#i should write more actually

[scapinoz]

MY MAD DOG (ALL MINE).

yandere male oc x male reader

mob boss x guard dog reader

— chapter one.

to start things off, it’s been like three months since I posted the prologue and I have no way to defend my actions. I simply forgot. like the story kept running through my head all day and night, and I did write; the later parts of the story, lol. i really didn’t want to write the starting parts. i was just lazy, nothing else.

warnings: illarion, illarion’s dad, Y/N, mentions of blackmail and violence. nothing much, really. tame compared to what I’ve planned.

previous chapter - prologue

series master list - my mad dog (all mine)

Y/N arrived like a storm—unwelcome, unasked for, and impossible to ignore.

He did not come with a wagging tail or soft eyes full of devotion. He was not the obedient, noble creature Ilarion had longed for, the one he had begged his father to give him. No, Y/N was something else entirely. A stray, all sharp edges and untamed wildness, the kind of animal that bit the hand that tried to feed it.

But he was Ilarion’s now. That much was clear.

At first, they danced around each other like two creatures who did not yet know if they were predator or prey. Ilarion, raised in silk and shadow, did not know what to do with this boy who walked into their mansion with his hands in his pockets and a scowl carved deep into his face. Y/N was nothing like the children Ilarion had grown up with—those glass-fragile boys in ironed uniforms who spoke softly and moved like ghosts, always careful, always cautious, as if the wrong step might shatter them into pieces.

Y/N was fire where they were mist, solid where they were air.

And at school, he was a disaster (his father had enrolled Y/N into his school soon after their next meeting).

He never sat up straight in class. He never raised his hand or took notes. The teachers despised him for his indifference, for the way he lounged in his seat like he had better places to be. The students feared him, though they never said it aloud. He did not belong in their world of wealth and whispered politics, where power was measured in quiet cruelty and the sharp cut of words. No, Y/N fought with his fists, with blood on his knuckles and a scowl on his lips.

And yet, he never strayed far from Ilarion.

At first, Ilarion did not question it. He did not acknowledge the way Y/N’s presence had become something of a constant, like the low hum of an approaching storm. He did not ask why Y/N always seemed to be near, lingering just close enough to catch the words others whispered behind Ilarion’s back—the jealousy, the envy, the resentment.

He did not ask why those whispers always stopped so suddenly, why the boys who spoke too loudly found themselves with bruised jaws and swollen lips.

He did not ask, because he already knew.

And he never told Y/N to stop.

By the time they were thirteen, an unspoken understanding had settled between them: Ilarion was the golden boy, the untouchable heir to a legacy written in blood and empire, while Y/N was his shadow, the mad dog at his heels.

It was inevitable, then, that when Ilarion spoke, Y/N listened.

And when Ilarion needed something done, Y/N was the one who did it.

Time did not soften Y/N. If anything, it sharpened him.

By sixteen, he had become something fierce, something untamed. He was taller now, broader, his face no longer round with childhood but carved with something sharper, something crueler. The fire in his eyes had not dulled, but it had learned patience. His rage no longer burned bright and reckless—it simmered, waiting, coiled beneath his skin like a beast ready to strike.

He was still the same boy, the same stray Ilarion had been given all those years ago. But now, he was something else too. Something dangerous.

And Ilarion—perfect, golden, untouchable Ilarion—had grown into the role his father had carved for him. He was flawless, the kind of boy people whispered about in admiration and envy alike. He had the world at his feet, the teachers singing his praises, the students bending beneath his presence. He was the sun around which their little kingdom revolved, and he played the part beautifully.

But the sun has shadows, and Ilarion’s shadow had a name.

Y/N.

The school called him a delinquent, a lost cause. He skipped classes, smoked behind the gym, walked into rooms like he owned them and stared down teachers like they were beneath him. He broke rules like they were made for him, and he did not care.

Or rather, he only cared when Ilarion did.

“I swear to God, Y/N,” Ilarion muttered one afternoon, arms crossed as he leaned against the old brick wall behind the school, where they always met when no one else was watching. “Could you at least pretend to be a functioning member of society?”

Y/N, perched on the ledge with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, barely spared him a glance. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

Ilarion scoffed, his irritation as sharp as the autumn wind. “Because you look like a damn criminal.”

“I am a damn criminal,” Y/N shot back. “Your criminal.”

Ilarion exhaled, long and slow, tilting his head back to look at the sky. He hated that Y/N was right. Hated that, despite his exasperation, despite the lectures and the sighs and the sharp-edged glares, he still found himself here. Still found himself asking.

Because there were always people who needed to be put in their place.

Boys who thought power came from their fathers’ wallets. Men who thought they could speak without consequence. People who thought that just because Ilarion wore his power with silk and smiles, he would not use it.

