#tw: dark

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Wifely Duties | Dark Daeron Targaryen

Pairing: Dark Daeron Targaryen x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Your drunken husband remembers he has a wife he can fuck. 

WARNINGS: Noncon (Handjob); Toxic Marriage. 

AN: Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, thank you. Enjoy 🤗

--

The moon is high on the sky when Daeron stumbles his way into your bedchamber, disrupting the night’s peace.

The sound of the door crashing against the wall and then slammed closed has you harshly waking, eyes stinging with sleep while you attempt to peel them open. But the sleep quickly evaporates from your mind and body at the realization that the intruder is none other than your husband. 

“Wife.” 

Daeron approaches the bed with unsteady feet and reeking of wine. A year into marriage and by now you’ve grown painfully accustomed to your husband’s nightly activities, which unequivocally involve brothels and taverns.

While for the better part, such endeavours bring nothing but shame upon his name, part of you finds relief in Daeron finding solace in such places, so long as it keeps him away from the castle - and from you. 

“I’ve come to p-perform my duty…”

His heavily slurred announcement makes you grimace, even more so as he trips over his feet and unceremoniously lands on the ground.

The cup in his hand falls from between his shaking fingers, the sound of metal loudly crashing making you flinch. The wine sloshes all over the floor, dirtying the floor of the chamber with red liquid.

You raise yourself with your hands, sitting in bed and watching with a mix of vexation and irritation as the pathetic scene unfolds. 

You needn’t for Daeron to come to your chambers to fulfill his duty, even if the rumors and gossip grow as the moons go past without any sign of an heir. An empty womb is perhaps the biggest present he can give you as you cannot even fathom the trouble of raising a child with a husband who can barely remember his own name amid his drunken stupor.  

A loud groan comes from the floor as Daeron weakly attempts to get back on his feet. 

The dim light from the moon catches on his figure, showing just how drunk he is. His blonde hair is in a complete disarray and his skin shines with sweat. The way he lays on the floor is unbecoming of him, a man who has the blood of the dragon running in his veins.

In this moment, he resembles more of a Flea Bottom beggar rather than a prince of the realm. 

“Daeron. Husband.” you say, watching him getting back on his feet with wobbly legs. You don’t move to help him. You don’t want to. “You are in no condition for … truly there’s no need.”

“No, no. I must. I want to.” he swipes his hand in the air, each step bringing him closer to bed. He stumbles, but keeps moving. Daeron hiccups.

“I’ve missed you. Oh, so much.”

Somehow you doubt so.

Daeron lands on the bed, groaning as he heavily and unceremoniously crashes on the sheets.

He miscalculates the distance and ends up taking you down with him, your head painfully colliding with the hard wood of the headboard. You wince, mood already beginning to turn sour. Your ever-so-attentive husband takes no notice of the damage he’s already begun causing you and instead he nuzzles your neck, slippery lips peppering kiss after kiss over the exposed skin. 

“I’ve missed my wife. And Gods, I’ve missed this sweet skin, always so soft…” 

You writhe under him, trapped under his weight and the strong stench that emanates from his skin. This is far from pleasant, far from the peaceful night you intended to have. The sweat from his hands clings to your skin as his fingers dig and grope every inch of flesh they can get to. You wince when he cups your breast, squeezing it much too rough than needed. 

Your hands try to push on his chest, just enough to make some space between you. 

“You must be tired, Daeron. You must sleep the wine off.”

“Ah, not too tired to make love to my wife. Never too tired to please my woman…..”  

His knee painfully digs into the flesh between your closed legs, forcing you to open up. You gently push at his chest, barely able to put some distance between you and the man who’s lapping at your skin as if coated in honey. 

“Daeron, wait.” 

“Ah, I cannot. Not when you tempt me like this. Little minx.” Daeron laughs, giving your neck a teasing bite. His legs push yours apart, finding home between your legs. His groan reverberates through your skin as he presses his hardness against your core, rubbing it through the thin layers of clothing. 

Daeron moans, a lewd noise that seems more fitting for a pleasure house instead of a prince’s chamber. He doesn’t hold back and you narrowly avoid his lips when they come crashing against yours by angling your face to the side. 

