#Yandere spot x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

running-with-kn1ves · 3 months

Text

Drunken Stupor

A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!

OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble

TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior,

Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor.

How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself.

You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades.

You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?

Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month.

Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle.

“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”

Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.

“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”

You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though.

“You still gotts’a hold on me…”

The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified.

“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped.

“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?”

He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”

Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly.

“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile.

“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke.

You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar.

But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.

“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..”

The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face.

“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”

You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell.

“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo.

“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...”

He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts.

“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.”

The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible.

The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?

“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”

He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck.

“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..”

“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”

“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”

“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move.

“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.

“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”

He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together.

“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..”

You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you.

He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress.

“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.”

“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity.

“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..”

You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside.

But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth.

Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you.

One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair.

“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda… mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?”

With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session.

“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.”

932 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 9 months

Text

Title: Extra-dimensional.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Spot x Reader (Spider-verse).

Word Count: 6.0k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Semi-Public Sex, Tentacle-Adjacent Sex, Prolonged Stalking, Psychological Abuse, Themes of Grief, and Kidnapping.

You were starting to think that your apartment might’ve been haunted.

The science-focused part of your brain was forced to look at the evidence, to acknowledge how many well-accounted-for articles of clothing and minor keepsakes had gone missing over the past few weeks, to count how many times you’d caught shadowy figures flickering in the corner of your eye, to take stock of all possible causes and admit that, tragically, a temperamental spirit was the only remotely plausible explanation, even if you had to use the term ‘plausible’ more loosely than you’d like to. It made sense – or, it made as much sense as invoking supernatural entities could, anyway.

On the other hand, the part of your mind that paid rent every month and vacuumed twice a week really, really didn’t want your apartment to be haunted and vehemently denied that ghosts – unseen, untouchable, unsolvable ghosts – were something you’d have to deal with a down payment like yours.

Both parts of your brain could agree that leaving a fully in-tact, as-of-yet unopened bank vault would be a weird thing for a ghost to do, though.

Teeth grit, still dressed in the clothes you’d worn to the memorial, you stood with one foot planted on its overturned side and another lodged in your carpeting, the end of a crowbar you’d borrowed from your loudest downstairs neighbor lodged between the door and the wall where a badly beaten mechanism bound them together. You’d already called the cops, as little as you wanted to do with them or the quote-on-quote ‘heroes’ who’d failed to save him, but the operator had laughed you off of the line and despite the hours you’d spent buried in the deepest trenches of any search engine that would have you, the only report you could find of a bank robbery had taken place in London, on the other side of the world. You’d considered, briefly, that grief had driven you to hallucinations and this was just the first sign of an upcoming downward spiral, but that idea had been swiftly vetoed when you’d tripped over the damn thing and decided it was very much, very unfortunately real. The idea to pry it open had come a few minutes later, after deciding that you probably had a legal right to anything to investigate anything that spontaneously appeared in your living room – ghosts or no ghosts.

You heard something snap, felt the reverberation of a fracture underneath your palms, but the vault didn’t budge. The only thing that changed was your crowbar – the bent claw replaced with a jagged, broken-off tip when you managed to dislodge it from the vault. You winced, swallowing back in an agitated grown. Trial One: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. So far, the vault reigned victorious.

You tried to take a deep breath, to count to ten and tell yourself that this was no different than a failed experiment, a half-baked test that just hadn’t gone your way, but you could still hear church bells ringing in the back of your mind, still picture two empty seats at the front of the chapel – one for Dr. Octavius and the other meant for the CEO of the Alchamax, neither brave enough to show their face. You weren’t even sure why you were so angry. It could’ve been the clipped speech delivered by a company representative who’d barely known him, the closed casket, the way your coworkers could barely bring themselves to meet your eyes despite your stunted attempts at making conversation through the knot lodged in your throat. It could’ve been everything. It could’ve been something else entirely. You didn’t know. You didn’t care. There were already tears streaming down your cheeks, dripping down your chin as you pulled the crowbar back and swung it into the vault’s door. The force of the collision rattled through your body, but you steeled yourself and did it again, then again, then again, until the smooth, black metal was dented beyond any hope of repair and your crowbar was warped and misshapen. Finally, when you were panting and breathless, when your hands threatened to cramp and your shoulders ached in their sockets, you drove the blunted crowbar into the vault’s door with what was left of your quickly draining strength. In the end, your aggression was rewarded with a metallic clang, the sound of something cracking open, and then, what was left of the vault door fell open – nearly taking out one of your feet before you stumbled out of the way.

You clenched your eyes shut, forcing out a ragged exhale and re-tallying your score. Trail II: Crowbar vs. Spontaneously Generated Vault complete. Although the vault put up a good fight, the crowbar’s endurance ultimately persevered. Interference from external factors and researcher’s bias will be considered later on with the assistance of a glass of wine and a mediocre romcom you’ll cry your eyes out to.

Once you’d managed to dampen the lingering heat of your grief-fueled anger, you turned your attention to the bank vault’s contents – the fruits of your labor, the results of your little experiment. You weren’t sure what you expected. Jewelry, maybe, artifacts or century-old paintings some underground dealer had to ditch in a stranger’s apartment for reasons you couldn’t begin to comprehend. Part of you, the part of you that remembered the number written across your last paycheck, couldn’t help but hope for something simple; a disorderly pile of unmarked bills that you’d count and stow away and pretend you weren’t dying to waste. That part of you wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Neatly stacked in the overturned bank vault, only slightly disrupted by your attempts to pry it open, were stacks upon stacks of neatly organized dollar bills. Or, that wasn’t quite right, actually. They were bills, but they weren’t dollars.

You took one of the bundles in your hand. English pounds – sorted by color and bound together by paper bands toting a logo you didn’t recognize. Huh.

Maybe your next call should be an international one.

By the next month, you’d escalated from a vaguely haunted apartment to a full-blown spectral presence that you just couldn’t seem to shake.

Spectral presence. You still weren’t convinced it was a real term, but you’d picked it up after a conversation with one of your coworkers (former coworker, now, you had to remind yourself, one of your former coworkers) when you both stepped out of a quickly lulling group session and you’d off-handedly mentioned your little ghost problem. In the moment, you’d laughed and shrugged and promised to let them know if you ever called an exorcist, but the phrase had stuck, resurfaced the next time you couldn’t find the threadbare t-shirt you’d been wearing for the better part of a decade and cemented itself in the forefront of your consciousness when the aforementioned shirt reappeared on your balcony, a jagged tear running from the collar to the midriff and the hems eaten away to nothing. If that didn’t count as a presence, you weren’t sure what would.

That was the first time your little ghost problem had followed you out of the house, but it wouldn’t be the last. You could practically feel it, now; constantly looming over your shoulder, constantly watching, constantly leaving little trinkets in places it knew you would be. If you could even call them that. They were more like… oddities – rings made of a kind of metal you couldn’t recognize, puzzle boxes you couldn’t seem to figure out, things that should make sense but just didn’t when you looked into them. The only one you’d been able to make sense of so far was a pair of glasses, one of the lenses sporting a hair-line fracture. You’d spent the rest of that day huddled in your closet, the door shut and the lights off. You considered that you could have a stalker, someone or something who loved you enough or hated you enough to follow you around, leaving things you didn’t want to see in places it knows you’d find them, but you didn’t know how a stalker would even start to get their hands on something like that. You didn’t know how anything of his could’ve survived that explosion, but you weren’t in a place to ask those kinds of questions, anymore.

Currently, you weren’t in a place to do much of anything. You’d spent most of the night before sleepless and huddled into yourself, and now, you were glassy-eyes and exhausted, staring down an aisle’s worth of produce blankly as you tried to ignore the chill fanning over the nape of your neck. You kept your tongue caught in your teeth, counting out the micro-seconds between one breath and another with a precision refined by years of measuring the time between stimulus and reaction, holding yourself stiff enough to drown out the unsteadiness. It’d pass, soon enough. It had to pass, eventually. You just had to—

Something brushed against the small of your back and you straightened, snapping over your shoulder and finding, predictably, nothing. You tried to write it off as just another figment of your stress-induced paranoia, a symptom of so many late nights and so little external stimulation, but any hope of calming your racing heart was torn away with you by the feeling of something settling against the curve of your shoulder-blade, then dipping lower, following the curve of your spine before sliding to your hip. It was a phantom sensation – cold and weightless, hollow and so close to intangible – but you could feel it clearly enough to recognize that it was pressing against you directly, frozen tendrils sapping the warmth from your skin without clothes to buffer its awful touch. There was something else to it, too, a sort of buzzing that you couldn’t seem to compare to anything but static. It burnt. It didn’t feel like anything at all.

If you’d been braver, you might’ve glanced down, tried to see if the fabric of reality had opened to reveal some terrible, eldritch thing, but you weren’t and it was all you could do to clench your eyes shut, to cross your arms over your chest and pray that would be enough to protect you from the thin trail of frigid, searing static slowly creeping up your side, drifting to your navel, following the curve of your chest until it was resting just underneath the base of your throat. You weren’t sure what you were afraid of. That it would hurt you, maybe, that the thing that was haunting you for months would realize it could touch you and take the next logical step. You didn’t want to die in a grocery store. You didn’t want to die at all. You didn’t want to—

“Do you mind, dude?”

The static disappeared, dissolving into the open air, and your eyes shot open, immediately finding a strung-out teenager standing next to you, awkwardly attempting to reach for something you must’ve been standing in front of. More out of reflex than anything else, you stepped back, muttering an apology under your breath before retreating out of the store entirely. You decided, when you were a block away and just starting to catch your breath, that you’d never be going back. You decided you were never going to think about what’d just happened to you again.

And, later on, when you realized that you wouldn’t be any safer at home, you decided not to think about your little haunting at all.

~ It was creeping up your spine, again.

“You’ve got more than enough experience for the position we’re offering.”

Lingering at the nape of your neck, pausing, then circling to your chest to trace over your collarbones.

“And I saw your resume, too – very impressive stuff. We’d love to have someone with your qualifications on our staff.”

It usually waited until you were alone, locked in your apartment or curled up under your sheets. It hadn’t touched you again in public since your first physical encounter – something you were thankful for and horrified by in equal measures. You didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was a conscious entity. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean if it knew what it was doing to you.

“There’s just one question. You mentioned that you were formerly employed at,” A pause, a polite smile that meant ‘depending on your answer, you might not be in my office for much longer’, “Alchemax?”

You forced yourself to smile, too, shifting slightly in your uncomfortable leather seat and hoping that would be enough to dispel the trail of frost now gliding down your chest. “Unfortunately,” you started, and your specter dipped lower, past your stomach and into the space between your thighs. You clenched your legs shut, then thought better of it and crossed them, but that did little to stop the chill now washing over your lap, fanning over the inside of your thigh. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it groping. “I wasn’t in that department, if that’s what you’re wondering. Our work was supposed to be completely theoretical. None of us knew what was really going on until – well, until everything knew.”

Your total rejection of autonomy appeased the interviewer, who rewarded your sacrifice by nodding his head and shuffling the papers on his desk before launching into some lengthy monologue about benefits and turn-over rates that you couldn’t bring yourself to concentrate on. Your crossed legs offered little protection. The entity’s touch expanded, infecting everything it contacted with that awful static and turning your skin warm, hyper-sensitive. A strange, alien weight fell onto your clit, pressing down harshly enough to earn a sudden gasp, to make you jerk forward and wrap your arms around your stomach. The interview went silent, his expression turning to one of sympathy-tinged confusion. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m just—” You tried to straighten your back, to brace yourself on the arm of your chair, but the entity dipped lower, two finger-like projections tracing down the length of your slit and you forced yourself to stand in spite of your unsteady legs. “It’s just been so humid, lately. I think I might need to step out and get something to drink—”

“Please, let me.” No, no, no. You needed to be somewhere else, to find a broom closet to hide in until this was over, but you couldn’t say that, couldn’t explain that all you wanted to do was get away from here and run farther than this entity would be able to follow you. You couldn’t say much of anything as you fell back into your seat, as your interview offered a curt apology and fled his own office before you could do the same. You might’ve thanked him, but you couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to hear anything over the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

As you feared, the entity seemed to know that you were alone. Its formerly ginger touch turned aggressive, dull fingertips (because they were fingers, you couldn’t deny it any longer, couldn’t claim this thing was as far from human as you hoped it would be) burrowing into the inside of your thigh harshly enough to bruise before pulling back and turning their attention back to your cunt, your clit. It was more than just the ghost of sensation, now – the pad of a thumb pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing loose, quick circles into your clit. Your body, senses dialed up by paranoia and defenses thinned by exhaustion, reacted instantly, an unfamiliar warmth pooling in your core as you dug your nails into the leather seat and tried to hold yourself still, tried to stop your stupid, stupid body from doing anything that’d suggest you wanted to be molested by a ghost.

You grit your teeth, to clench your thighs together, but your resistance only seemed to make it more aggressive. You felt a hand curl around your ankle and jerk your leg to the side, forcing your legs apart. It was quick to fill the empty space, three fingers pressing into your entrance as the heel of a palm continued to torture your clit. Whatever chill it carried, you were burning hot enough to balance it out, now, to leave you struggling to ignore the slick starting to dampen the inside of your thighs, the wet sounds that echoed off the blank office walls as two fingers slid into your pussy – only vaguely muffled by fabric still between you and it. Suddenly, the material of your dress-pants felt thin, transparent, and against your better judgement, you forced yourself to look toward the door. The interviewer had closed it on his way out, but it wasn’t locked. You doubted it was soundproof, either. If you were lucky, they’d be short-staffed, and no one would have a reason to pass this specific office though this specific hallway. And, if you weren’t…

You choked back a ragged groan as the fingers inside of you started to move, started to do more than just grope and tease and haunt. Rather than numb, rather than paralyze, the static seemed to tote a much, much worse side-effect. There was a sort of… buzzing vibration, a resonating tremor that made you want to lean back, go slack, and let the sensation wash over you. You couldn’t, though. Even if you forfeited the job, gave up on the idea of ever working in this industry, you knew you’d never be able to show your face in public again if someone walked in and you had to explain what was happening to you right now. That was, if you even could explain what was happening to you right now.

You caught the inside of your cheek in your teeth, biting down until you tasted blood. The digits quirked upward, rubbing against your pulsing walls before scissoring apart, stretching you open. There was no pattern to it, no method you could track and prepare yourself for. If you didn’t know better, you’d call it experimental. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve called it clumsy.

You could feel your face heating up, a knot of tension growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, but rather than sped up, push forward, force you further towards that inevitable ledge, the entity’s hand pulled back, rubbing one more careless pattern into your clit before falling away completely. You let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and disappointment, letting one last disgusted shudder run through you before straightening your back and—

And forcing a palm over your mouth just in time for a tongue, wet and thick and cold, to run over your cunt, hauling you back to the edge just as quickly as you’d pulled away from it. It was rough, the texture too savage to be human, and so wet, the slick you’d been trying to ignore was immediately replaced with thick, freezing saliva. Even the length seemed designed to torture you – long enough to lap over your entrance and your clit in the same slow, aching stroke; to thrust into you and fill the space its fingers had left empty. Memories of a course on specialized biology resurfaced in the fog of forced pleasure and helpless confusion, something about the evolution of a giraffe’s tongue and then, in another lecture, of the practice of masturbation among dolphins as a marker of their intelligence. You’d hated that fucking class. You hated that you were thinking about it now, instead of doing anything useful.

Its tongue was wider, more flexible than its fingers had been. It didn’t have to stretch you open, no, not when it was big enough to keep you full as its tapered end curled and probed against the walls of your cunt. Two fingers pressed into your clit, drawing loose patterns while its tongue split you open so gracelessly, so brutally, it almost circled back around to feeling good. You didn’t try to stop yourself from grinding into it, anymore, letting your legs twitch and your hips buck freely as it worked, as it tore you apart with all the care of a predator gnawing at slabs of raw meat. Every scrap of your limited energy was devoted to keeping yourself quiet, to stifling the needy whimpers and little whines that managed to escape despite your best efforts to silence them. That terrible buzzing seemed to grow stronger, now intense enough to send pulsing jolts of pure electricity from your pussy to your core, and you doubled over, blunt nails biting into your own skin as that thing finally shoved you over the side and brought your body to a trembling, blinding orgasm.

It nursed you through your climax, and as the euphoria faded and the aftershocks dulled into sharp, searing pangs, you managed to speak, your voice hushed and shaking for reasons that were entirely beyond your control. “Go away,” you forced out, praying that your interviewer had left the building, that there had never been a research center here at all and you were just sitting in a condemned building crying about nothing because grief had driven you insane weeks ago and you were just too lost in your own delusions to notice. “Please, go away.”

There was a second of hesitation, a lingering chill against the inside of your thigh, and the entity chose to show its first sign of mercy and finally, finally leave – its cold tongue lapping over your cunt one more time before disappearing completely. You had a second to pull yourself into a more dignified position, another to make sure you didn’t look like someone who’s just gotten finger-fucked by a ghost in the empty office of a higher-up who had to already think you were some mad-scientist reject before the door swung open, your interviewer stepping back in and smiling at you as if nothing in the world could’ve possibly been wrong.

His eyes flickered over your hollowed expression, your wide eyes, your unsteady posture as he handed you a lukewarm bottle of water. You could only wonder why it’d taken him so long to get. “Are you…” A pause, a slight wince. You tried to pretend you didn’t notice. “…feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” you said, your voice hoarse, barely audible. You managed to brace yourself on the arms of your chair, pulling yourself upward and leaving the bottle forgotten in your lap. You didn’t want to drink anything. Not until your hands stopped shaking, at least.

“I think we were talking about my qualifications?”

You got the job, despite everything. They asked you to start as soon as you could, but you’d made your excuses, cited a half-remembered clause that’d come with your suspension package and got whoever was in-change of that kind of thing to hold the position for another month. You couldn’t imagine willingly stepping back into that building again, not yet. You couldn’t imagine doing much of anything, not when he still hung over your life like the smoke of a funeral pyre.

It'd been a bad idea, looking back on it. You should’ve worked harder to get yourself out of your stifling apartment. You should’ve done more to keep up with the friends you’d pushed away after the incident, to make sure you didn’t leave yourself socially isolated and alone. You should’ve left town. You should’ve fled the country.

You should’ve done everything in your power to make sure you didn’t end up where you were now, facing down the thing that was currently standing in your bathroom doorway.

Your ghost, you figured – even if it’d been weeks since you genuinely thought you were only dealing with a run-of-the-mill haunting. It looked… blurry, for lack of a more creative descriptor; the white, chalky outline of a humanoid figure standing sharply out against the entirely black background. If it had a body, it was lost in the shadows of the hallway beyond, the shadows it’d created when it appeared out of nowhere and took every light bulb in your apartment out with a single pulse of extra-dimensional energy. Right now, the only source of light was the phone you were clutching in your right hand, your left similarly preoccupied, busy keeping your suddenly very, very thin towel wrapped around your torso. It probably didn’t matter. As far as you could tell, this thing didn’t have eyes, let alone genitalia.

That was what the rational, scientific part of your brain said, at least. The rest was replaying the memory of the way its hand had felt as groped at your thighs and couldn’t seem to comprehend much else.

You half-expected it to lunge at you, or rather, to creep at you, to disappear and reappear just outside of your peripheral, too far to see but close enough to sense. In the end, it only had to take a step forward, its movements slow and jerky, as if it wasn’t used to carrying its own weight just yet. Did it even weigh anything? Could you weigh something that clearly wasn’t supposed to exist? It didn’t really matter. You already knew it could touch you. You already knew it could kill you, if it wanted to.

Another step, then another. It closed the distance between you easily, coming to a stop less than arm’s length in front of you. You could see it more clearly, make out a smear of color in the void, like light catching on an oil spill. The white lines that bordered its form were moving in a way you hadn’t been able to make out from across the room, too; trembling and shaking, constantly shifting as if it was only ever a second away from falling apart entirely. If you weren’t so scared, you’d be tempted to reach out, see what happened when you made contact with it, rather than the other way around. If you weren’t so afraid, you might’ve been able to do anything.

It lifted a hand, reaching towards you with those same unnatural movements. Its fingertips brushed over your skin, painting a strip of frost across your cheek, and you felt your blood turn to ice. You couldn’t hear the buzzing, but then again, it might’ve just been a sign that you’d already gone deaf with fear.

You opened your mouth, but speech was hindered, your internal monologue limited to a never-ending mantra of ‘go away go away go away go away go away’. Eventually, you managed to spit something out, even if your voice was barely above a whisper by the time it reached your lips. “I don’t want you here.”

There was a second of stillness, of silence. You started to wonder if you’d made it angry, if it could be angry. You started to wonder if it could understand you at all.

Your makeshift flashlight wavered, sputtering a few times before giving out completely. You scrambled to turn it back on, to not be left alone in the dark with a monster, but your apartment flickered back to life and you found yourself standing alone, the entity having blinked out of reality in the time it took your eyes to adjust to the light. The only proof that it’d been there at all was your dead phone and how violently your hands were still shaking.

You considered leaving your apartment. You considered leaving the city – renting a car and driving as far as you were able to. You’d sleep in whatever shady, cheap motels would have you, start a new life across the country with only your meager savings and multiple PhDs to keep you afloat. You’d change your name. You’d get away from here, away from it. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, now that the infestation had spread to your sanctuary, too.

You took a shuddering breath, then set your phone down and let your towel fall away. You didn’t bother getting dressed before climbing into bed and curling up underneath your sheets, hoping in-vain that your comforter would be enough to hide you from any unseen voyeurs.

Some part of you must’ve already known that it wouldn’t.

You couldn’t remember waking up.

You must’ve, at some point. But, if you had, you would’ve remembered being brought here, would’ve been able to recognize the feeling of countless hands wrapping around your wrists, your ankles; countless mangled tendrils tangling around your fingers and dripping down your arms, snaking up your legs until you were entirely at its mercy. The numbers didn’t add up. There were too many hands, too many moving parts, too many things for your confusion-addled mind to keep track of. You couldn’t seem to figure out if you were suspended mid-air or if the gravity was different, if you were genuinely as weightless as you felt. That, more than anything, fueled the growing nausea twisting in the pit of your stomach, the growing sense of wrongness that threatened to tear away what little stability you had left. What little sanity you had left.

You tried to look past the awful things wrapped around you, to ground yourself with something beyond shifting colors and distorted limbs, but whatever pocket dimension you’d been dragged into didn’t offer much comfort. An expanse of white stretched on as far as you could see, only interrupted by free-floating pools of pure darkness; drops of ink spilled across an otherwise blank canvas. Occasionally, the landscape would waver, leaving you in a pure void broken up by streaks of colorless flesh that’d burn themselves into your sight and linger as phantom visions for seconds after the false reality corrected itself. Even the feeling of its skin against yours was off-putting, unsettling, lacking the warmth that would’ve accompanied the touch of anything human. Where there should’ve been comfort, there was nothing, a total absence of life and familiarity to a degree you’d never experienced before. Where there should’ve been intimacy, there was strangeness, and you’d never taken well to strangeness.

A pang of pure ache ran from your cunt to your core, a sort of numbing electricity that made your legs twitch and your body seize. Right, you’d managed to forget. It was touching you, beyond just the hands shackled around your wrists and ankles and the amorphous tendrils laving over any part of you they could reach. Two fingers kept your pussy spread open and vulnerable while a thick, tapered tendril thrust into you at the kind of idle, languid pace that was simultaneously infinitely merciful and too agonizing to put words to. That was one of the only things you could feel – the agonizing stretch, the tight knot of tension sitting in the pit of your stomach. If you’d been able to move anything beyond your eyes, you might’ve gagged. If your body had been something tangible, something real, you might’ve felt sick.

The tendril curled inside of you, and every fiber of your being seemed to wither. Struggling was pointless, but you still had to try, thrashing against your restraints, digging your nails into that obsidian flesh and praying to whichever deity would listen that it wouldn’t think to fight back. Fortunately, your blunt nails and weak thrashing didn’t seem to faze it. You weren’t sure if it knew you were there beyond some unconscious tactile sense, like a freshly triggered venus flytrap closing around its victim. You weren’t sure which was more horrific – the idea that there was some sentient, self-aware being knowingly and decisively doing this to you, or the passing thought that you’d just been caught in the mouth of some mindless creature that happened to like the way you tasted.

You decided not to think about it. You decided not to think about anything. You decided that, if you kept your mind totally blank, if you refused to count how many times you’d caught a lingering shadow in the corner of your eye or felt a stray hand brush against the small of your back, if you refused to feel its disembodied tendril filling your cunt, then none of this was happening, then you weren’t trapped in an plane of endless nothingness and you weren’t being fucked by the monster that’d been haunting you for months, now. You clenched your eyes shut and promised yourself that you couldn’t feel its dulled tip rubbing against that sensitive, softened spot inside of you, that your hips didn’t buck as another hand appeared from a puddle of kaleidoscopic ink and pressed three fingers into your abused clit, that it didn’t matter if warmth was starting to pool in your core because it couldn’t matter.

Ignoring it wasn’t an option, though. It wouldn’t let you ignore it – its pace changing, speeding up, getting rougher as you failed to stifle your reactions, failed to swallow down the little gasps and moans that slipped past your parted lips. It was almost brutal in its unyieldingness, fucking into you with enough force to bruise as you writhed and scratched and screamed. There was no remorse, no care, just its forceful affection and your body’s response. Another tendril wrapped around your midriff, another hand falling to your chest, and you let out a long, wordless cry. The entity reacted immediately, the blunt head of a tendril forcing its way past your lips and lodging itself in your throat, forcing you to gag around its bulk. It smelled like ozone – fresh and thrilling and terrible all at once. It tasted organic.

This one, mercifully, didn’t seem to want to hurt you. It seemed content to explore you, to twist around your tongue and prod at every corner of your mouth. Still, tears formed in the corners of your eyes, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chest as you attempted not to choke, as you tried not to let the deformed mass fucking into your cunt tear you apart. Your vision was distorted, blurred and darkened around the edges, but you forced yourself to open your eyes, to stare blankly at the new well of ink forming some indescribable distance above you. It was bigger than the others, soon interrupted by a border of white appearing in the darkness, the shape wavering, sketchy, like chalk line drawn with an unsteady hand. Eventually, you made out a shape not unlike the one you’d seen in your apartment all those weeks ago, the ghostly entity that’d barely had to lift a finger to terrify you. This one was different, though – harsher, flitting and flashing in and out of existence faster than you could comprehend. If it’d been a breath away from falling apart the last time you saw it, reality was struggling to hold itself together around it, now.

A head emerged from the darkness, then a neck, then the entity’s broad shoulders. A hand materialized, extending from the pull of darkness and reaching towards you, towards the mess of dark matter and appendages that now all-but entirely encompassed your form. Its fingertips brushed against your jaw, then cupped your cheek, it’s touch careful, ginger, cautious. As if it was trying to be gentle with you. As if it was trying to be loving.

You’re not sure what part of your exhausted mind made the connection, which piece slid into place first. You let your head lull to the side, your jaw fall limp around the tendril in your mouth. You grunted, a premature attempt to speak that it could separate from all the other meaningless, ragged sounds that’d been forced out of you by its invasive touch, and the tendril pulled back, wrapping loosely around your neck. It still took you a moment to find your voice, but you managed to spit out something nearly coherent.

“…Jonathan?”

For a moment, the hands wrapped around your limbs loosened, the tendril attempting to split you in two faltering and before going still.

Then, there was a resounding, resonating purr that seemed to emanate from every corner of the micro-dimension. When the tendril started to move again, it thrusted into you with twice the force, twice the mania. This time, you didn’t have to pretend. You were floating on air, your thoughts blank and your mind empty – your body numb and unfeeling. This time, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away.

This time, you didn’t even bother to try.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse #yandere spot #spot x reader #jonathan ohnn x reader #yandere jonathan ohnn #yanderecore #yancore

664 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 10 months

Text

Yandere!Spot Headcanons

Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Innuendos, Non-Con behavior

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ Yandere!Spot who's always there to stalk you through your reality. Gods, you're so pretty and amazing, and your laugh makes him feel something other than rage for once in a while. It makes him feel alive. You are so loveable that you make him feel whole again, especially when you don't see him. This way, he can't scare you. Still, he can use his spots to subtly touch you, raising confusion on your face as you are not sure what you just felt, but you are sure that someone was linking their fingers with yours or (once he grows bolder) grabbing your hips or ass, and pull your hair. Suddenly people get dragged away from you, and you start to think you're cursed when Spot finally makes his move on you.

♡ Yandere!Spot who loves watching his darling escape. He used to panic so much whenever you'd accidentally find a portal to another world (instead of the spots that just drop you somewhere else in the spotworld). But ever since he learned how fun it is to find you somewhere unfamiliar—you being confused and scared—only to hunt you down or grab you out of nowhere and bring you back into the safety of his own self, there's no greater pleasure for him.

♡ Yandere!Spot who tries to accommodate all your wants and needs. It's so easy for him, too, once he figures out his powers some more (which you are helping with by escaping occasionally). Do you want your favorite food? Let him find a world where he can get the exact one you're craving. You need a special kind of pillow to be more comfortable? Spot knows just the place. You could be whining about wanting literally anything, and he makes sure you have it. What do some more petty crimes matter to him when he's doing it for his love?

♡ Yandere!Spot who can't help caress you in your sleep. Even you, his dazzling, amazing, escape-prone darling, get tired. Though you look so peaceful for once that he doesn't want to disturb you, Spot can't help but watch over you for a while longer. It's hard business being a super-villain, you know? Every once in a while, he profits from just scooting next to you, ignoring his scheming and learning of his powers, just to push some strands of hair from your face or draw along the bridge of your nose, admiring you. He's hesitant at first to use his spots to caress your body in your sleep, but he gets more and more confident the more he does it. You'd hate his touch when you're awake, shying away from every offer of comfort from him. But while you're asleep, you lean in, opening up for him as if you want him. Spot can do anything he wants, and there is so much he wants to do to with you.

♡ Yandere!Spot who punishes you by locking you into his portals. There's an end to everything, even Spot's fun and patience. Especially when he needs to concentrate, your complaints and whining can be bothersome. He can use his spots to crucify you, get you stuck between two places, or throw you somewhere you can't escape, like a prison cell. Once he gets the hang of his powers, Spot can easily immobilize and scare you if he wishes to. It's useful when he has to leave you alone but doesn't want to risk his little darling getting lost somewhere without his supervision. It's also so very useful for—ahem—sneaking touches at you. In secret or very much as a part of the punishment. Even when he's out, he can just reach into a portal and make you shiver under the tips of his fingers. Easy access made... easier.

652 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 11 months

Note

Damn, imagine if all this YT drama was happening when Spot's situation was currently going on too. And, well, since our dimension is fucked and we just seem to jump through dimensions without the watch, what if we end up in Spot's place? (The blank void when he entered one of his own spots).

And, it would be funny to look at him, and for him to look at us and just... stare or wave. He is weird like that, and we are too.

Also, we can start bonding on feeling out of place? Sharing the same experience of everyone leaving us behind/ignoring us. Maybe we can even seek solace in his presence, and in his unique persona (even if he is supposed to be a villain).

And the fact that this is the only place we don't glitch out of? Maybe some bullshit physics as this place literally makes no sense, as well as us. It's like we belong here, with him. He could always teleport us somewhere else, but we look so tired, so pitiful and in so much need of some sort of care... he feels bad for us. And maybe, he can try and convince us to stay with him. After all, he *is* the only one who hasn't turned his back on us, right? He isn't a bad guy like those 'friends' of us were saying!

Meanwhile everything is going to shit in the society's HQ :)

I've actually had a few ideas involving The Spot where he's either the yandere or antagonist or a central character in some way and it's really just a matter of me getting around to. Writing the dozens of things I want to write lmao

But bro your mind 😩 you've just been exiled during the YouTwo incident amd you're glitching and, you know, slowly deteoriating over time, and, suddenly, you're in this weird literally nondescript place where you're suddenly... 'balanced out'? You don't feel like you're being pulled in a bunch of different directions anymore, and you look around and it's just some white void with black dots everywhere that you think you can kind of see and hear things out of if you get close enough, but, first and foremost, is that a person? Spot just like. Is staring at you with this very deer in headlights energy and, you both awkwardly wave to each other, "uhhhhhhh... hi?" "...hiiiii, uh, is this 'your place'? Thank you so much, dude, I've been zipping all over the place, i thought i was gonna die, you saved my life" and maybe you even hug him and he's not sure how to process this because you're clearly a variant of Spiderman but you hold no animosity or hostility towards him whatsoever and 👉👈 this is the most positive human interaction he's had in ages.

Not even his powers, but his knowledge alone would be extremely useful in this scenario because like, he could literally just warp around stealing whatever parts he needed to build something that would "hold you together", given his involvement with Alchemax and the colliders specifically

You're just so understandably and genuinely grateful and Spot feels GOOD about being needed, about being someone's savior. He really had been one of the only ones who could help you and he gets a little drunk off that fact. Whether your glitching is a mutation and is your own power or you're simply some weird anomaly, you two form a kinship, and if it IS some sort of weird ability, maybe he even decides to mentor you a little! Gives him something to do, and it totally isn't to help distract him from how lonely and depressed and miserable he is!

But similar to how the other villains discounted him, you kind of discount him yourself in the sense that you don't see him as a threat. Which, he doesn't necessarily want you to, and it's not some sort of disrespect thing, but, the linger he spends with you, the more he wants you to see him as a man, a man with needs, emotionally, psychologically, physically. Whyd you have to give him all those hugs when he hasnt had human touch in forever, huh?! Don't you know how lonely and touch starved he is?! And you just think you can--can walk away from him? Disrespect him after everything he's done for you, disrespect him like everyone else?

You can always try and 'outrun him' with your little glitching, but, even if you manage to lose him, he'll pick up your tracks again, and one day you wake up from finally crashing from exhaustion to find a pitch black figure at the foot of the bed, slowly pulling in everything around it like some sort of eldritch black hole. And Jonathan menacingly waves to you, "I don't think I'll have trouble keeping up with you this time. I made sure of it"

#yandere spiderverse #yandere the spot #the spot x reader #yandere stuff #sinprompts

251 notes · View notes

meilinishere · 9 months

Text

Love sometime goes opposite then what they seem…

warnings: angst,cheating,yandere themes,never stay with anyone with this kind of behavior seek help or call the police immediately! ThIs Is fIcTION

Yandere cheater :

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

It was an average day taking care of your boyfriend. He was clingy but was the most amazing person you met it was love at first sight and properly forever but lately he started to be more distance and he always come late you start to get suspicious of him many of your friends say this is the sign of cheating you noticed it but always brush it off maybe? He is just tired. But one day he forgot his lunch be a good girlfriend and give it to him?

When you came in his office you can’t believe it he was making out with his assistant. You ran out as quickly as you can while holding tears in your eyes.

Your lovely partner is a cheater? HE IS A CHEATER HE IS A CHEATER! Words repeat in your head but you decide you never really love him that much as you thought you’ll be like obsessed .

tag your fav or any male characters you like

Edit: I continue later this is not finished yet

(Pt2)

You ran to the house you two shared and immediately packed your things as fast as you can. You wipe your tears then reminding yourself that he was never your type. The only reason you became one was a dare your friend told you. 2 years ago

“The dare is! Get a date with someone who has the letter (the first letter of your chosen male)”

“Fine the deal is deal you have to pay me 500$ Still for this okay?!”

“Yeah yeah!”

Now

He seemed to still not here like most guys when you caught cheating. He probably didn’t notice you . You done packing you are nice . And decide to inform him so that he would come like in night and ask for reasoning. You wrote everything like why you got to date him or did you love him that much.(it is up to you to imagine U-U).

you then walk out of the door and then went walking then stop a taxi to get a ride to your (friend house). You told her everything she understood you .

“Wow I can’t believe he did that you two were the best couple ever even your mom said so!”

“Yeah he probably got tired of me and decided to take her I was never actually in love with him tho not like actually love”

“Yeah I always see the dull in your eyes”

Edit that’s it for now pt3 will come shortly

You went back to live with your parents which happily took you in after staying there for 3 months you move out to a small apartment. You tell your ex boyfriend to break up and before he can reply to anything you block him.

It been 2 years after your break up you are now interested on (your dream job) then love since every time you got with someone they always end up missing or break up with you.

You walk back to your apartment only to open the door to horror..

UwU another part is gonna be next time UwU

271 notes · View notes

wxnheart · 10 months

Note

Hi new! I don't know if you take requests but can I borrow a Yandere!Spot x Reader?

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Ready or not Here I come You can't hide Gonna find you And make you want me.

Just as he's obsessed with seeing Miles fall, he's obsessed with elevating you. To what end, you'll never know. You don't think you want to know. You do your damndest to avoid wanting to know.

Perhaps it's his desire for 'normalcy' that draws him ever closer to you. You represent the everyday person for him, life uninterrupted and content, drifting through society unabashed. A life that wasn't taken from you. Not like it was taken from him. He wants it back.

Spot's awkward gait and affable nature are dangerously disarming. If you weren't aware of what he was capable of, the thought of being charmed by these qualities—well, as charmed as one could be by whom you originally thought was pathetically harmless as far as villains go—genuinely terrified you.

Despite his misguided obsession with you, he's not above using his abilities to keep tabs on you. He's not above scaring you into submission.

You've tried to run away from him multiple times, and every time you've been scared shitless when you felt the playful tap of his finger on your shoulder and you wish you couldn't pick up the underlying enmity in his quip. How dare you. Where ya going, hot stuff? 🖤

He finds your attempts humorous at best and a slight inconvenience at worst, because wherever you go, there he is. Has a tendency to toy with you by getting your hopes up sometimes. It's cute the way you breathe a sigh of relief when you think you've succeeded. 🖤

If you haven't already, because of Spot, you've developed an aversion to dark places (especially doorways) because you've lost count of the number of times he's used the darkness to his advantage and surprised you.

Thanks to him, the sight of polka dots is rage-inducing and terrifying.

You've seen more than one person ambling along innocently with the same awkward gait and god, you wish you could scream. Well, you could, but you fear attracting the Spot's attention. And he will come.

But oh, hey, what do you know, gorgeous? If you can't give him what he wants, another you can. The perks of Miles turning him into a freak, eh?

Because trust and believe, his obsession with you spans the multiverse, darlin'. Gives you something to think about, huh? 🖤

#cutie 𝓠.#request fill.#spider man: across the spider verse #johnathan ohnn #the spot #johnathan ohnn x reader #spot x reader #yandere x reader #cw: stalking #cw: nyctophobia

214 notes · View notes

spacexseven · 1 year

Note

HIHI its my first time doing an ask so I hope I'm doing this correctly so I was thinking about your subordinate au and it made me think about a random comic I read where this dude bullies a girl and she’s basically yandere for him so I was thinking yandere subordinate darling with dazai and chuuya and they find out and tease them about it

i have briefly talked about a subordinate reader that has a crush on chuuya before, if you're interested. also please do let me know the name of the comic :> sounds interesting~ i reallyyyyy like this lol i wanna do moreeee

cw: yandere reader, yandere characters, abuse of power, humiliation, invasion of privacy, mentioned stalking, nsfw mentions (of non-con voyeurism) MINORS DNI

as always, dazai finds out first.

when it comes to humiliating you, he's the most eager, after all. you should have taken into consideration that he'd go to any lengths to air out your dirty laundry, even if it meant snooping around your house for something to use. and you, foolishly, had decided to keep a diary of sorts. a diary documenting your...strange feelings for the two executives that never left you alone.

to be fair, it probably wasn't the diary that gave you away. even before that, you weren't the best at concealing your feelings. it was all too obvious that you liked chuuya and dazai more than you should have, painfully clear that you weren't staring in their direction out of paranoia, that you weren't refusing to meet their eyes out of fear. dazai had long picked up on the hints. now, this only confirmed his suspicions.

"what's this about?" his tone, though seemingly inquisitive, is laced with mocking humor, "so you like me, do you? so much that you have a diary about me? can't stop thinking about me, can you?"

he laughs again, a dry, taunting sound, "god, you're so pathetic. look at you, watching me like a creepy little stalker. is this what you do in your free time? and here i thought you'd hate us."

you can't help the way your heart pounds and your head spins even when dazai is sneering at you.

"you think chuuya is pretty, do you? all it took was for you to see him smile and you've fallen head over heels for him? you're going to hurt my feelings, [name], how come you don't write about how pretty you find me? how cute my smile is, and how hot it is when i make fun of you?"

you might be imagining it, but you're almost certain that there was a hint of irritation in his voice. hah, was he jealous? the thought makes you feel an overwhelming sense of self-satisfaction. and to think he called you the pathetic one...

chuuya hasn't spoken a word since dazai dragged you out here. but the moment dazai mentioned what you had written about him, he perks up ever so slightly and looks over at your cowering form.

"hey, don't go all quiet now," dazai doesn't even bother hiding the delight in his eyes, "i really want to know! you like the way we look, don't you? say, do you touch yourself thinking of me? you do, don't you?," he laughs a little, "what else would i expect from you? have you tried following me home? i bet you like watching me sleep, too. do you wait by my window and hope you can catch a glimpse of me doing something filthy? if i read this, i'll know the answer to that, right? or do you have another book, for your dirty little thoughts?"

he turns around to acknowledge chuuya for the first time since they gathered here, "shall we have them read it all out to us?"

chuuya, then, smiles back; a malicious, wicked sight. it's a loud, clear yes that seals your fate.

305 notes · View notes

chickenpizza420 · 11 months

Note

creepy and pathetic john trying to cop a feel is something I live for omfg thank you so much for putting that out there in the world 😩😩😩

And he definitely has long icy cold fingers that make you jump every time he touches you, he loves to hear the sounds you make when he touches you unexpectedly

#the spot x reader #yandere spot x reader #jonathan ohnn x reader #yandere the spot #jonathan ohnn #the spot #tw yandere #my post

66 notes · View notes

agent-love-101 · 11 months

Note

Hii! Could you do spot x a spider reader please? Maybe one that is the complete opposite when in and out of costume? (Confident in costume but quiet and self conscious out of suit?)

Yandere!Spot x Spider!Reader; Confident in costume

an: ooh this is a fun ask!! though i accidentally made him a bit yandere, i apologize if this wasn't what you wanted!!

meeting you, he honestly gets a bit annoyed at any quips you throw in his direction.

for some reason, yours annoy him the most out of a majority of spiderpeople. your voice is so lovely to him, and to hear it say such snarky retorts frustrates him.

however confident you are, it's too confident for him.

he singles you out specifically. finding out your origin dimension-wise, and following you home.

he watches you take off your costume, satisfied with the knowledge of your identity.

he prepares to exit back into one of his holes discreetly, when he hears you almost bump into someone and profusely apologize, stuttering a fair bit.

he likes this version of you.

i can imagine he will kidnap you, and discard your mask, assuming you won't be the confident spiderperson you were.

"doesn't it feel better to be the real you? i like this you. that bravado of your's got old quick."

or as you're fighting him, he'll use a portal to grab you and whisper personal details of yours, letting you know that he knows you outside of the hero business.

he loves feeling you panic over that. it's almost like a glimpse of the real you comes out.

#tw yandere #the spot #spiderverse #yandere x reader #ag's asks #the spot x reader

287 notes · View notes

yanderes-stuff · 9 months

Text

Yandere Johnathan Ohnn x reader

3k words

(credits to my friend Spooky aka ghosttown)

At first… Things seemed so pleasant, and healthy.

You met Johnathan at college, it was a biology class you both required. He seemed rather charming in an awkward way. Always rather jumpy and hunched over in his own world. You couldn't help but admire him from afar at first; sometimes he'd notice and avoid eye contact as soon as his eyes met yours.

Then your professor decided to put you in a group for a project. You exchanged numbers and ended up doing the projects together instead of as a group… They didn't want to bother with it, which was something Johnathan said he's used to by now. But he had to admit, he felt a lot more at ease working with you.

Over time you got to know more about each other, which was pleasant when you were both starting to feel burnt out from classes.

When break rolled around you ended up unwinding at his dorm, his room was covered in those science posters only dorks decorated with. It was a bit cute how passionate he was about science, he'd ramble to you while you sat and nodded. Barely understand anything he's saying.

You didn't even realize you were starting to lean on each other for support. However, with college stress, it was clear he wanted somebody he could spend time with outside of classes. You gladly obliged, wanting the same.

There were places like the theater, the aquarium, and libraries where you two just enjoyed each other's presence. At this point, you started to suspect maybe you loved Johnathan as more than a friend.

You kept those feelings to yourself until there was a note slipped under your dorm room.

My dearest Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. As a college student, I often feel awkward and uncertain in social situations, but you make me feel a sense of calm and comfort that is unlike anything else. From the moment I first saw you, I knew that you were special, and I have been drawn to you ever since.

I remember the time we spent together in Biology, and I felt like I was in a dream. Your laughter and smile light up the entire room, and I can't help but feel mesmerized by your presence. Your voice is like music to my ears, and your personality is so unique and special.

I know that I may come across as awkward and shy at times, but you bring out the best in me. I feel like I can be myself around you without fear of judgment or rejection. You make me feel accepted and loved in ways that nobody else ever has, and I am grateful for every moment that we spend together.

As a college student, life can often feel overwhelming and confusing, but you make it all seem worth it. You give me the strength and motivation to keep pushing forward, even on the toughest days. You are my source of inspiration and my reason for living.

I know that our time together may be short-lived, as college tends to be a transitional period in our lives. But I want you to know that you have made a lasting impact on me, and I will never forget the way you made me feel.

I hope that we can continue to spend time together, and maybe even build something more meaningful out of our friendship. No matter what the future holds, I want you to know that I will always cherish the memories and experiences we shared, and I will always have a special place in my heart for you.

So will you date me?

With love and affection,

~ Johnathan Ohnn

You were surprised reading it, using notes to ask seemed a little… unique but oddly fitting for him. You grabbed your phone, your heartbeat quickening. You told him about the letter and that you accepted his offer.

Ohnn, sat at his desk, messy papers laid about as he smiled at his phone, laying it on his chest as he stared at the wall. He never felt love until now, of course, he had little crushes here and there but never an actual chance at something genuine.

He started daydreaming about you, sweet little thoughts. Giving you flowers, eating lunch in the cafeteria together. Maybe you'd like it if he made you lunch? The gears in his mind began to turn, he was never good with romance. But he knew that people usually appreciated small acts of kindness; he wanted to show you his sweeter side. Something he's been longing to show somebody for years.

His mind decided and he made your favorite and packed it in a brown paper bag. Nothing too fancy but he hoped you'd appreciate it, He stored it somewhere safe before he decided to get some rest.

He stretched while standing, yawning as he slowly crawled into bed, he took his medication. His bed was a mess of sheets and blankets, but he tried to wrap himself comfortably while his mind wandered to his potential lover.

Tossing and turning. His eyes were heavy, his mind would soon let him sleep. Thus began a long night of his imagination, His romantic fantasies only brought him comfort from his otherwise paranoid mind.

The morning came and sunlight peeked through his windows, For once he felt energized. It was Saturday thankfully, he messaged you asking if you'd like to go to a science museum. And of course, you said yes.

After getting dressed you met at the location he provided you, to him you looked so beautiful. Your eyes were soft and your lips looked just as delicate, you admired the museum in front of you.

Your eyes followed his hand as he stretched his lanky hand out for you to hold. His hand enclosed yours entirely, and he stood tall over you; Smiling as he walked into the building.

Johnathan spoke up first "I've been here before, I-I think you'll like it. All the fossils here are so fascinating."

You looked at his gaze, his expression was that of joy. A man exploring his passion. "You seem very knowledgeable on these things, it's cute y'know"

He blushed a deep crimson, twirling his hair with his other hand nervously. "T-thank you! Nobody's ever called me that before…"

It was the truth, all his colleagues found him to be strange. His awkward mannerisms were more unsettling to them, but you found them endearing.

You began to walk towards a large fossil, it was a brontosaurus.

You stared in awe, it was about twenty-eight feet tall, and it took up the entire room. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the fossil. There was a plaque that read.

One of the most famous and complete skeletons of a brontosaurus was uncovered in the late 19th century and is now on display at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. The brontosaurus is an important and iconic species that has been represented in popular culture, including the classic children's book "The Land Before Time" and the Jurassic Park films.

You took his arm and held it against your body gently. Eyeing other fossils in the room, you guided him towards whatever caught your attention; there was a variety of fossils. Sea creatures, land creatures, impression fossils, trace fossils, and replacement fossils.

The museum was very large as you both explored the building, it was a very clean place with bright white lighting on the high ceilings. Jonathan held your hand tightly as you weaved through people, it was almost like he was afraid to lose you.

He led you to the museum café, pulling a wooden chair for you at a lonesome round table. He took off his gray backpack, zipped it open, and took out two brown bags. He smiled warmly at you. “I thought that maybe you’d like to have something homemade… I-I made your favorite food, the café menu looked quite expensive… I hope you don’t mind.” He stammered as he blushed, he knew that you both were on a college budget. But he recognized his cooking skills, which his mom taught him since he was a kid; and he used it to his advantage– in truth, it was a passion, a nice coping for the stress of college, he enjoyed his dishes greatly and this was the first time he got to share.

You looked surprised “Oh! You didn’t have to do that Johnathan… Thank Your cheeks turned red as you looked in the bag, gently grabbing the food from within.

His eyes watched you take the first bite and your eyes widened. It tasted amazing, like a comforting meal made with delight. You could feel a rush of serotonin through your mind.

You swallowed and smiled, “I haven’t had a homemade meal in a long time, this tastes much better than what I’m used to.” You smiled and enjoyed the lingering flavor on your tastebuds. Then you realized he was staring at you, he had a look of fondness on his face. But… there was something off about it, you just brushed it off and paid no mind to it.

The two of you ate your food together while speaking of your passions and memories, you learned a bit about him in that time. You learned that he had a very small friend group due to his social awkwardness, he barely even spent time with his friends so he didn’t mind.

You finished your lunches, you disposed of his trash for him. The both of you chatted as you exited the building, he radiated with elation as he spoke about his scientific passions on your way back to campus- It was simply adorable.

Now you wished you didn't fall for his intelligence.

Stepping foot into his familiar dorm, you sat on his bed and relaxed. He followed and placed himself next to you, turning on the TV in front of the bed. He grabbed your waist gently and kissed your hair.

He avoided eye contact "wou-would you like to cuddle with me?" the hand on your side rubbed you soothingly.

"I wouldn't mind~" you said back, kissing his cheek to reassure him you wanted his affection. He laid down and held your body against his, he rubbed your hair before returning his attention to the television.

It quickly became late. You could barely move from his body intertwining with yours; he was very clingy. But maybe that's because he's still new to relationships.

He kissed your neck as both his hands were on your stomach, he took off his glasses and for the first time, you saw how sunken his eyes were. They had dark purple circles underneath as well, like he hadn't slept in days.

He dipped his head lower so his head was snuggled against your nape. He sighed and smiled. "Pleeeeease stay the night, I'd love to cuddle with you longer…"

You paused, leaving him tense before nodding. You felt his legs wrap around yours even more as he pulled you closer in. Peppering your neck and shoulders with kisses as a reward for your compliance.

His body felt so… warm, it was hard not to fall into a cozy sleep. And his rhythmic breathing felt so soothing, you quickly fell into his trance.

He didn't even need his medication that night, for once he was okay with being awake. Feeling you unconsciously nuzzle into him; for once he felt loved.

He wasn't going to let that feeling go.

Johnathan tilted his head, looming over you almost threateningly. "What's so special about him that makes you love him more than me…?"

You felt so small under his gaze. He looked hurt but angry at the same time. "I told you before, he's just a friend, please let me have friends…"

You felt pathetic begging him, but this was becoming a problem. He wouldn't let you live in peace, anytime you talked to anybody be it a boy or girl he felt threatened. And he made that known to you.

Your circle was slowly becoming smaller and smaller thanks to Johnathan constantly guilt-tripping you (and some other measures he took.)

Johnathan gripped your arm, it was tight, pleading but not tight enough to hurt.

"I'm sorry honey, I-I just want you to be safe. What if they take you from me? I don't know what I would do if I couldn't have you."

He wiped away the tears you didn't realize fell, stroking your cheek as his gaze softened. "I feel more comfortable when you're with me, this is for your safety. You'll see."

He kissed your temple, his grip unwavering.

"I know you feel lonely, but you have me, you'll always have me. Isn't th- that enough? I don't need friends, but I need you."

You didn't know what to say, your mind was still spinning a cohesive response. It was hard not to panic, Johnathan was bigger than you, he may not be strong but he was definitely smarter than you. He made it clear that if you tried to leave, he'd find a way to bring you back.

He rubbed your cheek again. "Even if you're not used to having nobody, I'll make it okay, I'm doing this for us."

It seemed like he was trying to soothe his paranoia as equally as he tried to soothe your suffering. He pulled you in a hug as you choked back sobs, remembering the distant memories of your friends. His hands crept through your hair as his breathing became more labored like he was trying to keep an anxiety attack from happening.

"You're all mine now, can you tell me you're mine?"

He spoke so gently, like he was trying to comfort you still by asking you to give into his insanity.

You looked at him, you saw through his glass lenses a look of genuine love and obsession, he genuinely thought this was what was best for you…

He was shoved away, his look twisting into one of surprise and confusion. "Johnathan, I can't do this, you can't just take my social life away from me! You need mental help…"

His posture faltered for a moment before shifting. He gave you a melancholy look, a tear dropping from his eye. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"I don't need mental help, I just need you. Please, you're the only one who ever cared for me. Don't you love me? There are horrible people out there. I'd know, I've experienced it. Is it so bad I don't want you to risk that?"

You felt a pang of guilt, his intentions were good but he was showing it in all the wrong ways.

"I love you Johnathan but maybe we should have a break…"

Maybe this would help him collect himself, and have him have enough time to reflect on why this was all wrong.

His face went pale and his calming smile twitched into a look of nervousness, his chest heaved even greater.

"No, no no NO! Breaks lead to breakups. I can make you happy, I can keep you safe! I'd do anything you ask-"

"Then let's have a break."

You tried to stand straight and look stern even if your nerves showed through, he seemed to be heaving now. Like he couldn't breathe.

He grabbed something you couldn't see off the kitchen table and stepped towards you and kicked the back of your legs, your body making an impact with the floorboards. Your head hurt, but he instantly saw his chance and straddled you.

"I-I've been keeping you safe, what else could you want? I spent so much time protecting you, providing for you, loving you. And I'm not letting you go, I'm not letting you leave because you're too irrational to realize this is my way of love."

You couldn't move your arms, you struggled to try to free yourself. This only seemed to make him more upset as he shifted to keep you in place.

"I don't want to do this, but I'm not afraid to."

He spoke in a tone you never heard before, he was calmly threatening you now. Taking a knife and showing you it's glint. It had… blood on it?

"I had to hurt people to make you mine, I admit it. And if you don't want anybody else getting hurt then you'll stay, right?"

His chest was still heaving but he returned back to his calm, almost smug expression.

You nodded, you didn't know what he could mean by 'hurt' but you didn't want to risk him killing somebody out of lovesick insanity.

"I'll stay, I'll stay, I'll stay just… stop it stop it… stop" you repeat yourself, squirming absentmindedly. His smile returned again.

"That's more like it, I wish I didn't have to show you this side of me. But if it keeps you with me I reckon it's only necessary for us. The sooner you accept my kind of love, the better."

He smiled a sickeningly sweet smile, watching your face look at him with fear. As he let your wrist go.

"Don't be afraid my love, everything will be okay."

His grin only widened at your vulnerable position.

"You're all mine now~"

He put the knife on the ground and chuckled with a layer of insanity present. He rubbed your arms affectionately.

At least nobody would be harmed now...

#x reader #yandere #yandere fic #johnathan ohnn x reader #spot x reader #johnathan ohnn #spider man: across the spider verse #the spot #spot #Yandere johnathan ohnn #Yandere spot #yandere art #art #send asks #send me anons #send me dms #yancore #manipulation

128 notes · View notes