

"Hey! Hey!" You squeak, feeling Tim's cold hands touch your cheeks. Squeezing them together to make a fish-face, leaning in to give you a small peck.

-

Damien Al Ghul/Wayne:

Straight up opposite of Tim.

Damien pushes your button's, wanting to see if you had the guts to kill for him.

Not believing that you were worthy enough for him.

He is a Al Ghul.

A Wayne.

Yan S/O thinks saying a heartful declaration of love will sway his heart. Not even a little.

You have to be persistent for Damiens attention, clingy but not to the point of becoming a annoyance and a bother. 

Hell, maybe even uncaring. Giving up on the chase, which pisses Damien off.

Weren't you the one that wanted to be with him!?

Yan S/O acts like loving him was a phase. Which upsets him even more, he acts like it's not bothering him.

He starts missing your presence, whether if you were happy or timid around him.

"You already stuck around this long, might as well reward your efforts." Damien scowls, opening his hand out for you to take. A big smile breaks onto your face, which makes Damien freeze.

You won.

-

[Hope you enjoyed! Everythings appreciated!]

[admirxation]

Broken Locks | Part 2

𓆩♡𓆪┆ Other parts: part one | part three | part four | part five

𓆩♡𓆪┆ pairing: las plagas! yandere! re4! leon s. kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

𓆩♡𓆪┆summary: Leon finally gets the reader where he wants her, but he needs her to fall in love and be dependent on him; after fulfilling his fantasies with her, he decides to make her nothing without him.

𓆩♡𓆪┆word count: 2.2k

𓆩♡𓆪┆disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! i do not condone everything i write, my writing doesn’t reflect all my morals. if any of the following warnings trigger or make you feel uncomfortable, scroll away; you are in charge of what content you’re consuming. this is 18+ only, minors are strongly advised not to interact.

𓆩♡𓆪┆warnings: nsfw 18+, mdni. female anatomy and she/her pronouns used for reader. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Noncon, somnophilia, kidnapping, losing virginity (f receiving), p in v, degrading (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, forced pregnancy, tying up, injury (f receiving), and knife play.

Chapter two: taken

Leon’s smirk as your eyes became heavier would now be imprinted in your psyche, and you would now always remember the way your heart quickened and your mussels weakened as your eyelids became heavier under his grasp. The hard part of Leon’s plan was now over; he had dragged you and a bag of a few things of yours to keep you distracted when you awoke — but he couldn’t help but stare at your face as you slept, lost in a trance of your beauty.

When you laid in the back of a car — your hands and legs tied together — he paused for a moment as he caressed his fingers in your soft hair. The way it laid on your face enticed him, inviting him to touch, creating a trance to enrapture his attention — lost in the fantasies he needed to fulfil when you got to the destination — all the things he was going to do to you and you wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The parasite was making a home inside its new host, protruding his secret desires to the foreground of his doings — his former morality now caged in the depths of his unconscious mind. Fighting with the power of the parasite was futile… so Leon gave in and surrendered himself to it.

The street lights casted a glow around the desolate surroundings of the sleeping city. Leon reached for the car door handle, and with a gentle push, he closed the door. The faint but unmistakable click resonated through the air like a whisper of finality. This seemingly mundane action only signified the turning point, the ephemeral moment was a metallic echo that signified your loss of freedom — a farewell to the untethered liberty you took for granted. As the key turned and the lock secured its hold, the boundaries of possibility only narrowed, and the horizon of your new life with Leon was coming closer.

You were his.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you finally reached the destination, Leon made a halt in his driving, looking over at the house that would now house you both — and the family you would make. His apartment was just a secondary home; he moved there during a mission he was keeping tabs on but when he saw you for the first time, his original home collected dust as he obsessed over you — the parasite forcing him to take action and make the fantasy of a crush become a dark and twisted reality.

He picked you up with no effort — tossing you over his shoulder — not being able to shake off that sinister smirk that appeared when he had finally got what he wanted.

