#writer darling

[writer-darling]

Got bored; made this (my electricity is faulty at best rn so hopefully this posts 🤞🏽💚)

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[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Sacrificial Bride

Yandere Dragon Shifter x Princess Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, manipulation, Somniaphilia (suggested), delusional yandede, complacency, etc.

Feroc the Ferocious was the kind of dragon who would bring any silly knight to their knees. The kind of dragon that inspired legends and stories to be written in books. The kind of dragon that was larger than any castle human like could ever dream to build. The kind of dragon that could decimate a kingdom with a single breath of his fiery flames if he was angered… the dragon that your own people sacrificed you, the princess, to in order to save themselves from his wrath.

And so they bound you up and threw you before him. Your own father on his knees as he begged the great dragon for mercy in exchange for his own flesh and blood… the kingdom’s most prized beauty in exchange for peace. An offer Feroc quickly accepted before the king could utter another word!

Dragons collected beautiful treasures! Dragons hoarded their treasure in caves and abandoned castles fad from prying eyes… and unbeknownst to you, Feroc found you to be rhetorical most beautiful

For dragons, a sacrificial spouse was an ancient tradition and this was the first time he’d been offered such a perfect bride! How could he refuse you? Especially when your own people begged him so prettily? Would you beg for him just as beautifully one day?

And so you were scooped up in his ginormous talons and carried away in the sky to a lone tower deep in the mountains. Your new home… your home with Feroc.

You could recall how scared of him you used to be. You’d heard from many people of how this giant scaled beast before you was a man eater. Of how he swallowed many knights in his time… yet this dragon seemed so shy from your experience so far. Skittish even.

Feroc often brought you various jewelry and fine silks from his daily raids. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t bring you a gift of some kind. His molten eagerly studied your form despite his persistent silence. Feroc’s company disturbed you as much as it comforted you.

It took a month for him to speak to you. His accent was heavy from the olden tongue he spoke but he knew the same language you spoke. His voice was booming and low, it could easily strike terror in others… but for some reason, his voice calmed you. Perhaps loneliness has finally crept its fangs into your heart? You weren’t sure…

Feroc would bring you anything you wanted to eat. Within means, of course. He’d bring you delicacies he’d likely looted off some poor caravan if you said you wanted sweets. There was no extremes he wouldn’t go to for you, which was odd since he was a dragon who’s been around for hundred of years… why did Feroc have such an interest in a human princess?

One day, you had a nightmare of a man standing in the corner of your room. Your scream in the night quickly alerted your guardian who peaked his large eye in your room in worry.

“Princess? What’s wrong?”

“I just had a nightmare… I thought there was a man in my room.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead while Feroc clicked his tongue.

“No man could ever scale his tower. I’m the only one who can enter. I’d never let anyone harm you.” The red and black dragon grumbled, his molten eyes glanced you once over. “Why? Do you… want a human companion?”

“I do get lonely sometimes.” You admitted to Feroc . His eyes now filled with hurt. “I do enjoy your company but… I miss being able to touch another human.”

Feroc didn’t understand your sentiment. He was a might dragon! The strongest of his kind! Feroc has proven himself to be the best of mates to you and yet you were still displeased? Was it because he was a dragon? Would you be happier if he showed you his other form?

“I’ll figure something out then… get some sleep.”

Feroc now snuck in your bedroom when you slept. He ghosted his clawed fingers over your oblivious form in wonder. His clawed fingers were too sharp, he’d have to dull them more… he didn’t want to cut up his pretty princess!

Feroc’s gentle touches progressed when he noticed how heavy of a sleeper you were. His desire to see what made you human drove him to insatiable heights. No area was left unexplored with his eyes. He needed to be perfect. Feroc had to be compatible with you. You and him were going to have young one day, after all! Feroc didn’t want to harm you in the process!

Feroc was able to mold his body into a perfect man. Once that was the perfect size for you, yet still immense so you’d know it was him. Feroc now stood at a massive seven feet tall rather than the hundred feet of his dragon form.

Yet there was a constant fear within him that you’d die of old age or of natural causes… Feroc knew humans were fragile creatures so he did what he had to. Feroc shared half of his heart with you while you slept. It was a simple spell and a painless procedure for you. One that would benefit the both do you in the long run!

If one of you died, the other would! You’d never age! You now shared a lifespan with him. Feroc couldn’t wait to tell you once the two of you made everything official!

It took another month for him to reveal this perfect form to you. Feroc had to let the excitement die down from sharing his heart with you so you didn’t freak out! Humans were such finicky creatures, after all! And he’d be an awful mate if he frightened you with a subject you had no knowledge on…

All you needed was to see this devilishly beautiful form of his and you’d be bewitched.

“Look at us… we’re so beautiful together.” Feroc whispered into the skin of your shoulder as he admired your reflection beside him. “I think I’ll find you more gold to decorate you with, my treasure.”

“Feroc, I don’t understand.” You jump when Feroc dragged his forked tongue across your exposed shoulder.

“You accepted all of my gifts and you’re the only one who suits me.” Feroc hissed his obsidian eyes flashed a bright gold. “Wouldn’t you rather be by my side than in my stomach?”

You gulped and obediently rested your head on his chest which made him purr in contentment. His muscular arms wrapped around yours as his wavy black hair tickled your skin.

“I’m joking, I’d never eat you.” Feroc smiled before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “You’re my bride, after all.”

You didn’t need to know about how many knights he’s killed over the last few months for you. Feroc would take care of you until the day the both of you died. Every heinous act he’s ever committed over these last few months were all for his beautiful, blushing bride.

[moyazaika]

tbh jaded lawyer darling trying to save yan crime kingpin from getting his ass thrown into prison for life — yet again.

he’s lingering at the court’s steps, entertaining the news reporters with a dazzling smile, the entire world waiting with bated breath to see whether this is the day his billion dollar criminal empire comes crumbling down—

“the whole world knows you did it!”

“are you ashamed of yourself?”

“do you really think you’ll walk away a free man after today?”

that gets his attention.

“darling, don’t ‘ya worry about me,” he turns to the journalist, and tilts his head to the side, pulling out his lollipop from between those lips, curled in a sly grin. “i ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no fuckin’ laws when i got the world’s best damn lawyer on my side.”

a young man, then. thick glasses and braces on his teeth. far too thin and lanky, for all his balls of steel as he speaks up. “are you implying that your lawyer is an accessory to your crimes? a corrupt lawyer for a guilty man on his way to the gallows?”

he hears you approach before he can think to respond. the familiar, expensive echo of the dress shoes he’d bought you the first time you’d won a case, before you’re there where he thinks you belong; right by his side.

“alleged crimes,” you correct, and your kingpin turns to greet you with a million dollar smile. “now, my client will not be taking any more questions. kindly, fuck off.”

cameras flash instantly and countless more mics are shoved into his pretty face, still mesmerised by you, even when you grab him by the back of his collar (unironed, you notice with absolute dismay) and pull him inside, away from prying eyes.

“you’re being tried for sixteen drug and weapons counts,” you hiss, digging your newly manicured nails into his skin, as you pull the lollipop he’s sucking on right out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and toss it to the side, seething. “when will you fucking get serious!”

he only dumbly stares back at you with a slack jaw, and stars in his eyes. his voice dips an octave lower, deep in his throat when he speaks. “oh, i could get very serious if you wanted to give me a kiss. or, y’know, maybe you could act as a replacement to that sweet lollipop of mine ‘ya just—oh, fuck!”

when you stride into the courtroom later, in your neat, pressed suit and slicked back hair, nobody dares ask why the infamous ‘alleged’ crime lord is following after you with a bruise blossoming on cheeks that flush a deep, deep scarlet.

-

the judge announces the jury's verdict, and you don’t even look up from the documents you’re perusing when he’s found ‘not guilty’ in a court of law, yet again—

“jesus fuckin’ christ, i knew you were gonna save me!” your kingpin jumps up from where he’s sitting besides you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he breathes you in with an elated, shuddering breath. “can’t even imagine which ditch i’d be rottin’ in without ‘ya, sweet pea.”