You close your eyes when he begins to hump you, rutting into you like a animal. It’s degrading, it’s perverse, it’s humiliating. But you find some solace in believing that perhaps this will be enough, that  the mere thought of actually fucking will no longer find its way amid his drunken state. Perhaps if you stay as cold and quiet as a corpse, he’ll just hump you like he would to a whore and then be satisfied with it, despite his previous words. 

A few moments later, you discover you are not to be blessed with such luck. 

Daeron begins to fumble with his belt, clumsily attempting to push his pants down with much affort. Your lips curl downwards, he’s so intoxicated he can barely hold his own weight and yet his cock is the one pulling reigns. 

An idea appears in your mind.

Your hands push against his and Daeron hisses when you reach between his legs and grab his flaccid member. You slowly pump him, up and down, slowly. 

“Ugh, my love…”

“Doesn’t this nice, husband? Let’s just do this instead, yes?” you whisper as the grown man whimpers and twitches. 

Daeron just buries his face in your neck, the strands of his hair tickling your skin as your hand and wrist grow tired from the movement.

The logistics are complicated, your arm squished between your bodies and yet you keep going. Your palm is dry against his cock, but Daeron doesn’t seem to mind much. He pulls at your nightgown until your breasts spill over and then grabs at one of them, squeezing it over and over again. 

You stroke your husband, feeling every inch of his long member, slowly speeding up to make him release faster. The sooner you are done, the sooner he’ll collapse and fall asleep. Pity there are no maids awake at this time of the night or you would have Daeron escorted back to his own chambers instead of passing out in yours. 

Daeron keeps up a symphony of groans, each growing more desperate and breathless than the last and it’s not long before he reaches his peak, his spent landing on your thigh.

He kisses your cheek and your neck, muttering nonsense that you pretend to understand with a fake smile, until he finally rolls to the side right before sleep claims him. 

You stay in the same position, staring at the ceiling for a while, feeling the remnants of his seed grow dry in your skin. At least he didn’t get to fuck you. 

PS: Next morning, you wake up with Daeron panting on top of you, his cock deep in your guts.

[jessamine-rose]

Since the last update FINALLY shows us Dottore's segments, what do you think about their relationship with assistant reader? Are they yandere too?

Read Chemistry and Magnum Opus here </3

Ohohoho I’ve been thinking of this ever since I saw the 6.6 leaks. I did have to restructure Zandik and Assistant! Darling’s story quite a bit to fit the new lore, but that inadvertently created many new dynamics between the latter and his Segments (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

Tw:: yandere, unhealthy relationships

The short answer: All of the Segments are fascinated by Zandik’s lover, though it varies by age. The older the Segment, the more obsession felt for his dear assistant.

From your end, you feel great affection for them. You can’t help it—they are Zandik’s masterpiece, his past preserved in flesh and machinery. Their mere visage evokes countless memories of your beloved, years of ruby gazes and pearly smiles directed at you.

Never in your life could you have imagined that one day, those same faces would be all you have left of him.

“Calm down, ______. You will always be our dear assistant.”

♡

I’d like to share more, but I’m saving it for another day. Gahhh thanks to all of this new info from 6.6, I’ve been plagued with so much inspiration for Zandik, his Segments, and also Assistant. I rlly want you thank and swear at Hoyoverse for all the yummy food _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

[takahasiren]

Dark!platonic yandere Dad

Warning : Read the Tags before reading ( I hope everyone enjoys it.)

Why? Why do you keep resisting your father? They're just taking you away from your father's embrace. How can you call them your real parents? Clearly, I am your real dad It was easy to tear their bodies apart, blood and guts splattered everywhere, their bodies easily separated.

Dad only help they sleep for a long time, so why do you keep crying?Dad doesn't want your face stained with blood and tears. Why don't you even look back at Daddy, little one?

Don't look at your father like that. Come here, let me hug you tightly, cherish you, and take you home to our house.

My child, you are such a stubborn and incomprehensible child. Dad tried to be patient for the sake of my little one. Dad tried so hard to understand and pamper you, but you only ever call your dad a disgusting, sick monster.