Ilarion never laid a hand on them himself. He didn’t have to.

Not when he had Y/N.

And Y/N—his mad dog, his stray, his shadow—never needed to be told twice.

“You’re impossible,” Ilarion muttered, shaking his head.

Y/N exhaled smoke into the air, grinning. “And yet, you keep me around.”

And Ilarion, despite himself, did not argue.

The afternoon sun filtered through the academy’s courtyard, golden and soft, casting long shadows against the pristine marble floors. It was a quiet hour—one where only the desperate or the foolish found themselves loitering with trembling hands and fragile hopes.

Ilarion had not been searching for anything. He had been making his way toward the student council room, mind preoccupied with the endless obligations of a golden boy, when he saw it.

A girl.

Standing before his dog.

She was pretty, delicate in the way all high-society daughters were raised to be, with neatly pressed ribbons in her hair and the scent of expensive roses lingering in her wake. The picture of polished elegance. And yet, there was something almost pitiful about the way she stood there—wringing her hands, voice unsteady as she whispered the words.

“I like you, Y/N. Please go out with me.”

Ilarion stopped.

Y/N stood before her, detached and distant, the very image of disinterest. His uniform was, as always, a mess—tie loose, shirt half-untucked, a cigarette tucked behind his ear like an afterthought. He had not bothered to meet her eyes, his gaze instead fixed somewhere past her, as if she were nothing more than background noise, a dull murmur in a world he had long since stopped caring for.

Ilarion knew that look.

Knew it because Y/N never looked at him that way.

The girl swallowed, gathering what little courage she had left. “Y/N?”

Silence stretched.

And then—finally—Y/N tilted his head, as if acknowledging her presence for the first time.

“You like me?” he echoed, voice flat.

The girl nodded quickly, a spark of hope igniting in her gaze.

Y/N exhaled sharply through his nose, something close to amusement but far colder. “What is it that you like, exactly?”

The girl hesitated. “I—I think you’re… cool.”

A pause.

Then, slow, deliberate, Y/N smirked.

It was not a kind expression.

“You ever wonder why I don’t have a girlfriend?” he asked, voice dripping with something unreadable.

The girl stiffened. “…No?”

Y/N yawned, stretching lazily. “It’s because I get bored easily.”

The spark of hope in her eyes flickered.

Ilarion, still watching from the shadows, clenched his jaw.

“I might still say yes, though,” Y/N added, tone mocking. “Could be entertaining for a little while.”

Ilarion turned on his heel and walked away before he could hear the rest.

He found her in the library.

She was seated by the window, absentmindedly flipping through a book she clearly wasn’t reading. Her expression was distant, her mind likely still lingering on the conversation from earlier.

Ilarion did not bother with pleasantries.

“You will stay away from him.”

The girl startled, looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes. “What?”

Ilarion stepped closer, looming over her. His expression remained polite, refined—unshakable—but there was an undeniable edge beneath it.

“Y/N,” he said, as if explaining something very simple to a very slow child. “You will stay away from him.”

She blinked, confusion flashing across her face before something like realization took root.

“I—I’m not trying to—”

“You don’t understand,” Ilarion cut in smoothly, tone unwavering. “He is not what you think he is.”

Her lips parted, a protest half-formed, but Ilarion did not let her speak.

“You think you want him,” he continued, voice calm, “but you don’t. He isn’t kind. He isn’t gentle. He will not love you, nor will he pretend to. He is cold, detached, and endlessly cruel when he grows tired of things.”

The girl paled.

“He would ruin you,” Ilarion said, smiling faintly. “And he wouldn’t even care.”

A beat of silence.

Then—quiet, barely above a whisper—she asked, “Then why do you want him?”

Ilarion stilled.

The question was simple. Innocuous, even. And yet, it lodged itself into his throat like a blade, sharp and unrelenting.

Because Y/N was his.

Because Y/N listened to him.

Because Y/N—who cared for nothing, who met the world with disinterest and apathy—only ever looked at him.

Ilarion exhaled slowly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Leave him alone.”

The girl said nothing.

She did not need to.

By the next morning, the girl was gone.

Oh, she was still at school, still walking the halls with her pristine uniform and perfectly tied ribbon. But she no longer looked Y/N’s way.

No more stolen glances. No more waiting outside his classroom. No more confessions in the courtyard.

Y/N noticed. Of course he did.

He caught Ilarion’s eye across the cafeteria, something unreadable flickering across his face.

Then, ever so slowly, he smirked.

And Ilarion—golden, untouchable, innocent Ilarion—simply picked up his fork and took another bite of his meal.

Y/N was smoking behind the school when Ilarion found him.

The sky was overcast, the air thick with the scent of rain and tobacco. Y/N was seated on the ledge, one leg hanging lazily over the side, the other bent at the knee. His blazer was discarded beside him, and his cigarette burned low between his fingers.

