She/her - ela/dela - 21+ - đ§đ· Brazilian Babe đ€ Don't mind me, just reading my problems away, mainly a reblog blog, but sometimes I will post random shitposts so bear with me
Yanderes almost always are the ones courting their darlingâŠ
Do you ever wonder what would make them try to get their darling to pursue them instead? Think about it like this: itâs a lot easier to hide their little fixation if darling is the one doing the chasing. Is it their fault when you chose to be theirs?
Maybe it starts with someone whoâs a bit of a hot and cold type, just because of the reasons they would want to be pursued being related to that type.
First, openly chasing after someone opens yourself up to the chance of them being rejected, abandoned by someone they love. Despite their persistence, itâs not going to magically cure that it hurts. So much. to feel like somethingâs wrong with the way they love. Just pretend itâs not there.
And then practically, the yandere may not be in a position to whisk their darling away without worry, since not everyone gets to be an emperor.
Or it could be more simple, maybe they just want to be the prize in the relationship!
But they still have to attract your attention first, before luring you into a trap you canât escape, so.
They're likely to focus on their looks more than they did before, they may be the type to make sure they stand out so you can see them in a crowd, or wear revealing clothing so your eyes drift to their figure (and then tease or reprimand you, like they arenât messing with you on purpose), and to have a sweet scent so it envelopes you completely when youâre close and sticks to you when they leave. And since they know about âpretty privilegeâ, they hope itâll all take a toll, that youâll subconsciously be more likely to approach them or view them more positively.
And to go back to that hot and cold behavior, it holds that air of mystery thatâs appealing at times, right? Luring anyone that wants to see if thereâs something under it, or anyone that's easygoing and eager enough to just be happy to be near them. That push and pull, itâs not exactly on purpose, especially in the early stages. Itâs something they naturally do. Thereâs variation in all people, but denying themselves makes them more volatile than most.
It can be a bit thrilling if youâre a risk taker. Itâs clear they like you even when they hide it, but you know at any point this chase could implode. And the same goes for them, since you can just as easily either lash out or walk away if youâre tired of them acting this way.
You canât predict when these hits of warmth will come in, which makes it even more interesting to try to make sense of their patterns. Despite them knowing a lot more about you, where you only see the surfaces they decide to show.
Ever heard of variable ratio reinforcement? It kind of pops in their head one day. That you havenât figured what goes on in their head when they do things at all, and yet youâre constantly digging for the bits and pieces they throw out, wanting more from them. Essentially, their behavior is randomized. And with a darling thatâs naturally competitive itâs a good match.
Those predictable rewards and punishments some yanderes would use to train you like a pet, they make it unpredictable to keep you addicted like a person, like their ideal lover.
Theyâve been leading you on. Dangling the carrot on the stick and forcing you to be vulnerable. Which. is a bit weird to think about. Because the reason they may have been this way was that they didnât. want to open themselves up to. To risk, by pursuing youâŠ
Donât think you can get out of this, darling. Youâve done the exact same thing, havenât you? Your moods vary day to day, and so do theirs. The minutes you take to text them back and come to their aid vary, and so do their rewards. The affection you give others and thoughts in your little head arenât perfectly predictable, just like theirs.
You are just like them. You did this to them. Theyâre addicted because of you. Youâre the one keeping them running for the carrot. Your. Fault.
Now they canât wait to take your life away and have full control so they can play with you, since you are the one that made them so addicted. For the crime of stealing their heart, theyâll repay what youâve done to them in full, with interest.
Once you have them with all their bright and pretty colors, you can bite into it to see what you really caught.
Warnings; monster au, yandere au, adult situations, adult scenarios, mating season, by selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are of age to view content.
More thorough warnings under the cut
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Warnings; Yandere, yandere behavior, mating season, mention of past abuse (not towards reader), Unicorn Centaur x Human Reader, NSFW, afab reader, Oral (reader receiving), attempted oral/hand-job (male receiving), breeding kink, size kink, use of medications (muscle relaxers), inflation kink, purity kink, cuddling during intimate acts, nickname (King of Hearts- Riddle to Reader, Pretty Boy/Queen of Hearts- Reader to Riddle), praise kink, sex toys, slight orgasm denial,
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Spring had arrived in the Queendom of Roses.
Bees were buzzing peacefully, birds singing to one another, and what seemed like every species searching for a mate. From the prideful Harpies trying to dance for their chosen beloved, to the vibrant Kelpies flipping in the water, Spring was in full swing and everyone was eager to let you know about it. You had been propositioned no less than ten times just walking around the Queendom.
The smell of Roses hung heavily in the air and almost bled into the very fabrics you wore as you awaited Riddle. He had insisted that he needed to 'prepare' and had run off, leaving you in the tucked away section of the Rose garden to the Palace. Thankfully, due to your ties with the royals of the Queendom, you were able to stay safely hidden away while you awaited Riddle's return.
It was when you were examining a lovely large rose that you heard the hoof-falls of the Unicorn returning to your side. Riddle was loosely dressed in a near see-through white top, ruffles around the neck and wrist. Around him was a long chain of roses that had been meticulously woven into a sash and a flower crown. The roses themselves were a beautiful golden yellow that faded into red at the tips of the petals. Riddle stood quietly for a moment, shuffling his hooves and idly fidgeting with the matching flower crown in his hands.
"My glorious King of Hearts, I... Do you know why spring is important to Unicorns?"
"I would guess the spring flowers?"
"You are partially correct. Flowers are as important to Unicorns as Spring is, they so often go hand in hand. The primary reason Unicorns value spring so much is because it is the season we choose our life partners. That isn't to say all pairs last the test of time. Some Unicorns just aren't meant for each other, like my parents. But... Well, it is tradition to weave our chosen flower in our manes and gift our chosen mates with flowers of their own."
He moved forward carefully, almost acting like you were going to chase him away or intentionally make him startle. When he was directly in front of you, he curled one of his front legs, his equine half entering a deep bow before you. In his offered hands sat the flower crown that he had been fiddling with. You knew it was Riddle's mating season, having been made aware right before it began. What you also knew was that Riddle was trying very hard to ask you to be his mate without directly asking you.
Riddle was a deeply wounded and nervous creature. His temper was a hair trigger that easily got him caught up in his emotions, making it difficult for him to connect with others. His history with his mother and her abuse of him only further stunted him in terms of emotional growth. Even now, you could see the way he was shaking and how his breath hitched as he bowed to you.
Riddle- for all his pride and anger- was terrified you would reject him the way so many others had.
Without letting the decision weigh heavily for too long, you gently lifted the crown from his hands and settled it atop your own head. This simple act had Riddle staring at you in surprise before letting out an almost squealing whinny of joy. His hands immediately finding your body as he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you to spin you in his excitement. You knew he was over the moon in joy at the prospect of you accepting his mating offer.
"My beautiful King... My glorious mate..! I promise, I will always cherish and adore you no matter what happens!"
The Unicorn made gentle nickering sounds as he rubbed his golden horn against the side of your head, careful to not poke you with it as he carried you. For as delicate as Riddle looked on any given day, he was strong enough to carry you in his arms or on his back. His soft whinnying and pleased noises filled your ears while he trotted back to the room that had been effectively reserved for the two of you in the Palace of Roses.
You figured Riddle would be keen to move onto the mating part of his mating season, especially after you accepted his proposal. There were still a few things to figure out before he could have you as he wanted, but he was far too elated to worry too much about the finer details. He had muscle relaxers on him, easily available for purchase around spring due to the fact that many of the Queendom's citizens were a Taur species of some kind. It was helpful for pairings of two Taur species and of mixed species relationships, so Riddle ensured to pick some up before presenting you with your flower crown.
As he gently lay you on the bed, he was quick to begin preparing everything. His hooves quickly trotting around the room as he gathered a sweet drink and prepared your medicine, knowing you would need some time before it fully kicked in. All while he moved and insisted upon doing everything for you, you were waiting expectantly for the Unicorn to finally just get on with it. There was certainly an impatience in you that made you keen to just grab him and get to work.
"Take these and then we can talk about how you want to proceed-"
You grabbed the medicine and downed it rather swiftly, not wanting to waste any time. For as surprised as Riddle was, he was almost shaking when you crooked one finger at him to coax him to your side. The look you were giving him only making his nerves writhe beneath that hungry gaze. Sure, Riddle knew the basics of fornication and had studied as much as he could before propositioning you, but the actual act? He was nervous.
"Come here, Pretty Boy."
Riddle flushed a deep pink at this, clearly growing interested based on the way he nervously crossed his legs and visibly got excited. Ever quick to obey you, he climbed up carefully on the bed and tried to settle next to you. Though you didn't really spend an extended period of time looking under him, you knew Riddle was fairly large and it would be a struggle to fit. There was a reason you were taking muscle relaxers and you could plainly see that reason laying out on the bed beneath Riddle.
"On your back."
He was quick to turn over, visibly flustered and excited as he tried to play it cool. The moment you got a full look at what he was packing, he let out a delicate squeal of embarrassment. His face burning that deep near crimson as he covered his eyes in an obviously timid way. For all his talk and his bluster, he was a very sensitive and delicate prude.
"W-wait-!"
Your hands gently trailed over that rather significantly large length now that you could see it easier. A harsh squeal escaping Riddle who almost seemed as if he didn't know what to do with his hands while you worked his thick cock. He switched between clawing at the sheets and pulling on his shirt, desperate the get control of himself but unable to think through the wonderful feeling of your touch. His soft whinnies and nickering let you know where your touch felt best on his aching body.
"Ngh-! Please...! Please, (Y/n)..!"