Perhaps this is the last way for us to understand each other better, it make Dad hurts so much, Dad didn't want to do this at all. You begged your dad so much, please don't kill me.

It was too late, my little one. Dad held you tightly in his arms before easily breaking your neck. You lay there so obedient and adorable before I devoured your body so that we could finally understand each other better

Superman, Batman, Omni Man, Soldier Boy, Billy Butcher, Thragg,... (Bất kỳ người cha nào bạn thích)

[ihaveaskeleton]

Imagine if Rafayel fell fully off of the deep end and created a massive memorial painting to Lemuria using the ashes of those he has killed in its name.

[moonogre]

Snippet 5

“Where is the exit?” Kaiba asked tersely. “I have also now fulfilled my end of our bargain. I’d like to be on our way.” 

Jonouchi glared at him, but the young version of Kaiba just shook his head, walking slowly to a dense shroud of darkness ahead. It seemed to swallow the boy whole, like the house itself was reluctant to release him to any passage that promised distance from its dominion.

“It’s here,” he called to them, his voice flat. A beat, and then blinding light in the shape of a door. Jonouchi stared at Kaiba, who strode purposefully towards the exit.  

His eyes adjusted after a moment, and they were high up, perhaps three storeys, the wind skimming over slate tiles and broken gutters, the skyline fractured by spires of nightmare architecture that pulsed faintly in the simulation’s unstable horizon.

“This is the roof,” Jonouchi said in confusion. The boy’s red rimmed eyes were lightless, and he fixed him with a flat stare.

“Yes,” the boy said quietly. “It’s the only way out.”

Kaiba strode out into the centre of the roof, drawing up his luminous summon panel and clicking on his Red Eyes, its piercing shriek above them as it careened out of the sky, dark and hurtling down towards them as if it had fallen out of the sun itself. The dragon’s massive wings carved the air into violent gusts as it descended, landing with a thunderous crack of claws against stone. Heat rippled off its scales in waves that shimmered like oil over water. Its pupils–dazzling, depthless vermillion–contracted the moment they fixed on the boy. The creature recoiled, rankling and hissing immediately, teeth bared, throat vibrating with a low warning rumble that shook dust from the roof tiles. It lowered its casque, coiling its giant, dinosauric body in protective aggression around Kaiba’s position.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jonouchi shouted, rushing forward, throwing himself between the dragon and the child. “He’s not– just– back off, okay?” He lifted both hands as if placating a rabid animal, angling his body wide enough to block the boy from the creature’s line of attack.

“Jonouchi, let’s go.”

The boy looked between the two of them, eyes darting from Kaiba’s rigid posture to the protective breadth of Jonouchi’s shoulders, then something flickered across his face, sharp and knowing and desperate all at once. 

“I was wondering what your name was,” the boy said. He tilted his head slightly, lips twitching into a thin smirk. “Jonouchi.”

The name landed like a fracture in glass.

Jonouchi stiffened. His shoulders slackened a fraction, his eyes unfocused. He turned, slowly, as if drawn by invisible thread, gaze locking onto the boy with eerie focus.

Kaiba’s stomach plummeted, a cold spike of dread piercing through every disciplined layer of composure. The simulation’s core protocols that prevented NPCs from speaking player names, and the boy mentioned fucking waiting to hear the name too… Malicious anti-player cognition, intelligent and targeted predation, compounding protocol deviation, agentic misalignment… Did the collapsing systems compromise the RLAIF or was the information dieting reaching critical failure with him and Jonouchi stranded in the sandbox? Everything was corrupted so much further than he could have ever anticipated, and the longer they were trapped in here in this labyrinthine travesty–  

The narcolepsy flared. Kaiba felt its drowsiness cotton every sense, thick sleepiness blotting any feeling, any corralling instinct that kept him sharp and upright and fucking focused– 

Red Eyes seethed again, the sublabial scales of its maw receding to snarl at the boy. The boy barely registered the threat before focusing on Jonouchi again.

“Come here,” the boy ordered softly.

Jonouchi planted one foot in front of the other, slowly, until he stood between Kaiba’s dragon and the child. Red Eyes’ heated breath gusted white before it swung its head towards Kaiba, screeching at its master. The sound purged Kaiba’s mind of its torpor and panic. He held his hand up to the dragon. 

“Stand down,” he ordered. A ribbon of smoke curled from between its serrated teeth as it leaned forward a fraction, nostrils flaring, scenting the child. Its wings flexed once, membranes tightening with the restrained urge to strike, claws scraping grooves into the stone as its weight shifted with visible reluctance. The dragon issued one last violent, animalistic roar before its hackles receded in a slow, begrudging ripple along its spine. It withdrew, folding its wings inward and lowering its immense body to the rooftop beside Kaiba, flattening itself along the tiles in a posture of tense obedience. Its head remained lifted, chin hovering just above the stone, eyes never leaving the boy and Jonouchi. 

Kaiba considered his younger self standing across from him, holding an ensorcelled Jonouchi at gunpoint. The boy had pressed the bore and barrel crown to Jonouchi’s jaw as if it were a kiss, and so hypnotized was his companion that he barely blinked at the danger. Kaiba’s heart, hard as it was, beat even harder in fright but he refused to have panic fray his mind lest they never escape. And so he focused: not on Jonouchi or the fear he felt for him but on his captor, this child copy of himself. The boy was wily, sharp features finally cutting through the last baby fat. Lame armed, half-dead, spiny. Eyes blue as a bruise, sleepless: every night a long fury of bodies, the smithereen children of the mine field, bloody stump legs. In his mind they’d resembled his bunkmates from the orphanage, one was like the boy with the cowlick who couldn’t count well and blew a cheap kazoo to mark his birthday that first October, they’d crowded around a stale grocery cake sliced thin as it would go as if that would make it enough to feed them all, and the kazoo boy had gave up his piece because it had been Kaiba’s tenth birthday and for his kindness Kaiba could only imagine him blasted apart in the lush of the Cambodian tropics, daydreaming his death-slacked face, how in its final moments it could still register terror at cruelty, at the end of the world, and Kaiba envied it, he envied this kazoo boy and his kazoo body, his kazoo corpse, all so far away from his own infernal body and the hell of the Kaiba mansion and the one other terrible body he’d come to know within it.

“What are you doing?” Kaiba asked.

“What I need to do to defeat Gozaburo.” 

“I already told you what you need to do.” 

“And I already told you that I won’t wait that long. With some assistance, the likelihood of a quicker escape increases, and maybe another way out–” 

“Stop it. You know better. No one is coming to help you.”

“You cannot say that with absolute certainty.” 

“I can and I am,” Kaiba snapped. “And I will, because it is true. And you know it too. If you believed someone would help you, why did you buy this gun from a man who is going to betray you? Why haven’t the police done anything, despite all the evidence you’ve given them? Why haven’t you told your own brother–”  

The boy’s blue eyes flew open. 

“I would never!” 

The boy was breathing hard now, hand clasped around the pistol tremouring faintly. Kaiba kept an eye on his small pointer finger, hooked through the trigger well near the sear. Any more pressure and he would blow Jonouchi’s face clean off. Jonouchi remained vacuous: dark eyes heavy-lidded and depthless, unblinking, face slack with unconcern.  

Red Eyes shifted with a slow, irritated scrape of talons against tile. The dragon’s tail lashed once, a heavy crack against the rooftop that sent fragments of simulated slate skittering across the wind. Its nostrils flared with a harsh exhale that curled in pale spirals around Jonouchi’s unmoving figure. Kaiba flicked his gaze sideways, and the dragon stilled under it, pupils constricting as it locked onto him in immediate compliance. A muscle flexed in its jaw as if swallowing another snarl before it withdrew its head by inches. 

Kaiba dragged his focus back to the boy, trying to inventory the accumulating fractures in the simulation’s behaviour. The child’s unpredictability was no longer merely personal. Time was collapsing into a narrow, lethal corridor. He could not out argue this version of himself indefinitely. With every passing moment, Shehezerade leaned toward cunning manipulation, reflexive brutality, catastrophic instability, or some volatile synthesis of all three feeding off each other in accelerating spirals.