“excuse me, sir.” you pry his hands off you with a detached air of reservation you reserve for when the two of you are in public, but the way your knuckles are white when you gather the countless files and papers of yours scattered on your desk tell him everything he needs to know about how pissed you are. “hands off.”

he knows he’s in for it when the two of you get home, and yet, he looks forward to the sight.

it’s always more… exciting than it should be; when you’ve got him shoved right up against a well, going off about how ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature’ he is, nails leaving his skin bleeding from how deep you sink them into his body, too caught up in your own irritation to notice or, honestly, care.

and maybe, he thinks, as he follows you out, tonight he’ll go pay a visit to someone after you’re done with him.

a man’s got needs, y’know?

he’s high off the rush of his latest win when he walks up the porch steps hours later. it's really only the latest achievement in a long line he attributes solely to you and your efforts.

he’ll make sure to repay you one day, with all you’ve done for him. he’ll take such good care of you; let you do whatever you wanted to him, as a token of his appreciation for how hard you've worked to keep him on the streets he rules and out of the prisons he knows he belongs in.

in fact, his efforts start right here and right now; on the steps of a nice, suburban house, that belongs to the journalist with thick glasses and braces and a wiry frame. the white picket fence and 'keep off the grass' sign do little to deter the man outside. then again, the poor bastard could have had gates of iron, and he still would have found a way to creep inside.

he never knew being a journalist paid so well. shit, maybe he should’ve gone down this path instead of, y’know, running a criminal empire. this bastard's got balls of steel, for what he had the nerve to say about you. but it’s okay! hey! he’s here to take care of it for you!

you don’t ever need to find out what he’s done in your name. ♡

he’s very adamant about this, choosing to see the job to completion all alone, slinking away from your critical, watchful gaze—only once he’s made sure you’re knocked out by watching you sleep, crouched by your bedside, for a few hours—to make sure the problem’s all taken care of.

the kingpin rings the doorbell, and patiently waits for the door to open with his scarred hands held behind his back. there’s a glock in his left back pocket, and a silencer in the right. a swiss army knife curled in his fingers, because he’s always been creative.

yeah, can you believe that? his teachers used to tell him he would make a great artist one day. and he is, he likes to think. only that his canvases are a little less traditional, and not in the banksy way. you know how it is! life imitates art... or some hippie shit like that.

there's no rules in art for what you can paint with, right? or what surfaces you can carve up into pretty shapes...

and so, when the lock clicks open, and the handle turns, it’s exactly like he said; a man’s got needs!

so sue him! really, so what if his needs mean his heavy hands are clamping over the journalist’s mouth, twisted into a silent scream—

so what if he knocks the smaller man back, a fist flying to his face, those wide eyes and all, slack jaw stupidly hanging open in disbelief—

so what if he shoves him inside and kicks the door behind them shut?

your kingpin knows what comes with the life he chose, and sullying his name is one thing—but nobody gets to drag your name through the dirt and live.

he makes sure of that, personally.

-

“where did you go last night?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the weekly newspaper in your hands. there, on the front page, a greyscale photo of you and your headache of a client, descending the court’s steps after the verdict. “and why didn’t you ask for my permission before you left?”

the headline, in big, bold letters, splashed above the picture; INTERNATIONAL OUTRAGE AS INFAMOUS DRUG LORD EVADES LAW YET AGAIN. SHADY LAWYER TO BLAME?

“just takin’ out the trash, lovely. don’t you worry ‘yer pretty little mind about it.” as he says that, he abandons his own breakfast, suddenly snatching the paper out of your hands and ripping it up, but not before noting the name of the article’s author, tucking it away for later.

shreds of the weekly paper you hadn't even gotten to read yet fall to the floor, fluttering this way and that. you close your eyes and smile. “haha. funny. well, my ‘pretty little mind’ is telling me to throw the coffee in my hands all over you.”

“tryna mark me up?” he purrs, “if you really wanna wake me up, can i suggest somethin’ else ‘ya could throw at me? or on me, really. but—”

“i’m going to kill you in your sleep, one of these days.” you deadpan, turning back to your food. he’s like a little kid, and you’re not about to indulge him by giving him the attention he so desperately wants from you.

“'yer serious??" he grins, hands flying to his face in elation, a curious blush colouring his skin a deep pink. “you mean you actually wanna step into my bedroom— at night— of 'yer own damn will?“

you take another sip of your coffee, fingers trembling around the cup. don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what he wants don’t throw it at him it’s what—

“damn... guess i should start sleeping naked, then.”

extra; what if darling was a prosecutor instead?

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Tribe X Reader

Requests are open!

• You were a camera woman for discovery channel. You loved your job. After all you get to travel world with your crew, see and explore the most interesting wonders, and get paid to shoot all of that in camera. What more can you ask for? Yeah your love life sucked because you were never at a one place for long. But who cares? You have your camera and your passion.

• Your crew has been assigned to shoot a new show by channel which is showing and telling people about the tribal life and community of an x forest. You were excited.

• You shooted and captured all the things about the tribal community. The people were friendly once they warmed up to your team. They showed and told you everything about their community, about forest, their lifestyle through a member of yours who knew their language and translated everything.

• You got to know about many tribal traditions, rituals, festive, their beliefs, their worships, hunting, farming style but what caught your attention was a certain tall, muscular young tribe man.

• He would always be with your crew even if he is not needed. You were shooting a particular episode on the womens in tribe? He was still there silently just observing you all especially you in a way you didn't notice.

• Your crew tried fishing for some fun in break time. And as usual your clumsy self would trip and ruin everything embarassing yourself. He would later leave a basket full of fish for you silently.

• You noticed that he was kinda good looking. Okay not kinda but a lot good looking with his huge built, dark black tribal tattoos covering his tan arms and chest, his sharp bone jewellery giving all Tarzan vibes with his long black hair tied in half bun that many women in community wished to be his mate. Also because he was a excellent hunter.

• You once told someone in community casually that you wished to taste raw natural honey from honeycombs like other tribals but were scared due to honeybees and he heard it. Well next day he gives you a huge piece of honeycomb anonymously ,freshly teared by him even though it caused him serval stinks from honey bee because this was not the season to collect honey but he would do anything for you.

• Their community had a practice where once in a year men would wear their best dresses, jewellery trying to impress womens and get their attention. This was a special episode that you weren't shooting but the other cameraman was doing because you were on the other side of forest with a few crew members shooting some shots of forest for another episode as your time of departure were close and you have to finish your work fast.

• You finished your shots. And walked a bit around the forest a little more to explore while your fellow mates moved back to see the celebration.

• You saw yan tribe sitting all alone under a tree. You felt sad seeing him all alone like this instead of being in the celebration with others. Well might be the women whose attention he is trying to grab chose someone else in competition you thought.

You tried to console him by speaking in your broken fluency in their tribe language which you have learned by staying with them for months. You were scared that you might have said something offensive to him unconsciously due to the language barrier because his expressions didn't change but became serious.

He only looked up at you and held your hand in his and said "MATE". You knew your speaking and listening skills towards his language were below average but you were 101% sure what mate word that he said means. And that scared you to dead because seeing his big strong hand holding your fragile one tightly made it clear that he is not going to let you leave at any cost.

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[b1tchyboyxd]

˚₊‧꒰ა Male wife reader x Yan!Husband ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

★ This is going to be short, I'm lazy lolzz ★ There may be several grammatical errors or things like that, I wrote this shit at 4 in the morning during a moment of epiphany, Anywayzzzz, I hope you like it

Tw: none.

Your husband had been away all day, working hard to provide for you. As the evening drew near, you stood in the kitchen, preparing a homemade meal for him, knowing how much he appreciated your cooking. Just as you were about to finish, you heard the front door open and the sound of your husband walking inside.

You continued to put the finishing touches on the dish, your heart fluttering at the thought of seeing your husband's face light up when he tastes your cooking. As he entered the kitchen, you heard him let out a weary exhale, hinting at the long, exhausting day he'd had.

You heard your husband approach behind you, and soon felt his strong, comforting arms wrap around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His body pressed against your back, as if seeking solace in your warmth and presence.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the food you'd been preparing. A soft smile formed on his lips as he spoke, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Mmm... that smells amazing." he murmured, his grip on you tightening slightly.

You turned your head to glance at him, smiling at the sight of his weary expression.

"Long day, love?" you asked gently, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

He nodded, mumbling a quiet "yeah" before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

The feeling of his breath so close to your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.

"I made your favorite. It should be ready in a few minutes." you said, continuing to play with his hair.

He hummed in contentment, nuzzling into your neck even further.

"Thank you... you know I look forward to your cooking all day." he murmured, his hands beginning to wander over your body, as if seeking physical reassurance that you were real and right there in his arms.

You blushed at his words and the way his hands were now caressing your body, his touches conveying a mix of possessiveness and need.

"You don't have to thank me, I enjoy doing this for you." you replied, your cheeks growing warmer as he traced the outline of your curves with his fingertips.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin for a few moments before he spoke again.

"You're too good to me. I really don't know what I did to deserve you..." he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something almost possessive.

You could hear the hint of possessiveness in his voice, and it sent a thrill through your veins. You turned in his arms, facing him fully as you reached up to cup his face in your hands.

"I could say the same, love." you said, your eyes meeting his in a tender gaze.

