#yandere the spot

[chickenpizza420]

hhrhrhrhr do you think you could write something with Johnathon and the reader being roommates in college and he’s creepy around them but the reader is lowkey into it and ends up fucking him or something GAH I fucking love the way you write him 😭

TW: dub//n 😈 VERY MUCH NS//FW

LOVE U ❤️ SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT❤️

Word count: 2855

Jonathan is a creep. He’s the reason why all dorms should be divided by gender, but for some reason yours isn’t. You can’t stand him. He always has to talk to you for some reason and he is beyond annoying. You can’t bring anyone over because of him, he will talk up a storm until you guys excuse yourselves. That’s not even the worst part…

The worst part? The way he stares at you. The way you can’t even change a jacket without him gazing pervertedly at your exposed flesh. The way your underwear and sock drawer seem more unkempt than the way you left it before class, but you can’t prove anything.

Jonathan isn’t always so bad. He’s better now. It took months for you to get comfortable with him, and a lot of aggression from you to force him to act right. Well, not exactly comfortable, but you can tolerate him.

It’s not like you had a choice. You’ve been waiting forever to change dorms but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen any time soon. It’s either force comfort, or go through hell.

At least he hasn’t touched you at any time, not that you know of. You two are civil.

Tonight you’re going out with your girls, getting wasted, and having the time of your life. You study most of the time and have rarely gotten the chance to go out this semester, or even dressed in something other than casual clothes.

You leave the dorm to shower and get ready. You look almost like a different person and for once people can actually see what your body looks like. You take a deep breath before entering. You know damn well Jonathan’s weird ass is going to do or say something strange.

You carefully open the door before walking in and grabbing the hem of your tiny dress before shimmying to pull it down as much as you can.

Jonathan is sitting down at his desk, on his computer, as usual. As soon as you step foot in the door his eyes are glued to you, almost star-struck. You roll your eyes in annoyance. His reaction is expected.

"O-oh!" His eyes are open wide excitedly and turns his gaming chair towards you. "You look great!" He gives you a sheepish grin, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck almost nervously. "Are- are you going out tonight?" His eyes dart down to your thighs, his smile falters, a bit unusual from him.

"Am I going out?" You raise an eyebrow, put your hands on your hips and bend down to get at his eye level. "What do you think, Jonathan?"

You can hear him audibly gulp. He looks away from you, he almost looks sweaty. "Um... Y-you... you're not dressed very... um... you shouldn't be out like that... it's dangerous," he stammered, his eyes flickering nervously.

This pisses you off beyond words. You poke him hard in the chest with your finger. "Don't ever tell me what to wear again..." You back away from him then walk over to your desk to get your purse. You can feel his eyes burning into the back of your thighs.

As you hook your purse over your shoulder you glance back at him with narrow eyes. “I’ll be back late, if I even come back.”

You turn your head away and head for the door, refusing to look back at him. In your peripheral vision you can see that Jonathan’s face has a different expression than usual, could he be frowning? You’ve seen him upset before of course, but not like this. The vibe felt different as you were leaving, you feel your shoulders getting heavy. It feels like… he’s jealous?

“Have fun! Be… be safe!” Jonathan blurts out just seconds before the door shuts completely.

You swallow, hard. You feel bad leaving him there. It doesn’t seem like he gets out much and your relationship with him has improved greatly over the last few months. Should you have invited him? A wave of guilt hits you until your friend calls, thankfully.

You answer and she wants you there ASAP. You scurry off to the party and shake off any bad thoughts you have. Hours pass by, you are wasted beyond comprehension and are practically dragging your feet across the hall. You didn’t even get to kiss anyone tonight but you had a great time with your friends and are so fucked up you don’t even think you can wash your face.

You even struggle to get your keys out of your purse and drop them on the floor. You have to slide down the door in order to avoid falling flat on the ground. As you pick up your keys you press yourself against the door to use it once again as an aid for standing. You hear various sounds, like music, talking, shuffling of feet. Hopefully it’s just remnants of the loud booming music from the party. It’s almost 4AM for crying out loud. He always sleeps late, but not this late.