But there was one thing he needed to do.

Make you love him.

Leon knew you found him attractive, no one is that kind to people, maybe the odd person but in reality humans are just selfish beings who do things for a trading exchange. He loved how flustered you were every time you spoke to him, seeing you fix yourself up when he looked through the peephole, your laugh over dinner… His yearning wouldn’t stop until he finally had you. All he had to do now was win your love… He knew it wouldn’t be that hard, just maybe a little pushback. For now, he needed to make sure his prey didn’t disappear.

For the week you were gone, Leon spend every waking moment decorating your new room, he knew your favourite colours and managed to pick up some interior design after he had drilled the peephole while you were working. He placed you on the bed — covered in a warm and plush blanket — reaching to the side as he tied your ankle to the radiator with a shackle.

You were taken now. Trapped and Leon’s possession. No escape.

He, momentarily, hoovered over you, checking if you were still asleep and listening to your shallow breathing. He couldn’t help but inhale your sweet scent. Your scent, oh god your scent, it enticed Leon and invited his deepest and darkest desires to take over your vulnerable body — practically drolling at just the thought of conquering your body, taking rightful ownership of what he had been watching and obsessing over.

Leon remembered watching you, from under the bed, while you showered. He sat there, his cock pressing against the floor as it hardened and his mind screaming at him to just have his way with you, right there and then, but he couldn’t, he needed to keep in his secret place until he could go through with the plan. Oh, how beautiful and sexy you were as you stripped your clothes off, unknowingly exposing yourself to Leon; he watched your body glisten as the water droplets dripped down your elegant skin, you were ethereal in that moment to him — you were the one he wanted, and nothing was going to change his mind about that.

He knew you would be gone for a few more hours, so would it be wrong to fulfil his desires? Yes, but the parasite in Leon made him the immoral and malevolent being he was now becoming.

He owned your body and was now going to corrupt it.

Your scent was the catalyst of the further escalation.

He started to undress you — slowly — exposing your chest at first. He savoured every curve and shadow your body had to offer him, his pupils dilating and his cock twitching in his pants, getting harder the more he felt the friction in his pants. His face slowly inching closer to your erect nipples, steadily rolling his tongue over the bud leaving a few nibbles now and again, his free hand pinching and twisting the other as he got lost in your body. He couldn’t help but grind his hips against your centre, releasing soft groans as he felt you getting wetter through your panties. Every single muscle was relaxed in your current state… Giving easier access for Leon.

His salvia glazed your chest, taking his pants off and releasing a sharp breath as his cock slapped against your inner thigh, his tip pushing into the plush of your thigh, spreading the precum that had dripped down his tip onto your body.

“My beautiful girl,” Leon said under his breath as his fingers curled under the waistband, dragging it down your thighs, exposing your pussy. He smirked when he finally saw your vulnerable and unguarded state — he loved it. He moved his finger along your slit, feeling the slick your body had produced, even in your state your body couldn’t deny him — only solidifying Leon’s belief that you secretly wanted it.

He moved his hips closer, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he rubbed the tip of his throbbing cock along your slit, pulsating as your cunt was getting wetter; your body betrayed you and was inviting Leon’s dominance to take your virginity.

Finally, he pushed his large cock inside your swollen cunt, rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he journeyed into the ecstasy your body was given to him; pushing back and forth made the parasite be at ease momentarily, satisfying its thirst.

Every muscle in Leon’s body felt so tight, feeling like it was going to collapse with the pleasure taking over his being, his hips moving at a rapid pace; the sight of you made him drool, and the way his cock felt like it was made for your pussy was taking over his mentality, only feeding the parasite’s possessiveness.

“My girl,” he cooed, “All mine… Forever mine… Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself at the fact he was the first one to take your virginity, solidifying his possessiveness even further.

Nails dug deeper into your thighs, Leon’s free hand dropping down as it slithered around your neck — Leon’s eyes full of lust as he watched your lifeless state take everything he was giving to you. His eyes continuously rolled to the back of his head as the tip of his cock kissed your cervix, feeling the warmth of your walls surrounding his length, rubbing his finger on your puffy clit as he stared at your wet centre clasping around him.