"Now go rest a little before the food is ready." You say.

Your husband hesitated for a moment, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

"But... I don't want to let go of you..." he protested, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of stubbornness.

You chuckled softly, gently caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"It'll only be a few minutes, love. Go sit down and relax, okay? You look exhausted..." you urged, your voice gentle but firm.

Your husband let out a sigh, his resistance crumbling as he relented to your request. He released his hold on you, reluctantly stepping back.

"Fine... I'll be in the living room," he mumbled, his eyes still fixed on you, as if afraid to look away.

You smiled at his hesitation, knowing that he would begrudgingly listen to you.

"I'll let you know when dinner is ready," you reassured him, knowing that as much as he wanted to stay glued to your side, he did need some time to unwind.

He nodded, his expression a mix of reluctance and resignation.

"Alright... I'll be waiting..." he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a few more seconds before he finally turned and headed for the living room.

With your husband temporarily taken care of, you finished up the last touches on the dish, feeling a pleasant sensation in your chest knowing that he would enjoy the meal. Once everything was ready, you carefully carried the food to the dining table and called out to your husband.

"Love, dinner's ready!" you called out, your voice ringing through the house. Moments later, you heard the sound of approaching footsteps and your husband emerged from the living room, his face still showing traces of weariness but his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food laid out on the table.

He took a seat at the table, his gaze fixed on the meal in front of him.

"Looks delicious, as always," he complimented, a small smile appearing on his lips. You took a seat opposite him, feeling a sense of satisfaction seeing the look in his eyes, knowing that you had managed to bring a little bit of joy to his weary soul.

He wasted no time in serving himself a portion, his stomach growling loudly, a reminder of how hungry he was. He took a bite and let out a satisfied sigh, his eyes closing as he savored the taste.

"Mmm... it's so good. You always know what I need, don't you?" he murmured, his eyes meeting yours once more.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his words, and you blushed a little under his gaze.

"It's just some simple cooking," you replied, downplaying your skills. "But I'm glad you enjoy it." you added, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He shook his head slightly, swallowing his mouthful before speaking.

"It's not just the food, though. It's the fact that it's made by you. That makes it special. Everything you do seems perfect to me." he said, his voice laced with adoration. You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, his praise causing your heart to flutter.

You found yourself at a loss for words for a moment, not having expected such a sweet compliment. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine affection he held for you.

"You're... too much, you know that?" you managed to say, your voice a little shaky from the rush of emotions coursing through you.

He chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What, for appreciating my wonderful Husband ? I think it's pretty justified." he replied, his tone cheeky yet affectionate. He reached across the table and took your hand in his, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, his warm fingers sending tingles up your arm. You looked at him, feeling a mixture of shyness and affection.

"I can never get used to you showering me with such compliments..." you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly again, his grip on your hand firm but gentle.

"I know, but I mean every word." he said, his eyes never leaving yours. He moved his free hand to cradle your face, his touch almost reverent as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You couldn't help but lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed momentarily. A soft smile played on your lips, the feelings of love and adoration he stirred within you almost overwhelming.

"You're such a sap," you said, teasing him gently as your eyes opened to meet his gaze again.

He smirked at your comment, unbothered by the light jab.

"Guilty as charged." he replied, his expression playful. He continued to hold your hand in his grasp, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on your knuckles. "But can you blame me when I have the most perfect Husband in the world ?" he said, his voice filled with affection.

Your cheeks heated up at his words, your heart racing in your chest. "You're unbelievable," you mumbled, a mix of amusement and flusteredness in your voice.

"I'm far from perfect, you know that." you added, your eyes lowering as you tried to brush off his compliments.

He shook his head firmly, his gaze unwavering.

"Don't even start with that. To me, you are perfect. And nothing you say will change my mind." he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument. He reached over and lifted your chin with his fingers, making you meet his intense gaze once more.

You found yourself lost in his eyes, his intense stare making your heart skip a beat. The sincerity and determination in his voice left no doubt in your mind that he truly believed what he said.

"You... you're impossible," you whispered, your voice almost trembling. Despite your words, you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered at his unwavering devotion.

He smiled softly, his touch still gentle but possessively holding your chin in place.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't have it any other way." he replied, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something almost primal. He sat back in his chair, but his grip on your hand didn't loosen, his fingers intertwined with yours.

You swallowed, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness under his intense gaze. You knew that look in his eyes, that hint of possessiveness that came out when he was particularly worked up.

"Are you finished eating?" you asked quietly, your voice slightly hoarse from the emotions swirling within you.

He nodded, his eyes not leaving yours.

"Yeah, I am." he replied, his voice low and slightly raspy. He didn't loosen his grip on your hand, his fingers now lightly tracing patterns on your skin. "I'm not done with you just yet, though." he added, a hint of darkened hunger in his tone.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your heart rate quickening. You knew that look, that tone of voice. It meant he had something else in mind, something that didn't involve food or rest. You tried to keep your composure, even though your body was already reacting to his touch and the implication behind his words.

"What do you have in mind, then?" you asked, attempting to keep your voice steady.

His gaze darkened, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

"Oh, I have a few ideas in mind..." he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He stood up from his chair without warning, making his way around the table towards you. He pulled you up from your chair as well, his hands on your hips as he pulled you flush against him, his body pressing against yours tightly.

You let out a small gasp as he pulled you close, your body molding perfectly against his. The heat emanating from him was almost scorching, and you could feel the hardness in his trousers pressing against you, a reminder of his desire. Your heart raced in your chest, your breath coming in short gasps as you looked up into his eyes, seeing the mixture of need and possessiveness burning within them. His hands on your hips gripped you firmly, as if he was trying to anchor you in place, as if he could never get enough of you.

He pressed you against him even tighter, his hands moving from your hips to your face, holding you in place. His eyes roamed over your features, as if committing every detail to memory. "I've waited all day for this, you know." he said, his voice low and rough. "For having you all to myself." His lips moved closer to yours, his breath ghosting over your skin as he spoke. His body was tense, coiled with need and desire.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he added, his voice filled with both adoration and a hint of desperation.

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Creativity is gone so that's it lol

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Bye~

[wyverndreamers]

my son has lost an eye, good faith cannot make him whole.

[lizaisdrawing]

I accidentally deleted an ask I had plan to answer 😭 so I’ll paraphrase it

“Where does Wallaces inspiration for Welcome Home come from?”

Wallace inspiration for welcome home came from a variety of things. I guess you could say it started in the beginning when he first got into art. He just loved taking objects, insects and people and creating his own little spin on them. During his college years (he was studying to be a teacher) while working in a daycare facility, it really helped him understand what children took a liking too, as well as few things they could learn lol which made him start contemplating about creating a show. He already had concept material based on his past works.

But ofc he didn’t do it all alone,It really helped that kids loved sitting around Wallace and create short stories with eachother that helped inspire some eps :) as well as his friends getting into silly shenanigans and the support of his grandparents. Last but not least, we can’t forget that whenever Wallace has some new inspiration for eps ideas, he calls up Sylvia! I shared a lil more info than required lol

[a-most-beloved-fool]

The trouble with TOS Spirk is that I know in my heart that Captain Kirk would use 'baby' as an endearment.

But I hate that endearment. So much.

And there aren't a lot of good alternatives, y'know? I do think he might say 'sweetheart', but that's the sort of endearment that's only used on special occasions. Like, if Spock is injured, he may do an "I've got you, sweetheart, it'll be alright,' type thing, but it wouldn't be frequent.

He might, might, use 'love', but even that's a bit of a stretch. I don't think he's really the sort to use 'beloved' or 'darling' or 'dear' (though that isn't to say that I haven't read some fantastic fic where he uses those endearments). AOS Kirk would use 'babe' (which is only very slightly better than 'baby') but TOS Kirk would not.

But Kirk would say 'baby'.

[thirddoctor]

when people say they can't get obsessed with female characters because there aren't enough good ones, I simply don't believe them because there are literally hundreds of fics about the guy in The Force Awakens whose only role is to cringe while Kylo Ren trashes a terminal with his lightsaber. at that point you're basically making up a whole guy.

[blindmagdalena]

i'm thinking about john killing someone in front of his s/o, but that was about to kill them so his violent is seem a protectiveness. to be seem bloody and not be feared....

18+ 2.7k homelander x reader, established relationship, gore, blood, morally grey reader? shower sex, fingering, praise kink, breast play, dirty talk, rough sex, count down, needy/possessive/yandere HL, reader is nondescript with f!anatomy.

Homelander is breathing shallowly, eyes wide—wild—blood dripping from his chin and from the stray strands of hair that fell forward when he lunged. He's elbow deep in a man's sternum, and his other hand is wrapped tight around his broken neck, the bones like fragments of glass poking out from beneath rapidly cooling skin.