You pray to god he’s knocked out cold. You press your keys inside slowly and twist the door knob anxiously. You feel a slight bit of anger as you push the door open realizing that-

“No. Fucking. Way.” You think.

He's still up in the dark glaring at his computer screen, worst timing ever.

“Oh! Hey!” Jonathan waves to you excitedly. “I didn’t think you’d be coming home!”

You sigh and walk inside. You toss your purse to the floor and slam the door shut behind you. He doesn’t even jump. You step out of your shoes and leave them by the door before walking to your bed and diving face first into it.

“You know I was just!-“ He still keeps rambling to you, not getting the hint that you want him to shut the fuck up. You try tuning him out as much as you can but he’s about to give you a headache.

"You know what Jonathan?" You interrupt. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you rub your temples in annoyance. You can’t take another word from him right now. Sleeping was a top priority. "I was really counting on you being asleep right now."

“Huh? O-oh!” He sheepishly smiles and rubs the back of his neck again. “I just… I just didn’t think you’d come back tonight! I was just up thinking… and I wanted to play some games to distract myself!”

You sit up from the bed and tilt your head to the side. "I wanted to sleep... to have peace and quiet for once… and maybe even get rid of some stress!" You grin, the alcohol still hitting. A thought crosses your mind. It would be funny to play with this pathetic man's feelings for once. He always makes you uncomfortable, why not make him? "Maybe I wanted to play with myself for once..." You smile at him and look him up and down.

“W-what!?” He stammers. Jonathan’s face is beet red, you can see his embarrassed expression from the computer’s light reflecting on his face. He’s speechless.

“What do you mean what?” You put your hands on your knees and lean forward towards him. “Maybe I wanted to touch myself Jonathan. You know I didn’t even get to kiss anyone tonight?” You can see his hands trembling in his lap, his thighs are pressed tightly together. He’s very rigid, almost like when you two first met.

“That’s- that’s… too bad! Haha…” He lets out a small awkward laugh and moves his chair slightly to the side.

“Yeah… I really need to relieve my stress.” You lie back down onto your side, still facing him. You bring your knees closer to your chest and put a hand in between your thighs teasingly. “I could just do it here while you’re awake though.” You cover your smile with one of your hands.

Jonathan has no words. He just stares at your body. His eyes resting on your lower half. Your dress is riding up your body sloppily and he can’t help but look. He licks his lips feeling desire surging through his body as his mind races.

“Look at me Jonathan…” You begin to rub your folds teasingly through your panties while glancing at him to see his reaction. You rock your hips against your hand and fake a small moan to see what he’ll do. To your disappointment it seems like he has no reaction, he’s still in place biting his lips together.

That’s embarrassing… A blush spreads across your cheeks. Immediately you regret your actions. You slowly remove your hand from in between your legs and turn your back towards him then scoot towards the wall, making room on the bed. You keep your mouth shut in shame.

You close your eyes shut in an attempt to go to sleep and hope that he’ll forget everything you did in the morning, or even better, that you’d forget. You can hear the sound of him getting up from his chair and bite your lips anxiously waiting for him to go to his bed.

“You… You’re so beautiful.” He whispers out to you. He sounds close. You can feel his body weight shifting onto your bed. You’re too anxious to turn your head towards him. His hand lingers in the air above your thighs, hesitantly, before deciding to give into his impulses and gently touch your thigh. He brings his body close to yours, his chest pressed tightly against your back and his hardness pressed into your backside.

Your heart has never beat this fast for him. It’s about to pound out of your chest. The liquor combined with his hard manhood pressing against you turns you on like crazy. You tremble against his body. He’s much taller than you thought, he feels huge next to you. He grinds his hardness against you and trails his fingers along your soft skin to lift your dress up above your hips.