“Fuck,” Leon orgasmed as his cum ventured into your pussy, pumping his release further into you, smirking to himself as he left you violated.

He then moved closer to you, whispering in your ear: “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” while you stood there oblivious of everything, a moment taken from you and something you weren’t going to get back.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You were finally gaining vision, your peripheral transitioning from a blurry state to clear clarity. You were surrounded by an unknown atmosphere, looking around the place then finally seeing yourself naked and your ankle shackled to the radiator.

The memories started flashing in your psyche.

Your heart quickened, falling to your stomach as your mind became clouded with fear, your eyes darting to every corner as you wrapped the blanket around your naked form, feeling a sharp pain in your lower half — not being able to explain it.

Leon entered the room as he heard the shackle scrap across the floor, looking at you as you tried to cover yourself like he hadn’t had his way with you already.

“Hello darling,” that haunting voice filled every corner of the room, making you sit there without any movement, in too much fear to move a muscle.

You stared at Leon’s face, he was no longer that sweet man that lived next to you, no, this was a different person. The dark veins surrounded his pale skin, his eyes sunken, dull, and clouded with sin.

“Don’t act shy darling,” he leaned against the doorframe, “I’ve already seen you.”

Your eyes widened, your breathing becoming heavy as you finally connected the dots: The pain in your lower half, your naked body, it was all clear now — Leon had taken your virginity from you. Time stood still at that moment, your fight or flight not working as you sat there as still as a statue.

Leon then threw a pair of clothes on the floor: “Go fetch, if you want to cover yourself up,” that smirk was plastered on his face as he knew he had the upper hand, you were his and he had finally got what he had been wanting for such a long time.

You reached for the clothes that were sprawled along the floor, keeping the blanket around you as you crawled along the wooden panels that were leaving marks on your knees. You started to dress, feeling uncomfortable as Leon watched and waited for the blanket to slip away from your chest, exposing yourself once again.

“Why… Why are you doing this?” you managed to ask, your head hung low in fear, feeling Leon’s dull blue eyes pierce through you.

“My only motive is wanting you,” he moved closer to you, your face meeting his lap as he placed his fingers on your chin and moved your eyesight into his, “I know you secretly love it, your little obsession with me was obvious, and now your dreams are coming true.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Are you back talking me, darling?”

“Let me go, I don’t want this Leon, this isn’t you!”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Leon grabbed your neck, causing your to choke at the strength he put in as his fingers on the side of your neck were tightly pressed; Leon pushed your head to the ground, the back of the head hitting the wooden planks, your vision blurring and becoming dizzy as Leon forced his strength onto you.

“That’s right bitch… Now stay in your place,” he pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket, pressing the tip of it on your jawline and giving it a small but painful cut that made you wince in pain, “Or else I’ll make you stay in your place.” Pure venom was on his words.

You stopped fighting, tears rolling down your cheeks but preoccupied with the pain your head and jaw were now undergoing.

He finally let go, your breaths becoming urgent and desperation evident as your chest moved up and down rapidly; you stared at the blank ceiling, seeing the swirls of particles from your vision becoming distorted.

“When you stop being an ungrateful bitch… We will talk, for now… Suffer.”

He slammed the door, hearing the lock on the door as you stayed there in a lifeless state, now being able to cry and ask why the universe put you in this situation — you were lost and begged any higher being to take pity and give you mercy.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jill was anxiously pacing her floors, waiting for you to call; it had been hours from when she had last spoken to you, but she didn’t want to admit to herself that it actually happened.

“No, it couldn’t have happened, no,” she kept saying to herself as she continuously grabbed fistfuls of her hair in her palms, not knowing what to do with the stress that was now taking over her mentality, she didn’t think this was going to happen.

She had no choice but to open her phone, and call Chris.