It all happened in an instant. One second, the man currently in his hands was grabbing you by the hair, a knife swinging wildly towards your throat, and the next he was dangling from Homelander's grasp, heart slowing against his knuckles.

He laughs through his teeth, licking his lips reflexively. The blood is sour, contaminated with god knows what, but that hardly takes away from the thrill of the moment.

It's been a while since he held the gaze of someone whose life he just claimed. Long enough that he forgets where he is, and who he's with.

He drops the man to the ground like a wet sack of potatoes, innards spilling out from the hole his arm leaves behind. In the man's hand, Homelander sees something that sets his teeth on fucking edge: strands of your hair ripped from your scalp in that limp, dead palm.

"You stupid motherfucker," he growls through a crooked sickly smile, lifting his boot to crush the hand like it were nothing more than an insect. The man's heart has long since stopped, but the rapid pound of another is still loud in his ears.

Yours.

Slowly, he turns around to look at you. You're cradling your skull where you'd been grabbed, tears gathering in your wide glassy eyes, the shock of it all catching up to you. You're staring intently at the corpse, watching blood pooling out from beneath it.

You've never looked at him with fear in your eyes before, but that's precisely what he sees when your eyes meet his. It makes him bristle internally. What was he supposed to do? You were in danger, and the way you screamed will follow him into his nightmares.

He could have lost you just now. You could be the one soaking in a puddle of your own blood, losing your life to the press of nothing more than a flimsy metal blade. While Homelander has always been logically aware of your humanity and the tender vulnerability that entails, nothing has ever put it so viscerally in the forefront of his mind as a freak incident coming so close to erasing you from his life.

He did what he had to. You'll understand. You have to understand.

"Hey," he says, hands raised to you placatingly, as if coaxing a spooked wild animal. The blood just makes his crimson gloves look glossy. He blocks your view of the body. "Hey, it's alright."

Your terror is palpable in the race of your heart and the sour smell of adrenaline coursing through you.

He reaches for you with the hand that isn't drenched in viscera, but before he can take hold, you beat him to the punch, throwing yourself into his arms, your own wrapping tight around his middle, hands clasping together beneath his cape.

Caught off guard, Homelander's arms hover awkwardly for a beat before he returns your embrace. He'd been certain that he was the source of your fear after a display like that.

"He just-he tried to kill me," you rasp, tears overflowing, spilling down your cheeks, wetting his suit further. "Yeah, yeah he sure did. S'alright, he's not gonna hurt you again," he coos, stroking your back with one bloodied hand, the other cupping the back of your neck. He kisses the top of your head as you cry, working the shock and fear from your system. "Ssshhh, shhshh."

Looking over his shoulder once, he lifts you up into his arms and takes off gently into the night sky, keeping you gathered close as he flies, carrying you far away from the mess spilled all over the pavement.

Not his problem. His focus is you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he can feel your tears rolling down into the collar of his suit, can smell the sea salt sweetness of them. He's never let you see that side of him before. When the shock wears off, will you see the moment for what it was?

Will you realize how much he enjoyed it?

Landing on his balcony, your arms are still tight around his neck. Neither of you have said a word since take off. He's not sure where your head is, other than the fact your racing heart has slowed to a more natural—albeit still nervous—patter.

Inside, he sets you down gently on your feet. Your balance wavers, and he settles you with his hands on your hips, staining your clothing with smears of dark blood.

He's almost afraid of breaking the tenuous quiet, but he needs to know where your head is. When you glance away, are you looking towards the door, planning your escape?

His hands tighten reflexively on your hips, and your eyes spring back up to meet his.

"You okay?" He asks quietly, warily.

"Yeah," you say, though it's hardly convincing.

"You're in shock," he says, touching the side of your face. Enough of the blood has been wiped on your clothes that it doesn't transfer much to your skin. "You remember what happened?"

Maybe your distress will leave you malleable enough for him to shape the incident just right. Make sure that you remember first and foremost that- "You saved me," you say, cutting his thoughts short. "That man was trying to hurt me, and you... you saved me."

His brows lift, surprised to hear you say it first. "Yeah. Course I did."

"You were so..." You trail off, gaze moving along his features.

Apprehension prickles from his spine all the way up to the back of his neck. He's accustomed to being scolded for his brutality by Madelyn, or looked on with thinly veiled disgust by Maeve.

They're both long gone from his life now, yet he finds himself waiting with bated breath for your response, his throat tight under the gripping hands of the ghosts of his past.

"Amazing," you exhale, banishing his specters with the sweeping wind of your breath. "God, I've never been that scared in my life, but you reacted so fast. No one has ever protected me like you do," you say, cupping his blood spattered face in your palms, smearing it into thin pink swaths across his skin with your thumbs.

He breaks into a slow, pleased smile. "Well, you've never been with anyone like me before."

"No," you agree. He can still feel a slight tremor in your hands, your body still coming down from the adrenaline high. "And I never will."

That strokes his ego deliciously. He likes the finality in your voice, the dreamy way you're looking at him, even as the smell of blood hangs heavily in the air. He almost kisses you before he remembers he's got the blood of some random thug all over his face.

"I need a shower," he says, lips close enough that his breath teases yours.

"Me too. Guess we'll have to share," you say, feigning resignation.

He grins. "Uh oh."

In the bathroom, Homelander makes quick work of undressing, but you're faster. You're already in the large shower, steaming water pouring down from above. He steps in with you, letting the water wash over you both. The water turns pink as it carries the blood away, and then sudsy as you both soap and shampoo the mess of the day from you bodies.

Once he's rinsed, he slips in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I love you," he says at your ear, trailing kisses down to the lobe, to your neck. He loves the feel of goosebumps rising against his lips.

"I love you, too," you respond as you have a thousand times before. Maybe more. He stopped counting when he was sure you'd never stop.

"How much?" He prompts, hungry for more. Your praise and assurance after a moment of such uncertainty has only made him desperate for more. He wants to wring more pretty words of admiration from you, hear more of just how good he is to you.

He can't help but color your answer with a slip of his hand between your thighs, toying with your clit.

The touch earns a shivering sigh from you. "So much. More than I can stand sometimes," you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"I thought you'd be scared of me after seeing what you saw... What I'm capable of," he murmurs, pillowing the reminder with deft, wet fingers. "Are you?"

You shake your head. "No, m'not, mmm... You'd never hurt me," you say, breath hitching as his fingers slip in further, fingertips stroking the lips of your pussy.

"Never," he echoes, his other hand slotting over your throat just to feel each noise you make. He pulls you back flush to his body, presses his hardening cock to the curve of your ass with his a shaky groan. "I liked it," you admit quieter, moaning when he slides his middle finger inside you. The confession stirs something primal in him, makes him growl out a rough little noise against your skin, grinding his cock into you.

"I wanted to rip his fucking guts out for touching you," he says, working another finger into you, savoring the slick, velvet feel of you around them. "For trying to take you from me." His words make your cunt quiver. He can't help himself, has to pull them from you just to taste you, sucking the nectarine sweet flavor from his fingers, rolling his tongue between them, hungry for every ounce of it.

He moans around his own fingers when you reach back and take his cock firmly in your hand, jerking him slowly. "I want you inside me," you say, your legs spreading slightly, back arching into him. "Touch me until yours is the only one I remember."

Fuck. Yes, that he can do.

You let go of his cock, and he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding himself between your wet, soft thighs. You close your legs, earning a breathy noise from him as he rocks between them, the warm, wet heat of your cunt a tease along the top of his cock.

"Take me," he murmurs fervently at your ear. "Wanna be in you, feel you, fuck you, make your pussy mine."

Shuddering against him, you reach down between your legs. Pressing your fingers to the underside of his cock, you push it up as he moves forward, the thick head of it catching on your entrance and splitting you open in one long, slow thrust.

Christ, you're so fucking tight. He can feel your muscles contracting, flexing, pulling him deeper. Your cunt feels made for him.

No one will ever take you away from him.

His right hand goes across your chest, cupping your left breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger while he braces you tighter to him. He rolls his hips slowly at first, relishing the tight, slippery pull of your cunt before he begins to pick up a proper pace.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He grits out, the slap of naked skin against skin loud in the shower. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels like being fucked by the fucking sun," you moan, gripping his arms, useless for anything other than taking his cock when he holds you like this. "Hot, you're so hot inside me, and I can feel... I can feel you holding back, it's like you're vibrating," you say, voice catching with every solid thrust. "It's like... it's like getting as much as I can take from something so much bigger than me."

He doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it isn't that. The idea that you can feel the true gravity of his power behind each restrained thrust drives him wild, makes him want to give you more, but he knows he can't. Not without breaking you. Sweet, frail, human thing that you are.

If he could, he would break you apart, fuck you until you fall to pieces in his hands, and then he would put every single fragment back where it belongs, but he can't. If he breaks you, he will lose you.

He needs you to survive him.

"Fuck, fuck," he rasps, holding you that slight bit tighter, lifting you nearly off your feet as he arches his back, lifting and dropping you onto every thrust of his hips. "M'gonna come," he says, voice reedy. "Come with me, let me feel you. I know you're close, can fuckin' feel it. Touch yourself for me, sweetheart."

Immediately, you drop a hand to your clit, the tips of your fingers brushing where he's pounding into you. The touch must be electric because you jolt against him. "I am, I am," you whine, rubbing yourself, the pleasure making you squirm.

"M'gonna count us down, alright? And you, mmmgh, you're gonna come with me," he says, already fighting to hold himself back. Your cunt is only getting tighter the closer to release you get, making it hard for him to stay focused.

"Five... four," he manages to say, desperately holding onto his final tethers of control. You're beyond speech now, reduced to nothing more than desperate, needy noises as you finger your clit, not even bothering to try and hold yourself up while Homelander mercilessly bounces you on his cock,

"Three... two..." His words are strained, balls drawn up tight, cock throbbing in the slick grip of your cunt. He needs to come so bad it makes his toes curl, but he won't let go until he feels you coming undone.

"One..."

One, two, three more thrusts, and you're screaming his name, knees curling up, your whole body tightening like a vice. The spasm of your orgasm rips his clean out of him, has him gasping into the crook of your neck.

He comes so hard his vision goes white, every movement halting, his focus purely on the ardent pounds of his cock emptying deep inside you, flooding you so thoroughly that the excess spill back down his shaft, his balls, mingling with the hot water and making him shiver from head to toe.

When he can, he takes in a deep, shuddering breath, easing his hold on you, though not by much. You're all but limp in his arms, panting, head lolled back against his shoulder. He lets the water run on the two of you a little while longer, savoring the aftershocks of your release before gingerly slipping out of you.

Carefully, he rubs the water between your thighs, tenderly cleaning you, kissing your neck, your shoulder.

"That was..." You trail off, words half slurred, and then you just laugh softly, the marvel clear in your voice.

He laughs, too, his own voice frayed. "Sure was."

The two of you put as much effort as it takes to get dry before making your way to bed, slipping beneath the cool sheets and rapidly warming them with your bodies, Homelander's in particular. He's always run hot, and you seem extra appreciative for it tonight, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his arms.

"I love you," you mumble sweetly.

Homelander draws the covers up over your shoulders before slipping his arm around you, drawing you into the warm, safe circle of his arms. "And I love you," he purrs, gently rolling his knuckles up and down your back.

You look peaceful, he thinks, watching as you begin to drift to sleep. He's sure it helps that he wore you out so thoroughly, but still, he'd anticipated that the shock of the evening would still have you worked up. It could be that you're still processing, that the trauma will return in nightmares that follow you into the night.

Maybe the threat of a rat simply makes less of an impact when you're cradled in the jaws of a lion.

Regardless, should you sleep fitfully or peacefully, he will be here.

No force in this would can keep him from you.

[writer-darling]

For All the Sad Mad Poets

Rating: T - TEENS (13+)

Pairing: Marcus Pike (The Mentalist, 2008) x GN!Reader

Warnings: Gender neutral reader. Pre-established relationship. Post-breakup. Whole lotta angst. Cursing. Mentions of being drunk. Love confessions. Crying. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary!: Inspired by Pedro’s “For All the Lovesick Mad Sad Geniuses” monologue for The 24 Hours Plays channel on Youtube

******

There’s a single-note ding and your phone lights up your nightstand in the black of your bedroom. Your eyes squint to fight the intense brightness before they adjust as you grab your device as you turn over in bed. What time is it? The corner of your phone screen reads 12:34 a.m. The banner notification of the new message on your screen has no contact name, just the usual 10-digits number combo, but you recognize it immediately. Without a second thought, you open it up and see that the message has no text, just a video. Now you hesitate, but you still press play after a microsecond’s deliberation.  

He’s drunk. You can tell that almost immediately. The too-red of his face, the glazed haziness of his deep brown eyes. His lopsided, closed-lip smile that accentuates his dimple. All classic symptoms of a very inebriated Marcus Pike. Which makes perfect sense. There’s no way he would’ve recorded this video sober. Even less of a chance that he would have sent this to you. Especially not looking like this. The Marcus you knew always maintained a cleanshaven, neat appearance. But his hair is longer, a slight wave to the fringe that frames the right side of his face. He’s also let his facial hair grow out in a moustache and patchy beard. It’s very unlike him but he looks incredibly handsome.

And you? Well, you’re not doing so hot either. The tears that lulled you to sleep last night have long-since dried off, leaving itchy streaks down your face. The shirt - one of his old T-shirts you’d kept - you’re wearing and shorts that you haven’t even bothered to change out of all weekend. You’re also too damn curious or maybe just too damn stupid enough to open up the attachment. Even after ten months, your heart skips a beat. Even after ten months, you’re still crying and caring about him. You hear a soft exhale and your eyes are drawn to him again, your heart warming at the familiar sight of him and the dimple on his right cheek. He glances down for a second, before looking up once more as he lets out a throaty chuckle.

“Hi,” His voice is steady, confident, but then he drops the smile as if already regretting this. “I was thinking about you. I always do, around this time - every time of the day, actually.” The admission is slightly rushed as he averts his gaze again. “Anyway, uh probably not even thinking about me. Do you ever think about me? A little?” There it is, the famous puppy dog doeness of his brown eyes that gives him an instantly boyish demeanor and made you fall head-over-heels for him what seems like forever ago. He gives a slight shake of his head, even as you’re nodding along to the question. Not that he can see you of course. But of course you think about him. It’s impossible for you not to think about him. Even now.

He glances off as a look of confusion crosses his features, a sigh escaping him. “What was I saying? What am I-?” He cuts off, sighing again, “What am I saying?? Don’t lose track, fuck.” He mutters to himself. He steps back, before dropping down close to the camera again, another drunken smile appearing for a moment, self-amused for losing his train of thought. Or maybe the courage the alcohol gave him, you’re not sure. He suddenly slaps both of his palms over his face and drags them down his face, contorting his features in the process and making a soft laugh involuntarily escape you as he whimpers once quietly. A loud clap from him makes you jump and then he points at you, making you resomber. 

“Do you remember… Do you remember,” He snaps before continuing, “when we saw that uh, what was it, uh?” Two snaps this time, with both hands. “You remember?” He gives up and backtracks, “They used to be in these big ass expensive fuckin’ buildings, you remember? What were they called, um?” His desperation is palpable, even through the screen as he turns to walk directly away from the camera before crossing diagonally to your right. There’s a commotion of sound, as if he’s tossing everything around in search of something specific. As it grows louder for a moment, you almost grow worried but then he’s filling your view again with a familiar playbill next to him and a wide grin on his face. “Plays!” He exclaims, proudly. The site of the cover of the playbill with its tattered edges and faded coloring tugs at your heartstrings. He’d kept it all this time? “This??” He accentuates the question by tapping the title on the cover. You’re reading it aloud along with him, though you know the name of it from memory. “The Last of the Sad, Mad Genuises.”

“Remember plays?” He asks, and his tone is soft in its innocence. “Songs? Poetry?” A brief hopeful smile flits across his features but it's gone in an instant. “Yeah, me neither.” His tone drops instantly from playful to somber and he averts his eyes, ruefully. He talks about these things as if they no longer exist, as if they were from a past life. But you know instantly what he means. Since him, since Marcus, there’s stuff you can’t enjoy anymore. You can’t watch any black and white movie because it’ll just remind you of the countless Cinema Nights you two spent on his couch, cuddled up close as he whispered movie trivia to you ad nauseum. Oogum Boogum by Brenton Wood still makes you cry because all you can picture is when Marcus sang it terribly offkey to you on your third date at a Karaoke bar. 

“Remember we saw this play? And you laughed so hard you peed a little?” You should have been embarrassed, mortifyingly so, but you just couldn’t be. You were so comfortable with him, and he never made fun of you for it. “And, what was that fucking line in the play?? How the fuck did it go??? If,” He closes his eyes, his dark brows furrowing in concentration, “If, If, If-?” He opens his eyes and points again, “If you’ve got one friend when you die, you got something most people never have.” You nod again, impressed he was able to recall it. 

