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#yandere green goblin imagine
tawneybel · 2 years
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Imagine being caught in a love triangle between Peter and Harry. 
“I have two friends Peter.” 
Harry forced himself to smile. He immediately got the reference, because you two were on the same wavelength. 
“Peter Pan.” 
Ever since he found the hoverboard, he’d had an excuse for evening visits. If the effects of the disease on his appearance bothered you, you gave no indication.
 “…two friends,” he thought. Harry added a chuckle. “Want to be my Wendy?” 
“I think your Goblin Glider’s just a one-seater.” The comment hurt his heart a little. “Now, if I could be your Tinker Bell….” 
He shot you a genuine smile. A fairy could become a goblin bride. 
“Nice suit, by the way,” you remarked, which made him remember why he came. 
“Thanks. It makes me strong. Strong enough to do this.” Suddenly you were in his arms. Bridal style. “Hey, let’s go for a ride,” Harry suggested. 
As you two zoomed off to his penthouse, the Green Goblin was thankful he came before he came to get you. Sure, it was over Peter’s candid photos (creeper shots) of you. But if Harry could just keep you in his abode for a few days, you could probably be seduced. And then you would have a boyfriend Harry, but no friends named Peter. 
The Goblin didn’t have time to stop and think. Otherwise, he may have begun to realize his rival was a stalker, and not just a peeping tom. 
Note: Kind of went off-assignment, but I really like Gobbies.
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onmyyan · 2 years
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“Menace Mode unlocked”
Green Goblin!Reader x Bruce Wayne, more pairings will be added later cuz I have no self control
A/N: cursing, reader straight up hates her dad, Bruce is crushing hard n he don’t even know it 🙄🤚🏼, minior character death no one important dw, slight Yandereness just barely though
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Someone new had entered the fray in Gotham’s underbelly, problem was, no one knew what side they were on.
The first sightings were reported a few days ago, people had caught glimpses of a ‘green ghost’ near the docks, an area notorious for its not so secret trafficking ring, everyone knew who ran this joint, one of the city’s more rancid lunatic’s, Roman Sionis, was a special brand of dirtbag, he had his filthy fingers in every human right violation one could profit from, and while vile in every way, he didn’t make many public appearances, be it his fear of germs or aversion to all things ‘gross’ he tried not to dirty his shoes by showing up but this night was special, he was going to make a lot of money with all the goodies he sold here so it only made sense to give his fans a brief speech and collect his checks in person, imagine his surprise when said big speech was coming to its epic conclusion, only to be interrupted by a small blinking ball being hurled at his feet. He didn’t have time to question the object, only enough to barely recognize the pumpkin like face etched into its surface, it lit up neon green and incinerated everything in a five foot radius, including Mr.Sionis .
 Those that survived the initial blast didn’t suffer long as three more pumpkin bombs fell before the connoisseurs of the illegal goods, raining upon them with a hail of sharp, black projectiles, witnesses describe a ghoulish blur of green seen hovering the area like a vulture, what remained of the assailants had to be scooped into bags. 
The local news outlet, Gotham Gazette, had their newest obsession’s blurry form blasted everywhere they could, it was the first time a relatively clear photo was captured of their “Green Goblin” the name had a ring to it you mused to yourself, (e/c) eyes raking over the newspaper for anything relevant, all they had were the usual theories and conspiracies. Ranging from aliens to cultists, both of which could be true but neither were. 
While having the city’s attention wasn’t apart of your game plan, you’d accounted for the possibility, mentally patting yourself on the back for adding that mask last minute. Despite the radar on your back you couldn’t blame em’ for getting excited, and to think all this frenzy was from a few bad guys getting turned into ash, they had no idea what you could do, all you planned to do.
 Gotham had its fair share of freaks and scoundrels sure, but they all(in your mind at least) we’re going about the whole thing wrong, the cat and mouse games the catch and release tango- as a citizen you’d gotten used to it, before you’d changed, before you could defend yourself, you bought into it, that one day something would switch and all the chaos would stop. 
But you knew better now. You knew more. You were intelligent long before the serum, it came with being an Osborn, but now you looked at things differently, there was no problem you couldn’t solve if you really put your mind to it. 
It was almost customary in Gotham that every now and then some bozo in a party city costume  took their shot at the gig, but those stories almost always ended the same, with them running home with their tails tucked between their legs, or dying at the hands of one of the real monsters that roamed your hometown.
You were different from the rest, and you held your head high. You weren’t some adrenaline junkie looking for their latest fix or out for what little glory awaited a vigilante, Your mind worked in its own unique way, which kept a wall between you and the world, especially your family.
 The trains automated voice system began its repetitive warmings, slowly but surely pulling your from your thoughts. Soft (e/c) eyes were always swirling with something, and people found themselves drawn to that something, almost like quicksand. Those tired eyes trailed across the trains LED schedule, only one more stop stood between you and the meeting you’d been dreading since your fathers untimely and frankly self caused death. The official report was bullshit, the only person who ever really knew what was going on with your father was said man, at least he thought so. You were the one who found him, strapped down against his lab table, a broken syringe sat below his open palm, and near his still body, besides the manic notes and data sprawled across every surface, stood one lone syringe, filled to the brim with a vibrant emerald liquid. The sight should have filled you with something, horror or sadness maybe anguish even, no, what you felt in that moment was the crushing weight of disappointment. Now you’d never get to prove to him how wrong he was about you, how foolish he was to cast aside such a gifted child. Now there was only one way to truly get back at the bastard for all he’d dragged you through. 
Beat him at his own game. 
That thought was all it took to lead you where you stood now. 
The Oscorp Corporation and Wayne Enterprises had just recently struck a deal exchanging both information and tech, it was a huge deal for both parties so of course dear old dad had to up and die before he could sign it. Sure your older brother (and his painfully obvious favorite) Harry, should have been here you know, considering he now ran the company, but no. He got to do the fun heir stuff like mourn with your mother in the Bahamas for a month, which left you here, impatiently tapping your foot in the all too clean and shiny Wayne Enterprises lobby. “Hi, Can help you ma’am?” Although the receptionist’s tone was as customer service as one could get, you could still see her smile falter at your appearance. 
Coming straight from your workshop with your coveralls loosely tied at your waist probably wasn’t the socially acceptable thing to show up in, but hey you showed up. Her hand not so discreetly hovered over the hidden security button, to think a little oil and dirt is all it took to be tossed out of here. A smirk grew on your face at her ever growing discomfort. She cleared her throat, as if to silently repeat her question.
”Nah.” Was your simple response as you waited to see how this would play out. After all this was much more entertaining than having to act like your Fathers passing was anything more than an inconvenience.
The universe looked down on your silent plea and instead brought your problem right to you.
A group of tall, sharply dressed, almost square shaped men filed out from an elevator, all talking quietly amongst themselves, the tallest one being non other than the dude you came to meet.