He answered instantly, only allowing a few rings to pass, urgency was within him after he had been told about Leon; the force had been under the suspicion he was infected, putting Jill and Chris on the job to keep an eye for any strange behaviour.

“Chris,” Jill tried to get the words out, not wanting to admit that the worse was now going to happen, “He’s taken her…”

©︎ admirxation. please do not copy or steal my works.

my links: masterlist | ao3 profile | kofi

a/n: Hey! hope everyone is doing well. please like and reblog if you liked this, it rlly helps and i appreciate every single interaction. just wanted to note that if anyone wants to be tagged please comment specifically if you wanna be tagged on any part of this work (or u can message me), since i’m no longer doing separate tag posts. hope you have a lovely day/evening <3

[thequietkid-moonie]

Yandere Akane Aoi - headcanons

[ YANDERE HEADCANONS ]

[ Toilet Bound Hanako-kun / Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun ]

⚠️ Yandere, I don't support nor try to romanticize this toxic behaivor, is just for entretaiment

The person who requested this wanted to stay anonymous!

Hehe, my dear friend you! are! right! I dont have enough Akane content on my blog! I need to write more about him!! I'll try to think on what else to write >:3c

For Akane to fall in love is a little tricky, he isn't someone who is easily impress, let a alone superficial, he doesn't falls in love easily but when he does he falls fast and hard, it take him only a moment to understand how special and awesome is someone before feeling completely obsessed

Since the moment Akane falls in love he knows that that person is the one for him and doesn't even waste time before introducing himself and probably already declarating his love! he may apologize for being so straight forward if it makes you uncomfortable but he won't take back what he have said

After he had finally find his one and only no matter what you do to try to get away from him nothing will work, from that moment he is completely devoted and loyal to you, and he won't accept to be away from you, he wouldn't be able to handle it, if you stay away from him or just without knowing where or what are you doing for too long Akane will start to feel paranoid, the more time it pass the worst he gets to the point where he already believes you are in danger

Despite falling in love really fast Akane will take his time to learn everything about you, since small things, like your favorite color or your favorite food, to going to the extreme to even know your medical history, he just loves you so much that he wants to know everything there is to know about you! the good and the bad because no matter what he will always love you!

Akane's love is intense and suffocating, and, honestly, it doesn't matter if you don't correspond his feelings for him is enough if you let him be close to you, to bask in your presence and bless him with your sweet voice, or well, thats at first, at the start for him it was enough to simply be with you but as the more time it pass the more obsessed and needy he becomes, but it can be quite tolerable if you indulge in his wishes, giving him some affection from time to time can appease his burning love and calms his racing heart for a while, letting you breath and even be able to give you some space (but never leaving you completely alone)

Akane wants and expect for you to love him over time, but he won't just let you do it all by yourself, once he knows what you like he will try really hard to court you properly, showering you in compliments and gifts, showing you how much he does love and care for you, even if it takes him the whole eternity win your heart as long as you love him and decide to stay with him at the end is fine with him

Akane can be blinded by his love but he is not an idiot, he is well aware and quite delusional at the same time, he sees you as the perfect human being, everything you are and everything you do is perfection itself, even your flaws makes you even more beautiful! but, at the end, Akane knows that his feelings aren't exactly healthy, he knows this love that lives like an intense fire consuming his heart, making him yearn for your presence aren't normal, but who cares? definetly not him! he doesn't care in the slighest if what he does is good or not, as long as he has you, as long as you are happy and with him nothing will trouble him

Akane is also easily jealous and possessive, he wants you all to himself, he wants your attention only be on him he wants you to only look and smile at him! but he won't stop you, he loves you so much that he let you be with your friends and family all you want, he will be watching from afar to make sure no one tries to steal you from him anyways, besides if you love him then he is completely sure that you will come back at him at the end of the day. He trust you, but not the rest of the world, thats why he is always watching closely in case someone dares to get too close to you, ready to throw himself between you two and stop anyone who tried to touch you, look at you or even just think of you in a disrespectful way

[yanderes-galore]

I absolutely love ratchet so may I request yandere ratchet with a human prompt 53

I love Ratchet too :) I'd love to give you a small story about him and a human! I assumed you meant my prompts.