“And I tried to quote that shit back at you, and you laughed at me cuz I fucked it up.” He lets out a reluctant chuckle. “And I kissed you,” He pauses and looks up at you again. Your heart squeezes in response to the look in his eyes, even when he tears his gaze away again. He shudders. “And you let me?” He whimpers again and you release a shuddering sigh in response. “And it-” He swallows, his voice thick as his eyes have a faraway look in them as he looks at anything but the camera. 

“It rained like we were in a fucking movie, and life was never better than that.” You hate to admit it, but you feel the same way too. That moment had been torn right out of the pages of your romance novel and you thanked Cupid himself for allowing you to experience it. Especially with Marcus. “Shit, shit!” As he begins to break down, releasing these gasping, shuddering breaths that move his shoulders, your heart lodges itself in your throat as tears brim your own eyes, even as you recall such a sweet memory. 

The way he had held you close against the sudden chill of the rain, his body warm and sweet and safe. The loud pattering of the raindrops as they hit your bodies and the pavement underneath your feet. The softness of his lips on yours, and the same doeness of his eyes. It had been nothing short of magical. “Why did you have to love me like that?” He asks softly. Your hand instinctively touches your phone screen as if it’s his face, caressing the edge of the device gently. He seemingly regains his composure, but then he covers his mouth and releases another gasp, 

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME BACK?!” The eruption from him makes you jump so much you almost drop your phone, not realizing you had leaned in so much the further you watched the video. You sit up straight and readjust, “Y’know? Why’d you do that? You… You had to have known that-that it, you’d send me into a kind of madness. Y’know? So-Sometimes, sometimes I think maybe-” He cuts off before trying again. “Sometimes maybe uh, I made you up… uh… sometimes.” Your heart breaks all over again at his confession and this time a couple of tears fall as you continue to watch, too enraptured by his madness to look away. 

“So, I go,” his gaze travels off to glance around the room he’s in for a moment. “into the quietest parts of this house and..,” He looks directly at you again. “I whisper your name.” A shiver runs down your spine at that. “I wish I could scream it.” Your body feels hot all over even as more tears begin to fall at that. “I should,” he continues. “Should I scream it?” You’re nodding again and so is he, a sudden determination in his voice. “I will, I should!”

He draws in a deep gasp. You can see that he’s about to do it, ramping himself up. Your own body tenses in anticipation, the hand holding your phone tightening its grip while the other tightens up into a fist as it rests against your thigh. You swear you can practically see his lips begin to form the letters of your name. But then he releases the energy in a slight hiss from between his teeth, followed by a defeated sigh and a slump of his shoulders. 

“Yeah I… I can’t send this.” He mumbles. He lets out a humorless laugh. He grabs the playbill again and straightens up and away from the camera finally releasing you from his stare. He places the bill with both palms against his chest, his heart, clutching it tenderly before running a hand through his hair. He moves close again, dropping his hands and the bill. “You’re just making a damn fool of yourself, Pike. Fuck it.” The black screen greets you next and you’re up and out of bed in the next moment. Without a second thought, you’ve put on your shoes, grabbed your keys, and headed out. He’s awake, you think. He’ll open the door. You’re sure of it.

*******

So this was fun. My first time writing for Marcus Pike and I was too tempted to do this angsty piece. I rewatch this monologue a lot but to actually study and pause it continuously to try and find the best way to describe Pedro’s incredible emotional performance in this was so challenging, but I adored every second of it. I’m tempted to write a part 2 to bring some closure to the story but I also do like it as a standalone. Idk, I guess you all will tell me what you think. Either way, thanks a million for reading, hope you enjoyed, and see you in the next one!

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[oscarwildin]

dead poets society changed my life because john keating is so right. i read and write poetry because i’m a member of the human race. i do need to seize the day. words and ideas do change the world. i am filled with passion.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Knight in Shining Armor

Yandere Monster Knight x Princess Reader

TW: delusional Yandere, Yandere behavior, kidnapping (mentioned), etc.

Ajax had always been princess (your name)’s confidant and source of solace… so why did he have her cornered on the bed of the inn? His large, muscular frame towered over her as his body trembled.

“I can’t do it… I can’t let you marry some other man.” Ajax whispered, his metal mask hiding his expression. There was no doubt in (your name)’s mind that he was shaken up about something. She had no clue why he’d be so upset about her getting married…

“Ajax, it was bound to happen eventually. It’s my duty as the kingdom’s princess-“ (your name) gasped when he closed the distance between them. Ajax’s large palms pulled her into a tight hug. The force of the hug caused them both to land on the small bed with a soft plop.

“Ajax-“ Ajax placed a finger on (your name)’s lips to pause her words.

“I won’t allow it… I won’t allow some other man to sully you.” Ajax’s deep voice made her body anxiously shake. “Not when I’ve wanted you for so many years…”

“Ajax-“ (your name)’s eyes widened when he finally removed the mask that’s concealed his face for over a decade. Ajax was half orc? (Your name) hadn’t a clue and she had been with him for so many years…

“I’m half monster, I thought you knew.” Ajax chuckled as his crimson eyes flitted over (Your name)’s frozen form. She was now a helpless lamb trapped in the maw of the wolf. “It’s why the other knights have been so cruel to me… why the maids avoid me like the plague and your father wanted to send me to war.”

(Your name)’s eyes can only take on his scarred and burned face in shock. Why was half the skin on his mouth missing and his tusks filed down? Who had hurt him so much that he didn’t confide in her, his best friend? What atrocities had he faced while she remained none the wiser?

(Your name) were shocked when he bent down to show you his teeth. His tusks were clumsily filed down to almost look like teeth but they were still rather sharp. “I did the tusk work, but they grow back rather quickly. The skin on my face is still healing from when there was an assassination attempt on you from your future husband’s concubines. Bastard was going to pour acid on your face.”

(Your name) reached up to trace the scars on his face while Ajax gave her a soft smile. “Ajax…”

“You’re the only one who’s never treated me like a monster… you’re so wonderful and kind.” Ajax moved his large, gloved hands to hold her hands. “That old king doesn’t deserve you. No one does!”

(Your name) blushed when Ajax brought her hands up to his lips to press tender kisses over each of her knuckles. Despite how badly Ajax wished to ravish her, he must keep his composure.

“You took this amount of damage for me?” (Your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it made Ajax melt into a puddle.

“Of course I did. I will do anything for you.” Ajax moved himself to crouch on the corner of the bed, his head in a slight bow. Yet (your name) could feel the burning obsessed behind his crimson gaze. “I am in love with you. Madly, deeply, entirely devoted to you and only you.”

Ajax grasped (your name)’s bare foot and brought it up to his mouth to press tender kisses across the top of it. “I will love you until my skin rots off my body and I am nothing but bones. Yet even death could not separate me from you for I will be in every corner of your life like a permanent shadow of protection. I will protect you with my entire being and soul. I will haunt and dismember your enemies if you so much as give them a glance of distaste.”

(Your name) felt her blood run cold when Jax gave her a bright grin that reopened a few of the stitches across his cheeks. The blood dripped down his face and onto her foot, but he merely lapped it up with his longer tongue. “Now tell me… is what I feel not love? I may not be a handsome prince but I swear I’m your knight in shining armor.”

[shizuturnspages]

UR NEWEST POST ABOUT BREAKING UP WITH DILUC??AHBAJWJSJSNSB YESS. Its pure perfection. I have nothing else to say. What happens after his darling wakes up tho?

I'm so happy you liked it <3

After his darling wakes up, this is what might happen:

The world comes back in hazy fragments: a dull ache throbbing in the back of your head, the sensation of rough, unyielding fabric against your wrists, the muffled sound of crackling embers nearby. You blink, slowly coming to, the dim light casting a warm glow that feels strangely… comforting. But then, as the fog clears, a new feeling settles in—a sharp jolt of realization, of panic. Your wrists are bound.

Eyes flying open, you see the familiar walls of what must be a room within Dawn Winery, the deep red decor and soft flicker of candlelight unmistakably Diluc’s style. It’s not your room, though; this is somewhere tucked away, a space meant to stay hidden, secluded from prying eyes. You strain against the ropes, the roughness biting into your skin as you test your limits, only to find them hopelessly secure.

A soft rustling pulls your attention. Across the room, a shadow stirs, and out of the darkness, Diluc steps forward, a subtle, intense smile lingering on his lips. There’s a warmth in his eyes, but it’s a smouldering warmth—possessive, unyielding, and somehow all the more terrifying for it.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low and gentle. He crosses the room, his steady gaze never leaving yours. In his hand, he holds a small cloth—a fresh one this time, free from the faint scent that lingered the last time he put you under. “I was starting to think you’d sleep forever.”

