🚨 We Need Your Kindness To Survive 🚨

Sometimes when I see a clown/jester character I can't but feel like a bird.

Like yes, you colorful silly guy dance and hop around for me with your weird noises as I fall in love and you become my favourite character.

Trust….we’re doctors 🧠

Is it weird I kinda want a monster Incel? Like he believes all humans are supposed to be a certain way but then they meet the first human and are initially disillusioned/upset but over time begin to regret their actions after falling in love and seeing humans as more than really hot porn/pictures online

content: gender neutral reader, NSFW

I'm thinking of a monster incel who is deeply envious and frustrated because he thinks humans only like conventionally attractive monsters.

He reads the comments from the human world with a resentful frown. "Of course he's hot," he grunts, eyeing the rather tasteful sketch of a tall, muscular orc. He turns to the mirror for comparison: multiple limbs, tendrils, a gargantuan body of darkness and blight. He doesn't have abs, nor a handsomely pale complexion and chiseled jaw. He is but an abstract aberration, a crooked ghoul.

It only makes sense that when he encounters you, his yearning and curiosity are swiftly replaced by anger. Give it a moment to fully process his existence, and you'll be disappointed, perhaps frightened. Maybe even disgusted.

He might as well get something out of this unplanned affair. With instinctual greed, he pins you to the ground, taking in your scent. His heart throbs with anticipation. How will you react once he's deep inside you, thrusting relentlessly and with sheer indifference to your protests? His razor-sharp teeth clamp together in seething jealousy; he can almost hear your sobs, feel your little fingers clawing around his hideous body, trying to escape. Of course, he's not the kind of monster you wanted. He's not-

Underneath his heaving chest, your small human form lays limp. He considers whether you've already given up and accepted your fate, when he notices the perverted grin spread across your face. It seems he never considered the possibility of a true monster fucker.

"Well? What're you staring for," you say with impatience, gesturing for the beast to hurry up and fuck you already.

Is it too late to ask you out on a proper date?

I Was Reincarnated As A Villainess Princess and I Married the Evil Prince Who Secretly Wanted To Be A Good Guy But Was Forced To Be A Bad Guy Due To Complex Geopolitical Events

There's just something about the idea of a conniving, two-faced, yandere guy that scratches an itch in my brain. Especially if he's a bit younger and face of an angel.

Just imagine it. Him being your junior in school/work, looking up to you because you guys are in the same club/team. While you are stuck supervising him because he can't seem to do anything right. He's such a crybaby too, always asking you for help with those watery eyes because he's scared you would get mad. But it's so hard to get mad with that face of his, pretty privileged is a bitch and you aren't immune to the affect of cuteness have on you. And, this little crybaby knows full well on how to use his appearance to his advantage, like a fox pretending to be an innocent rabbit. Luring you to him under a false sense of safety, making you think of him as some sort of meek, harmless prey. Only to bounce at you when it's too late to escape. And by the time you realize what happened, he already had you trapped under him, and he isn't the meek, crybaby you think he is.

And ughhhh, I need more younger sly guy Yandere x older woman reader scenarios. I might have to write some myself.

What would happen if Famous reader surrounded by yanderes attended an Oscars, Met Gala type event, where are there a lot of yanderes in the same place?

Sorry for responding so late I had some kind of writers block (and feel like I still do😭) and have been busy.

(Not edited)

BEFORE Acceptance

Dread builds days before the event in Famous!reader. Her hands would shake while scrolling through the guest list. Too many familiar names. Too many dangers masked in tailored suits, shining diamonds and velvet gowns.

At first she considers not going-but soon realizes that would most likely trigger a worse reaction. They’d feel abandoned. Some would even take it as a personal betrayal.

When she arrives cameras flash like gunfire-trying to capture every single movement. Cheers from fans that can’t keep themselves quiet mixed with the eerie silence behind the controlled smiles of her fellow celebrities.

The moment the cameras were gone, the real game began-mingling. Socializing. Being passed from one obsessive admirer to the next like a prized artifact. Her throat tightened with every polite laugh, every glass clink, every overly familiar hand brushing against hers. But she can see what’s lurking behind all the champagne glasses and fake pleasantries.

Obsessive eyes and perfect smiles that are stretched just a little too wide-tension disguised as elegance.

Small talk felt like walking on glass. She knew that saying the wrong thing to the wrong person could ignite jealousy, rage, or worse-tears masked as devotion.

They expected her to move through the room with grace, to greet each one like she hadn’t seen the desperation in their eyes before. Every interaction was a test-of loyalty, of memory, of affection.

She had trained herself to be polite, charming, diplomatic-but being charming under threat, surrounded by people who loved her too much, made every conversation feel like holding her breath underwater.

One yandere who works for a fashion company holds her hand for a beat too long, failing to hide how pleased they are behind a smile, whispering, “I knew you’d liked and wear the dress I sent you”

Another would appear unannounced clinging to her arm for every photo, gently -but firmly steering her away from the others.

Subtle intimidation - one threatens with a smile, “Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with that director. You are not replacing me, are you?” An empty laugh leaven their throat afterward, disguising it as a joke, but Famous!reader knows better. 

A rival yandere “accidentally” spills wine on her dress and insists on escorting her to clean it, whispering how “fragile” she looks up close.

There are social traps everywhere

A casual toast becomes a game of loyalty. Each admirer waits for her to look only at them as she raises her glass.

They monitor her expressions, eye contact, her breath-searching for signs of favoritism.

She was exhausted before it had even begun but now she feels like prey. Every move is watched. Every smile dissected.

Her heart raced constantly; she can’t eat, she can’t breathe, she can’t rest.

Famous!reader starts to wonder if she’s even a person anymore, or just a shared fantasy wrapped in silk and expensive jewelry.

AFTER Acceptance

She has now realized she can’t escaped the obsession, but she can control how it manifests-and she is going to make the best of the situation.

She adopts a new persona-she is still herself, just more elegant and untouchable. Gives them just enough to stay calm but starved enough to stay obsessed. Each smile is calculated and each compliment works as a leash. Famous!reader begins to command the room.

She glides through the event gracefully, allowing each admirer a moment of her presence-like a goddess blessing her followers.

She praises one’s outfit, compliments another’s recent success, leans in to whisper something meaningless but personal-sounding.

They’re dazzled. Possessive. But temporary satisfied.

At some point, one yandere gets too bold-reaches for her wrist too tightly or tries to corner her. This would have terrified her a few moths ago, made her freeze or even shed a few tears-but now she wasn’t even phased by it.

Famous!reader no longer feels small. She’s still trapped-but now she controls the illusion.

She uses their rivalry to maintain distance. If one gets too close? She lets another yandere see-sparking just enough jealousy to create chaise so she can escape. No one notices when she slips out for air, they’re too busy watching each other.

She misses what love used to mean. Before the obsession. Before every glance carried weight, before every compliment felt like a contract she never signed. She still dreams, sometimes, of being held without being watched-of hands that don’t tremble with need, of a voice that doesn’t whisper mine like a warning.

But she’s stopped panicking. The fear is still there, tucked under her ribs, but it no longer rules her. It’s just part of the costume now.

She’s less a person these days and more a myth-polished, adored, dangerous to approach. Somewhere along the way, she stopped trying to peel the mask off and started wearing it.

Love, for her, is no longer soft. It’s teeth behind lipstick, roses with thorns sharpened to a point. And so she walks through rooms full of beautiful monsters with her head high, draped in elegance, knowing full well she can’t be touched-not without consequences. She’s learned to wear her danger like a gown: breathtaking, unapproachable, and stitched from the fear they gave her.

i love it when italians argue about italian. like we don’t even know how our language really works we just roll with it

puki drought

The sickness clings to me. Like a clinging thing.