Riddle didn't even know what he was begging for, but he was desperate for whatever it was. He could hardly make his eyes focus on you as you used both hands to stroke over his pulsing cock. Every gentle touch from you had his head thrown back into the pillows, doing everything he could to keep his legs still so they wouldn't interrupt you. It didn't matter to him if you couldn't fit that monstrosity in your mouth, just your soft hands were enough to work him up.
"Tell me what you need, my pretty Queen of Hearts."
"Need... M-more..!"
It wasn't hard to guess how worked up Riddle was, or how close he was to cuming all over you. That thick cock pulsed in your hands as of it had a life of its own as you worked him over. The tip of it practically weeping a large amount of clear pre-cum onto your hands, helping you slide them up and down faster. Even as he squealed and arched into your touch, Riddle was blubbering and begging for whatever you were willing to give him.
You ensured to gently mouth along his length, knowing you couldn't take that bulbous tip completely into your mouth, but eager to please the blubbering Unicorn. He had clearly worked hard yo clean himself, completely tasteless and smelling faintly of the roses he had woven for the two of you. It was more than obvious that Riddle had tried to plan everything down to the last detail. Still, the Unicorn was unable to do or say much beyond his sweet little noises as you stroked your tongue over his needy length and listened to him squeal from the stimulation.
His hands uselessly pulled at his loose and almost frilly top in an effort to remove it. Even the delicately crafted work of weaving roses into his tail and mane had all but fallen out as he let out a keening wail of pleasure. The only warning you really got was Riddle's cry as that pole of a cock pumped out what had to have been buckets of cum.
What was that firehose going to do to your soft insides?
The thought of all that pressure pummeling your delicate walls had you pressing your thighs together to try and stop yourself from getting too excited. Even as it splashed against your chest and soaked your clothes, you didn't have to work too hard to disrobe yourself. Riddle was watching with one eye peaking out from under his arm and clearly the sight of you bare before him had gotten him excited again.
"S-so... So pretty... Please... I want- I want to-"
He didn't even have time to finish his sentence as you stood over him on the bed, crawling up his front to start mouthing at his horn. All Riddle could really do was choke on his words as your wonderfully warm lips wrapped around his blunt horn and sucked somewhat on it. Your efforts were certainly appreciated as Riddle had nearly started to drool, his face almost pressing into your breasts as he breathlessly whined for you.
All too soon, you pulled back and he did what he could to follow despite being on his back.
Despite how odd he looked curled up, Riddle did manage to grab your hips and pull you back to him. Your warm heat was positioned right above his mouth as he breathed out heavy pants. Before you could ask him what he was doing, Riddle pulled you down to smother him with your thighs. He made quick work of shoving his tongue as deeply as he could into your warm heat as he began to moan into you. For as hesitant as Riddle was when it came to showing public affection, he was clearly a quick learner and wanted nothing more than to bury his tongue in you.
Despite how you tried to somewhat lift your hips to give the Unicorn a chance to breathe, he just pulled you back down onto him. Clearly, Riddle didn't want- nor need- to breathe if it meant he would have to give up his spot between your plush thighs. Despite your continued struggles in his grasp, you felt your body grow weaker and weaker as the muscle relaxers kicked in.
Unconsciously, Riddle raised his front hooves to act as a backrest for you, letting you melt into his body and into his touch. All the while, he continued digging his tongue into your soft heat and slurping down your slick. Even with burning pleasure soaking into your soul, you felt nearly boneless and it wasn't solely from Riddle eating you out.
"Riddle..! Too... Too much..!"
You were almost slurring your words and a faint worry bubbled in your mind as you wondered if you got too high a dose of muscle relaxers. Even with this worry dancing through your mind, you couldn't work up enough energy or strength to genuinely be concerned about it. All you could really do was lay back and let Riddle have his fun.
"My King..! My glorious and precious Love..!"
"Can't move... Ngh... N-need..!"
This got Riddle's attention, his eyes flicking up to see how you lay back against his legs, your head somewhat lolling to one side. Clearly the medicine was working and you were left completely exposed to his affections. He could do anything he wanted to you and you wouldn't be able to stop him in the moment.
Riddle scolded himself harshly for such a thought while you were trusting him so deeply to be exposed to his desires. Besides, he had gone through quite a bit of effort to make sure everything was perfect for you. Why would he ever betray your trust when you have finally accepted him as your mate?
"Let me take care of you, my King. Let me bring you to the heights of our pleasure."
Riddle moved slowly to slide you from his chest to the bed, your body limply obeying his grasp as you whined and shivered. For as large as his equine body was, he easily maneuvered you and himself so he was above you. His front legs were holding your legs open, his upper body curling somewhat to look down at you lovingly. If affection and blind loyalty could be defined in images, Riddle's expression in that moment would be the primary reference.
"I need to properly prepare you first, my King."
He used his fingers first, prodding gently and doing what he could to get your body to open up for him. Where he could have just taken you with reckless abandon, he refused to cause you any level of discomfort. He had also gone through quite a bit of embarrassment trying to research how to properly copulate with you. His stuttered questions and nervous behavior was all suffered for your sake, wanting to find the best way to bring you pleasure and help you reach that peak.
Your insides happily accepted his fingers, sloppily allowing the appendages to slide in with little resistance. Just the feeling of your body so warmly hugging those fingers nearly made Riddle drool. He could feel the way his needy length lay against the bed and pulse so strongly between his legs as he tried to keep himself calm. He needed to bring you the same supreme and mind-blowing pleasure your very existence brought him.
It was only fair.
"My fingers are not enough to prepare you, Beloved. Trey helped me purchase some... Items... That will assist in this endeavor. Let me know if they are too much for you. I can withhold from mating if it is too much for you. Just tell me how I can worship you better."
Riddle grabbed a few items from his nightstand, showing you what they were so you had the chance to refuse if you wanted to. He would never forgive himself if he pushed you too hard and too fast. In his hand was what was obviously a dildo of some kind. No doubt, it was smaller than Riddle's girth and size, so he likely wanted to use it to prepare you and properly stretch your body out for him so he wouldn't hurt you. Just because you had muscle relaxers running through your system didn't mean that he wanted to hurt you.
"Let me know if you need me to slow down, my Love."
As he had seen in his research- through his fingers as he bashfully covered his face when he saw such intimate depictions- Riddle applied and ample amount of lube to the toy. The lube was cold, but brought with it a very pleasant tingle that had your body almost humming from the feeling. It was as if the lube itself was intended to turn you on more than you already had been, leaving you soaking for the Unicorn.
Your body easily accepted the toy, rubbing up against all of those nice spots that make your toes curl. Soft and almost hesitant whines escaped you as he slowly began to pump the toy into you, watching in fascination as your warm hole sucked it in greedily. The sight alone almost pushing Riddle to forgo the gentle stretching and just mount you himself.
Luckily, Riddle had some self control. Even with your taste still on his lips, the Unicorn could tide himself over until you were properly prepared for him. He adored the way your body accepted the toy, hearing that oddly provocative squish as your warm folds accepted it.
Soon, it would be accepting his cock.
As you moaned gently, Riddle continued to replace each toy with one bigger. Before too long, your warm body was easily accepting a girth just smaller than his own. It had become a practiced dance on Riddle's part, he would lube up each toy and proceed to plunge it into you until your body fully accepted it. This slow practice allowed him to up the size bit by bit and keep you locked in the throes of pleasure for him.
Clearly you were enjoying the ordeal as you whined and writhed. Your gentle moans slowly increasing with volume as he steadily worked up your orgasm. There was no reason for you to try and stop him, loving the way each toy seemed to stretch your warm insides and rub against every pleasure point. Riddle was even able to adjust the toy to specifically hit those spots inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your body was winding tight like a coil internally as that pleasurable pressure only flooded your mind with more bliss.
Riddle quickly pulled the toy out, not wanting to see you clench down and cum on something that wasn't him. It was his mating season, he needed you to squeeze him the way you so beautifully squeezed the toy. There was nothing more in his mind than the desire to bind himself to you and unite in mutual mating.
"No! No, why would-?"
"Shh... It's okay, my King. I wouldn't want you doing something so intimate and beautiful from a toy. You deserve to have something warm and real inside of you for a situation so intimate."
"Please..! I want...!"
"I know, Love. I know. Do you think you can take me?"
"Ngh..."
"Let me know if it is too much for you."
Riddle gently got off of the bed, pulling your hips down to the edge of the bed so you were in a better position. As you tried to lift your head and see what he was doing, you could see Riddle was putting on an almost odd reverse saddle that looked like it was meant to hold your legs. It made sense, you wouldn't be bale to hold up your own legs, let alone wrap them around the broad Unicorn's equine end. No doubt his thrusting would also dislodge your legs from wherever they were hitched on his hips.
Once he was certain it was secure, he began slowly inching his way up with his front legs on either side of you. Ever careful and cautious, Riddle ensured to lift your legs, hitching them into the reverse saddle himself to make sure you were secure. Honestly, it wasn't too much of a stretch for you to have your legs up as they were and the stirrups were comfortable overall.
Slowly, carefully, Riddle began to ease that long and thick cock into you at a snails pace. He had clearly covered it with lube while he was attaching that odd saddle before sliding it into you. The stretch was apparent, but not unpleasant. Riddle had done quite a bit of work to prepare you so you didn't feel an ounce of discomfort from the intrusion. He certainly couldn't fit his entire length in you, but a fair amount was able to slide into you.
The pressure alone of your insides squeezing him was Heavenly. He could barely focus on anything beyond the feeling of your deliciously warm hole sucking him in and squeezing him. Even the way your legs squeezed his side had the Unicorn almost in tears.
Riddle had been incredibly celibate, not even deigning to give himself pleasure by his own hand. He had always believed that he would only participate in such pleasures when he finally found his mate, and here you were. Your touch, your body, the scent coming from you, all of it drove him to near insanity.
Who knew such pleasures existed in this world?
"Are you okay?"
Riddle gasped out, trying to stop himself from moving without first knowing if you were alright. No matter how good it felt to be buried inside of you, he would never take advantage of his size to do something you were not okay with. Even if it felt like there was not enough blood in his body to fuel his brain and cock at the same time, he wouldn't hurt you if it could be avoided.
"Ngh! Move... Ugh..! Please, Riddle! I need it..!"
That was all he needed.
With careful movements and ever cautious to not crush you, Riddle began his slow pace. Pulling back just enough to feel himself slide out of you only to stuff himself back inside. The squeeze of your warm pussy had the Unicorn drooling near mindlessly. He really only had enough wherewithal to not pound too roughly into you as he savored the feel of your body sloppily sucking on him with each movement.
Neither of you took very long to reach your peaks, having been sufficiently edged the entire interaction up until that point. You two had barely begun and you both were already at your end, feeling that pressure inside of you threatening to break loose. No doubt he wouldn't be able to keep it at just one round, but you both would likely need some rest after this tryst.
"With me...! My King of Hearts, cum with me. Only me!"
Riddle squealed from the sheer strength of his orgasm, feeling how he began to fill you and pump your soft belly full. That first splash of cum was enough stimulation that it shoved you into your own release, drowning your senses in blissful pleasure. Even as you felt almost too full, it kept going. Every shot of cum splashed against your delicate walls with such intensity that you could feel how your body tried desperately to stretch and accommodate the ever increasing amount.
You were shaking by the time you came back to your senses, your stomach almost sore from how distended it was. It was both concerning and endearing in how you could feel Riddle's stomach against your own despite how he was trying to keep his weight off of you. There was so much he had poured inside of you that your very stomach had bloated to rub against his.
"My glorious Love... My precious King... I will never leave your side again, I swear it. I... I love you, (Y/n)."
"I love you too, Riddle. My handsome and pretty Queen of Hearts."
Yandere fanboy! who hasnât stepped outside in three weeks, except once â to pick up your newest photobook from the post office because delivery required a signature and he almost passed out from touching the pen the worker handed him.
Yandere fanboy! who lives in a permanently dark room illuminated only by the blue glow of your fancams on loop, dust piling on shelves, snack wrappers forming an archaeological record of his declining sanity.
Yandere fanboy! who knows every lyric change youâve ever done live, every tiny ad-lib, every breath you take between verses, because heâs memorised them the way normal people memorise multiplication tables.
Yandere fanboy! whose hands shake when he watches your interviews, not from excitement but from some feral, bone-deep obsession that has grown mold in the cracks of his brain.
Yandere fanboy! who follows your tour schedules like religious scripture, whispering them to himself like devotionals before bed.
Yandere fanboy! who screenshotted your first ever debut livestream 874 times because âyour smile changed slightly in each one.â
Yandere fanboy! who doesnât clean his room because heâs convinced the dust that settled on your merch counts as âblessing.â
Yandere fanboy! who only eats when you release new content because otherwise he âdoesnât deserve it.â
Yandere fanboy! who has never touched another personâs hand in years, but rehearses how heâll hold yours in front of his cracked mirror.
Yandere fanboy! who listens to your music through noise-cancelling headphones while fantasizing about your âprobable scentâ and then cries because he knows heâll never get close enough.
Yandere fanboy! who orders a ticket for every single meet-and-greet but only attends one every couple of months because the anxiety crushes him â but the hunger to see you crushes harder.
Yandere fanboy! who trembles when he finally leaves the house, hoodie pulled low, hands stuffed in his sleeves, heart beating painfully fast â not because heâs nervous around people, but because heâs about to see you.
Yandere fanboy! who makes everyone else in line deeply uncomfortable and doesnât even notice because heâs too busy rehearsing everything he dreams of saying to you.
The line snakes around the venue like a pastel-coloured serpent, fans clutching albums, posters, photobooks, gifts. He stands in the middle of it â small, shaky, hoodie pulled up like heâs hiding from the sun â but you could spot his energy from a mile away. A live wire. A fever.
You donât know him, but he knows you. Too well.
When he gets closer, security watches him with that look. The âplease donât make this difficultâ look. But he barely notices. Heâs too busy staring at you from behind the person ahead of him, breathing shallowly, eyes wide like heâs witnessing a god descend.
You smile when he steps forward. You always smile. Occupational requirement.
âHi! Thank you for coming today!â
His breath catches like he wasnât prepared for you to speak directly to him â like he didnât spend the last three nights rehearsing that exact moment.
âH-Hi,â he mumbles, voice small, breaking at the edges. âYouâyou look⊠different in person.â
The phrasing lands weird. Offbeat. A little too raw. You keep smiling anyway. âI hope thatâs a good thing?â
He nods too fast. âYeah. Yeah. Youâre⊠softer. Smaller. Warmer.â His eyes rake over you, not sexual outright, but intense in a way that prickles your skin. âYou look touchable.â
The air shifts.
You laugh politely, the trained kind. âThank youâŠ? Do you have anything youâd like me to sign?â
He doesnât hand you merch.
He hands you a photo of yourself â not official, not from any event. A candid. You walking into your agency building. Your smile falters, just for a millisecond.
âIâI printed it,â he says, fiddling with his sleeves. âYou looked so⊠tired that day. I didnât like it. I wanted to keep it safe.â
You sign it because protocol demands it, but your hand trembles almost invisibly.
When you go to slide it back across the table, he suddenly reaches out â not fast, not aggressive â but his fingers brush yours. Barely a graze. Enough to make your body tense.
His eyes widen like he felt electricity.
âYouâre warm,â he whispers.
You gently pull back. âPlease keep your hands on the table, okay?â
He obeys instantly, palms flat, fingers twitching. âSorry. I justâ I needed to know.â
âKnow what?â you ask, trying to keep the conversation moving, trying to get him to the exit.
âThat youâre real.â
The words land heavy.
You swallow. âI⊠am.â
He leans in slightly â not enough for security to intervene, but enough for you to smell that he hasnât stepped outside in a long, long time.
âI think about you a lot,â he murmurs. âLike⊠a lot. Every day. Every night. Youâre the reason I get out of bed. Sometimes I donât, but⊠youâre the only reason I ever try.â
You offer a gentle nod, hoping that encouragement will move him along.
âWell⊠Iâm glad my work means something to you.â
He shakes his head quickly. âNot your work. You. Just you.â
Thereâs a beat â one too long.
Then he says the thing that makes your stomach twist:
âCan I ask you something personal?â
You freeze internally. âIf itâs appropriate.â
ââŠWhat does your bed look like?â
You blink. âExcuse me?â
He doesnât flinch. âYour bed. Your sheets. Your room. I want to picture where you sleep. IâI think about it a lot and I need it to be accurate.â
Security subtly steps closer.
You try to steer the interaction back to normalcy. âThatâs not something I can answer, sorry.â
âOh.â His face crumples a bit, disappointment sinking deep. âOkay. Thatâs okay. Iâll keep guessing.â
You force a smile and try to guide him to the door. âThank you for coming today. its been very busyâ
He pauses.
Then lifts his hand again â hovering near yours but not touching.
âCan I⊠one more time? Just your hand..â
Your voice softens into professional firmness.
âsorry..ive got to continue signing for othersâ You excuse, talking to him like hes a child.
Something in his eyes cracks â not anger, but fragile, desperate yearning.
ââŠOkay,â he whispers. âIâll wait until next time. Iâll be better then. I promise.â
He steps back slowly, eyes never leaving you until a staff member gently guides him down the stairs.
Later, when the meet-and-greet ends, you still feel phantom fingertips that never touched you.
And he?
Heâll replay that three-minute interaction for five months straight â until he convinces himself he has to see you again.
masterlistââ ! â do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites. â¶
His love language is acts of service.
He read that somewhereâsome stupid quiz you made him takeäžand he latched onto it like a lifeline because it made him sound normal.
See?
See??
He's not a freak, he just likes doing things for you. It's a legitimate psychological concept. It's on the internet, go look it up. It's real.
He loves it when you want something from him. He lives for it. Thrives on it. Gets dizzy with it the second you so much as look at an empty glass.
You barely have to open your mouth. You just shift on the couch and sigh and he's already upright, already halfway to the kitchen, already aching.
"Water? Snacks? A blanket? Your heating pad? Do you want the kitten mug or the big one? Do youâ"
"Just water, baby."
Baby.
His knees almost buckle.
Focus.
Water. You need water. He can do that. He's getting you water. Look at him goäžsuch a good boyfriend, so attentive, so caring, he's fucking nailing this.
He pours the water so carefully. No ice. You don't like it too cold, it hurts your teeth, and he remembered that because he remembers everything about you, every tiny preference, every little sound you make when you're happy.
Pathetic. So fucking pathetic.
He hands you the glass with both hands like an offering at an altar. Bouncing a little on his heels. Doesn't even realize he's holding his breath until you take a sip and your throat moves and he's watching the little bob of it and his mouth is dry but that doesn't matter becauseâ
He have to be patient.
Waiting.
Just waiting for it.
Come on. Come on. Say it. Say the words. Give him the thing. He needs it.
"Thank you, love."
Oh.