You shift, straining against your restraints, but his eyes flick to your wrists, a frown creasing his brow. “Careful,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Those ropes weren’t meant to hurt you, but if you struggle like that, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

The words should sound like a warning, but in his low, velvety tone, they’re almost soothing. He reaches out, fingertips brushing over your wrist as if to reassure you, his touch lingering just a bit too long.

“Diluc,” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse and tension. “What… what are you doing? This isn’t—”

He cuts you off with a gentle finger pressed against your lips, his gaze darkening slightly as he tilts his head. “Shh… I’m only doing what’s necessary. You kept talking about leaving, and I… I can’t allow that. I won’t lose you.” His voice dips, the determination behind it like a steel blade wrapped in silk. “You belong here, with me. Don’t you understand that?”

He moves closer, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve been restless,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing the side of your face. “But I can give you everything you need, right here. There’s no need for you to go anywhere else.”

A rush of fear runs through you, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air as he leans closer, his face mere inches from yours. The warmth radiating off him, the rough timbre of his voice—it sends a confusing, almost dizzying sensation down your spine. And somehow, despite everything, there’s a part of you that finds it difficult to look away.

“What are you… going to do with me?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, though it comes out barely a whisper. His gaze flickers over your face, studying you, as if weighing every word, every breath.

Diluc’s lips curl into a soft smile, but there’s nothing comforting in it. “I’m going to take care of you,” he replies, his voice so sure, so unwavering. “You won’t have to worry about anything. I’ll keep you safe, away from anyone else who might try to take you from me.”

He leans in, the warmth of his breath brushing over your cheek as he speaks. “I’d go to any length for you. Don’t you see that?” His voice is barely a whisper, yet it sends a shiver down your spine, his words laced with an intensity that’s as thrilling as it is frightening.

As he pulls back slightly, his hand slides to your shoulder, lingering there as his thumb brushes gentle circles over your skin. The gesture is almost tender, yet his grip is unyielding, a silent reminder that he’s in control.

“You’ve always been so stubborn,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I think, deep down, you know this is where you belong. Here, with me.” His gaze drops to your lips, lingering there for a beat too long before he looks back into your eyes, his expression unreadable.

In that moment, you realize there’s no reasoning with him, no convincing him otherwise. He’s made up his mind, his devotion twisted into something unrecognizable, something possessive and consuming. And as much as you want to deny it, there’s a part of you that’s captivated by his intensity, by the way he looks at you as if you’re the only thing in his world.

With a soft sigh, he reaches out, tracing his fingers along your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. “You’ve driven me to this, you know,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, as if he’s confessing a dark, shameful secret. “You kept pushing me away, kept trying to leave. And I… I can’t let that happen.”

His hand drifts to your chin, tilting your face up so you’re forced to meet his gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce, unwavering determination. “I’ve given you everything,” he says softly, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “And yet… it was never enough, was it?”

“Diluc, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You don’t have to do this. I won’t—”

But he shakes his head, cutting you off with a sad, almost wistful smile. “I know you’re afraid,” he says, his fingers brushing over your skin in a tender, almost reverent touch. “But in time, you’ll see that this is for the best. You’ll come to understand… even if I have to keep you here forever.”

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, lingering there as his eyes darken, a hunger flickering in their depths that sends a shiver through you. He leans in, his face so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his lips barely a whisper away from yours. “One day,” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “You’ll thank me for this. You’ll see that no one else could ever care for you the way I do.”

With that, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. It’s a gesture that would have once been comforting, reassuring—but now, it only serves as a chilling reminder of the depth of his obsession, of the lengths he’s willing to go to keep you by his side.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice a soft, possessive murmur. “And no one else will ever have you.”

And as he pulls back, his hand resting possessively on your shoulder, you realize with a sinking feeling that he means every word. In his twisted, unwavering devotion, he’s claimed you as his own, bound you to him in a way that goes beyond reason or sanity. And as you look into his eyes, you know that there’s no escape from the hold he has over you—a hold that’s as fierce and unbreakable as the man himself.

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Husband x Pregnant Reader ~

Requests are open!

• You and your husband has been married for 3 years and you have a happy marriage that your life couldn't get any better

• Until one day you realise your period has been late a few weeks. You take a pregnancy test and found out you guys are gonna become parents.

• You told yan about your pregnancy and now you are the happiest couple in world. You always thought yan husband is very protective? Well get ready darling because this man is gonna get double protective and stress out about every single thing till the baby is born.

• Yan Husband who hires the most famous, experienced and expensive gynecologist in city.

• Buys every pregnancy book available and remembers every single thing mentioned in it

• Food cravings? My love he would go buy anything even at middle of night. But you wanted from that specific shop? Well then he is going to make owner open the shop and make food for you at the middle of night no in between.

• Makes the most nutritious breakfast, lunch, dinner by himself. Makes you eat fruits, homemade smoothies that even professional fitness coaches plan is colourless compared to his.

• Reads so many pregnancy articles, cases and watches video. The only thing remaining now is getting a medical degree which he thinks upon to get just in case which you have to put a stop on.

• Constantly checking your blood pressure, sugar levels, pulse that he has become personal doctor of yours.

• Going with you on walks, doing yoga together.

• Buys all the baby stuff with the most safety guarantee even if the price is ridiculous. When it comes to you and baby nothing is expensive.

• Takes leave from work or work from home throughout your pregnancy. Won't let you go out of his sight.

• Won't even let you lift a finger and you are thinking about continuing job? THAT'S JUST STRAIGHT UP NO.

• Baby proofs that whole house. Always looking up at nutritious recipes for pregnant ladies on internet.

• Buys everything that he finds adorable and spending unnecessarily very high that you have to sit him down and explain the budget but still doesn't listen.

• Wants Baby to look like you because you are the most beautiful person in this world for him.

• Attends every doctor's appointment with you like a ritual and bores doctor to death with his constant questions about your pregnancy. Don't be surprised if you find him talking to doctor and asking a question at two in night.

• Talks and kisses to your baby bump everyday and mostly talk about you to baby telling how much lucky he is to have you and how much he loves you both.

• Has multiple panick attacks through out your pregnancy just thinking about you and baby's safety.

• When your water broke and the contraction begins he is just a centimetre away from having a heart attack.

• When you are under going labour threatens doctor that if anything happens to you or the baby the doctor will become a dead body.

Requests are open!

Read more yandere fics:

[lobotomisa]

Soul Ties [ y. okkotsu x gn. reader ]

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ PAIRING: [Yandere] Yuta Okkotsu / Gender Neutral Reader

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS: Yuta wasn't the same after returning from Africa. What was going to be a little talk about boundaries changed into a lover's quarrel turned fatal.

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ NOTES: SFW?

The apartment felt different with Yuta back in it. It had been months since he'd returned from Africa, months since he'd been sent away on a mission that was supposed to last only a few weeks. You had missed him fiercely, ached for his presence in a way that surprised even you. And yet, the moment he walked through the door, something had felt… wrong.

At first, it was in the little things: the way he held you too tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a vice; the way his gaze lingered on you with a burning intensity, as if he were memorizing every detail, afraid that if he blinked, you would disappear. The way he asked endless questions—where had you gone, who had you seen, what had you done without him? It felt less like concern and more like interrogation.

"Yuta, it's okay," you had laughed, trying to ease the tension. "I'm not going anywhere."

But he hadn't laughed. His expression had been serious, almost haunted. "I can't lose you," he'd whispered. "Not again."

Now, standing in the kitchen, you felt the weight of his stare on your back as you tried to prepare dinner. Your hands trembled slightly as you chopped the vegetables, the knife slipping more than once. You could feel his eyes on you, a heavy, unblinking presence that made your skin prickle.

"Yuta," you said softly, turning to face him. "We need to talk."

He looked up from the table, where he'd been sitting with his hands folded, his dark hair falling over his eyes. "About what?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, a note of tension that hadn't been there before.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "About us. About how things have been since you came back."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something—fear, maybe, or anger. "What's wrong with us?" he asked, his tone defensive. "I thought everything was fine."

"That's just it," you said, trying to keep your voice calm, even. "It’s not fine, Yuta. You've been… different. Intense. I feel like you’re watching me all the time, like you’re waiting for something to happen."

His expression hardened, and he stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. "I’m just worried about you," he insisted, his hands reaching out to grasp yours. His touch was warm, but his grip was too tight. "I don’t want anything to happen to you."

You pulled your hands away, frustration boiling over. "Worried? Yuta, you're acting like I'm in constant danger! You don’t let me out of your sight, you barely let me breathe!"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely hurt. "I’m trying to protect you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don’t know what it was like out there… what I saw… what I felt. I thought about you every day, every minute. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

"And I missed you too," you replied, your voice shaking. "But this… this isn't the way. You can't just come back and act like I’m something you need to lock away, like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be hidden."