”Ah! Mr. Wayne! I’m sorry I was just about to-“
The now beaming woman behind the front desk not so subtly gestured to you, then the security guards behind him, only stoping by a wave of dismissal from the man himself.
”I’m sure there’s no need for that Regina- How can I help you miss?” His charming baritone voice all but poured from his lips in what should have been a suave smile. 
“You could hand me those papers I gotta’ sign and release me from this poorly decorated take on modernism.” Your mind moved faster than your head sometimes, most times really, and you weren’t about to switch up now that one the world’s most infamous bachelors stood before you, he huffed a laugh through his nose at your blunt response, the people around him never spoke to him like that, hell nobody did, terrified to say the wrong thing before him and face the consequences. Yet here you were. A genuine smirk graced his rugged face, the slight salt and pepper look fit him like a glove and if in any other circumstance you probably would have told him so, but now all you wanted was to sign this thing and get back to work on your board. 
“Norman mentioned his son taking over.” Bruce had all but discarded the party he’d entered with, a silent wave summed one of them over, file in hand. The man handed Bruce the papers before scurrying away, the two of you now walking towards what you assumed was a conference room. 
“He is,” your intense stare had never wavered from his own, until this moment, he could see you go into yourself for the right words. 
“It be a little hard to sign these where he’s at so- I came to the rescue.” This pulled another huffed chuckle from the man, his interest growing with every word from your mouth. “Well  thank god for that right?” His tone held flirtation, eyes never leaving you even as he signed his name.
”You look too young to be in this business anyway.” He said trying to gauge as much information from you as he could, “You still got some life in you.”  He slid the forms over with that. A humm of amusement left you as you quickly penned every line. He realized once you finished you’d have no reason to stay, and for whatever reason, this thought shot panic through him. Not quite ready to say goodbye, he cleared his throat. 
 “You don’t want to give these a look? Make sure I’m not up to no good?” There that tone was again, you sucked your teeth at the older man, a dangerous glint in your smile, “Careful there Mr. Wayne. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”
His response was cut off by a chirp from his watch. A look of annoyance crossed his face as he began to as for your number. “I’d say see you around but that be a lie so, peace.” You awkwardly took his hand in a firm shake before turning and leaving in a swift motion, Bruce could only blink after your disappearing form all to eager to indulge in his urge to follow, only to quickly remember the alert from his watch, Batman didn’t have time for this much to his dismay, while Bruce didn’t get nearly as much information as he wanted, he would in due time. It take some serious detective work to figure out if this was just attraction, or something else burning in his gut, either way this wouldn’t be your last encounter.
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after-witch · 3 years
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The Pain Sweeps Through [Yandere Jareth x Reader]
Title: The Pain Sweeps Through [Yandere Jareth x Reader]
Synopsis: 
You’re not the first one he’s brought into the Goblin King’s Labyrinth. You’re not the first one to best him, to get to the center and beat him at his own game. But you are the first one to beat him and give in: “Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.” What happens when the magic fades, and you’re left with is the muddled consequences of your decision? 
Word Count: 2550
Notes: yandere, kidnapped, drugging, mentions of noncon
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You hate the ballroom. You hate the gowns and the glitter and the music. You hate all of it. 
How long have you been here? Time is fuzzy and of no consequence here, and the clock--you’ve planted yourself in front of it, staring--never behaves as it should. The novelty of the whites and golds and pinks of the ballroom, of the swirling dancers and their impossibly endless stamina, has long worn off. Well before this particular peach, well before this particular ball, spinning and swirling together like rainwater down a drain.
The gown that you once admired, that once had you blushing and twirling in its beauty and delicacy and shimmering glitter, weighs your shoulders down. The delicate glass-like heels refuse to budge from your feet, though no one will ever dance with you--a grin and a laugh is all you got, when you dared to ask--but they still feel sore from your wandering, your half-hearted spinning and attempts to lose yourself in the dream, all the same.  
Everything, everything is sore. Your body and your head and your heart. The room feels fuzzy, not unlike the skin of a peach. Fuzzy and unreal and disorienting. And you’re so, so lonely. 
The people here are dreamlike and blurry, talking amongst each other in giggling whispers, which is the most you’ve gotten out of them. Laughter. Do they mock you? Or are they trapped in some fugue-like state, unable to do anything but drink and dance and laugh?
Perhaps you’re not the only one here who has bitten peaches.
The clock in the corner strikes, but when you glance at it, its hands are winding aimlessly. There Is no hour and you’ve been here forever, it seems, and you might be here forever still.
All you can do is wander, your glass heels clicking against the ballroom floor, dodging the dancers who swirl or gather to sip champagne that flows freely. Wander and think, because getting lost in the haze makes you terrified that you might become one of them, unable to do anything but laugh and dance and your feet will be even more sore.
Which is more sore, you wonder--your body or your heart?
It doesn’t hurt much, anymore, to try to think about your friends and family only to realize that their faces and voices and actions are foggy and lost. They are loose memories that you can never grasp tightly onto.
But the loneliness is something you can grasp, and often do, feeling it keenly and sharp in your stomach. You feel his absence keenly, too, in the wake of no better company--here or there or anywhere. When you’re in the castle or in this ballroom or trapped in another fantasy.
When you’re in the castle (you admit, you miss its stone walls and the open windows of his throne room and even your room, oppressive though it was) you are often left to your own devices while Jareth does what he does. The goblins are stupid, and only want to roughhouse with each other.  You aren’t allowed outside of the castle, so any entertainment or companionship you might obtain with others--assuming they didn’t hate you, assuming Jareth hadn’t killed them or tossed them into some oubliette to rot forever after assisting you into the center--is impossible.
And so Jareth is the only one you can have a conversation with; the only one who isn’t half-there.
Not that you openly pine for his companionship, either.
What started out as a nervous acceptance of his offer, a buzzing in your head and body that reminded you of your first sips of champagne, had dulled down too swiftly. You were his queen, yes. He was your slave, perhaps. But to a point--to a point.
You remember the first time he led you to your chambers, a near replica of your bedroom at home, albeit with a few twists: such as a closet stuffed with the most sumptuous clothing you’d ever imagined, some of them literal recreations of gowns you’d drawn in your notebooks or pinned to your wall.
It was beautiful and too much and all for you. And then he’d kissed you goodnight so gallantly and you’d sat nervously on the end of your bed. But when you tried to leave, the door wouldn’t budge. It was stuck, fast. You knocked. No one answered. You walked backwards to your bed and crawled under the covers and thought, maybe, this was a dream, and when I wake up I will be at home.
You woke up in your room, with the sequins of ballgowns winking at you from the closet.
When the door swung open and he stood there, dressed more modestly than you’d seen him before, you inquired about the door; ever so quietly, politely, unsure, nervous and realizing with the clarity of sleep that he was a goblin king and you were just some nobody who had agreed to give up the world and family and friends and your sister, safe at home he said, but did he tell you the truth? And he threw his head back and laughed ignored your question. 