You grab his wrist. “I-I don’t know John-“

“Please.” He interrupts. “Please let me show you how much I want you.” His lips graze against your neck. His fingers begin to trail upwards and in between your thighs, his touch becoming more insistent as you squirm against his body. He brushes two fingers against your warmth and presses lightly, rubbing up and down softly.

“I want you… I need you…” He plants passionate kisses along your neck. His fingers continue stroking you, pressing harder, more forcefully. “Do you like this?” His breath hot against your ear as he continues to kiss you. He rubs circles sweetly around your clit and you can’t help but moan. It fuels his desire to take you even more. It isn’t long before your panties are dampened with your wetness.

Without permission Jonathan’s hand makes its way underneath your panties and allows his fingers to explore your wetness with unapologetic force. He plunges one of his fingers inside of you, as deep as he can.

“Ah!” You yelp out. You didn’t expect him to force his finger inside without asking. “Wait Jonathan!” You grab his wrist in an attempt to pull it out of you but your desperate tone and panting only heighten his own pleasure.

“No. Let me do this for you…” He forces another finger in and begins to pump them in and out quickly. “You’re so wet…” He begins to grind his hardness against your ass again. “It’s because of me… because of how I’m touching you…” He begins to suck on your neck, ready to leave hickeys on you and mark you for the next few days.

“Mmph!” You try to hold in your moans. You’re ashamed that you’re so wet from this pervert assaulting your pussy, but it feels unbelievably good. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and you wrap your thighs around his hand and grind against it.

Jonathan backs his crotch away from you for a moment. Using his free hand to reach into his sweats and pull his cock out. He presses his body against yours again even tighter, sandwiching you in between his own arousal and his fingers relentlessly plunging into your wetness. Your panties are slipping off from all of the friction rubbing against you.

Once again with his free hand he reaches down to yank your panties down to your knees. Your glistening sex and ass fully exposed to him. “Feel how much I want you.” He slips his cock in between your thighs and begins to fuck them. You whimper pathetically as he continues his assault, your juices dripping onto your thighs.

“I can’t hold back any more…” He withdraws his fingers from inside you abruptly and sits up on the bed to grabs your thighs, spreading them apart and lifting you up higher. He keeps your legs spread with one arm and grabs his cock to position it with your entrance. You look down at it with furrowed brows and a pathetic look on your face.

“Jonathan please-“ You cry out before being interrupted by his palm covering your mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you.” He breathes out, his voice low and hungry. “No more holding back. You’re mine.” He grips your thigh tightly before driving his raw hard cock into your wetness without warning, filing you completely.

You cry out in pain for a moment. He pounds into you with a rough intensity not caring about the pain you’re currently in, only about the pleasure that he’s going to give you. “You’re mine…” He revels in the sound of your moans and the sight of your desperate expression. You reach up to grab his shoulders for comfort as he fucks you into the mattress.

He can feel the tightness and the wetness enveloping him, enticing him to thrust harder, faster. He continues to pound into you with a relentless intensity, his hips meeting yours with a primal rhythm. The power he holds over you consumes him.

You place a hand onto the bed and try backing your hips away from him. You can barely take his poundings. The lewd sounds of your wet slick pussy and skin slapping against skin fill the room.

"No!” He raises a hand and gives you a light slap on the cheek as a reprimand. “You're my little fucktoy," he growls, his words laced with both possessiveness and desire. "And I'm going to use you however I please." He grips onto your hips, bringing you back down even harder onto his cock to accommodate his deep, forceful thrusts.

“Ugh!” You moan out. “Please! Slow down!” Your legs begin to shake as you struggle to keep them straight, your hands desperately clinging onto his shoulders again for support.