You gave no specific Ratchet so I just did his Prime appearance.

Note: I've been doing a lot of late night writing so I apologize if this is unorganized. This is essentially me being half asleep and indulging in my favorite character. It's content purely from the heart I guess, lol. I tried to keep up the plot so I hope it came out... coherent :)

Yandere! TFP! Ratchet Prompt 53

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Paranoia, Overprotective behavior, Cybertronian/Human pair, Manipulation, Implied kidnapping, Dubious relationship, Deception.

Ratchet didn't used to like humans at first. He was already having to deal with three kids causing trouble in the base. When he met you, a young adult human, he wasn't sure what to think.

Turns out... you were tolerable. You genuinely wished to help out and keep the kids in line. Although even they seemed to be a handful for you.

Ratchet was still a bot who was hard to get along with at first due to his stubborn behavior. Despite this... Ratchet had begun to soften towards you over time. He began not to dislike humans all that much with time.

Honestly, it was you and the kids who helped him change his outlook.

When it came to you and Ratchet, you two could be considered partners. While Bulkhead had Miko, Bumblebee had Raf, and Arcee had Jack... Ratchet had you. Ratchet didn't think he'd ever have a human companion, he didn't even think he'd be attached...

Then he found you.

Ratchet had grown close to you because you provided companionship for him at the base. While the others were on a mission and he was meant to prepare Ground Bridges, you sat by his desk. You didn't talk unless he talked first when you were still getting to know each other.

Yet, soon Ratchet began looking forward to hearing your voice and seeing your small organic form. You just... provided him a sense of comfort. Your presence only ever proved useful when Ratchet began to stress himself out over the others.

A comment that was often tossed around was you being his emotional support. When Optimus wasn't around, Ratchet had you. You could say Ratchet cared for you at the very least.

Your companionship was different from the others. While when it came to the kids their respective Autobots acted like guardians... you and Ratchet were different. Your connection was beyond that of a guardian.

Sure, Ratchet was always protective, but it seemed like it was for different reasons. You never really knew how deep his attachment to you went yet it always felt different. You always seemed to ease him when you were around.

It wasn't hard to theorize what Ratchet really felt towards you. His softness around you felt intimate despite the differences between your species. It's some form of love, even if Ratchet never admits it.

This explanation felt the most plausible. It explained why Ratchet felt a yearning to connect with you more. Although such a feat only managed to frustrate him at times...

Your biological/biomechanical differences make it hard for him to display affection. He can only ever do small things. He can hold you, take you on drives, call you, talk to you, and he loves it but...

Intimacy, the thing he craves, is what upsets him at times when he looks at you.

Normally the thought might have repulsed him. The thought of hugging you or showing affection in the more romantic sense towards a human should be seen as foreign. Yet he wants it with you.

Such feelings are what's made Ratchet become more attached to you than a guardian. Based on how you act so positively around him, even when he picks you up... part of him hopes you feel the same. Surely... you won't mind being in a relationship with an old Cybertronian like him, would you?

He promises to himself he'll find a way to make an avatar to communicate with you with in the future.

The issue is, these feelings can also be seen as a weakness. Ratchet often grows distressed when you are away from him for too long. Yes, humans have their own lives to attend to...

He just wishes you'd spend more of your time at the base?

Ratchet didn't often talk about his problems, yet with you he felt it was important to voice his concerns. As a result you had given him a way to contact you when you're in your home. A phone number... one he often contacted.

He really didn't need the childish teasing, Primus he could hear it now. 'Ratchet's got a crush on a human'. He rolls his optics just thinking about it.

Yes, he loves you...yet it's normal. It has to be. He hasn't had a partner in a long time, if at all. Maybe he... wants to try something like that with you.