He told you to pick a gown for breakfast. A gown at breakfast seemed an impossible choice and perhaps he read your mind because he took one out for you, a pale green gown with sparkling puffy sleeves, and you hoped you wouldn’t get food on them. Did it matter if you did? The realization of who you were and where you were seemed to hit you again and again. 
But as you dressed and as he adorned your neck with an emerald necklace, you were feeling better, a little less nervous, a little more excited. Your dreams--here they were, laid out in front of you like a feast. You were in a castle, you had anything you wanted apparently at your fingertips. And a king to hand it to you, his touch both gentle and firm as he took your arm like a gentlemen and led you into the hall.
As your own door shut behind you, you caught sight of it: a heavy, gilded padlock on the outside of your door, the padlock that had kept you from budging it the night before. Your stomach dropped.
“Why is that there?” You’d asked, looking up at him. He smiled, and it was not exactly a nice smile, you realized. 
“To keep my queen inside her chambers. What else are locks in castles for?”
Your cheeks felt heated, and you’d blurted out--oh the memory of it makes you feel stupid, now--”If I’m your queen, you can’t just lock me up in my room.”
He stopped. His arm around you tensed and it made your heart speed up.
“Can’t I?” It was all he said, practically murmuring as he looked down at you. Then he’d continued, and you stumbled for a moment before following him in silence.
You had no words to answer him.
Fear him, love him, obey him; the words on loop echoed in your head as he led you to a dining chamber, bustling with goblins who tripped over themselves carrying trays and goblets to and fro. You barely remember sitting at the ornate, carved chairs in front of a haphazard meal--how well could goblins cook?--or the way Jareth insisted on giving you cup after cup of wine. 
You barely remember the way the day seemed to jump by, and after dinner your head felt heavy and then there was a bed underneath you, his bed, large and sumptuous. The smell of peaches was in the air and your dinner gown, pink and velvet and scented like roses, bunched up underneath you as he was above you.
The days after that were often blurry. You asked to take it back, you asked to go home. He refused and locked you in your room. You asked to just be let outside the castle, at least, and inquired about the friends you’d made in the labyrinth. He refused and locked you in your room. He fed you peaches. He sat by your bed, petting your hair as your head swum in dreams, waiting to pull you out whenever he deemed it suitable.
Ah.
You’re lost again, lost in memories, when you’re suddenly in someone's grip and spinning,  your back instinctively leaning as you twirl.
“Did you miss me?”
It’s Jareth, of course. No one else would touch you. He’s wearing a suit made of embroidered purple velvet, and when you glance up you see that he’s chosen makeup to match. And glitter, of course, always glitter. You swear you can see it flying off him as you dance, as he sparkles as much as anything else in the room.
His grip on you is familiar and firm, and when he spins you around the weight of this dream-like room seems to lessen. Your shoulders feel lighter and the glass around your feet doesn’t feel like it might break and shatter into a million pieces.
Your mind aches to talk to him. To have a conversation with a person, not a laughing caricature. To hear him ask about your favorite books, ones you didn’t own, so he could procure them. To listen to him tell you about those who didn’t make it through the labyrinth--though you hated these stories, grim as they were, and he stopped telling them. To cross your arms nervously and murmur out your fantasies at his behest, things you’d always wanted to see or do; unicorns and fairies (though you’d seen them before the castle, and they bit you) and jousts (not quite as gallant, with goblins as the knights) and anything else your heart desired.
You might tell him this. You might tell him that you did miss him, because without him you’re a heavy, aimless dancer stuck in this room that you hate with people that don’t view you as human and are they people at all? You might tell him that you do appreciate what he’s done for you, the gifts and gowns and dreams, but that you wish he wasn’t so commanding towards you, wasn’t so demanding of you. You might tell him that his passion confused you and his kisses were too intense and you don’t understand why he wants you, why anyone wants you.
You might tell him, yes, I missed you, please take me out of here and take me with you.
You might tell him this.
Stubbornness wins out.
“No,” you say, ignoring the ache in your feet. “I was just bored.”
He chuckles, but he’s not amused.
“And here I thought you wanted to join me in the castle.” He releases you from his grip with a final flourish, and the endless dancers around you begin to push in, separating you two in their increasing mania.
“Well, if you didn’t miss me, I’ll let you get back to your ball.”
The music swells with his words, as he backs way, disappearing among the nameless throng of guests.
It might be weeks before he shows up again, and instantly, stubbornness loses.
“Wait!” You push against the moving wall of people, their tulles and sequins scratching your arm, their heels stepping on your toes. Someone laughs, a barking, harsh laugh.
Through sheer force of will, you reach him, grabbing the end of a velvet sleeve and gripping it tightly with your fingers.
“Please,” you beg. “Don’t leave me.”
You see the glimmer in his eyes, a ghost of a smile. You bite your lip. Words are important here. Words are contracts and wishes and pitfalls all in one. “No, wait. I mean. Take me with you.”
He dips low then, taking your hand and pressing it with a gentle kiss. Someone in the crowd lets out a saccharine sigh.
“Whatever you desire.”
When his lips meet your skin, the ballroom collapses and inverts and you wake up in your bed with a slamming force that has you sitting so quickly that your head swims. You reach out and grasp the headboard and wait for the world to stop falling, wait for the pain of gowns and glass slippers to stop sweeping through your bones.
When you stand, slowly and gently, a discarded peach rolls onto the floor.
Your stomach curls when you remember biting into it. What can you do, when you’re locked up in your room with nothing to eat but what shows up on a golden tray in the morning? You’re stubborn and disobey him, and he locks you up in a room. In your room, you can only eat what he sends you. And he sends a peach, so you must eat.
And his peach sends you to the worlds of your dreams, worlds of ballgowns and princesses, glitter and lace, soft music and oh-so-much-prettiness. You scoff at the you that you used to be. The you that accepted the invitation into the labyrinth and in the end, capsized under the temptation of fantasy being reality. Of being his queen.
Though it’s hard to feel like any queen, even the queen of goblins and labyrinths and bogs of eternal stench, locked in your room, still dizzy from a peach.
When the door opens, he’s wearing something new. A costume change, because as long as you’ve known him (how long? He refuses to say, and time of course, no longer has meaning) he can never resist wearing something new.
It’s a gold suit this time, glimmering and shining. The gold glitter above his eyes seems to dance as his hands open and a large golden gown drops onto your bed. You look down at it and your heart aches. How you would have loved such a gown, before. How you do still love it, and you can’t hide the way your fingers slide over the fabric, earning a pleased chuckle from Jareth.
“What’s the occasion?” You murmur, fingering the delicate golden lace at the fringe of the sleeves.
He lifts you up and tugs at your night gown, and you obediently raise your hands this time as he undresses you. Layers and layers first, then the shimmering gown. He pulls matching shoes out of nowhere and you slip them on, sighing a bit when they’re comfortable and soft and not made out of glass.