Yuta's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "I’m doing this because I love you."

You felt a surge of anger, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, Yuta. This isn’t love—this is control. This is obsession."

His face twisted in pain, and his cursed energy flared around him, an involuntary reaction to his emotions. "You think I’m obsessed?" he demanded, his voice rising. "I’m not obsessed—I’m terrified! I’ve lost too much already. I can’t lose you, too."

The intensity in his voice, the raw desperation—it sent a chill down your spine. "Yuta," you began, trying to reach out to him, to calm him down. "I’m not going anywhere, but you can’t keep treating me like—"

"Like what?" he snapped, his voice sharp, cutting. "Like you’re mine? Because you are mine! You promised me, remember? You promised we’d be together."

You flinched at his words, the possessive edge to them. "I didn’t promise to be your prisoner," you shot back. "I didn’t agree to be locked away and suffocated because you’re afraid!"

His face twisted with rage, his cursed energy sparking again. The air crackled around you, heavy with tension. "Why can’t you just understand?" he shouted, stepping closer, his voice cracking with emotion. "Why can’t you see I’m doing this for you?"

"For me?" you repeated, incredulous. "Yuta, you’re doing this for yourself! Because you’re scared and you think you can control everything around you, including me!"

He took another step forward, his eyes blazing. "I’m not trying to control you," he insisted, but the way his hands shook, the way his cursed energy surged—it told a different story.

"Yes, you are!" you screamed, your own cursed energy flaring in response. "And I won’t let you!"

For a moment, everything was still. Then, Yuta moved. Fast. Too fast. His cursed energy lashed out like a whip, and you barely had time to raise your own defenses, blocking his attack with a shimmering barrier.

"Yuta, stop!" you cried, but he was lost in his own fear, his own desperation. "Please, just stop!"

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His movements were frantic, uncoordinated, his attacks wild and filled with raw emotion. You countered, your own cursed energy pushing back against his, a desperate attempt to defend yourself, to get through to him.

"Why are you doing this?" you yelled, your heart pounding in your chest. "Why are you fighting me?"

"Because I love you!" he screamed back, his voice breaking with a mix of anguish and fury. "Because I can’t lose you! I won’t!"

His words cut through you, a knife to your heart. "Yuta," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "You’re already losing me… you’re pushing me away."

For a moment, he faltered. You saw the realization flicker across his face, the fear, the regret. But then his eyes hardened again, his desperation returning. "No," he muttered, almost to himself. "No, I can’t… I can’t let you go."

Before you could respond, he surged forward, his cursed energy flaring to life once more. You reacted instinctively, readying your CT to meet his attack, but the force of his attack was too strong, too uncontrolled. There was a blinding flash of light, a surge of power, and then… pain.

You gasped, the breath knocked out of you as you felt something sharp, something burning. You looked down, your vision blurring, and saw blood—your blood, pooling around you, a blade sticking out. You heard Yuta's scream, a sound of pure horror, but it felt distant, far away.

"No, no, no," Yuta was sobbing, his hands hovering over you, trembling. "I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…"

Your vision darkened, your body growing cold. "Yuta…" you managed to whisper, your voice weak, fading. "Why…?"

He was crying, tears streaming down his face, his expression twisted in anguish. "I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to… I was trying to… I was trying to keep you safe…"

But his words barely registered. You felt yourself slipping away, the world around you growing dim, distant. The last thing you saw was his face, twisted in pain, his eyes filled with a fear you’d never seen before. And then… darkness.

You weren't sure how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity, but also no time at all.

You awoke with a gasp, your body jolting back to consciousness with a force that left you breathless. The air around you felt thick, heavy, charged with a dark, oppressive energy. You felt cold, your skin prickling with an unnatural chill.

You blinked, your vision clearing, and saw Yuta kneeling beside you, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of relief and madness. "You’re back," he whispered, his voice filled with a twisted kind of joy. "You’re back."

You tried to move, but your body felt… wrong. Heavy, sluggish. You looked down and saw your hands, your skin pale, almost translucent, dark veins visible beneath the surface. And then you realized—you weren’t alive. Not truly. You had been brought back as a curse.

"No," you breathed, horror dawning on you. "What… what did you do?"

Yuta’s smile widened, his eyes bright with a feverish kind of excitement. "I brought you back," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I couldn’t live without you… so I brought you back. Now we can be together… forever."

You felt a wave of despair crash over you, your new cursed form reacting to the emotions swirling within you. You tried to speak, to scream, but the words caught in your throat. "No," you whispered, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. "No, Yuta… this isn’t right. I’m not supposed to be here."

Yuta’s hands tightened around yours, his grip almost painful. "But you are here," he insisted, his voice fervent, almost pleading. "I made sure of it. I used every ounce of my cursed energy, every bit of myself, to bring you back. I need you. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together."

Your chest ached, a hollow, empty feeling that spread through you like a poison. "You brought me back as a curse," you murmured, trying to pull away from him, but your body wouldn’t respond the way you wanted. "I’m not even human anymore… Yuta, what have you done?"

He shook his head, his expression frantic. "No, you’re still you! You’re still the person I love. This doesn’t change anything. It just means… it just means we have more time. We have forever now."

"Forever?" you echoed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Yuta, this isn't a life. This is… this is a nightmare. You’ve trapped me in a body that isn’t even mine. I feel… I feel so cold. So… so lost."

He winced at your words, as if they were a physical blow. "I’m sorry," he whispered, tears spilling from his eyes. "I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without you in it. I thought… I thought if I brought you back, we could be happy again."

"Happy?" you repeated, incredulous. "How can I be happy like this? I’m stuck here, bound by your curse. I never wanted this, Yuta. I never wanted to come back like this."

"But you’re here," he said desperately, cupping your face with trembling hands. "You’re here, and that’s all that matters. I’ll make it better, I promise. I’ll do anything, just… please, don’t leave me."

You could see it in his eyes—the fear, the guilt, the deep, consuming love that had driven him to this madness. He wasn’t thinking clearly; he hadn’t been since he returned. Whatever he’d seen, whatever had happened in Africa, had broken something inside him. And now… now you were the one paying the price.

"You brought me back," you whispered, your voice heavy with sorrow. "But at what cost, Yuta? What about my soul? What about my peace?"

Yuta’s face twisted with pain, and he shook his head again, more frantically this time. "No… no, don’t say that. You belong with me. Your soul… it belongs with me. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. I can’t let you go."

"But you already have," you said softly, feeling the weight of the truth settle in your chest. "You killed me, Yuta. And now you’re trying to bring me back, not for me, but for yourself."

He flinched as if you had struck him, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something dark and broken in his eyes. "I didn’t mean to kill you," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "I didn’t mean to… I just… I couldn’t control it. I was so afraid."

You reached out, your hand touching his cheek. It was a strange sensation—your fingers felt distant, almost numb, as if they belonged to someone else. "I know," you said gently. "I know you were afraid. But you have to understand… this isn’t love. This is fear. This is possession."

"No," he breathed, shaking his head, his hands gripping yours tighter. "No, it’s not like that. I love you… I love you so much."

Tears filled your eyes, blurring your vision. "I know you do," you whispered. "But love isn’t supposed to feel like this. Love isn’t supposed to hurt."

Yuta’s face crumpled, and he pulled you into his arms, his body shaking with silent sobs. "I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just… I just wanted you back."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his embrace, feeling the weight of his grief pressing down on you like a heavy shroud. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but you knew that would be a lie. Nothing would ever be okay again.

As he held you, his cursed energy pulsed around you, a living thing that seemed to feed off his emotions. You felt it tightening around you like a chain, binding you to him, forcing you to stay. You tried to pull away, but the energy held you fast, refusing to let you go.

"Yuta, let me go," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his grip tightening. "I can’t," he murmured. "I won’t."

You felt a wave of panic rising in your chest, your new cursed form reacting to the emotions swirling inside you. "Yuta, please," you begged, your voice breaking. "You have to let me go."

But he only held you tighter, his cursed energy wrapping around you like a cocoon, suffocating, inescapable. "No," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet, desperate resolve. "You’re mine… you’ll always be mine."

And as you felt the curse tighten its grip around you, pulling you deeper into the darkness, you realized with a sinking heart that he meant it. Yuta’s love for you had twisted into something monstrous, something that would bind you to him forever.

You were trapped—his, now and always, bound to him by a love that had become a curse.

You closed your eyes, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks, and whispered into the darkness, "What have you done to me, Yuta?"

But there was no answer. Only the silence of the room, the weight of his arms around you, and the endless, suffocating darkness that stretched out before you.

©️ LOBOTOMISA 2024! DO NOT COPY OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK!