Discover Top Posts Tagged with #heathcliff x reader

Biting the hand that feeds you just to nuzzle the one that slaps you right after?

✎ Ch. 1: To learn

✎ a/n. i wrote this several months ago while being egregiously horny and i'm just now rereading it. oh god oh god what is this. sorry guys i'm into masochists a normal amount

✎ pairing // telepole heathcliff/gn reader ✎ desc. // Telepole is the only thing that's on my mind and I can't move onto doing the things I actually need to finish unless I get this done. I have like 9 things on my to-do list and Heathcliff fucking CLAWED his way to the top as if I don't have actual urgent business to tend do. What the hell. Kill me Insert good description here that's supposed to make this hot—you're both toxic to each other and he really likes your legs, and that's… kind of it. Also: you're a bit of an ass. ✎ tags // modern au, roommates, codependency, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, yandere, abuse, stockholm syndrome, no romance, collars, petplay, ownership, masochism (it's heathcliff), writing exercise, unreliable narrator ⚠︎ WARNING ⚠︎ // this work contains smut, depictions of self-harm, and dub-con themes

"Down. Roll over. Paw. Ah… good. You've improved so much, Heathcliff."

I don't have time to waste, so let's put this bluntly: Heathcliff needs you to live. This doesn't just mean "he would strongly prefer you not die", but also "he relies on you to give him stability and will mentally, emotionally, and financially shatter at your disappearance, whether real or imagined". Is this hot to you? Maybe. Who knows. Sometimes it's kind of annoying—anyone would expect a grown man like him to know how to provide for himself, but whatever. You find yourself benefiting from this admittedly perverse power imbalance at times, so you tolerate it.

"Haa…" he sighs, nuzzling into your hand when you pat him. "Cheer— a-ahem. I mean… thank you…"

Clap!

Strictly speaking, you're his roommate; his name is also on the lease of this apartment, and not as a pet. Worst decision ever. EVER. EVER!!! NEVER AGAIN. At the time, you were just grateful to learn that a dirty creature like him from the streets knows how to read and lift up a pen in the first place, and some might be wondering, how could be afford to pay the security deposit despite coming from a poor background? Well, he didn't. You covered that for him. You also cover the electricity, water, A/C, grocery, and internet bills too, since most jobs aren't very keen on hiring someone so… Heathcliff. If that wasn't enough, when you come home tired and worn out from a busy day at work, you also have to be the one to sate all of his temper tantrums that he'd often throw one way or another. If he's sulking and brooding in a corner somewhere, you have to be the one to console him lest someone wants to pay a fee for damaged property. If he wants to play games, you play games with him. If he's acting needy and wants attention, you give him attention. Then, since he despises being kept in such an enclosed environment for long periods of time, you have to let him out to go on walks. Ah, but who would trust someone like him to be well-mannered when even the mildest threat (and trust me, there are plenty of that for wolves like him) is enough to set him off? He'd probably murder someone who breathed at him wrong if his mood was foul enough. No, he has to be supervised, so you end up being dragged along for this too. Guess who can't rest then. Guess who can't rest ever. It's a miracle you haven't overdosed on cortisol considering how unexpectedly high-maintenance he is.

So mentally, emotionally, and financially speaking, you are his owner, and dogs need their owners to look after them. It probably won't take that much effort nor time to make this physical, either. Now, is this unethical? Sure. Will this cause internal tensions and long-term conflict? Yeah. It has been. And have you had to scold him numerous times for overstepping your boundaries: eating too much of the food YOU bought for yourself, making a mess of YOUR living space, giving you cheek despite sleeping on YOUR couch? Definitely. In fact, most of the times, his unruly behavior is at your expense. How ungrateful is he?

Yet the reward for this risky venture can be pleasant if you know how to make use of it. As you can see in front of you, with the way he doesn't bite back at your hand, he's gotten much better at regulating himself over time. It took about a year of training—you had to be patient with him, since it's expected for a ruffian with a sour attitude to have: a sour attitude, duh—though you didn't frame it in such an obvious way for a while unless you wanted to get your head smashed in. Quietly, you established a routine that is actually quite simple: if he does something you like, you'll clap your hands together and get him food. Hot, fresh, meaty, oily, just how he likes it.

"Oh!" You proclaimed upon feeling the unexpectedly clean floor underneath your feet as you stepped into your home one day. You've been meaning to organize the place, but it seems like he's gotten to that way before you—when you stay away for long durations, he rarely gets bored enough to start helping you around the house. Besides that… you're not too sure what he's up to, but as long as he's not causing any problems, you don't really have it in you to care. Oh, but you did make a rule to never let him outside unattended, so he's mostly indoors by himself. Sure, he can go on his phone or the computer, but his claws make it very difficult to do so without scratching any hardware, nor is he any good at navigating them—you've also shown him enough horror stories on the internet to make him wary of it.

Wolves are social animals. They require connections to live. They need to communicate with others, exchange ideas, form close bonds, experience intimacy, and all sorts of other things that one cannot to with a single person. So what happens to someone whose brain is overflowing with thoughts and feelings built up from years of isolation? They release it in outstanding bursts the moment an opportunity to express them presents itself, otherwise they collapse under the weight of their own mind.

So to Heathcliff, sweeping tiles or wiping down shelves or washing clothes might be the closest thing he has to a healthy coping mechanism besides regular exercise and his journal (those two are quite obvious anyway). He needs something to quiet his blaring thoughts. He needs to be too tired to think. It's quite useful to you, so you make sure to encourage it even more when it happens.

"Spick an' span, innit?" He huffed with pride at his admittedly exceptional handiwork. He can be very thorough when he wants to be. "Ain't a single clump of fur left!"

Out of spite towards his arrogance, you leaned down to pick up… a single clump of fur. It's short, and of a deep purple color—my, who could it possibly belong to? His ears flatten; tail puffs up in irritation at your silent argument, and the proud smirk he had on his face quickly fades away when he realizes that his work is mediocre. "Huh?! That blasted thing wasn't there when I—!"

"Calm down," you gently chided as the hairs slowly flutter down the trash bin. "It's not that much. Besides, your work is otherwise stellar. Thank you, Heathcliff. I'm really happy to see this. How about we go out for sandwiches? I know you really like the place downtown."

Clap!

That reward was enough to get him to behave for the rest of the night. Positive reinforcement really works wonders on puppies like him.

If he does something you don't like, or if he's throwing another one of those tantrums where you know you can't reach him, you don't talk to him for a while and instead choose to sleep over at a friend's place. It's better not to lash out at him—you'd dare argue that this is actually a way of protecting him from you going to any extreme measures from an emotional outburst. Truth be told, the much more convenient route is to just move in with them and leave him behind, but since you are so kind and caring, you willingly put up with him. Aren't you the best pet owner ever?

"Heathcliff, why is the door broken… again?"

You stare in admonishment at the busted up wood barely held together by a few flimsy metal hinges, and the mess of chips and dried paint and shattered planks and whatever other rubble lying in the middle of the door(less)way. He has this really weird habit of breaking things he doesn't own that's just a little bit irritating. This is the 3rd time it has happened—it's incredible that you both managed to never get evicted.

"Ain't my fault this shite's just a wall of rubbish with a lock and key," he snorted. "It fell to pieces with a huff and puff!"

Clearly, he's exaggerating. He was just growling out curses not that long ago, does he think you're that stupid to believe him?

You sigh. "Talk to management and let them know, then. If you can, volunteer to fix it for them."

"The hell? You think me some labouring sod now?"

"…You know we'll both be kicked out if you don't."

It was tempting to actually let it happen if it wouldn't leave a nasty mark on your record. Living with him is kind of insufferable. Unfortunately, it does indeed have consequences, so you'll just have to tolerate it.

He paused, and suddenly, he looks very uncomfortable. "…We?"

Now, obviously Heathcliff is pretty used to living in less than habitable conditions. You found him in one, after all. But the thought of having to go back to that shitty wasteland of a spot, and the thought of being separated from the one person that made living easy, and the thought of accidentally trapping you in the same depravity he had to suffer for a majority of his life just because of his incompetence…

That's not a thought he likes very much.

"Yes, we. Haa… well, I'll be working overtime tomorrow then. And it's not exactly the safest for me to sleep here anymore, so I'll be at my friend's house in the meantime."

That was enough to make him fumble over his words. You're leaving him? You're walking away to someone else? You're replacing him?! No, no, he swears the whole door accident was exactly that: an accident. He didn't mean it this time. Actually, he didn't mean it ever. It was just a really unlucky series of events that brought him down this path, and this doesn't reflect anything about his character at all! He tries to argue with you on this—you don't need to worry about any intruders coming in if you have him! Do you have that little faith in his combat abilities? Oh, he'll show you what he can do. Ah, wait… actually, that'll only drive you away further. Goddamnit!!

…Wolves are social animals. They require connections to live. They need to communicate with others, exchange ideas, form close bonds, experience intimacy, and all sorts of other things that one cannot to with a single person. So what happens to someone who finally meets a person who treats them with the bare minimum level of respect and decency when no one else does? They're going to get attached to them. They're going to crave subpar affection. They're going to praise and beg for and worship mediocrity, because mediocrity is a divine blessing in comparison to their longstanding abuse. And what happens when they're told that they're too worthless to receive it? Naturally, this rabid, hungry beast is going to dig his claws into anything he can still grasp from the rock bottom where he belongs; aggressively mark his possessions should they choose to abandon him next; and stalk the streets hunt down his prey, only to release it from his fangs when he remembers that he's not good enough to be fed.

You don't come home for the next week. When he dials you with the slightest waver in his voice to tell you that he put the door back together and surprisingly paid the fee himself, you tell him that you won't see him for another week. Why? None of his business. You hang up the phone right after.

…He knows what you're planning. What's worse is that he can't even be angry at you because you are the backbone of… everything. Yes, he'll act all bratty and rude and yell at you when you make him mad, but the undeniable truth is that Heathcliff needs you to live.

With this pattern set firmly in place, he loses much of his resistance over time. He becomes malleable. Tame. Submissive, if you really wanna look at it in that light. Thankfully, this means less money goes out of your wallet in trying to pay for damages, but that doesn't mean that you're any better than you were before economically speaking. Inflation is a bitch, and so is Heathcliff during the days he slips up. And even if you notice his demeanor becoming softer, quieter, that's not going to make you let up on this regimen. Who knows if he'll regress to how he once was the moment you loosen your grip on this leash? No, that's not allowed to happen. You didn't put in that much time and trouble and money and literal tears just to watch your efforts undo itself. You need your compensation! Your investment returns! You're doing your community the biggest service by controlling his usually wayward temperament, so you're going to get what you deserve.

What you don't realize is that the tighter your hold on him is, the more erratic he grows.

Once you come home from another two weeks of distancing yourself from him, you were unexpectedly tackled to the door with a loud SLAM! Wind flees your lungs as your back meets the hard surface; a dull, rising pain emanates from the base of your skull to the sides, then the front, at the impact; and instinctively, you had to ask yourself: is this thing going to break again? God, it better not. When you open your eyes again, you are met with the sight of… guess who! Heathcliff! A very pissed, anxious, and—eh, why is his shoulder bleeding?—Heathcliff!

"Oi, don't look so gobsmacked!" He barked. "You think I'm too bloody soft in the head to know what you're doing?!"

"Huh…?"

You stare back, confused, hair disheveled from work, your uniform being pulled in all sorts of direction from god-knows-what form of corporate slavery you mill yourself into for his sake. Why is he angry at you? Shouldn't YOU be the one who's upset? He was just behaving so well, too. What shame!

"I fucking know your kind. You're just one of them cocky sods who think they can make others fit their mould? I ain't yours to toy with when you're feelin' mardy just to ditch me when I'm not useful anymore. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't care a whit for rotters like you! So piss off, and quit with the trainin' bullshite, or I'll bloody pummel you!!"

Despite his bravado, you didn't miss the subtle way his lips quivered, or how his tail hides in between his legs. After all, who's brave enough to threaten their caretaker?

"Oh, Heathcliff…" you frown, reaching out to gently clasp his cheek in your palm. His breath stills at your touch, and he sharply glares at it with an intensity that could electrocute an innocent bystander to death. "Poor thing. I didn't know you felt that way. If you hate me so much, I'm okay with you leaving me. It's nearly time to renew the lease, so… I won't stop you if you choose to run."

"That's… that's not what I was trying to say!"

He trembles against your hold, urgently grabbing your wrist to keep you steady, like he doesn't know if he wants to bite your hand or nuzzle into it. Could be both. He doesn't remember the last time anyone has touched him, nor does he remember how he should be reacting when they do. Why do you torture him in this way? Why do you talk about him leaving you like so, as if YOU'RE not always the one walking out that door with your bags packed whenever he makes a minor mistake? And why… why do you say it like you're not going to bother putting in any effort to make sure he sticks beside you at all? You're not the one scratching at the walls to make sure you have someone to talk to. You're not the one rocking yourself back and forth in a corner, constantly replaying the past week on loop to see if you'd even glanced at them wrong, while tearing apart your body just to keep your head steady. You're not the who suffers in silence every waking moment, desperate for a mere peep to reassure you that you're not alone!

"Why…" he began, "do you never yell at me?"

"Hm?"

"You don't yell. You don't scream. Shout. Bawl. Squawk. No, no, you only stow me away in this right hellhole of a playpen while you're out with your mate,"—he spits this word quite disdainfully; its double meaning isn't lost on you—"and for what? If I'm narkin' ya, tell me proper like normal folk! Smack me around if you need it! Just… goddamnit, stop treatin' me like I ain't even real…"

…Eh…? Doesn't he think he's being too greedy in asking for you to change for him? You've been nothing but kindhearted and patient, and this is how he acts? Wow… you're nowhere near as close to finishing him up as you'd originally thought. That's honestly kind of embarrassing.

"You prefer I insult you?"

"Blimey, if it'll get you to just look at me, bloody well yes!"

But there's no denying your significant progress, though. You don't think you've ever seen him in this desperate state before. He's never been so vulnerable, nor has the air between you felt so charged to where it's shocking you both physically and emotionally. So this is what he's been hiding, huh…?

…Cute. You like this side of him. You should coax him to show it more.

Gently, your thumb caresses his face, tenderly running over his scars with your fingertips. You remember that it has been about 274 days since anyone has made physical contact with him under your supervision, and that time was an accidental bump he had with a stranger on the road. He doesn't do a very good job at shutting out the massive emotional impact that your little rubs have on him either—quite satisfying.

"Thanks for trusting me with this information," you whispered. "It makes me so happy."

Happy that you manage to wrench his weakness into your arms? Eh, wouldn't put it past you. That is quite the achievement.

"Uuurrgh… gaaah…"

Due to the sensory overload, he returns to making animalistic growls and grunts, not even knowing what kind of message he wants to communicate. He just wants you go back off, but keep your hand on his face still, and to keep speaking, but not too much otherwise he'll snap, and… and…

To keep the conversation going and snap him from his daze, you added, "Also, Heathcliff… I ask that you don't call it 'training'. That's not what's happening—I'm just reciprocating behavior. If you act badly, I'm gonna act badly. And if you act good, I'm gonna act good too. If I put it like that, doesn't that sound like any standard relationship?"

Finally, he regains his voice at your audaciousness and scoffs bitterly. "There ain't a damn thing that's standard 'bout us."

"…No, there isn't. People don't usually let freeloaders into their home without expecting them to pay their half of the rent."

The fur on his body abruptly shoots up at your blunt statement. Freeloader?! He wants to deny it, but… ah, he HAS been doing that, hasn't he? No, no, he repays you. Somehow. Someway. His existence is enough to make you pleased… right? Truthfully, there's not really a way for him to excuse it. Ugh… just how expensive is he? How much has he eaten out of your bank account? How many hours of your life did you waste for his sake while he's lounging at home, whining over the smallest inconveniences like a spoiled brat? Nobody did that for him before, not even Catherine. Yet he treats you so subpar! No, you don't deserve mediocrity from him. And it's possible you said that with the intent to guilt-trip him—he wouldn't doubt it if that's the case—but… is it really guilt-tripping if it's true?

Maybe all he needed was someone to point out just how much of a burden he is to others.

"I—" he chokes out, habitually digging his claws into his waist in an attempt to ground himself. He doesn't even notice the way he's puncturing his skin, nor does he care to do anything about the blood seeping into his clothes when you're here, slapping him right across the face with the reality of your relationship. It cuts a lot deeper than any scratch of his claws.

There is no other option for him to take. This is the only way forward.

"I'm… bloody hell, alright, fine, I… I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Clap!