“I’ve ordered our subjects to put on a performance.” He smiles, and if it’s not a nice smile, you push the bitterness down. “To celebrate the return of their queen.”
You allow him to take you by the arm, and you keep your eyes straight ahead this time. The door shuts behind you and you refuse to look back at the padlock.
“I trust you will behave,” he tells you, not stopping in your progress down the hall.
You nod and grip his arm tighter. At least he’s real. At least he speaks to you. At least you’re in the castle.
Tonight, you hope, his bed chamber won’t smell like peaches.
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siswritesyanderes · 2 years
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Spider-Man No Way Home Spoilers
So.
So I just saw Spider-Man: No Way Home, and the scene towards the end where Peter goes to talk to MJ, who has no recollection of him but he still loves her...I couldn't help thinking about how that dynamic is prime yandere real estate.
She doesn't know him or feel anything for him in particular, but he knows that they're good together and she has loved him before, and he just lost everything as a cost of saving the world; it makes sense that he would develop an obsession around MJ at this point.
(It's possible that I'm coping with the intensity of the movie by throwing myself headlong into my beloved yandere trope.)
Like, I imagine he frequents the coffee shop where she works. He can't bring himself to explain anything to her or even form a new relationship with her, but he needs her in his life. He can't just move on; he loves her, and they were perfect together, and they almost had everything they needed.
He would be such a soft yandere. He would never ask anything of her (except coffee, daily), but he would be so protective. He was canonically super upset over her getting a small cut over her eyebrow; if anything, of any scale, came close to hurting her, he would unleash the full fury of the guy who almost killed Green Goblin.
He can be equally yandere for Ned, too; MJ and Ned are the most important people in the world to him, now.
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yandere-fever · 3 years
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General Yandere Harry Osborn Headcanon
x gender neutral reader
Warning:dark fic, kidnapping, noncon/dubcon, daddy kink, stalker.
Hasn't been edited, trust me theres grammar mistakes
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Harry doesn't get infatuated with anyone that easy, considering his status.
At a young age his father engraved in his head that anyone ever interested in him was just in it for the money and fame. And there were many people that tried to befriend him, expecting something in return.
So, he gave them something.
Giving them hope that they succeed and that he trusts them, but unexpectedly dropping them in the most embarrassing way. Making sure they wouldn't show their face around him ever again.
That's how his life mostly went, hooking up with people, and dropping them for tabloids to see. Causing chaos wherever he went. After all, they wanted something from him and they should be grateful for the experience he put them through.
Now imagine his suprise when he tried to get you in his bed, and you refuse his offer. You didn't want anything to do with him. You didnt want the money, and insultingly you didn't want the experience to fuck each other. You didn't even want to be around him, because you knew of his reputation.
That interaction just intrigued him even more. He tried to bribe you with anything he could, buying you stuff that he leaves at your apartment and at work.
He hacks into security cameras all for the sake of seeing your expression when you see the gifts.
The audacity of you rolling you're eyes at the gifts, pissed him off. Later on he finds out that you donate the stuff he buys you, to charity.
Harry soon became obsessed with you.
Stalking you on security cameras and on social media on his spare time. Always knowing your location at any time of the day. And he may or not have jerked off with the pictures of you from instagram a few many times.
This little routine of him and yours soon made Harry think that you two were dating, it's just long distance dating.
Eventually something in him snapped.
The trigger might have been when his hormones were high as he sees someone flirting with you that makes him take drastic measures and kiddnap you.
It could have been a coworker of yours that talked to you a bit longer then they should have, or it was a stranger that looked at you too long, and smiled at you that was a bit too friendly to Harry's eyes. Which triggered his insecurity of you being taken away and leave him all alone.
When he kiddnaps you into his penthouse, he has you laid out in his bed dressed up as a cute little kid. (Cuz let's be honest Harry has some daddy issues that will never leave him alone.)
Depending on your reaction of the kidnapping will determine how 'old' you will be dressed.
If you react violently to his advances, he would be treating you like a baby. You would be nude except for a diaper on. Coincidentally he had a high chair for you that perfectly straps you in.
He makes you depend on him. He feeds and changes you when its necessary but never letting you do a thing.
If you become disobedient he'll punish you by whipping your ass with a belt. Now if you keep on being a disobedient child, he'll strap you on that high chair with a vibrator stuck between your thighs, on its highest setting for at least a whole day. The worst part is that you wouldn't be able to move with how tight he strapped you in. He controls the friction you can have with the vibrator and he wanted you withering and begging for more.
It might have been a punishment for you, but damn was it a reward for him. Hearing you moan, cry, whimper, and just begging for him to stop or to give you more, just made him want to fuck you himself.
He'll restrain himself, just barely. He wants to be a good daddy to you everything his father wasn't to him. So he will wait until you learned your lesson and matured from it so that he could fuck you as a reward.
For that to happen, all you had to do was be a good little child. He would slowly age you up and would dress you in more appropriate clothing for your settled age until you could be a grown up.
Now if you dont react too badly to his advances he would be treating you like your age, but papering you a lot.
He still does everything for you, as he still doesnt want you to do anything.
He only wanted you to call him daddy no matter what.
You still wouldn't be wearing much clothing but only your garments, that is until you start acting like a brat.
Then he would treat you as one, bending you over his knee and slapping your ass until it was red and sobs could only be coming out of your mouth.
Afterwards he would be treating you as if nothing happend. He would only make you sit on hard surfaces for a week, as a reminder of what happens when you don't stay in line.
Other then that he would definitely be fucking you 24/7. Any chance he gets.
Plus he wants to fuck you on every surface of his penthouse. The wall, kitchen, tables, floor, bathroom, even against the window for anyone to see.
He loves restraining you too. Loves the fact you're at his mercy, as he wouldnt be holding back on his urges on you. He loves making you cum, overstimulating you every single day.
His sweet baby, all naked and needing to be used as soon as he gets home.
He doesn't let you leave the penthouse. At all, if you get anywhere near the door and you'll find yourself being fucked senseless on it. Passed out from the very rough sex and waking up on the bed with Harry still going at it.
Harry is a very possessive man.
Word must have gotten out that Harry Osborn was dating someone and one paparazzi was desperate to find out who. The guy someone how made it in to Harry's penthouse and found you tired up on the bed, moaning. The guy had his pants unbuckled and was about to fuck you, but lucky for you, Harry got a security alert of someone entering the penthouse and was over there in a flash.
And oh boy, you had no clue what happend to the guy you just remembered Harry's enraged face as he beated him to ground. Afterwards there was a rough possessive sex of Harry calling you his and his to fuck.
Later on, on the news you heared of a man who was just laying dead outside an alleyway with no leads on who the suspect was.
I dont think there would ever be a day where you could walk right. Especially not with out falling, which works to his desire.