The words hit his brain like a shot of something warm and syrupy. Thank you. You thanked him. He did good. He did good and you noticed and you said thank you and now he's standing there with his heart doing backflips in his chest.
He wants more. He wants you to say it again. He wants you to pat his head and tell him he did such a good job, that he's so helpful, that you don't know what you'd do without him. He's practically vibrating with it, this desperate, aching need for your approval, and it's pathetic, he knows it's pathetic, he's a grown man getting high off a thank you like it's a line of cokeâ
Cute isn't he?
No.
No, he's not cute.
He's a dog. A mangy. panting. desperate dog who just got a pat on the head for fetching.
And he gets hard like a dog in heat too.
Always hard.
Always.
You could ask him to pass the salt and he'd have to adjust himself under the table.
You could ask him to zip up your dress and his hands would shake and he'd have to bite the inside of his cheek until it bled just to keep from moaning at the brush of his knuckles against your spine.
What a loser, right?
His dick twitches.
Jesus Christ.
He's hard again.
Weirdo.
Disgusting.
Pervert.
He hates himself. He hates himself so fucking much.
Why can't he be normal? Why can't his dick just stay soft like a regular boyfriend instead of twitching every time you say his name? You're gonna hate him, aren't you?
Oh god oh god oh god.
You're gonna find out. You're going to hate him. You're going to leave him. You think he's disgusting. You think he's a creep. You're gonna leave him. You're gonna walkout that door and he'll never feel your eyes on him again and he'll die, he'll actually just curl up on the floor and stop breathing because what's the pointâ
"Such a good boy."
Huh?
Good boy??
Him???
He freezes.
Did you justäždid those words actually come out of your mouth? Good boy.
Good. Boy.
And you're smiling.
You look so beautiful when you smile. Your soft eyes and your softer lips and the way your cheek creases just a little and he wants to lick it, he wants to suck that smile right off your face and swallow it whole so it lives inside him foreverâ
Nope.
Nope nope nope.
He's so hard he could die on spot.
"Um... excuse me."
The words come out strangled. He's already backing away, hands positioned awkwardly in front of his crotch like a teenager caught watching porn.
Smooth.
Real smooth.
You probably think he's having digestive issues. That's fine. That's better than the truth.
He immediately bolts to the bathroom, lock clicking behind him.
You don't know. You didn't see. You're not going to leave him. He won't let you leave him anyway. He'll lock the doors and he'll nail the windows shut and he'll chain you to bed and he'll chop your pretty legs off if he has toâ
no no no no no NO!!!
Don't think that. Don't you ever fucking think that about her. You sick fuck. How can you even imagine hurting her? Chopping off her perfect pretty legs? How dare you?? How fucking dare you???
If you do that you could never feel her thighs wrapped around your head while you suck on her clit. You'd never feel them tremble and clampagainst your ears while she moans your name. You'd never get to press your tongue inside her while her legs are draped over your shoulders, soft and warm and alive.
OH!!!
Okay that's better. He gets it now.
Yeah yeah yeah. See? He's not violent. He just panicked for a second. His brain does that sometimesäžthrows up these horrible, intrusive images that make him want to vomit but he'd never ever act on them!! He's not a monster!!! He's just... confused. Overwhelmed. He just loves you so much alright??? So much he'd unspool his own intestines into a leash if you asked him to walk himselfâ
Alright. Shut up. Shut the fuck up.
Deep breath.
Okay. Okay, he's fine. He's fine. Just rub one out quick and go back out there. You're waiting. He doesn't want to keep you waiting. That would make him a bad boyfriend, and he's notâhe's a good boyfriend, he's so good, you just said so, and if you said so then it must be trueâ
Shut. Up.
Focus.
His hand is shaking as he pulls down his jeans. He's leaking already, a slick little pearl at the tip, and it smears across his palm when he grips himself. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic.
Firstâfirst, he needs something. Something to make it faster, make it pleasing, make it so he can walk out there and not immediately pop a boner again the second you breathe in his direction.
He opens the cabinet under the sink, behind the toilet paper, behind the bleach, where he hid it.
Your panties.
The ones you thought you lost in the laundry.
The lacy ones, light blue, a little damp in the center from a long day. He found them. He found them, okay? He didn't steal them. Fuck off. He found them. That's different. Stealing is a crime. Stealing is bad. He's not a bad person. He just... found them. On the laundry room floor. He was doing laundry like a good boyfriend, separating your underwears from the regulars because he read somewhere that youre supposed to do that, and they were just... there. In his hands. And then in his pocket. And now they're pressed against his face.
Fuuuck.
The smell hits him like a drug. Musky and sweet and so distinctly you that his knees give up. He inhales deep, pressing the soiled fabric to his nose and mouth, and his dick twitches so hard a bead of pre cum drips onto the bathroom tile.
He's disgusting. He's a creep. He's a freak and a weirdo and a pathetic little lapdog who gets hard from a thank you.
You'd hate him if you knew.
He hopes you never know.
He hopes you find out.
He hopes you walk in right now and see himâcock in hand, your panties stuffed in his mouth, tears streaming down his faceâand he hopes you step closer. He hopes you laugh. He hopes you call him a disgusting little mutt and pat his head and tell him he's still your good boy.
Your good boy.
Yours.
He cums so hard he sees stars. Ropes of it, hot and thick, splattering his hand, the floor, the little bathroom rug. He bites down on the panties to muffle the sob that tears out of him, and for a long moment he just kneels there, trembling, fucked, still crying, still hard.
But it's fine.
Everything's fine.
He cleans up. Flushes everything. Hides the panties again and washes his hands twice. Splashes water on his face. Looks in the mirror. Practices his smile.
He looks normal.
He is normal.
He's a good boy.
Then he opens the bathroom door and smiles.
"You okay?" you ask, tilting your head.
And he could say it. He could confess. He could drop to his knees right now and tell you everything and beg for forgiveness or punishment or whatever you wanted to give him.
Instead he just nods. Crawls onto the couch beside you. Rests his head in your lap like the loyal dog he is.
"Just missed you," he mumbles into your thigh.
You stroke his hair.
He almost gets hard again.
He's so fucked up.
But you're still here. Still petting him. Still calling him yours.
I'd like to imagine a Yandere!Knight who never ever leaves his princess' side for any reason.
He would sooner chop his arm off than leave you alone, not even when you were in a perfectly safe location. Your Yandere!Knight kept his head on a swivel like a paranoid owl, always on the lookout for anything or anyone that could possibly pose a threat to his beloved princess.
And should a threat present itself, he would be the first to act, sometimes before you even realized you were in danger. He preferred it that way. Nothing should have the pleasure of stressing his princess out or making her life difficult.
So, when the prospect of an arranged marriage sprang up during one meal with your family, and he immediately noted the distress marring your mien, your loyal knight decided then and there what it was he had to do.
However, no matter how many suitors went missing, or suddenly called off the impending union, your parents were still adamant about marrying you off.
That night, as you poured your heart out to your knight with tears streaming down your pretty face, he held you in his warm, protective arms. It was the first time he'd ever dared to touch you in such a way.
And you allowed it.
You allowed him to comfort you, to touch you, to kiss you... Until you could think of nothing that wasn't related to him. Just as you were the only thing occupying the space in his mind, he, too, wanted to be that for you.
As his fingers slowly, yet insistently, spread your undefiled pussy open, countless shivers ran through his body at the way you clung to him. The tears in your eyes now weren't those of sadness, but desperation. As a direct result of your lovely little noises, the tent in his pants was becoming much more noticeable by the second. With the way you were so preciously nestled in his lap and squirming all about, he had half a mind to hold you there forever.
Finally, after the third orgasm he pulled from you, you shakily clutched his forearm, panting heavily. Through your ragged breaths, you begged him to take you.
"Oh? 'Take you', you say..?" He circled his fingers around your engorged clit, causing your leg to kick out involuntarily.
"And what would you have me take, my dear princess?"
Without a single thought, you babbled, "m-my innocence, my fr-freedomâ"
Your voice alone was enough to make him tremble in pure ecstasy. "My princess... My liege..." He sighed blissfully, calloused hands gripping at your plush thighs.
Something's terribly wrong with your new coworker, yet no one else will see it. They all love him. He's somewhat shy, but friendly. He arrives early and leaves last. He's always lending a hand to everyone in need. You've heard the occasional gossip about his innocent, yet handsome looks.
Are you the only one who can see his unholy form? The many eyes, the horns, the ever-changing blight that makes up his blasphemous appearance?
The fiend immediately noticed that you stare at him with terrified eyes, unlike the rest of them. Instead of being afraid he's been discovered, he seems to enjoy this little secret, terribly so. He can't help but taunt you every day, an almost flirtatious mockery that keeps you on your toes. Flashing his sharp teeth, flicking his long tongue whenever you pass by.
"Why am I paired with him again," you groan, stretching out your feet in despair. "Can't anyone else train him?"
"You're creating a hostile work environment, (Y/N)," your manager scolds.
"I wish we'd get along," your coworker sighs, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. You glance up at his deformed grin. "After all, you're my favorite."
tw/cw: yandere behavior and unhealthy relationship dynamics - coercion and gaslighting; implied NSFW/NONCON but no explicit scenes (phainon is just a creep - groping); reader is gn; not thoroughly proofread/edited
i like to think about childhood-friend!phainon whoâs really endeared by old memories of playing tag with you. so, unsurprisingly, when you come back to your hometown after years, the first thing he asks you is to play tag with him.
there, somewhere in a backyard creek, where a flourishing forest sits nearby--a place the two of you used to frequent years ago in your youth--begins a really awkward attempt at playing tag. and at first you reason that the two of you are now far too old to play a childrenâs game. even as phainon kept pushing the subject, you tried to deter him by offering literally anything else to do with your free time before you gave in and proceeded with the game.Â
phainon argues it should be funâit is fun--in a ceremonial twist that two of you can relive such fond memories as grown-ups. and don't you at least owe him this time? you did leave him for a very long, long time with very minimal contact all these years...he just misses being with you!
if you give in to nostalgia, you still can't help but find his insistence a bit off-putting because heâs staring you down, almost shaking, getting handsy all over you as he drags you away, barely minding any of your protests.
playing tag cannot be that funâŠmemories shared with phainon, you had felt that it was more of a chore than an enjoyable pastime, since more often than not, you ended up with scrapes all over your legs and arms because phainon never really knows how to play soft. and he certainly has yet to learn now; before you could give it much thought, you're already being forced to run as fast as you can.
youâre fully breathing through your mouth, gasping in a hurry with phainonâs loud footsteps thudding right behind you. the sound of his laughter and words cooing your name in a mocking sweetness trails not too far away, no matter how many turns you take and how far of a distance you've crossed. you can't help but feel miserable.
but you still did try your best to keep up with him, even as you began to feel that the awkwardness was slowly morphing into a strange discomfort. you glance at him from the corner of your eyes and see how taller phainon's gotten all these years--longer legs, a bigger build, but that same wild smile on his face when he actively terrorizes you all afternoon. it's like you never left him to begin with.
he kept the same childish disposition: his lack of boundaries, his over-eagerness, and that persistent neediness heâll always try to excuse as nothing but best friends needing to spend more time with each other, no? and in moments where you just feel slightly off about a situation with whatever phainon reasons with, you can guarantee your feelings will always be overridden by the blatant disregard.
you really have no choice but to deal with this till phainon gets tired and calls it a day.Â
you can't help but notice the fact that it's only been phainon chasing you down. isnât the whole point of tag to alternate? he's tagged you way too many times, so it would only make sense that procession should designate you as âitâ over the past five turns.Â
and yet, as phainon tackles you for the umpteenth time and he buzzes about in endless chattering, telling you to go again, and again, and again, until you've grown a headache and your knees begin to ache. and by the time sweat has poked through your clothes and you can barely wheeze a stable breath, you ask, in between each huff, could it be your turn, for a change, to at least run after him?Â
phainon looks at you, confused, before admitting that itâs no fun if you were to chase after him. no offence, youâll never be able to catch up to him if he really tried to run awayâwhich he doesnât have to try anyway. you still wouldnât be able to catch up. you take offence, but you give up and just decide it's easier to shrug it off.
in reality, childhood-friend!phainon just gets off on the idea of running after you, being able to physically hold you down on the ground and push all his weight onto you. how he gets to squeeze you with his hands and watch as you try to push him off, making those cute whimpering sounds of protestâhe knows exactly how uncomfortable you are.Â
he knows you donât want him manhandling you like this. he knows youâre just putting up with him for the time being, and all for the wrong reasons; as much as the payoff of giving in to the feeling of his heart rushing through his ears and the thrill of running through the woods, itâll circle all the way back to you. he rationalizes for that specific reason that it makes him want you even more.Â
he wonders if you feel his hardened dick as he rubs up behind you--he's not even trying that hard to hide it! surely you must feel him, every inch of him itching to get at you, seizing to pull you down into the dirt with him because he's trying to grab every expanse of your open skin. do you feel him shiver? can you hear him swallow down his moans when you have to wrestle him to push him off of you? do you see how red in the face he gets--how hard it is for him to breathe whenever his skin makes contact with yours? do you see how crazy he gets when he can smell your sweat off of you? he can practically taste you on his lips whenever he straddles you down.
and all the while, you just keep making cute faces and even cuter noises; youâre tempting him--inviting him to act like this with you! if you really didn't want this, you would've said no, right?
go on, keep squirming! phainon will just continue chasing after you, and there's certainly no way he'll ever let you go back to the city now.
yan! twisted wonderland ănormalized yandere auă x gn! readerâyou always had absolutely rotten luck in love. instead of the happily ever after you dreamt of in fairy tales, every relationship you had often ended on a bad note. when tossed into the world where love was prioritized, you prayed your misfortune wouldn't get in the way. wait, but how were you supposed to choose!?
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since you were as small as the twinkles in the sky, you harboured a deep fascination with the fairy tales your mother told before bedtime. the sweet promises of a happily-ever-after, shrouded in eternal love during the sunset, never failed to coax you into restful sleeps, where you were surrounded by mountains of confessions.
they never came, those childhood dreams, as time gradually eroded the wounds in your heart from the sudden passing of your family. they classified it as an accident; a car crash happened due to the downpour and the darkness of the night. your father, who would buy you books after returning from his business trips, and your mother, who would tug you into bed, had died that day. people who your little mind assumed were untouchable, invincible, the pillars of your world, had been squashed into puddles of blood for one clumsy mistake.
the funeral was grand, crowded with figures you didn't know, hushed whispers that didn't escape your ears, and judgmental glances that were needlessly cruel to a child. a bad omen, they muttered under their breath, for how else could you manage to recover from your illness after they had passed away so suddenly? for what reason would they rush to the hospital during extremely terrible weather, if not for their bedridden child whose condition was said to have worsened overnight? they didn't hide it, not when your head hung low at the caskets, hands gripped the already withered white lilies.
the man who adopted you was cold and distant. he provided you with enough materials for a growing child, never yelled at you whenever you did something out of line, and never read stories for you. the estranged brother of your mother, the maids had informed you, had only taken up this newfound burden because of his love for his sister, even though it had been years since they last talked. his heart stopped there, long before the day your mother died, and completely closed to you. you wondered what it was like to live when one had died inside, a walking corpse among humans, as you strolled around the empty mansion, passing through the gossiping maids.
perhaps the lack of warmth fueled the inexplicable link you had to your trivial fantasies, the desperation in seeking another presence to complete your unwhole being. you changed, not vastly, to embrace the virtues of the main characters from your childhood, striving to perfect every aspect of your life, from your demeanor to your social circle. each and all of it was cultivated neatly, like a dedicated artist towards their craft, to fit yourself effortlessly into the confusing mold of the world. despite your effort, luck was not in your favor: romance came and went, as fleeting as the sands slipping through your fingers. your grip was always too weak to cling to them, as your eyes landed on that same familiar sight of their backs.
the excuses varied widely, though they could be summarized into a few contrasting words. you were too overwhelming, one stated, too careless, another remarked, too emotional, they told you, and too apathetic, they surmised. it was never enough for them; you were never enough for them. but you never blamed your partners, for it was obvious to you why they would say so. after all, you were bad news, only capable of bringing bad luck to everyone around you. you tried, and tried again, like that child in the manor near the coastal sea, to perfect yourself. flaws people said were there were weeded out mercilessly overnight, a room full of clothes that allowed you to change your fashion swiftly when your current relationship demanded it.
no matter your efforts, the tribulations you experienced while getting to know your partners more intimately, all of your love lines ended with melancholy. sometimes, there were ones kind enough to admit all the faults in the relationship belonged to them, but you knew better than to be fooled by those silly notions. you were determined to be the flawless protagonist in fairy tales and get that happily-ever-after you spent your whole life chasing. it was your deepest endeavour, something you couldn't let go even if the eyes were looking at you with pity.
"stubborness is hereditary." was what your uncle said.
you could stare at his back all day long.
"i think we should break up."
".....what." you curtly responded, eyes stopped at the straw of your smoothie that came into your vision. your smile must have strained, for your partner regarded you with caution, choosing their words carefully. it was supposed to be normal for you, but it was your first anniversary with them, in your favorite spot to dine, and wearing your favorite outfit.
"i don't think we can work this out! you are just...." those words again, every time, without a stutter, they were spat into your face ruthlessly. you sat up abruptly, feeling your ears ringing with the sound of your heartbeats as you rushed out from the cafe. you couldn't handle this, regardless of how many times you had experienced it. your clutch against your collar tightened, gloved hands wanting nothing more than to claw the organ responsible for the pumping in your veins out.
you loathed how hopeless romantic you were, dreaming of an unreachable ending that was not written for your ill fate. you would die alone, like a corpse, like your uncle, with a heartbeat for no other reason than survival. panting breathlessly as a poor attempt to regain your composure after minutes of running down the roads, you failed to react accordingly to the horses coming at you.
the winds kissed you awake. playfully gentle and chaste, they helped your eyes open quietly. the first sensation you registered was the utter comfort cushioning you, a feeling you felt whenever you would lie in your bed, squealing at the prospect of a valentine. your line of vision was obstructed by something, and when your hands instinctively reached up, you were met with soft fabric. it reminded you of simpler times, when clothes were loose on you, enough to let you wander around the house with the little strength you had. how noltasgic, but nonetheless, peculiar, as moments ago, you were walking through the streets like a lost deer. the place you were standing in, after taking a brief look around your surroundings with the hood off, was unfamiliar, from the gardening techniques to the architectural structures. everything about it screamed of danger, the kind that instincts would warn you about when you tread into an unknown realm.
your eyes were drawn to the well nearby, fingers traced against the rough surface of the bricks. what a wonderous, considering these things had mostly been extinct in large cities. to see a well here must have meant the place you were transported to was antique to an extent. curiosity tugged your upper half to lean into the seemingly pitless abyss of it, almost falling of the ledge if not for a strange voice behind you.
"be careful, child of man." you jolted up, sighing in relief not to have landed on the ground clumsily. turning around to thank your savior, you could feel the growing thumping of your heart. you had seen many models before, plastered on the fashion magazines piling up in your room and yet, the beauty of this silhoutte was simply otherwordly. your hands clasped, a sudden nervousness stuck on the tip of your tongue as your eyes darted onto the ground. it was unfair, for the world to toss such an elegance in your face after a horrible break-up. and you had already ruined your chance, with how long you took to speak up.
"....your eyes are really pretty..." both of you seemed surprised at your words, with you wishing to jump into that well again. the alluring embrace of the robes turned into a smothering hug that raised your temperature at his chuckle. this must be a dream, a wondrous imagination your mind deliberately painted to soothe your sadness, for there was no normal human you had met that had horns.
you didn't want to wake up, not right away anyways.
"i'm sorry! it's rude of me!" you waved your hands, though your heart slowed down when you heard another chuckle. he found your state amusing, not offensive.
"you did not offend me, child of man. in fact, i admire your fearlessness." your eyes were blinded by his smile, fingers itching to cover your face from it. this was the most complex dream your mind had graced you with.
"may i have the honor to be bestowed with your name?" the handsome man asked for your name first! what's next? you would be married to him amidst the cheerful tolling of the bell as the sky was spilled with the warm orange of dusk?
"uh....my name is-"
"ah, i've found you at last!" your words were interrupted rudely by the grating voice of another stranger. the alarm in your body immediately went off, from the weird outfit he donned to the bright yellow circles that locked onto you. observing, he was doing so, as though you were a lost trinket that had escaped his collection.
"i understand you first year's excitement to explore the school!" he shook his head. "but for you to loll around with.....MR. DRACONIA!?"
what a weird dream, was what your final thought as a sudden exhaustion overtook your mind.
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wouldn't consider himself forgetful. however, important ceremonies slipped his mind at times, as he would rely on invitations rather than keeping a neat schedule. the dragon fae would have absolutely fumed at the headmage for daring to forget to invite him to such an important occasion, had the odd human who had complimented him not been slumping against his shoulders. he ignored the fumbling apologies from crowley and instead fixed his eyes on your sleeping form.
it reminded him of silver, and his habit of falling asleep everywhere. except, instead of looking peaceful, your face was contorted into that of clear distress, beads of sweat rolled down from your forehead. it pained him to see the early airheaded human be reduced to this state.
"i offer you my sincerest apologies, mr. draconia! it was a mere oversight from the school." crowley continued on, not long before he stopped at the sight in front of him. ah! young love! he was so glad to still be alive to witness such a thing.
"well, it seems like the new student does require some assistance to be carried to the orientation ceremony. however, my poor, frail bones cannot serve me like before..." he tried to conceal his smirk when you were tossed into malleus' embrace. for his school would be the place where the future ruler of briar valley wound find love was a massive honor.
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sight, according to the fragments of gossiping you would later collect during your attendance, was nothing short of scandalous. the housewarden of diasomnia, who was once again forgotten to be invited, entered the blazing orientation with a human sleeping contentedly in his arms. the diasomnia members reacted with the most mirth, with sebek almost fainting to the ground, lilia laughing as though this were the most hilarious thing he had witnessed in centuries, and silver seemingly dissociating. even when he awoke you from your little nap, he did it with such gentleness it left the whole room in silence, despite the ongoing fire hazard.
"stop poking me...." you huffed, still in the haze of your slumber, though that soon evaporated upon the heat of the room. jumping from malleus, an action which saddened him so, your eyes widened at the blue fires dancing everywhere.
"oh god! someone-" and before you could even finish the sentence, the disaster had already been stopped by the fae's magic. when the inkling that this was your new reality started pitter-pattering in your stomach, the mirror in front of you had spoken.
"state your name." the absurd mask appeared in green flames, at which you squinted.
"[name]..." was that too short? "....[name] gallumbe."
"the nature of your soul is...."
"...."
"...."
"...."
"destructive."
fuck this mirror for ruining your dream.
a/u: since this is a normalized yandere au everything will be more fast paced compared to my other fanfics where they are slown burn lol
tw: gn reader, noncon, (mention of reader having children), minor injury, drugging, victim blaming, video tapping, creampie.
your heady scent wafts through the air.
itâs taking everything in him not to take what he wants, right here, right now. his fist clenches underneath the table. he offers you a smile, one that doesnât quite reach his eyes, noticing your attention drawn to him as the conversation lulls.
youâre collarless, scent gland on display.
itâs a bit engorged. the skin raised from your impending heat. heâs never known omegas to flaunt themselves like that. not unless they wanted something to happen to them. thatâs what this is, right? some little signal to him? youâve always been so elusive. itâs hard to tell when it comes to you.
itâs starting to drive him insane, but it doesnât matter. youâll be his all the same.
he sits a bit closer to you, throwing his arm around the couch as he listens to you prattle on about some show he canât be bothered to care about, not right now. not with your scent coiling in the air like that.
you smell so sweet, even to someone like him with dulled senses. itâs so much better close to the source.
when you lean into him, head knocking into his shoulder, his mouth waters. his teeth start to ache. all it would take is one bite. heâd pull you into a hug, grip your hair tight, splay the delicate line of your neck to him.
no, no, no.
not one bite. it wouldnât last, not from someone like him. heâll have to keep doing it, over and over and over again. make the mark stick, leave his indentation in your neck. until you never have to wear that stupid collar ever again.
youâll bear his mark on your skin insteadâthe perfect necklace.
for now, heâs keep listening, keeps letting you press yourself against him, none the wiser that he has something special planned for you.
âiâll get us something to drink,â he states abruptly, squeezing your shoulder as he departs.
he doesnât wait for you to answer, just getting up and heading into the kitchen. heâs been here long enough that everythingâs become second nature to him. he knows where the utensils are, where you keep your favorite snacks, the food you eat, nearly everything about you at this point.
that means youâre perfect for each other.
he opens the fridge, grabs the pitcher, and sets it on the counter. his hand lingers on his front pocket, on the little packet of heat inducer. it was surprisingly easy to obtain; who wouldâve thought? you know a guy who knows a guy, and things just magically fall into your lap.
he tested it on himself first, of course. luckily, it didnât do much but give him an erection that seemed to last for fucking days. heâs not leaving this shit to chance. he waited too long for you to mess this up.
he grabs two cups from the dish rack, not wanting to dawdle too long. thatâll seem suspicious, and heâs not that type of guy. he pours it into your cup, watching the white powder be absorbed by the juice.
itâs supposed to be flavorless.
hopefully, youâre not one of those people who notice everything. as much as he doesnât want to hurt you. heâs not afraid of getting rough, but itâll still be really unfortunate to break that illusion.
all of the work that went into carefully crafting his personality to your liking.
all down the drain.
he returns to your side, a smile on his face as he hands you the glass. âfor you,â he adds, gaze lingering on your face. his fingernail scrapes down the glass as he counts down the seconds, that drag into minutes, waiting for the drug to kick in.
any day now.
and there.
he feels the exact moment you slump into him, nearly slipping your drink onto the floor. he takes it out of your hand, breath hitching from the contact. even now, just the touch of your skin against his is enough to set him off.
he sets the drink down.
that sweet smell deepens, practically pressing against his nose. his tongue swipes across blunt teeth. he wraps his arms around you, nosing against your neck as he lets out a pleased sigh.
âw-what? what did you give me?â you slur, trying and failing to push him away.
you can barely feel your fingertips. itâs like youâre watching everything happen from outside of your body. your mindâs growing all hazy with want. it feels like youâre going into heat, but that shouldnât be possible.
you take your pills on time. you shouldnât be due for another week at most.
it couldnât possibly be him.
heâs supposed to your friend.
he licks a stripe up your neck, allowing you to slide down the couch. youâre rag-dolling at this point. he has to position your legs to keep you from falling off. heâd prefer to do this in your bed. just so you can remember this exact moment, every single time you fall asleep.
but heâll accept this for now. the drug isnât going to wear off that fast, especially not for its intended target. he paid far too much for this shit to be a dud.
you feel the exact moment his teeth sink into your scent gland. the smell of iron burns your nose. he bit down hard enough to draw blood. you want to cry, but the tears just wonât come. the only reaction you can muster is the slight hitch in your breathing.
he pulls back, just enough to look at your face. he wants to write this moment in his mind forever. youâre just so beautiful, even limp and useless. you canât give him a proper reaction right now, but thatâs alright.
you have all the time in the world. you didnât really think heâd be alright with just having you once, did you?
his grin widens, showing off blood-stained teeth. his hand comes down to caress your cheek, trailing down to your gland. the skin is angry and bruised, teeth marks imprinted on your delicate throat. he presses his thumb into it, watching the beginning of tears well up in your eyes.
finally, a reaction.
âoh, did that hurt, darling?â he questions, tone mocking. he brings his thumb back up to his mouth, licking the blood, your blood, off his finger, reveling in the sight of your teary face.
fuck, thatâs so hot.
he chuckles, reaching into his back pocket. he takes out his phone, the first photo heâs ever taken of you staring back at him as he unlocks it. he opens the camera app, the click of the shutter breaking through the noise as his library fills with more pictures of you.
âi think iâll keep this one, and that one, and the other one,â he teases, eyes crinkling at the corners. âmight even make it my lock screen. youâre⊠god, youâre just so beautiful, you know. you just⊠make it so hard to keep my hands to myself. honestly, iâm surprised i lasted this long.â
he sets the phone to the side for now, returning his attention to you.
âiâm gonna take reeeal good care of you, sweetheart,â he murmurs, nimble fingers sliding your pants down your legs. his gaze lingers on the sight of your slick, soaked thighs. youâve managed to make a mess of your underwear, and he hasnât even properly touched you yet.
still, heâs a gentleman.
heâs not going to skip out on foreplay and pass up the chance of tasting you. he takes off your underwear as well, stuffing them into his pocket for safekeeping. he kneels between your legs, face hovering inches from your glistening sex.
ah, youâre so wet and all for him.
the scent of you is even better here, all musky and sweet. the flavor of your essence erupts on his taste buds as he licks a stripe up your sex, letting out an airy moan. his nails dig into your thighs as he drags you closer, arranging your legs to dangle over his shoulders.
he laps at the slick dripping from your entrance, fingers stroking the length of your arousal. itâs pulsing beneath his fingertips, throbbing like it has a heartbeat of its own. youâre just as wet as heâd imagines youâd be.
the real thing is way better than the omega porn he watched. only, after he found out your designation. thereâs never been a point in watching it anymore. not when he has actual material right in front of him.
he takes you into his mouth, suckling on your swollen heat. his gaze is drawn to the shaky rise and fall of your chest as he keeps sucking. yeah, youâre starting to feel it now. he squeezes your chest, rolling your pebbled nipple through your shirt.
youâre just so responsive. when he licks, your thighs start to twitch. when he sucks harshly, you let out an exhale that sounds more like a sob than anything. a sob of pleasure? yeah, thatâs what it is. you want this just as much as he does. you always have. you just needed a little more⊠coercion.
someone like youâan omega.
you just donât know what you actually want. thatâs why you need someone like him to take control. someone whoâll fill your mind with blissful pleasure. thatâs how itâs supposed to be. people like you donât have ambitions. you donât need to go to school or keep that shitty little job that doesnât pay you enough.
youâre supposed to have his children, stay home and take care of them. in fact, you shouldnât ever leave. itâs not safe. what if someone has the same idea as him? of course, they would. youâre just too enticing.
thatâs why he canât help acting this way.
itâs all your fault.
you caused all of this to happen. why else would you have invited him into your home? no, your home together, so close to your heat. allowing that sweet scent of yours to coil around him like a loverâs embrace.
youâre so coy.
acting like you donât want this, when youâve been throwing yourself at him this entire time.
his finger breaches your hole, two at a time. youâre so wet that his fingers slide right inside. he listens to the messy squelch of your hole, teeth biting into his lip at the lewd sight. with every push of his fingers, more of your slick drips out. if he keeps this up, youâll stain the couch.
so naughty.
oh, itâll be so sweet. just think about it. every time you sit down on this couch, youâll remember just how we took care of you, ate you out, fingered you open, prepped you to receive his love.
now, that he thinks about it. what better way to remember this special moment than with a video? a photo. those are alright, but a video. heâll have all of your cute little reactions saved in the memory of his phone. itâll be something sweet to look back on with you. wouldnât that be so nice?
right, sweetheart?
he pulls away for a moment, fingers glistening with your juices as he reaches for his phone. he props it up on the discarded glass, making sure the angle is right before he presses record. he takes a moment to think to himself.
heâs actually doing this. youâre finally going to become one.
the sound of him pulling down his zipper rips through the delicate moment of appreciation. he can feel the weight of your teary gaze on him and see the subtle motions of your lips mouthing out words. he doesnât wait for an answer, merely pulling his pants and underwear down far enough to slip his dick out.
he lets out a sigh of relief. god, it feels like heâs been sporting a half chub since the moment he got here.
he climbs on top of you, bracketing you in as he strokes himself. âare you ready, love?â he murmurs, gaze filled with possessiveness and, most of all, pure love. his hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with your limp ones as he presses inside.
he lets out a satisfied sigh, feeling you tighten around the intrusion. he noses at your neck, sucking on your scent gland as he rocks against you. that sickeningly sweet scent wafts into his nose once more. itâs euphoric, better than any drug.
itâs almost enough to make him come from the thought alone, but he wonât.
no, not yet.
he has to make sure you enjoy yourself first. he might not be able to satisfy you with a knot like an alpha would, but a few orgasms should do the trick. thatâs what it said online, at least. when he was doing⊠research.
his hand wanders back down, rubbing between the junction of your thighs. your eyes are still glazed over, face lax with a line of drool decorating your chin. mmm, youâre so sloppy. thatâs what he loves about people like you. the kind who lose control during sex, making a mess all over themselves.
he starts to thrust faster, feeling himself start to leak inside you. âa-ah, yeah. you feel that, sweetie,â he murmurs against your skin. itâs like youâre trying to push him out every time he thrusts back inside you. ây-you keep making me feel that good, and i⊠i might just put a baby inside you. you want that too, right? a bunch of brats together? just me and you⊠and our kids running around the place.â
youâre not responding to his tentative touch anymore, but⊠thatâs alright. he knows just how overwhelming things like this can be, having your first time with your soulmate.
he canât even believe itâs happening himself.
he surges forward, lips pressing against yours for the first time. his tongue parts your lips, slipping inside your mouth as he loses himself in the taste of you. the gentle smacks of his lips pressing against yours fill the room, a backdrop to the sound of the television thatâs grown long forgotten, the very moment he handed you that drink.
he continues rutting against you, keeps rubbing his fingers along the throbbing heat between your thighs as he presses your prone form further into the couch cushions.
heâs going to make you come.
he can feel it.
your body doesnât lie, even with those deceptive tears that are spilling from your eyes. god, he wished you'd stop with the fucking theatrics. having a cock inside you canât be that damn bad.
youâre in heat. you want this.
if he didnât come over here. youâd probably be on your hands and knees for the first dick that appeared, begging to be knotted. if anything, heâs doing you a favor.
so, you should be grateful. grateful that he even prepped you at all. maybe you wouldâve preferred he just shove his dick inside you dry. no slick to help with the intrusion.
just him.
he grits his teeth, willing away those thoughts. he just needs to focus on the feeling of your hole fluttering around him. donât think about other people with you. heâs here with you right now. itâs his dick thatâs making you feel this good.
no one elseâs.
that euphoric feel that heâs been chasing catches up to him as he lets out a choked-off moan. his fingers tighten around yours, hips slowing to a still as he paints your insides white with his release.
he really did it.
he came inside you. you have his teeth marks on your neck.
something that only happened in his wet dreams that would keep him up at night.
he pulls out of you, taking the moment to admire the sight of his seed dripping out of you. now, this is something he can get used to. your beautiful face, and the sight of your freshly bred hole. he scoops back up his come, fingering it back inside your entrance.
you didnât think really think he about your little problem, did you? he might be coming down from his high, but he still has to breed out your heat. show you that heâs way better than any of those useless alphas.
and heâs going to make sure you come again, and again, and again.
He was at your window again, tap-tap-tapping on the glass like it wasn't absolutely insane for him to be hovering outside your Gotham penthouse at 5 in the morning.
"Hellooo? Sweetie honey baby-pie, open up!"
You groaned, turning your back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, pulling your pillow up over the back of your head, trying to block out the noise and go back to sleep.
"I see you, love-bug! I'll shatter the glass, Daddy-bats doesn't scare me!"
Oh fuck this. He knew the excessive pet names pissed you off, it was why he did it, just to rile you up.
The asshole was just itching to get on your nerves.
Last time he'd broken into your apartment, Bruce had threatened to shove kryptonite up his ass (in less crude language, but the threat still stood).
But of course, there was no threat strong enough to keep this perverted version of Superman away from you
~~~~~
"He's...volatile," Bruce had explained, "we've done our best to keep him calm, but- well, he's not cooperative in the slightest."
You'd both been sat on the small couch in his office at the manor, him wrapping his arms around you securely, pressing his cheek to the back of your head.
You knew he felt bad about the whole thing, you'd seen the guilt on his face when him and the rest of the senior Justice League members approached you earlier that day, pleading for your help to keep their 'little problem' under control.
Apparently, Superboy Prime had become infatuated with you the day he arrived in your universe, after you chewed him out for bumping into you on the sidewalk outside your workplace.
In his own words it was your "tenacity" that drew him in, but you knew it was really the fact that you spoke to him how most people wouldn't. Not just him, most civilians avoided speaking to any caped hero unless necessary, scared of any bad juju.
But you'd grown up in the lap of the Dark Knight and his allies in the League, so when you saw a vaguely familiar face walking around Gotham in broad daylight, unfamiliar hero suit on display for all to see, you really tore into him.
Somewhere between your third and fourth time calling him a 'goofy looking idiot', he'd fallen for you, and fallen hard.
So when his (much nicer and more mature) counterpart, actual Superman, showed up to drag him to the Watchtower by the scruff, he'd been flailing after you, begging for your name.
You gave your Uncle Clark a long suffering sigh, telling him to keep the new recruits under a tighter leash, never bothering to look too closely at the man wriggling around in his hand.
(Both of you were mortified when Prime, disgruntled at the lapse in attention, barked obnoxiously in midair. Superman seemed to age decades in a split second, and you really couldn't blame him.)
Later, you'd been approached by the people you most respected, your father leading the group with his head hung low, and asked if you would please just speak to Prime for a moment. Supposedly, he'd been threatening to "ret-con" the universe if they didn't at least let him see you.
No one wanted to find out if he was serious about following through, so you shot Bruce a dirty look and walked into his holding cell, a snarl building on your lips.
It was a shock to both yourself and onlookers when Prime immediately shot to his knees in front of you, wrapping his hands around your abdomen and laughing excitedly into your stomach.
You'd spent the next hour talking to him while the rest of the League (and your family) watched from behind a wall of one-way glass.