Ilarion did not say anything as he approached.

Y/N exhaled a slow curl of smoke before flicking the cigarette away. “That was fast.”

Ilarion’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Y/N turned his head slightly, gaze sharp, unreadable. “The girl.”

Ilarion froze.

“She’s scared of me now,” Y/N mused, tilting his head. “She wasn’t, before.”

Ilarion’s jaw tensed.

“Did you do something?” Y/N asked, voice void of curiosity.

Ilarion scoffed. “I should be asking you that.”

Y/N smirked. “I didn’t do anything.”

A pause.

Then—slowly, deliberately—Y/N turned to fully face him, expression unreadable.

“But you did.”

Ilarion said nothing.

Y/N exhaled sharply through his nose, something almost resembling amusement flickering across his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Ilarion scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Y/N muttered, standing. He stepped closer, movements slow and deliberate, the scent of smoke and something faintly metallic clinging to his skin.

Ilarion held his ground.

Y/N’s gaze flickered over him, detached but keen, like he was seeing something Ilarion had yet to recognize.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Ilarion exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

That evening, Ilarion sat in his father’s study, the scent of aged whiskey and old books lingering in the air.

Across from him, Rylan stood beside Y/N, his expression a mixture of irritation and exhaustion.

“I hear you’ve been getting into fights,” Ilarion’s father murmured, swirling his glass.

Y/N did not react. He merely sat there, blank-eyed and silent, detached from the world in a way that made it impossible to tell if he even heard the words.

Y/N’s mouth curled in an unflattering way. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

Rylan sighed, rubbing his temples. “He doesn’t listen.”

“I never do,” Y/N agreed.

His father exhaled, long-suffering. “And you,” he said, glancing at Ilarion. “You’re supposed to keep him in line.”

Ilarion met his gaze, expression impassive. “I don’t control him.”

“No,” his father mused. “But he listens to you.”

Y/N finally moved, tilting his head slightly, gaze flickering toward Ilarion.

The room was silent.

Then—quiet, unbothered—Y/N said, “Only when I feel like it.”

Ilarion’s father sighed.

Rylan pinched the bridge of his nose.

And Ilarion—who had spent his entire life untouched by want—realized, with a slow, sinking certainty, that he was no longer as immune to desire as he once thought.

unedited. unrevised. y’all get it raw and fresh. just finished writing. posted it as soon as I was done, really. took more time to add the pics and align everything and paragraph everything really. anyways, here’s chapter one.

i feel like the next chapter will actually start picking up the pace. i just wanted to set the scene a bit and like just cause. anywhore, stan illarion for better skin (even if he’s a lil shit).

also recommend some names for illarion’s dad 🧍🏽‍♀️

[baker-chan-senpai]

My gift for @ot3 who asked for an exploration of Trucy and Phoenix's relationship for the @aa-spring-swap

[starssoblue]

“things were so hard with dad in recent years...how did he go from paparapluie to père? i wish i could face him and understand, but while he was still here i didn't dare try to tell him [any of my feelings] and now...it's too late.” * paparapluie is a pun on the words papa and parapluie (umbrella) since the plush is a frog. père is the french word for 'father.'

[1carus-w1ng]

hey guys what if I drew furries and. And you DIDN’T burn me at the stake

Alt

[myokk]

she has him wrapped around her little finger😇🤞

[deerspherestudios]

Hi! I just wanted to know if in the following days to come if mychael would follow more intense Yandere traits or instead mellow more out?

Hello! I feel like I ramble a bit here for such a simple question, but for those interested, spoilers under cut!

I've teased in asks before he will get intense as the story progresses, though for the sake of managing expectations, don't expect him to go all out just because it's Day 4.

Initially, I've considered multiple routes and endings for the next update, and by endings I mean True Bad Endings, but I might push them back so the pacing of the story doesn't feel jarring. Plus it lightens my load of writing multiple branches, something I always wanna avoid so I don't complicate things for myself.

I just feel that between the five sundowns after they separated at the end of Day 3 it'd be enough time for him to sort through his thoughts and come to a conclusion on how he feels. Nothing drastic, but there's definitely something that changed in him if that makes sense.

So while he's not fully unhinged (the door still functions so to speak), he's definitely growing loose,,,, I started out with the intent of writing a slow burn and I'd be remiss if I mess that up!

[cozylittleartblog]

lil columbo sticker design i made for my etsy :) i'm not sure what the market is for columbo merch but if the demand is high enough i'd like to make an enamel pin in the future!

[cestacruz]

More TFA no one can judge me ive been reading ok

[feelo-fick]

it can't be too hard right?

it's easy not to think about things, he tells me i don't think all the time! wait...