Ignoring your request, he continues to fuck you with an unyielding intensity, his grip on your hips growing tighter, leaving marks in his wake. He pounds into you mercilessly, his cock hitting all the right spots within you. Your sensitive pussy contracts around his length, the pleasure and intensity building once again. “You can take it…”

You lean your head down in shame. Your core begins to shake. You bring your arms down to hold onto your stomach. No, no no! You can’t hold it in. You’re about to cum all over his cock. Your face reddens and Jonathan can feel your impending release. He revels in the shame that washes over you, and the sound of your desperate cries.

The orgasm tears through your body, overpowering you completely. Despite your best efforts, you can't hold it in any longer, and you squirt all over his cock. Your warm juices cascade down your thighs and his. Leaking all over the bed.

"That's it. Take it!” He continues his forceful thrusts, pushing you to your limits and beyond. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, echoing with the intensity of your encounter. With a low growl, Jonathan releases his load deep within your core, his hot seed flooding your insides.

“You’re mine forever…” He remains inside of you before pressing his lips against yours and forcing his tongue into your mouth. You don’t fight him back. You let him explore your mouth and even suck on his tongue encouraging him to go further. He pants into your mouth like an animal, continuing the kiss before withdrawing his cock from inside of you. His seed leaks out of you. Jonathan hasn’t released himself in a long time and you were the perfect outlet to use.

He picks your tired body up from your bed and brings you over to his, tucking you into the sheets and pressing himself against you into a warm embrace. “You were made to be mine…” He breathes out before planting a loving kiss onto your head as you fall asleep. As you drift off into slumber he plugs a finger inside of you, making sure some of his cum stays inside of you the entire night.

You two are both so worn out that you sleep together all throughout the night until the afternoon without moving an inch away from each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED IT❤️

LOVE YOU ALL❤️

#johnathan ohnn x reader #jonathan ohnn #the spot x reader #yandere the spot #johnathan ohnn #tw dubcon #my post #yandere jonathan ohnn #if this made you nut let me know #jonathan ohnn x reader

[weebsinstash]

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

[marveloustimestwo]

General Yandere The Spot Headcanons

Since you asked so nicely, @gxmblinqueen, here's your tag <3 Hope you like it!

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, stalking

I fully support the idea that Johnathan became obsessed with you before he ever became The Spot.

You were probably another scientist at Alchemax, likely working closely with him in some way. And he really, really liked you, probably more than what was considered healthy or normal. And can you blame him? You're just so wonderful and nice and smart.

He was rather awkward around you. Beforehand, Johnathan was just so nervous around you. He always wanted to tell you how he felt, but it never happened. He always chickened out before he could.

Then the accident happened. He became The Spot, and before he could talk to you again, he was shunned and rejected.

After seeing the reactions from his family and coworkers, he feared what you would say to him if you saw him. Would you be disguised in his appearance? Would you be scared of him?

So he started to stalk you instead of talking to you face-to-face. It was easier for him for a while. He kept on saying it was just until he was more confident in himself and his powers.

But he was awkward, as per usual. It was hard not to spot the weird humanoid figure of stark white with black holes covering him following you.

He would teleport in randomly behind you, and if you turned to look at him, Johnathan would just turn away and rub his hand on the back of his head.

Eventually, he would end up talking to you again. It would probably be on your way home from work and he'd follow you until he could get you alone.

He'd even have a bouquet of flowers with him, though the stems had been slightly crushed because of how nervous he felt.

Johnathan would be very apprehensive as he spills out everything that's happened. About the accident, what he's done since then, and that he truly doesn't mean you any harm. He just really, really likes you.

If you accept him and his feelings, Johnathan would be elated. You're the first person who'd actually done so since he'd become the Spot, so of course he'd become even more obsessive and clingy.

He might unintentionally guilt you sometimes (and maybe even intentionally when he gets jealous enough) into not going out as much by talking about how much people hate him for how he looks now, so please don't leave him alone.

But he won't be as aggressive with you or others if you accept and consistently show that you love and care for him and that you don't hate for the slightest of mess-ups.

However, if you don't accept him or his feelings, things could very easily go south. Even though Johnathan doesn't have the range of a human face anymore, you can still see the pure sadness and devastation he feels.