Kaiba opted to pacify what he knew was the boy’s most urgent shame. 

“You never do. You never tell him. He never finds out.”

“Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you’re saying?” 

The boy’s hand flexed around the pistol grip, the faint click of tension barely audible as he adjusted his hold, letting the motion linger long enough to make the implication unmistakable.

“Because I’m telling you there’s a way out of this fucking shithole. But I can assure you it doesn’t involve Jonouchi. So let him go.”

The boy’s gaze ricocheted between them, snapping from Jonouchi’s loose, obedient posture to the hulking silhouette of Red Eyes crouched in restraint, back to Kaiba with a look that fractured by degrees the longer it lingered. His lower lip trembled, teeth pressing into it hard enough to blanch the flesh, and the barrel of the gun wavered fractionally as his grip faltered. 

“You cannot keep him here.” Kaiba said, each word enunciated clearly. “He does not belong to you.”

The boy’s gaze sharpened, fingers tightening on the gun.

“And so you get to take him away?” he asked, trembling and furious. “Are you saying he belongs to you then?” His voice cracked even as he smiled, nuzzling the firearm’s barrel more deliberately under Jonouchi’s chin again. The boy dragged the cold ring of metal along the soft hinge of his jaw with unsettling slowness. Jonouchi blinked slowly at the contact and did nothing, his pupils blown wide, gaze glassy and unfocused.

“Stop.”

The boy’s eyes darted to Kaiba again, glittering with wet, volatile brightness, and he gave a small laugh that broke halfway through. “Why? It’s a simple question! And you seem to have all the answers!”

The boy nudged the barrel higher, just enough to tilt Jonouchi’s head back, forcing his throat to arch in vulnerable exposure. His injured arm shook visibly with the effort of maintaining the position, but he compensated by leaning closer, shoulder angling inward. 

“He can’t stay here because he doesn’t belong to me. So who does he belong to then?” Kaiba’s heart started pounding again, and the boy resumed: “Is it you? I’ll know if you’re lying. So unless you prefer I kill him you better tell the truth–”

The answer tore from him with such conviction that he was left surprised. 

“Yes. He belongs to me. Now release him.”

The wind screamed across the rooftop. Red Eyes stirred, its wings tightening against its flanks with a leathery shudder. The boy stared at him with his own eyes, so familiar, widening, searching, dissecting… Kaiba saw the clarity land in a look of resignation he hadn’t seen in his reflection in many, many years. The boy’s arm dropped and the gun slipped from Jonouchi’s jaw. 

The trance shattered. Jonouchi blinked hard, stumbling back, looking to Kaiba in confusion.

“Leave me alone,” the boy muttered hoarsely, scrubbing at his face with the heel of his hand. “Just go.”

[specialgradefckr]

In lion society, the female is the hunter, the caregiver, but also the one stuck in a tough position. She doesn’t choose who mates with her, and she can’t leave the pride. She’s bred over and over again, and her worth is measured by how many cubs she can produce. The pride is made up of a core group of related females who stay for life, creating a strong family bond. But the throne, the leadership, is always male and always up for grabs. Male coalitions invade prides, kill the resident males, and take control of the females. Once they win, they kill any cubs that aren’t theirs, even the youngest ones, so the females can mate again. Sometimes, a dominant male will have a favorite lioness he mates with more often and shows more care for, but it’s never truly loyal he still mates with the others when needed.

I can definitely see that kind of twisted Yandere SatoSugu dynamic playing out in a lion-pride-inspired setup. Suguru would probably be the main strategist—the one who plans the invasions and orders the pride takeovers—while Satoru’s the one out there actually doing it, powerful and unstoppable. They’d have other lionesses, sure, and they’d mate with them too, but the reader would be the favorite—the one they always come back to.

Even then, their love would be possessive, dark, and controlling. If the reader had cubs, especially ones not strong enough or born at the wrong time, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill them—just to get her back into heat and mate with her again. It’s not out of cruelty, but out of obsession. She’s theirs, and they don’t want anything in the way of that bond.