—

a scene from a fic that i have no clue if ill finish, let alone post, but look i made fanart of my own thing that doesnt even exist :D

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[cvpidart]

steve asks billy out on summer break and their date doesn’t start to end until summer does. billy has finally lowered his walls around someone for the first time in his life. as he’s sitting in his boys arms, watching the sun fall, fear sets in as he realizes time is running out. what if steve goes back to his popular life with popular friends and forgets about billy entirely? forgets the nights they spent together and pretends he never knew him? he couldn’t handle that, he’d have to lock himself back up inside, back to tough and back to lonely. would that protect him this time though?

just a silly little Harringrove comic that’s been floating in my head for a bit so I finally threw it together! I just love these boys sm 🩷

[corviiids]

what if mlp au light doesn't get his cutie mark until after he's killed pony L and then his cutie mark becomes L's symbol to symbolise what L's defeat means to his fate and identity and everyone's like wow pony light your fate is to become the second L and succeed L to continue his legacy :) and pony light (pony) is like yes >:) (evil pony expression) (on his pony face) (because it's a my little pony au)

[thenationofzaun]

Thought for sure Jinx was gonna kill Vi's new enforcer buddies. I thought it would have paralleled her killing Mylo and Claggor, only this time it would be on purpose rather than accidental. This time she'd be remorseless rather than guilt-ridden and apologetic. Imagine if the show had spent time fleshing out the bond between Vi and her new squad. Shown them spending time together and training together. Shown how well she works with Maddie, Steb, and Loris, the latter reminding her so much of Vander. Then they go hunt Jinx together. And Jinx kills them one by one. Mylo, Claggor, and Vander dead again at Vi's feet. Only now there's no Powder crying and saying it was an accident and begging Vi not to leave her. Now Vi calling her "Jinx" again wouldn't just be an outburst she wishes she could take back. She'd 100% mean it this time. 

It would have made Vi's murderous rage towards her sister make way more sense. The show makes it seem like the killing of the Council is what made Vi turn from "Powder, it's okay, we'll be okay" to "Powder is gone, let's murder Jinx." And that's just not a believable enough reason for me. Jinx was given plenty of complex well-written reasons to hate Vi, but Vi wasn't really given many personal reasons to hate Jinx. If Jinx had killed those Vi had come to care for, I'd fully understand her turning on Jinx and wanting to beat her to death, just like Ekko. I just wish they put just as much effort into writing one half of the sister rivalry as the other, considering it was supposed to be the main plot of the show.

[horrorsboyfrie]

Tomura Shigaraki would take a long time growing a strong enough bond with someone to be with them romantically, let alone have sex with them. The amount of vulnerability he'd have to show is maddening to him, uncomfortable feeling at his chest at the thought of someone wanting to touch him as a way of showing love to him.

But to touch another person, too. Being trusted enough by his lover, the hands that he has used to destroy being craved for something far more gentle. He doesn't know if he can do it. What if he loses himself in the emotion and ends up decaying his little darling? He can not commit to such acts as long as he's afraid of losing the one person who's looking straight at his power, his past, and the future he has set in stone, and still wanting to show their adoration through his means of destruction.

[quesocheeso]

Okay, but thought-

If Wukong gave up his rights to the kids, wouldn't that mean that Macaque just gave up the right for his cubs to inherit things from Wukong (as well as child support)? Macaque probably doesn't think much about it-

Until a random human claims to be Wukong's successor and Macaque realizes that he might've fucked up. Slightly.

Truee

But I don't think Macaque really cared about child support or any birthrights at that point, probably wouldn't have cared at all tbh and would have just raised the kid as his own

He just didn't want Wukong around his cub at all

Maybe there would have been some grief at his kid potentially losing what is his by the time MK arrives, but I don't think it would have been that deep honestly

Now alternatively

If Wukong had given up his rights, I do honestly think that at one point he would have found out he had a cub out there, and he would have fought tooth and nail to get at least visitation rights lmaoo

So although he revoked his rights, there are still ways to attain them again

One of them being to literally go to "family court" in the Celestial realm lmaooo well technically to go there and just claim the child as yours again, since technically just the act of going up there and revealing you have a child is pretty daunting and permanent

It'd be a really dangerous power move on Wukong's part because it's practically forcing Macaque to recognize Wukong's rights once again before Wukong's enemies get them. Wukong would have to bank on Macaque caring enough about the cub to let his pride slide and accept Wukong's claim.

[choccy-milky]

im finally playing HL again after only playing it once when it first came out, and thanks to mods (especially @silverxstardust's clothing mod) i finally made clora how i like her...LOOK AT HER.....my baby angel darling👼💖💖

seriously tho playing the game again after all this time (especially now that im playing as CLORA clora, and not just clora that was a random chara i made) is so different, but its also taking me back so much🥹😭💖