His shoulders drop, as well as the flowers he had in his hand. When he talks, he has to keep his voice from breaking and quivering.

"Oh. . . of course. That's fine, I guess."

It really isn't fine. He'll leave then, still leaving the flowers with you, but you'll still never really be alone. He'll just go back to stalking you for a little while.

Eventually, you'll be kidnapped and put into some strange dimension that he found. Of course, since you can't make portals, you're suck there.

If you continue to reject him, Johnathan will often go into fits of rage, throwing things and screaming about why you couldn't just accept him.

Johnathan would rather you love him. He loves you more than life itself. But if all you do is scorn him, he will settle for your fear instead.

#yandere #yandere marvel #yandere the spot #yandere atsv

[running-with-kn1ves]

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.” 

#can you spot the twilight reference in like the second sentence #idk man I love plagiarism Ig #also I hardly proofread this bc I'm lazy as hell #and its late and I havent taken my melatonin yet teehee #kn1ves rants #knives rants #writing #x reader #male yandere #yandere x reader #self insert #yandere #reader insert #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere writing #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere boyfriend #tw yandere #yandere aesthetic #gangster x reader #yandere gangster #yan gangster #yandere gangster x reader

[yandere-daydreams]

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

[yandere-sins]

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.

#spot #spot atsv #atsv spot #yandere spot #yandere!spot #atsv #across the spiderverse #yandere!atsv #yandere atsv #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[b0y-1nterrupt3d]

god he looks so hot covered in blood i think i might cum~

#obsessive love #irl yandere #possesive love #gore lover #bpd love #cannibalistic #bpd #stalker #i can spot them from a mile away too #actually bpd #murder kink #blood kink #bl00d play #cw bl00d #bl00d kink #bl00d k!nk

[prettybaby-inc]

i can’t explain it. but i need a relationship like this

#i need to be his soft spot #girlhood #obsessive love #obsessive love disorder #daddy issues #gaslight gatekeep girlblog #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #girlblog aesthetic #just girlboss things #this is a girlblog #girlblogging #this is girlhood #this is what makes us girls #girl interrupted #girl blogger #girl needs #cinnamon girl #manic pixie dream girl #just girly things #lizzy grant #lana del ray aesthetic #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #actually obsessive #obsessive yandere #obsessive thoughts

[agent-love-101]

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

[chickenpizza420]

WHERE IS THE YANDERE PETER B PARKER

WHERE IS THE YANDERE BEN REILLY

WHERE IS YANDERE SPOT

FUCK THIS I’LL WRITE THE DAMN FICS MYSELF I’M TIRED OF MIGUEL

#ben reilly x reader #yandere peter b parker #yandere peter parker #ben reilly #peter b parker x reader #the spot x reader #yandere the spot #my post

[weebsinstash]

So we agree, the Spot is just as fuckable as Miguel. These two are both incredible, just both at INSANELY opposite ends of the spectrum. Like I want Miguel to breed me, where as I feel like I want the same with Spot just where I’m more the dom? Idk tho, Spot at the end of the movie def would go back to his s/o’s apartment while waiting for Miles, def would be hate fuckin you con or noncon style, but would also def be so apologetic after he had cum a couple times

Spot who hates Miles Morales so fucking much because he not only caused him to mutate in the collider incident but the accident killed his s/o/crush (you) and now it's like "oh, hey, this is funny but, would you believe me if I said we used to date? Ha ha anyways i was thinkin we could pick up where we left off :)" And maybe he's either telling the truth or he's full on delusional, thinking you two were in love and "sending all kinds of passionate signals" when in reality you were just like, being a respectful coworker and being polite to him and shit you'd be pretty uh in danger if his original you survived and became some sort of multiverse jumping being as well because then he's, you know, CHASING YOU, he thought you had been gone forever, he thought he had lost everything in his life important to him, literally everything, his own physical body becoming unrecognizable, unable to have love, respect, even just a normal life, truly becoming a broken man, but here you are, still left behind, maybe even just as he remembers you visually

I saw a post saying he has Sans energy and it's like. Yeah actually. Funny Little Man Energy. Except The Spot is kind of a poor little wet cat out in the rain who's a lil pathetic tbh and Sans is like a sarcastic troll in a non serious well intentioned way but, the Energy is similar kwim.