For now, Ratchet tried to focus on your safety. When he can find a way he'll share his romantic feelings with you. When he can properly convey them....

Gaining a way to talk to you made Ratchet relax a bit more. It gave him comfort whenever you texted him or gave him a call. Some say you can see Ratchet's mood change when you were on the phone. He physically relaxes his stance at the thought of you being safe and sound.

Optimus notices this change in his friend and his thought is he's happy for Ratchet. His friend has managed to find solace in a human like the others. Even if it's in a different way.

Being able to contact you is a double edged sword with Ratchet. While he's calmer with hearing your voice or seeing your texts, he appears snappy if he hasn't heard from you. Ratchet is never far from a way to contact you.

It's obsessive.

Ratchet would look distant when you don't respond right away, often looking at the screen with a frown. He hated being away from you at times. But you're busy with your own life and he is busy with his.

You'd soon learn not picking up when Ratchet calls is a mistake. Take a nap or go to work and Ratchet gets anxious. He expects you to pick up.

It would be so much easier if you were just right next to him...

He hopes he can do that some day once he perfects his hologram avatar technology.

---

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

Ratchet's gruff voice echoes through your phone. You had been away from your phone for a few hours and came back to voice mails of worried Ratchet. You originally thought it funny that he never wanted to be away from you for long, now it was concerning.

"I was busy, Ratchet..."

"Busy, huh? You're supposed to have your phone on you."

"What did I even miss? You know I have to have my own life here, right?"

Ratchet's silent on the phone, most likely grumbling to himself.

"Yeah yeah, I know. I have reasons to worry, however."

"Decepticons?"

"Yes. I don't know what I'd do if they got their hands on you."

"Nothing's going to happen, Ratchet!"

"You don't KNOW that...."

There's silence on the phone again before Ratchet speaks again. You swore you heard him sigh deeply.

"I want you back at the base."

"Why?"

"Security reasons. Decepticons in the area."

Something about his voice sounds off. His response is curt, almost rehearsed. You push it aside, thinking he's just irritated.

"Really? Alright...."

"Don't worry too much, I'd never let them touch you. I'm picking you up. Wait there, okay?"

"Ratchet, You never usually leave the base that often. Shouldn't you send one of the oth-"

"They're busy. I'd prefer it if... I brought you here, is that okay with you?"

"Sure, Ratchet. Be careful."

Ratchet says nothing, but your words affected him greatly. He appreciated the fact you cared for him like he cared for you. He hangs up on you and you cautiously wait for him. Decepticons in the area?

Were you really in that much danger?

---

It felt wrong to lie to you about a Decepticon threat. Yet Ratchet reassured himself that it could happen at any point in time. Just calling you wasn't enough.

As Ratchet drove back to the base with you in the front seat, he thought deeply about what he was doing. How long could he lie before he told you how he really felt? How long until you realize there's no real threat at this time.

Like a Decepticon, Ratchet had lied to you to get what he wants.

It felt dirty. Despite this, Ratchet could only think about you in his front seat. He could tell you were concerned.

He hoped you could forgive him for this. At the base you provide him such comfort. No one else could make him feel such a way. If he kept you there... he wouldn't have to worry. He could think about himself just this time, yeah?

Hopefully his little project would be done soon and he could convince you to stay. He could make you your own little area in the base and interact with you with a little avatar. In his eyes, you'd be a much happier human with his care.

He had his reasons and ways to have you understand him. You can't fully blame him when you learn the truth, could you? Decepticons were a threat, even if they weren't right at this tick.

This was the best way to care for you. He loves you... this would be beneficial to the both of you. You'll be safe and he'll have you.

While it may feel wrong to betray your trust now, it would yield results in the future. Ratchet stops once he rolls into the base and lets you out. After he transforms, Ratchet picks you up in his hands.

He can't hide the grin on his face when he looks at you.

You may not know it yet, but he knows you'll be so much happier beside him rather than alone.

"I'll make sure the Decepticons don't harm a hair on your head... you can relax, I'm here now."