When he wasn't trying to be a douche, he wasn't even bad company, just a little awkward at actually having someone converse with him. You could even find it in you to feel bad at the fact that he'd been so isolated for so long.
He was honest with you, almost apologetic at the way he'd lost it in your absence. His humor matched your's and you found it fun keeping him on his toes.
When it was time for you to leave, you made the impulsive decision to hug him, whispering that you wished him the best and to please stop threatening your loved ones.
Bad move.
The next deal he struck was to be able to properly court you in exchange for playing nice and following the rules.
Thus, your family looked distinctly guilty every time Prime sought you out, his promise of good behavior earning him the privilege of leaving the Watchtower at will.
More realistically, they could no longer hold him against his will, but tomato-tomahto.
He'd started showing up occasionally, flitting in and out of your periphery, usually catching you on your walk to work, linking an arm through yours and tugging you around the city.
He was sweet with it, bringing you your coffee at the door and cracking jokes that had you doubled over and wheezing. When he walked you back home after work, he'd spin stories of other worlds, other realities of your most precious people, as the two of you rested on a park bench.
You didn't mind most of those moments, almost enjoying the feeling of him properly trying to take you out, a rowdy excuse of a god sniveling after you.
What you dreaded was the visits he'd make at night, clad in his hero suit, banging on your window, and hollering humiliating pet names at the top of his lungs.
~~~~~
"For god's sake, Clark, I'm sleeping, I have work tomorrow, go away." You said, muffled into your mattress.
The next second, he was beside your bed, clicking his tongue and shoving you to the side, "You really ought to get the latches checked, baby, I didn't even have to break in this time."
Of course the latches didn't lock properly, you lived on the 81st floor, the assumption was that no one would get in via window anyway.
You wrenched your head out of your pillow stack, glaring at him blearily, "Clark, if you're not going to sleep then seriously leave."
There was no mistaking what the asshole wanted...
No it wasn't sex.
It was emotional connection.
Dork.
~~~~~
The last time he'd come over around this hour, he'd spoken hushed whispers into your ear about his biggest insecurities, his most haunting fears.
He was deathly afraid of being alone. His powers left him isolated, even beyond any other version of Superman. He couldn't stand the feeling of being disliked and was desperate for something to call his own.
Apparently, that thing was you.
That same night, Clark had run a fingernail down the side of your neck where the two of you were tangled in your sheets, you trying desperately to both be an active listener and get your rest in. He confessed that he "claimed" you, you were now his "MacGuffin" or whatever the hell.
Okay it was 4 AM, you couldn't be bothered to listen too closely.
You did, however, catch his feverish ramblings of how he'd follow you wherever you went, he'd take you to any world you desired, and he'd do anything just for you to stay with him.
He tried to make you mumble out some odd promise to stick by his side no matter what, but you just pushed his head to the side and muffled a scream into your pillow. No matter how much you tried to buck him off your bed, he wouldn't budge, a deadweight against your back.
Finally about to drift off, you heard just one more promise as he nosed incessantly at your neck like a big, clingy cat.
He promised that he would do his best by you, that he would take it slow, be what you needed. He'd behave. But only so long as you stayed yourself.
He'd be good for you, as long as you kept knocking him upside the head and cussing him out.
You, only you.
Now, when he was back with the clear intention to repeat that night, you could only curse your unlucky stars for sticking you with a masochist for a crazy boyfriend.
Something about you made him feel human, and something about him made you feel like a chew toy. It wasn't a great match, but as long as he stayed smushed under your thumb, no longer threatening the universe, it would have to do.
~~~~~
This time, he yanked your head into his lap while he sat back against your headboard. He stroked a hand idly through your hair while keeping his face turned toward the window.
Through one bleary eye, you thought he almost looked rather handsome, bathed in the moonlight like this.
Until he shifted his eyes down to you where you were sprawled out across your bed.
"The day you saw me...I was only stopping over in this world, actually. 'was planning to ret-con you all on my way out, too much discontinuity from canon, y'know?"
Even when you stiffened, he continued on, voice barely above a whisper, "I mean, all of Batman's children keeping so close to the big Bat? This whole "Justice League family" thing you guys have going on? It was so OOC, I was about to tear my hair out. Felt more like some teenager's shitty fanfiction than actual lore-accurate writing."
OOC? Canon? These were terms he'd thrown around before when telling you about the other worlds he'd ended, but he'd never bothered to really explain what they meant. Now you wished you'd pushed a little harder for details.
"But you...at first I thought you were just some dumb author's new reader-insert or OC."
You tried to push up off his lap, but his hands just forced you back down, never stopping their gentle scrapes on your scalp.
"I know better now. You're unique to this world. That makes you uniquely mine. You wanna hear a secret sweetheart? You're the only version of you in any universe I've ever been to. And I'm the only version of me. Aren't we just perfect together?"
He sighed, turning back towards the moonlight, harsh shadows visible along his jawline and on the other side of his nose. His blue eyes seemed to glow lowly in your dim room.
"A match made outside the lore."
He chuckled to himself.
"That saves us from any idiot writer fucking us up for a few decades. You'll always be you, and I'll always be me. The two of us don't exist anywhere outside of this room. I don't exist anywhere except for right here next to you. And for the first time ever...I'm not alone in that."
You let out a sound of discomfort, the parts of him you'd been warned about rearing their ugly heads.
He sighed again, "Go to sleep, baby. I'll be here when you wake up. You've got to be up early, don't you? Have to clock in for Big Bat. Don't worry, you can tell Bruce whatever I said, there are no secrets between us."
And for just a second his form seemed to blur around the edges, eyes glowing a much brighter electric blue.
When he next spoke, it sounded both distorted and absolutely clear at the same time, like he telegraphed it directly into your head.
"And you, cut the cameras already, it's rude to eavesdrop."
~~~~~~~~~~
(A/n: Freaky little man. I'm still on the fence about whether or not I like him, but he's real fun to write about.)
You, a broke 21 year old college student, being hired by Bruce Wayne to be a nanny for Damian a few months after he had arrived to the manor. The Wayneâs arenât known for hiring them as the family butler usually takes care of all his kids but Alfred has been too overwhelmed and has needed some help. The pay is extremely well, free shelter, and itâs just taking care of one kid. Canât be that badâŠexcept for the fact itâs the worst job youâve ever accepted.
This kid keeps threatening to kill you just for existing in the manor or anytime you try helping him. He tries to make your life completely miserable and is always lashing out at everything you do. He gets even more mad when his pets start to warm up to you. Titus enjoys the delicious treats you give him and Alfred the Cat somehow enjoys your presence, often sitting near you when youâre watching TV. Damian finds you completely insufferable and a waste of space in his home.
It changes when your guys were in the kitchen late at night. Damian couldnât sleep so he went to the kitchen to drink something when he saw you sitting at the table. He tries to ignore you as he opens the fridge. You take a sip of coffee, âCanât sleep?â He scoffs at the sound of your voice. âThatâs none of your business.â âIt kinda is, itâs my job to take care of you.â You take another sip of coffee now looking at the irritation on his face. You stand up, making your way to the kitchen, making your way to a secret drawer in the kitchen. âDo you prefer lavender or chamomile?â âWhat?â âI making you some tea, itâll help you sleep.â âI donât need your stupid tea.â âLavender it is, sit down I wanna talk to you.â He sits reluctantly, watching you put water into the electric kettle and put it to boil.
âAlright whatâs your issue with me?â Damian was taken aback not expecting you to confront him. âWhat?â âListen Iâm not stupid, I know you want me gone. Youâve made it quite obvious and I want to know whatâs going on.â âYou donât know what I want.â You take a deep breath as you lean in over the counter. âDamian you might not believe it but you pretty easy to read. I could tell you keep lashing out on me because you want Bruce to give you attention and Iâm sorry but thatâs not the way to do that. Trust me, I know what itâs like to be neglected and to want your parents to notice you but this isnât the way to do it.â Damian stays silent, not knowing what to say to any of that. âYou can ignore me and continue to be a little sack of shit all of your life, fine by me, just please make it a little easier on me.â âIf you have such an issue with it, why donât you just leave? Itâs not like you actually care about me, youâre only here because my father pays you to take care of me. So why donât you go find another job?â The tea kettle clicks behind you. You sigh and you stand up straight. âIâm just trying to help you. As I said I know what itâs like but your life isnât gonna be any easier if you just stay like this for all your life.â You pour the boiling hot water onto the tea bag, pouring some honey and stirring it. You bring it towards Damian as you continue talking. âAs much as I bet you want me to, Iâm not going anywhere anytime soon. You can choose to act the way you want to act, but if I was you I would rather make a little friend than try to make an enemy. Itâs good to have those.â You take your stuff and walk to your assigned room leaving Damian in the kitchen alone drinking his tea.
Ever since that day, your relationship with Damian grew. It started off with him saying good morning instead of ignoring your first thing in the morning. He eventually started going out of his way to spend time with you. It feels like having a little brother that just follows you which feels nice but does come with a lot of baggage. For some reason his brothers are now interested in you. Their names being Jason, Dick, and Tim. They used to also avoid you but now seeing Damianâs clinginess, their interest in you has sparked tremendously. And if you thought they were the only ones after you, you seem to also catch the attention of Bruce.
Now having to share your attention with his brothers as well as his father, Damian begins to grow an obsession. Youâre the only one whoâs been here for him and now that you guys established a relationship, everyone wants to take you away from him. Youâre his sister, and he swore to protect you from anyone who looks at you in any way whether itâs romantic or out of hatred.