Jonathan just being like half apologetic half self indulgent freak the whole time

God. Fucking. Just picture this. The whole thing happens to him, you know, the movie stuff, he's out for revenge, constantly disrespected by Miles, other villains, he lost his entire way of living a normal life, literally, he doesn't even have the peace of having a normal body anymore, AND he lost his beloved "fiance" in the accident and he's just absolutely going insane and he finds you again, YOU you, HIS you, somehow survived, and he goes to you to speak to you AND YOURE JUST LIKE "WAIT WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU" he was just projecting the whole time and you're confused and it just shatters his fantasy but you know what he decides he should get whatever he wants now, take whatever he wants, his powers open all kinds of doors, and he'll make this universe the one where he has you

Also if Spot doesn't have genitals or maybe you're using like, the Wookie rule I think is rhe term for it, he could literally get you any kind of toy or anything from anywhere. He could do ANYTHING to you, watch anything happen to you, use Any kind of gadget on you that he wanted in place of whatever he may be missing. Since he only has so many physical capabilities, he might as well get his pleasure in the satisfaction and pride of bringing you to, like, orgasmic insanity

Miguel just. God I have a draft for him, right, based off of the concept of Reader slowly kind of being pushed to a mental breaking point by Miguel pushing them to do a specific job in the Spider Society only THEY can do, and he's pushing you and telling you its for the greater good because it does legitimately hold the multiverse together, it keeps people from breaking canon, it's a memory wiping thing, but it's emotionally and mentally taxing on you and the nature of the job makes you a social pariah and, it's a struggle of wanting to hate and refuse him for pressuring you into all this when you actually WANT to trust him as your friend and leader and even want to love him vs also he's lowkey taking advantage of the stress the job causes on you so he can be the only one there to support you when you're in crisis mode cause, yeah its for the greater good, and gosh he hates seeing you cry such big fat tears, but it IS so nice to get to be the one to hold you when you're so desperate for some kind of anchor and support that you hug him. God I bet hugs from him are something else....

#yandere spiderverse #yandere the spot #idk lmao #yandere x reader #atsv #sinprompts

[chingfuiisalive]

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

#yandere genshin x you #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin au #genshin sagau #diluc x reader #yan genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact hybrid rescue au #yandere zhongli #spot x reader #yandere mha #Yandere #yandere x you #yandere across the spiderverse x reader #yandere 5wirl #yandere boyfriend #yandere aether x reader #yandere assassination classroom #yandere call of duty #yandere cod #yandere csm #yandere csm x reader #yandere dragon #yandere genshin x female reader #yandere harem #yandere jjk #yandere kakashi #yandere male x reader #yandere king #yandere ken kaneki #yandere miguel ohara

[ofallthingsnasty]

Basement wife is so happy to have her little purse dog. She’s like her little ally in the hell she’s living in, her valiant knight that’ll protect her from the dragon/crocodile. But that’s where the pug also causes her some stress. Every time her dog growls at Crocodile or even - god forbid - tries to bite him, basement wife is afraid that that’ll be the last straw and Crocodile will snap and hurt either her dog or her. So every time the pug is a little menace to her captor she is quick to scoop her up away from Crocodile and apologize so sweetly. Crocodile can endure the dog’s yapping and growling if it means basement wife is a bit more affectionate towards him (though he knows it’s only out of fear and a way to placate him)

Crocodile and the puppy part 1 // part 2 For more context about basement wife/Crocodile, check my matchig section on my OP masterlist here.