They might allow a few male cubs to live, though especially the strong ones not to pass on a legacy, but as backup. Even if no one could ever defeat Satoru or Suguru (not even at the end), they’re too smart to ignore the long game. Still, they’d never keep any of the reader’s sons too close, because if those sons stayed in the group, she wouldn’t be able to mate with them and Suguru and Satoru aren’t about to let anyone else touch what they see as theirs.

if the reader were to die early, and she had a daughter, there’s no way Satoru or Suguru would ever let that daughter leave the pride. She’s a living piece of her the one they loved, and even if they’d never admit it, they’d cling to that protect her, keep her close, maybe even raise her to be…

That’s enough for now. I ended up creating an entire mythos today a very cringe one to.

bestie this is so cool! hybrid aus are fun, but i almost always do it in the context of hybrids being pets - hybrids in the wild? hybrids following non-human social structures in animal-kingdom approved (and thus super fucked up) ways? absolutely fascinating as a concept!

this is pretty long, and it's got a lot to it! there's parts that are a bigger hit with me, and parts i'm not huge on. i like cheating as long as it's contained to reader-satoru-suguru, but outright non-monogamy really only works for me when characters are going through a fwb phase or something.

the breeding you over and over, though, and potentially killing your offspring to breed you again - that's really delicious, and dark, and i could see it being truly bleak and heartbreaking if the plot point were to be really taken seriously.

imagine having this litter of cute cubs who nurse from you, and learn to play and walk and purr and cuddle, and they try to play with their fathers only to be batted around... or worse (this does happen with real lions).

always watching in anxiety while your cubs interact with satoru or suguru; maybe whoever's not "playing" with the cub is sitting next to you, holding you in place, nipping and laughing and asking you what you're so worried about...

better play nice with them if you want this litter to last. they're always torn from you too soon, too... hearing your child's cries for their mom as you're forced to leave them behind bc otherwise their fathers will kill them :(

you could also have satoru and suguru who tolerate each other... but they can't tolerate each other's children, and that's why they keep killing your children. the only way any of them survive is if you correctly guess who the father is, and distract the other one with your body so your children have a chance to grow up before you can get them away...

anyways! really fun concept here! i don't think the lion/pride setting is my thing, but you've got a great take on it here! thank you for sharing <3

[siringadev]

Decay

Illustration for Chapter 5

"He was confined to a sterile room with white walls, where every sound echoed, amplifying his anxiety. The drugs they injected dulled his emotions but turned the world into a hazy fog, detached from reality. He felt his identity dissolving, losing himself. The straitjacket, reeking of chemicals, became his second skin, stripping him of human dignity. Over time, Nero broke. He stopped speaking, barely moved. His mind crumbled more each day. Hallucinations became his only reality. He saw Weiss, felt his warm touch, heard his voice. But each time, the mirage faded, leaving him alone in the cold, empty room. Constant drug injections worsened his cognition; amnesia relentlessly consumed his mind. He sat for hours in the corner of his bed, staring blankly, his eyes empty as a doll’s. His body existed, but the Nero Weiss knew was nearly gone."

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

Can I request when bimbo reader ignores Yandere Eddie because he scared her while he was mad?

imagining yandere!eddie on his knees in front of reader, voice cracking with emotion as he grips onto your hips with his ringed fingers, breathing heavily.

"p-please, baby," he whines, putting his forehead on your lower tummy, then closing his eyes to give the soft material of your shirt that's covering your stomach a few harder kisses as he inhales. "'m so so sorry..please don't ignore me anymore--c-can't take it.. 'm so sorry, sweetheart."

you're sniffling, eyes beginning to water as you bite your glossy lower lip in hopes to quell your soft cries. eddie's desperate now. kissing your knuckles and lifting your shirt up to kiss the bare skin there, whispering small, "i love you"'s and "i'm so sorry"'s and "please don't leave me--i need you".

when he stands up, he brushes away your tears with the back of his hand, giving you a soft kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead against yours. "please forgive me, baby. please."

you sniffle, "y-you scared me--" your voice thick with emotion.

eddie shushes you, hand weaving through your hair gently to get a tender grasp on it as he brings you closer and kisses your forehead before bringing your head to his chest as he mutters soft, "i know, baby. 'm so sorry. i love you."

-

im going insane.