Making sure it's only just him that you care and need. Dependent on him so you would never leave.
When you Harry turned into the Green Goblin, he was technically still the same to your eyes.
He still fucked you it was just more rough. He bruised you legs durring sex that it hurts to walk or even to stand.
Your daddy and baby role basically switches to master and slave.
He deep throats you a lot more, making you swallow each load of cum. Hell everytime he cums on you, he would spread it all over your body as if it was lotion.
You figured it was some sort of claiming mark on you.
And even though he changed appearances, his goal of keeping you with him didn't. Soon enough it was just second nature to be dependent on him.
He was over the moon when that happen because he finally had someone who returned his feelings that didn't involve the money and fame, just him.
That's how it will always will be.
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oneoftheextras · 3 years
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one of the extras kinktober
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In the spirit of Halloween, I’m going to do specific Kinktober imagines and short fics. 
From the list below, send me: 
an object, a colour & a number
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An object (character)
pumpkin - izuku midoriya 
a black cat - katsuki bakugo
spiderweb - shoto todoroki
a broom - tenya iida
a wand - eijiro kirishima 
bandages - hitoshi shinso 
skull - eraserhead (shota aizawa)
candy - all might (toshinori yagi)
tombstone - hawks (keigo takami)
coffin - present mic (hizashi yamada)
a sickle - endeavour (enji todoroki)
cauldron - dabi
a mask - overhaul
skeleton - tomura shigaraki 
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a colour (supernatural trait)
white - alpha
beige - cannibal
yellow - demon
orange - devil
peach - dragon
red - frankenstein monster
maroon - ghost
rose - goblin
pink - grim reaper/death
purple - killer
violet - mummy
baby blue - pirate
dark blue - siren/sea creature
bottle green - vampire
lime green - werewolf
brown - witch/wizard
grey - yandere
black - zombie
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a number (relationship to them)
1. subordinate (e.g lower rank coven/pack member)
2. submissive (reader)
3. dominant (reader)
4. friend (romantic)
4.5. friend (non-romantic)
5. partner (romantic)
5.5 partner (non-romantic)
6. lovers
7. family
8. friends with benefits
9. enemies
10. enemies to lovers
11. colleagues 
12.  a possession
13.  prey
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yanderecandystore · 4 years
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Trigger warning:
•Abuse.
•Bullying.
•Bad writing done at 1 a.m.
•Stalking.
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
Ugly perfection [Yandere bully x Reader - short fanfic]
You're not exactly the most beautiful person you know, and you're aware of that, and you also know that this won't change with a simple makeup and a new hairstyle. But sometimes, you feel the need to change yourself a bit.
Nothing too wild. Just enough to make you feel pretty yet comfortable.
Some people say you're pretty.
You don't really know if what they're saying is true, though. You don't feel pretty.
And even if some family members say that you're beautiful the way you are, and some strangers compliment you on the street, you still don't feel pretty.
You feel, honestly pretty ugly.
And that would be okay, as long as no one noticed you.
But she had to notice you, hadn't she?
You wanted to just change a bit, yet, you feel so naked, so vulnerable.
All because of her.
Because you could tell she and her friends were looking at you like you were a hideous beast.
She is beautiful just the way she is, and you are nothing like her.
She is blond, she has green eyes, she has just the right body shape, since she is a bit more athletic than you, and also she is wealthy. Her image is on the local magazine.
She could be doing something more important to her life than to be harassing you, but she seems to prefer it this way.
You wonder if she knows how this hurts you, maybe she does, and maybe she doesn't care.
Alexandra doesn't care about anyone but herself.
That's how things work.
Your mom told you to not bother with her, "she is probably jealous", you really doubt that, but until now, not giving her attention seems to be the perfect way to handle the situation.
After all, she is just looking at you and pointing and laughing. Obviously gossiping about you and the way you look.
It isn't something big for most people, but for some reason, you feel so attacked right now. This happens everyday, everytime you see her. She is making fun of you to her friends.
But today, it seems like you can't ignore her anymore.
You went in the bathroom to see how you looked, to be sure you weren't that bad, you turned on the sink to wash your face.
When you get up, guess who it is?
"- Hi."
She says, in a smug way. You don't dare to turn around and meet her face, you decided to only look at her reflection on the mirror.
"- I'm Alexandra Coldwell, but, you may have already known that, I'm a year older than you, what's your name?"
This is, an odd encounter. She is being nice, but the atmosphere feels so rough and suffocating. Her friends are placed in a convenient way, too. Two around you, ready for anything that you may try, and one on the bathroom door, waiting for you to run up to them. Actually, you noticed that there is no one else in the bathroom.
"- I'm [Y/N]." You respond to her question.
"- Cool, what's your class, [Y/N]?" She asks, smiling cheerfully.
"- I-uhn, 2G, i-in the second floor." You respond her question again, you can't even imagine what is she planning. You stumble on your words a little, making then laugh a bit.
"- That gross classroom behind the stairs?" Says one of the girls on one of your sides, in a shocked yet disgusted tone.
"- Oh- It makes so much sense now~" Says the other girl on your other side, the smugness in her tone is hidden with playful nature. All give a little giggle at the comment except for you, with wasn't a good decision.
"- Hey, don't you think is funny?" Alexandra asks you.
"- What?" Is the only thing you can think of saying.
"- You know, what my friend's said, don't you agree,-"
"- I-I do-" You accidentally answer her in fear. But she wasn't done yet.
"- Or are you that far up your own ass, that you can't tell what's reality anymore?" Her tone is a little more aggressive as she comes closer. Clearly annoyed at you for talking over her.
You stay silent, you don't know how to answer that.
"- You're not answering my question?" You can see her turning her head in confusion
"- I-I don't know how-"
"- Honestly, she is being so rude." Says one of her friends.
"- Like, yeah, we were just wondering if you wanted us to hang out with you, what's your deal?" Says the other one.
"- We could have been your friends you know, help you with your homework, help you out with makeup, with your looks~"
"- If that's even possible to be helped with."
They laugh, but Alexandra keeps staring at you, while you hold yourself not to cry.
"- We could even help you with that boy, you know? We-" When one of her friends was about to continue making fun of you.
"- With boy?" Alexandra asks, thankfully not to you. You're too afraid to answer anyway.
"- 3C, dark hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, does it sound familiar?" Says the girl on your right, turning fully to see her friend as she gets away from your side.
"- Oh, oh it sure does, doesn't it, [Y/N]?" She comes closer and sits on the top of the counter, resting her back against the mirror.
"- Isn't that, like, your boyfriend?" Says the one in the left.
"- Well, ex if our little pretty princess thinks they have a chance. Do you, you pretty little thing?" She asks, pinching your cheeks and shaking your head intensively. The girls laugh, and a couple of tears run down your face from the pain.
You want to get out of here, desperately. It seems like hours are passing by, but your recess hasn't ended yet.
"- You're so mean, [Y/N]." Alexandra says as she forces you to look up at her.
"- Not letting me ask you my questions, stalking my boyfriend, telling people that I'm making your days a living hell even if I NEVER have even talked with you, not looking at me when I talk with you."
"- Saying I'm always making fun of you, but the truth is-" She leans closer to your ear.
"- You make it so easy, walking around, think you're the cutest little thing, when in reality, a rat can win a beauty contest against you." She whispers loudly.
"- You're terrible, [Y/N]." She turns back her posture.
"- I don't want to be your friend anymore." She says as she starts to get down the counter. You walk away slowly, you're crying so much you can't even see properly anymore
"- Don't cry, it doesn't make you look any better." She wipes a tear of your face, while making sure her manicure cuts your cheek.
She is getting annoyed at your pathetic whimpers. She is annoyed at the way you keep trying to distance yourself from her.
"- If you want to, I'll break up with him. You can try asking him out, I don't know if goblins are one of his preferences, but hey, you can't try!~" She pushes you against the bathroom walls, you don't have any strength to resist her.
Her friends giggle while going away, recess is ending, they need to get to class make an excuse for Alexandra's absence.
They think she is going to beat the crap out of you.
And maybe she should. It would be less bad than whatever the hell she is doing.
"- ...You're pathetic, an waste of time and oxygen, yet here we are."
Her grip around your wrists tighten, hurting you and making you whimper.
"- You just whine, and whine, and whine."
"- Yet, I'm still here." You don't know what's she is talking about but you need her to let you go.
"- Ale- Alexandra!-"
"- …What is it?" Her grip loosened a little.
"- I-I'm sorry, I won't bother you or your boyfriend or your friends again-" You know this is wrong, but in a death or life situation you need to make the best decision for survival.
"- ...Please let me go-"
So you apologise, for nothing. It's true that you liked that boy, you really didn't know he was her latest catch. Is this all because of him? Because you can totally forget about him if she leaves you alone. Even if it hurts a little.
"- …." She is thinking.
"- Well, sure then!" She says, letting you go, you fall down to your knees, you feel like the heaviest boulder on Earth.
"- I'm so glad we have a deal then!" She messes with your hair, as if wasn't already bad enough. But hey, it isn't a rough, painful touch.
"- You're obedient…" And with that, you feel more like a pet more than a human. Maybe you should have put more of a fight instead of just agreeing with her.
"- There, there. Everything is okay now." Damn, you feel worse and worse about this.
"- Perfect, just the way it should be..." She keeps petting your hair, she looks dazed, but she is actually just thinking.
Thinking about some new things she wants to try with you.
She then decided to go to her class. Waving a goodbye to you.
You still feel a little too creeped out to move.
Maybe not going to class just right away is for the best.
Yeah.
Let's just, calm down a bit.
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
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yandere-daydreams · 4 years
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Wait, is Yandere daydreams a Waifu¿ Also, all i'm imagining from hearing piss goblin is a little, ugly and short goblin with like, three yellow teeth sticking out of his mouth, a big long nose on a huge head, only a piece of cloth covering his dong and holding a huge stick in his hand while screaming "UGA BUNGA HOES" (ᶦ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒᵉˢ)
I can assure that I am the Waifu, and that the Piss Goblin is absolutely a tiny, green gremlin who never wears clothes and keeps me in a cold, damp cave they refuse to clean. They do have a foot-fetish, too, so I’d keep your toes under-guard. They’re so short, you can never tell where they’re going to be next. 
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writerbyaccident · 5 years
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Maybe some yandere Jareth for a woman afab that he meets while pretending to be an owl/human? Then he steals her away to court and marry?
*dance magic dance plays in the background* woah this one turned out long! consider it my offering to the god that is David Bowie
Debts Repaid (Yandere JarethxReader)
           Hiking through the park, you soaked in the warmth of the day. After such a long, harsh winter, it felt as though spring had finally made it through. You relished the opportunity to finally get out of the house and enjoy the revival of nature. The grass and the leaves of the trees seemed to almost bleed green, and you could hear the chirping of the birds that had already returned. You seemed to be the only person at the park though, everyone else not trusting this sudden change in weather. But as you rambled through the trees, you found yourself glad that you had the park to yourself, at least for today.
           Suddenly, you heard the cracks and crash of the branches above you, the sound practically deafening in the otherwise quiet area. You looked up to see a large bird tumbling through the trees, quickly approaching the ground. It was desperately trying to keep its wings open, and although it was not able to resume flight, it was able to slow its descent. As it fell to the ground, you paused, unsure of what you should do. Cautiously, you began to approach the bird, needing to see if it was all right. When you reached it, you saw that it was an owl, a white barn owl, in fact. It was struggling to keep itself upright, which is how you noticed what exactly was wrong. One of the owl’s legs was broken, forcing the owl to try to hop awkwardly to stay standing. The creature was understandably preoccupied, but after a moment it turned to you.
           You gasped quietly at the sight of his eyes. They were piercing, and there was something almost human in their affect. You didn’t know very much about owls, but something about this one struck you as special. The two of you simply stared at each other for a moment, the owl cocking his head to one side in curiosity.
           “Hello,” you whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.” At your words, the owl gave a hoot, one that a part of you thought you recognized as amused, as if he understood what you had said and found the thought of you trying to harm him ludicrous. Slowly, as not to startle the bird, you took off your drawstring backpack and reached into it to bring out your water bottle. Twisting off the top, you poured some of your water into the cap and set in on the ground between you and the owl. He considered it for moment, and then began to approach it, careful to keep his injured leg from brushing the ground. As he drank, you took the opportunity to peer closer at his leg, wondering if you should call animal control. But as soon as the thought crossed your mind, the owl’s head turned sharply towards you, and he ruffled his feathers angrily.
           “Okay,” you said, raising your hands in placation. “I won’t call, but you still need someone to look at your leg.” A distant part of you wondered why you were bothering to speak to the bird as if he could comprehend you, but a larger, more instinctual part told you that he could understand every word that you said. This impression was further reinforced as the owl came closer to you and held out his leg. At this sign of encouragement, you grasped the bottom of your thin shirt and began to tear at it. After a moment, you had decent sized strip of cloth, and your companion hooted approvingly. Crouching down beside him, you took his leg and started to wrap the cloth around it tightly. Once you tied it, the owl simply blinked in thanks and flew off.
           As you journeyed home, you thought that that would be the last time you would see the bird. But as the days passed, you were soon proven wrong. The very next morning, as you were preparing some breakfast, you spotted the owl from your kitchen window. At first you believed him to be a different bird, especially when you noticed that both of his legs were perfectly healthy and lacking any bandages. When he turned to face you, however, you recognized his eyes instantly. Over the next few days, you observed that the owl would show up wherever you went, provided that it was not indoors. And even when you were inside, you would either see him from a window or find him soon after you stepped outside. Once again you considered calling animal control, as this hardly seemed like normal bird behavior. But whenever you thought of doing so, a sickening feeling would twist and turn through you, warning you strongly against the idea. Besides, you thought to yourself, it was not as though he was bothering anyone.
           It was true, as much as you had seen the owl, he never came as close to you as he did that first day. He seemed content to watch you from a distance, though for what purpose you had no idea. One day though, his careful distance was broken. You were walking through the park with a friend of yours, the two of you enjoying the opportunity to catch up with each other. You were having such a nice time, in fact, that you forgot about your new, feathered companion. So when your friend slung his arm around your shoulders, you thought nothing of it, until the owl soared towards him, screeching and slashing at your friend with his talons. Shoving your friend behind you, you began to yell.
           “Stop it! Get the hell away from him!”
The bird paused at your demands, gave one last screech, and flew away. You took your friend home and helped him to clean his wounds, thankful that none of the scratches went very deep. After explaining to him your story with the bird, he made you promise to call animal control if the owl ever came close to you again. Heart twisting, you agreed, not sure if you could actually go through with it. When you arrived back home, you searched all the treetops for the bird, but when you didn’t see him, you dared to hope that he might leave you alone from now on.
Later that night though, as you were puttering around the house, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Attempting to ignore the sensation, you decided to turn in for the night and went up to your bedroom. The room was surprisingly cold when you entered it, something that was explained when you noticed the open window. What couldn’t be explained though, was how it had opened in the first place. You were sure that you hadn’t opened it yourself, but you couldn’t think of any other possible explanation. So you forced yourself to near the window to close it, when your eyes caught something you would have preferred for them to ignore. On the windowsill, catching the moonlight, there lay a long, white feather. Hesitantly, you picked it up, half expecting it to disappear. But it failed to do so, staying with you as you spun it between your fingers. As a sense of unease rippled through you, you tried to shove it back down, hoping that you were just being paranoid.
“I wish I just knew what was going on,” you whispered to yourself. As soon as those words left your lips, the lights in your room began to flicker. A sudden wind roared against your house, and the window was thrown back open. Backing against the wall, you stood silently as you witnessed the owl fly towards you. When he came through your window and officially arrived in your bedroom, however, he was no longer an owl.
Standing before you was a pale stranger, all at once alien and familiar. His eyes were startling, one of them light while the other was dark, and gave you the impression that of a predator watching its prey. Blond hair reached past his shoulders, the top of it rather ruffled, thus paralleling the shape of the owl’s head. He wore a loose white shirt with a dark vest around it that exposed much of his chest, and leather pants that left very little to the imagination. You could only gawk at him, praying that you were simply dreaming. But as he began to approach you with a smug smile on his face, you had to concede that this didn’t seem to be the case.
“Hello, love,” he purred once he reached you.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I? I am the Goblin King, but you may call me Jareth.” You swallowed nervously.
“You-you don’t look like a goblin.” He laughed at your comment, rather amused with your continuing ignorance.
“That is because I am not a goblin, love. I am simply their ruler.”
“Okay…but what are you doing here?”
“You wished for me to explain what was going on, did you not?” he asked with a satisfied grin. “I am only too happy to oblige.” But rather than begin to explain, he instead reached out and took your face in his hand. Something sparked through you at his touch, and you leaned into it subconsciously. For a minute, the two of you simply stood there as he began to stroke your cheek. A haze soon found its way into your head, and you found your eyes beginning to close. Before they could though, some part of you stayed awake enough to force you to bite the inside of your cheek harshly, bringing you out of your stupor. At the sight of your eyes snapping back open, Jareth removed his hand and seemed to smile slyly.
“Well then?” you asked, “What’s going on?”
“I was the owl that you saved,” he answered. “I was journeying through this world when I was attacked, leaving my leg broken. If I had been in my own kingdom, I could have healed it immediately, of course, but things being what they were, I was at the mercy of this realm. That is, until you helped me. I was intrigued by you, to say the least. I have had many dealings with humans in years past, and I have found them to uniformly selfish and arrogant. Your actions, therefore, served to surprise me.”
“What does that have to do with you following me around?”
“Well, at first, I was merely fulfilling my duties. You helped me, and I was hence bound to do the same for you. My kind are honorable, a debt never goes unpaid.”
“Is that what you call attacking my friend? A debt repaid?” you cried. At your words, the Goblin King’s calm demeanor seemed to crack, and his eyes flashed angrily. But as quickly as his anger appeared, it sunk beneath the surface as he forced himself to smile and continue as if you hadn’t spoken.
“While my debt to you was my initial reason for watching over you, something about you continued to pull me towards you. You are not like other humans, little one. After giving it much thought, I have finally found the proper way to repay you.” Gazing down at you, he reached out his hand once more, only chuckling when you jerked away from his touch.
“And what may that be?” you asked warily.
“You clearly do not belong here with the rest of mankind, your flesh may be human but your soul is far more noble. I shall take you to my realm, where you truly belong.” Eyes widening, you shook your head in dispute.
“I can’t.”
“Oh?” the king scoffed in amusement. “Whyever not?”
“Because, my whole life is here. My friends, my family, everything. This is my home.”
“Oh pet,” he sighed. “You humans and your fancies. Just because you have known no other world does not mean that this one is your home. In my kingdom you will find everything that this world lacks. There I can weave your dreams for you, and play you music on the wind. Here lies only misery and drudgery for you. There you shall be a queen, my queen.” His voice was so gentle, so soothing that as you listened to him speak you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in the tempting picture that he painted. But once again, you forced yourself to not to sink into the dream.
“And what if I don’t want to be?” At your question, Jareth smirked smugly.
“We both know that you do, love. I have seen your every secret, your every dream, and they all mirror mine. You belong to me and to the labyrinth, whether you accept it or not.” Pausing in his speech, but before you could gather your thoughts, he twisted his hand and summoned a crystal. He presented its smooth, round surface before your eyes and began to twirl it back and forth, the movement captivating you. As you stared at it silently, strange images swam before your eyes. You saw a maze made out of stone, its passages twisting and turning in impossible ways. You saw a vast array of creatures, some beautiful yet frightening and some hideous yet enticing. Scenes of you and the Goblin King danced before you, all at once terrifying and wondrous. You witnessed a dozen kisses between you two, some chaste and sweet while others burned you just from looking at them. You saw the both of you joined on an unfamiliar bed, drinking in each other’s being, and heat pooled your core at the sight. That familiar haze began to enter your mind once more, but this time it wrapped around you too tightly for you to reject it. Even when Jareth caused the crystal to disappear, the fog remained, continuing to cloud your thoughts.
“I…” you tried to say, before falling silent again. Sensing that you would no longer object to his touch, the otherworldly king grasped your chin and tilted your face up to his. Pleased at the sight of your misted eyes, he leaned down and brushed his lips softly against yours. It was a feather of a kiss, but the feeling of it still left you dizzy.
“Well?” Jareth queried. “Do you wish to come with me?”
“Yes,” you whispered dreamily, “I do.” At your agreement, Jareth suddenly met his lips with yours, swallowing your very breath. Running his tongue against your lips, you granted him access and allowed him to twine his tongue with yours. He held your waist possessively, imprisoning you against him. As your kiss continued, the haze in your mind only grew stronger, with you soon fading in and out of your limited awareness. When you finally fell unconscious, the Goblin King brought you into his arms and walked off into the shadows.
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Peni Parker (movie version) universe ideas
I still haven’t decided if I am going to do my follow up from my previous post, but I do want to do this one.
So I think what could really work for movie Peni is simple, we make her universe something akin to the anime “Re:Creators.” Where I mean where all the characters there are a combination of different genre of anime.
For example, Peni is a very clearly representative of something of “Moe Gap.”
Imagine a character like her univere’s Kingpin, now imagine him/her as one of those cliche Bantyo thugs...
Green Goblin Ojousama...The Green Double G doing the Ojousama laugh.
The mysterio in the comics is good...just make him more Yandere. I don’t think there are many known male yandere
I kind of have this idea of making her venom a Magical girl idea. Magical Girl anime tends to have some sort of cosmic horror as the main antagonist, so that’s what her venom is. Of course Venom would then become a Magical Girl transformation
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tawneybel · 3 years
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Imagine dating Earth-120703 Harry and Earth-19999 Peter not being happy about it. 
If Peter had known Harry Osborn would ask you out, he never would have donated his blood. He secretly sympathized with 120703 Peter after naive Harry explained why he’d hopped dimensions. The worst part was that inter-dimensional travel had no ill effects. 
When you broached visiting the other Earth, Peter felt his heart drop. How could he compete with the Oscorp heir? Then an idea occurred. 
“______,” Peter started, hidden excitement bubbling in his chest, “what if it returns? What if Harry needs more transfusions?” Plural. He was careful not to say “another transfusion.” Upending his own life meant nothing as long as he could stay in yours. 
Too bad Peter hadn’t met his Green Goblin yet. Then maybe he would be a little warier about interfering in Harry’s love life. 
“Peter,” you said, placing your hands on his shoulders. “You’re so thoughtful.” 
The hug that followed made him feel like you two were the only sentient beings in the multiverse.
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tawneybel · 4 years
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Imagine while seeking revenge on Spider-Man, the Green Goblin finds something better: you, who broke his heart.
“Peter, when you said Spider-Man said no, you meant you. Said. No.”
You recognized Harry’s voice, as cracked as it sounded then. As you were about to catch up with Gwen, you stopped yards short of her and paused to make sense of the hovering spectacle between her and Peter. What was your ex-boyfriend wearing?
“...you were my friend and you betrayed me!”
“No, I was trying to protect you,” Peter said, and you realized he wasn’t going to be able to deescalate the situation.
“You don’t give people hope, you take it away. I’m going to take away yours.”
“No-”
“Gwen run!” you both called out, as Harry flew at her. Instead he caught you, who without thinking had put yourself between the Goblin and Gwen Stacy. This was a much better turn of events than your ex-boyfriend could have anticipated.
“______, you’re back in my arms again!” he cooed, before letting out a mad cackle. All you could do was stay still and light as he flew through the night, pursued by an increasingly desperate Spider-Man.
“Harry, stop this right now, this isn’t you, Harry! This- this is not you! Harry, put her down!”
“Harry,” you whispered. Causing his sick grin to untwist into a wistful smile.
“Harry, this is between you and me! You want to fight?! Fight me, let her go!”
Peter didn’t realize how deeply drawn into you his childhood friend was. How deep the Goblin had embedded you into his own heart. Whatever transpired on this clock tower, you chilled yourself thinking, the three of you could never go back to your old selves.
“You’re okay,” Harry breathed into your ear. Aloud, he said, “I am never letting her go again.”
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tawneybel · 4 years
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Imagine after almost being kidnapped by the Green Goblin, you decide to admit to Peter that you’re pregnant. 
“Already? How can you be sure?”
Praying that this science geek didn’t know much about reproduction was a lost cause. Why did you let a rebound turn into a relationship?
“Before we started dating, I had a secret lover...”
“Please tell me it’s not Gobby’s.”
“No, of course not. But I think he’s planning on holding me hostage to get back at my, er-”
“Baby daddy.”
“Yeah, him.”
“Who is-?”
You sighed. “Norman Osborn.”
Neither of you spoke as Peter digested this information. “He dumped you?”
“No, and I didn’t find out I was pregnant until after we, ya know...”
“You left Mr. Osborn for me? For me?”
“...Yes.”
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tawneybel · 4 years
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Imagine Peter finding out the hard way that Norman has a crush on you. 
“Misery, misery, misery, that’s what you’ve chosen. I offered you friendship and you- Okay, look, I’m pissed off ya rejected me, but the main reason I’m here is because we both like ______,” the Goblin explained, before socking Spider-Man in the jaw. “She’s too much woman for you to handle.”
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tawneybel · 4 years
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Imagine ending your relationship with Norman Osborn. He’s heartbroken, and the Goblin’s not going to let you get away so easily.
“You’re immoral enough to date me, decide you like my son better, break up when you know we’re both going to the same Thanksgiving, yet... You can’t steal Harry away from MJ?” Norman scoffed. “That’s not the ______ I know.”
His words didn’t so much hurt as annoy you. You came up here to be by yourself. Deciding you didn’t want him puncturing the silence again, you turned around to answer. Instead of the man who shouldn’t have been a sugar daddy, much less your serious boyfriend, was the Green Goblin.
“You’d be a good match for Harry in the public eye. But behind closed doors you-”
“-’d have me boinking my father-in-law? Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“See? Green minds think alike. But it’s too late for that option now.” He held up a thick tube labeled “CX. 00009.” “Harry can tell people his stepmom used to be his classmate.”
Schoolmate, you think, taking a step back. We never shared a class.
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tawneybel · 4 years
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Imagine being friends with Harry and secretly hooking up with his dad. It wasn’t serious on your part, so there’s not much guilt to be felt when you start seeing Peter Parker. At least until you skip a period. 
Why didn’t you date Harry when you had the chance?! Sure, it would have been awkward after sleeping with Norman. But Harry Osborn probably wouldn’t have taken so long to get nak/ed, unlike Peter. (Unless your wimpy boyfriend had secret gestation-affecting powers, you doubted he was the father.) Anyway, if you’d banged Harry then everyone would have just thought your kid took after Grandpa. 
If that wasn’t bad enough, the Green Goblin’s set his sights on you. Because he tried to abduct you after vaporizing those Oscorp members, it’s pretty obvious that he must have it out for Norman. 
Why else would you be a target? 
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