are you people trying to kill me... this is too cute. i just love the way we can mix yandere tropes with crack so easily, makes me smile

tw. yandere, minors dni, crack treated seriously

Oh goodness, of course! You’re so right - we’ve talked about what Crocodile thinks, but how would you know that he enjoys the leverage he has? That he’s playing you like a goddamn fiddle any time you hastily pull your little pup away from him when she’s having a tantrum. You can only really see what he’s showing you - and not to insult your intelligence, but I think it wouldn’t be too outlandish to think that the very man who kidnapped you (on what you perceive as a whim) is very much capable of ending that tiny life over nothing more than a headache. He’s a terrifying man. Honestly, he doesn’t care that you get all pliant and sweet out of fear only - he takes what he can get and shamelessly plays up his little moods when the dog tries to chew through his pant leg again. As long as she’s misbehaving when it’s just the two of them, he isn’t too fazed - but the moment you lay your eyes on the scene, he’s sure to curse and click his tongue just a bit too hard. How could he not? It’s too delicious how you gasp every single time, pull her away from him and press a couple of soothing kisses to his temple, all in the hopes of calming him. You’re genuinely scared for her and it makes you play so nice… Maybe getting you a mutt wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Will you figure out that he’s not going to hurt her one day? Sure. But that doesn’t stop him from enjoying that little bit of extra love you willingly give him whenever he uses your fear against you. And not only does he expect you to smooth over any furrow that the little dog’s outbursts might cause, he also wants gratitude whenever the waters are calm, because he's just such a good, caring husband, getting you a little pet, isn't he? In the end, that dog plays right into his hands. Unwillingly.

#and maaaaaybe he has a little soft spot for the way your face lights up whenever you great your little pug when she gets back from walkies.. #hm hm it's so hard to not make him overly soft (bc i love him so) but like i said... wife guy crocodile 5ever #even if it's a basement wife... haha #/crocodile #/one piece #yandere one piece #tw.yandere

[wxnheart]

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

[yandere-daydreams]

Not the same anon but, what if the spot used his powers to fuck you without you knowing who or how. I haven't watched the movie so idk if his powers work like that, but I'm choosing to believe that's how it works. Just hanging out and then suddenly, hey, why is there a whole dick in me. I am wearing pants rn what the fuck-

Bonus if you were kidnapped by a yandere Spiderman who's right there and feeling ways about it

tw - non//con, unhealthy relationships, slight stalking, and implied kidnapping.

i will accept a yandere!spot scenario if and only if it's about him taking an interest in miguel's little darling and preying on them from afar,,, maybe you end up catching his eye while he's flickering through dimensions, lingering just long enough in yours to realize how cute you are and just who the giant of a man constantly looming over your shoulder is. it's not his spider-man, but it is a spider-man, and he'd be lying if he said that didn't bring him a certain amount of joy on its own when he finally decides to have a little fun, to reward himself for all his hard work, to split you open on his fingers from the safety of another dimension while you're spending time with your... with whatever miguel's supposed to be, to you. you're adorable - the way you frown and squirm as you try to figure out what's going on, how you knead your hands and subtly jerk away from his touch, how quickly you're reduced to a panting, flushing, dripping mess.

and miguel's there to see it all, of course - to catch you when your legs finally give out, to growl and ask what you think you're doing to him as you cry and beg him to make it stop. he's concerned, sure, but he's jealous first and foremost, and soon enough, your clothes have been torn away and now you've got two desperate men tearing you apart, filling you up, and forcing something onto you that you have no way to fight against <3

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere miguel #yandere spot #yandere spiderverse

[yanderemommabean]

That yandere Toji was SO TASTY. Being transmasc, it's so rare to find yandere content made for me! Love you, mama!

I love you too bean! :3 Happy to make Toji feral for you 😘

-Mommabean

#we all need that man #he'd hit the spot ya know? #yandere Toji #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #anon confessions are amazing #anon asks #mommabean #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen