Tumgik
#yandere life is strange imagines
strwbrymlkshake · 1 year
Text
Why can't I be satisfied with everything? It needs to be perfect to me and I can't accept anything otherwise :(
#mine#oh boy here we go. guy last post was about has been pretty cool and i got flustered around him a few times#but i feel bad bc. i need m o r e he isnt insane enough he isnt making me go absolutely crazy i want to be satisfied but im NOT im sorry#like its quite honestly the most attention acceptance etc ive gotten but its not ENOUGH he doesnt die whenever i send a selfie#im never satisfied WHY i have unrealistic expectations !!!! i hate my brain killing and violence and death etc#i get crushes on guys who want nothing to do with me but then when one actually wants me its not enough? what is wrong with me#thrill of the chase? i cant accept being loved? what is it brain. christ almighty. im not doing anything like deliberately yandere related#anymore im just being generally incomprehensibly mentally ill 🙄 still trying to find a therapist but idk how on earth ill explain that#ill update this post tomorrow with more insanity but for now i am the sleepy tired#// ok its now 3 days later i dont feel like making another post. i think i was just having a mental illness moment as always#because he does make me insane. hashtag girl. im trying to be the smartest and calculated i have ever been with a relationship in my life#like im thinkin about it so hard bro. the future n shit. how would this relationship go. im so scared ill do something wrong its preventing#me from doing things RIGHT. im sad becaude i flipped out today over even imagining him being upset with me a little#so i was really embarrassed and it put me in a weird mood for the rest of the night but he reassured me he doesnt hate me or want me to die#every one aaalways says theyre different. i can only hope this one is telling the truth. i dont know what ill do if he isnt.#well i need to stop whining about fictional scenarios and focus on the good stuff in reality. i get along with him very well and he#is very niceys to me :3 he doesnt think im fucking insane or stupid for overreacting. i feel very comfortable gossiping and talking w him#every long time blog viewer of mine reading this like ah shit here we go again#but thats what im here for. i guess. just have to keep doing this shit until something good finally happens to me romantically hngh#i feel so strange because i have wanted and yearned for a relationship but now that i actually could have one im like WAIT#I DIDNT THINK ID GET THIS FAR 💀💀💀 bruh. and he doesnt even think im stupid hes respectful to me he checks in on me all the time#like perhaps the only person to ever actually almost match my energy in a romantic sense. there was [redacted] i guess but he didnt love me#he listens to me talk about my problems he doesnt think i complain or overreact too much. all the ridiculous cringe shit i do#he doesnt mind it. its nice to be able to be myself. and im really proud of myself for not rushing into a relationship right away
19 notes · View notes
screeching-bunny · 10 months
Text
Yandere! Concubine Harem
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
Tumblr media
Many people would call you crazy or insane but you didn’t care. You absolutely hated your life and the god forsaken family you were born into. If you could choose, you would have been born into a lesser family. It wasn’t always like this, in fact when you were younger you were last in line for the throne. It was due to the sabotage of greedy and jealous mothers that got all your half siblings and full blooded siblings murdered. Unfortunately, that meant that you were forced into the position of being the next heir and eventually the new ruler.
You could remember the moment you became heir, you were immediately bombarded with people trying to curry up your favor. You honestly hated it, everyone just felt superficial and it didn’t help that as you grew, so did your power. Even your childhood friends were not immune to this. Imagine your shock when your closest friend got up on one knee and asked for the chance to court you. Then your classmate, then your former brother’s friend, and etc.
You had barely even had a concept of what love was. From a very young age your mother was murdered and your father hardly ever paid that much attention to you as well. You were mostly alone in your own little world and you absolutely loved that. People always just seemed so annoying to you that you did the bare minimum in communicating with others.
You tried to remain single as long as possible but your father did not agree with this decision of yours. He’s always seen relationships and marriage as a way to get more influence from around the world. So at the age of twenty, you were officially given a concubine, a foreign princess from the East. She was clingy and whenever you talked to other people she seemed to always want to monopolize your attention. This behavior only seemed to get worse when your father caused you to take in concubines to gain various alliances.
Within your harem there was competition daily. Sons of generals who tried to show off with their strengths, princesses who tried to get your attention with their singing abilities, princes who would try to show off their archery, scholars who showed off their intelligence, etc. The list goes on and on. There was so much jealousy in your harem that it was unbelievable. It also didn’t help that everyone was always trying to kill each other. You were so sick and tired of it. All you wanted was some peace and quiet.
There were daily assassination attempts on concubines, poised drinks to make someone infertile, constant fake crying so that you could favor someone, and etc. Every single time you take in a new concubine you could always feel them seething but you always ignored it. You didn’t know why they loved you so much, hell you even told them if they ever wanted a divorce you would give it to them. Yet, no one has ever left willingly. It was as if they looked up to you as a god or something it was just so strange.
You’re favored concubines were of course, always thrilled to have your attention on them. They were usually the ones who got to sleep with you at night. Seems as a privilege as only the most loved got to do that. You, however, had to be careful sometimes because unwanted sexual advances could happen anytime in the bedroom.
If you feel in a particularly good mood that day however, you may even let one of them bathe with you. “Your majesty, your skin is silky smooth. I wish to do this with you forever. No words can express how I feel and how much I love you. Won’t you allow me to be your first husband?” Yeah, this was basically how most of your conversations went. Everyone wanted to have the first slot at being your husband or wife. It was the ultimate showcase to prove you loved them the most and was a definite power trip for those in the harem.
Going to bed everyday was like a minefield. You just don’t know who’s going to show up in your chambers. Most of the time it’s one of your concubines, that you allowed to sleep with you for the night, in provocative attire. “Your majesty, I’ve been feeling a little lonely lately. Won’t you please pay some attention to me?” It’s honestly crazy how there is no limit of what these guys wouldn’t do for you. They just seem so overly infatuated and obsessive.
No matter what you did to them, they would always seem to look at you with love and admiration. You could basically insult all of them and they would accept it with a ‘thank you’. Nothing you did, could ever make them hate you.
Bullying was an extreme issue in your harem. No matter where you went there were always green tea bitches, white lotuses, and cunning foxes trying to bring someone down in your eyes. It’s even worse if they're new, having barely any awareness of what is happening, they definitely need to be more careful. No matter where you go at least three of them are stuck to your side. You’re alone time is basically nonexistent and extinct.
With teary eyes one of your concubines shout, “My lord, please help me! I’m being bullied by the others in the harem!” If you were being honest, you absolutely did not care about what was going on and one hundred percent knew that she was just using a manipulation tactic. However, to avoid the incoming headache you begin to console her and tell her that you’ll have a talk with everyone. You then decide to give her what she wanted and guide her towards your bedroom chambers. As you both leave she quickly looks at the faces of the others and sticks her tounge out. There was a look of absolute rage on their faces and with that they all had the same unanimous thought in their head.
“I’m totally going to get that bitch back for this!!!”
Pt.2
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
bunny-yan · 5 days
Note
so for the yandere king, will he ever get married to someone who isn’t reader?
He’ll hold it off for as long as he can, but don’t expect him not to take it out on you if he complains about it and you don’t give him the reaction he was expecting.  TW: mentions violence, domestic abuse, mentions somnophilia, power imbalance, minors DNI
You’d gotten your hopes up. 
It’d been such a long time since you felt anything like it, but with whispers around every corner speaking of the king’s possible marriage,  you couldn’t help but entertain thoughts of freedom, of a life without the tyrant you called a king. 
He had to produce an heir. It was an unavoidable duty his position demanded. The kingdom needed to be left with a future should anything unfortunate happen to their oh, so beloved king. 
Sometimes, you wished that his misfortune would happen by your hands. If only to give him a taste of what you had to endure, but you shoved such thoughts away. It was harder to keep your composure when you entertained ideas you’d never be allowed to act upon. Or if you tried would cause more harm than good.
Others looked smug as you passed them in the long hallways, claiming you’d be thrown away by the king as soon as he married, and you prayed to the goddess that they were right. That he’d marry someone he could love and obsess over. That his violent affection would be directed at someone else for a change. Did it make you cruel, wishing that someone else would take your place? A part of you lacked the ability to care. If they were so desperate to tear you down, not realizing the hell disguised as paradise, you would be more than willing to let them have a taste of it. 
The king’s marriage. 
When the two of you were younger, he promised to hold the grandest wedding the kingdom had ever seen. He’d spare no expense and it would be remembered as the happiest days of your lives. Remembered as the day of your union, the day you would promise to spend eternity together. You supposed that after killing all of your family members and gaining ownership of you, it didn’t really matter one way or the other how it happened, but you felt a small sense of relief that the monstrous event had been delayed.
The talk you had to endure was bad enough, but you could only imagine what the nobles would have to say if the King were to make your union official. You wouldn’t be the one who achieved every servant’s fairytale, no. You would be the peasant living above their station. The whore who sunk their claws into their sweet prince. The tramp who didn’t know their place.
You would dread every display of affection he would shower you with in public, knowing that despite his insistence of you remaining by his side, others too afraid to show their disdain in front of the King, there would undoubtedly be a moment where they would find you alone and without your shield you were vulnerable to their contempt.
But the idea of him living out that fantasy with another shifted something in you. You felt a slight upturn of your lips at the thought of him standing at the altar with a faceless figure as you packed what little things you truly owned and ran and ran and ran as far as your legs could carry you. The dull ache you’d become familiar with would burst, and you’d cry freely, laugh hysterically, and smile as if you had never forgotten how. That was what paradise sounded like. 
Doors slamming open, the strange emotions fled from your body, replaced with instant unease at the sight of the king’s furious face. 
You stood quickly to bow and greet the head of your kingdom. 
“Leave us,” he said. Two words dismissing everyone from your chambers, holding so much power you feared they didn’t know what monster they were abandoning you to face alone. As you’d always had. 
He sat on the plush couch with a heavy sigh, unbuttoning his shirt as he gave the order, “Pour me a drink.”
You didn’t hesitate to meet his demands. You got two glasses, knowing that he’d push you to join him, along with the liquor your Kingdom was famous for and he favored on particularly stressful days. Setting them down on the table, you tried to ignore the set eyes watching you as you filled one glass and left the other, hoping that he wouldn’t notice or at least be too preoccupied to comment on your lack of a desire to drink at this hour. 
He said nothing. 
You picked up the glass, careful not to spill it as you handed it to your king. He took it from your hands, but his other snatched your wrist as you retreated back, making you tense. The king threw the full glass back as if you poured a shot before slamming the glass on the table. He wiped the dribble of alcohol that escaped from his lips as he pulled you to sit on his lap. 
This was dangerous. He was sober now, but you weren’t sure how long that would last after drinking enough to keep him wasted for the rest of the day. How long would it take to kick in? You’d pour him the cup, believing he’d sip it as usual while entangling you in a verbal joust. He would ask impossibly complex questions disguised as basic pleasantries, and you would struggle to find the right thing to say. Because there was always a right thing to say. Something he wanted to hear to stroke the fragile ego drowning in his fear. You had waves of carefully hidden bruises as proof. 
“Pour me another,” he demanded, the harsh tone making your hair stand on end. He really must’ve heard something he didn’t like. 
“My King,” you began, timidly, as you turned to face him. It wouldn’t bode well for you if he was too drunk to remember what he had done the next day. His memory was truth, and if he didn’t remember putting his hands on you, if he didn’t remember the violence he wrought night after night, it didn’t happen. “May I pour you some water instead?”
The hand on your waist was stroking your side casually. His motions didn’t falter. 
Hopefully, he didn’t take offense. 
You were clear on your station. You were to serve his every whim and desire. An outright refusal wasn’t wise. Resting a hand on his arm, you knew to keep your gaze down. Keeping contact, unchallenging, all things he preferred in moments like these. 
“How considerate,” he said, your body sagging in relief at the concession. 
You were almost too eager to pull away from his grip, but he let you go without a word, watching you retrieve the pitcher and another glass before you came to pour him a glass. 
You handed it to him and much like before, you were pulled into his lap as he sipped on the small offering you were grateful he accepted. You were afraid to hope that his temperament would be manageable.
Before you learned of the engagement, you wondered if you’d unintentionally done something to make Idris angry. 
It was little things at first. 
Snapping at you for getting up from dinner without his express permission, grabbing you harshly if you pulled away from any form of affection he so generously offered. When he’d wake you up, it was usually in the form of violent affections, his touch lacking any tenderness or care that he often liked to pretend still existed between the two of you. 
He only realized that he was treating you differently when you found the courage to ask him if you’d done something to gain his ire. You couldn’t think of anything you may have done to make him upset. It’d been a while since your last escape attempt. Knowing there was nothing and no one waiting outside of the palace for you, you didn’t really have a desire to escape. Better to remain with the person who’d travel to the ends of the earth to trap you by their side, right? 
Regardless, he looked surprised by your question and you discovered he didn’t even realize how harshly he’d been treating you. Projecting his anger on you because you reminded him of the Duke’s daughter and how their intended engagement would ruin everything he planned to build with you. 
“I assume you’ve heard by now,” he said carefully, the glass of water resting on his lips as he watched you. 
You didn’t know whether to play dumb or openly admit you learned of his vassal’s plan to marry him to someone with a legitimate background. He was obviously unhappy about it, so if you mentioned that you had learned, he might shift the conversation to ask instead why you remained silent. To ask about your feelings on the matter and when you didn’t show the same amount of disdain, he’d mistake your feelings for what they were. 
Hope. 
A newfound hope that you had found a way to escape from underneath his grip, even if it was temporary. You could only imagine the anger he’d display then. 
If you pretended you didn’t know what he was talking about, he’d give a knowing smile as he narrowed his eyes. Calling you his clueless lover, the hand at your waist would squeeze into your side, his fingernails threatening to pierce your skin as he buried his head in your neck. Harsh laughter would brush across your skin and your body would be so tense, waiting for the moment that skin would be met with teeth. Met with pain. 
Thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything. He always did love hearing himself speak. 
“Have you seen the Duke at the balls I’ve hosted? He’s hoping to gain an alliance with the imperial family by forcing me to marry his daughter in exchange for his backing and the steel his family mines in order to make weapons.”
His fingers drummed against your side as he took a sip of his water. 
You felt inclined to say something to break this silence, to give a show of how upset or angry or disappointed or sad or whatever the hell you were supposed to be feeling so he felt as if you were torn up about this situation and not hoping the Duke would move faster with the marriage arrangements. 
“How arrogant,” you said simply. 
He smiled, setting down his glass as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Those were my thoughts exactly. I managed to push it off, but I can’t see the Duke giving up any time soon.” He sighed, leaning into your touch when you began to scratch the back of his neck. You were listening. You cared about what he was saying. You sympathized with his plight and offered the reprieve you could. To say you could do more was putting it lightly, but you would get away with doing the bare minimum for as long as you could. 
“It makes me think of how unfair this is to you.”
You wanted to laugh. 
Unfair was forcing you into the position of his concubine in the first place. Unfair was ignoring your consistent refusals and forcing you to remain by his side. Unfair was the treatment you endured in the position you never asked to be in, the abuse you suffered, the constant torment you faced, the aching loneliness at being able to talk honestly with no one, the grief at the loss of your family—unfair was putting it lightly. 
It was hard to hear coming from the culprit. 
“It got me thinking that if I’m eventually forced to go through with this wedding despite my lack of enthusiasm, why not have a wedding I’d enjoy first?”
Dread pinched your stomach. 
“Do you remember the promise we made when we were younger?”
No.
No, no, no, no, no. 
Not another shackle. Yet another excuse to be stuck in this place with no way out. 
“Your Highness-”
“I promised you that we’d have the grandest wedding the kingdom had ever seen. That you would walk upon a path of flowers that would lead you to my side, and one of the knights can walk you down the aisle since-.”
You felt nauseous. 
“Anyways, I think I’ve been putting it off for too long and it’s the perfect event to put my vassals in their place.” 
This couldn’t be happening. You shook your head, not wanting to imagine what life would be like after you became… what? What did he intend on calling you if you were no longer his concubine? What did it matter if your treatment would remain spiteful regardless of how many escorts he replaced by your side. Any hope you had about escaping would be snatched away and your every move would be reported back to the King. You supposed he didn’t botherbefore because there really was nowhere for you to go where people didn’t know who you were, but with this new title, this new position, he would shorten your leash to show just how much of a loving couple the two of you were. 
“What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, a warning in his voice. “You don’t look happy.”
“No,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. It brought tears to your eyes when the impediment remained, threatening to choke you as you struggled to hold them back. “I’m overjoyed.” you said, burying your head in his shoulder so he couldn’t see that these weren’t happy tears. That you weren’t crying at what you would gain from marrying the King, the most sought after “bachelor” in your kingdom. You were crying at everything that you would lose, that would continue to be taken away from you. Demanded of you. Your peace, your love, happiness, and the joy you were so desperate to convince him you felt in this moment. 
Not that he really cared in the first place. 
784 notes · View notes
shalotttower · 3 months
Text
Fractalize (part 1)
Title: Fractalize
Fandom: Hunter x Hunter
Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.
Word count: 3700+
Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)
Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2
Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.
Tumblr media
Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.
It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.
A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.
Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.
It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.
Imagine. Remake. Slip.
You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.
Remake, slip.
You have new vocabulary now.
"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.
"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".
"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.
"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.
"If you say so" - for everything else.
You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.
Yes this and no that.
Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.
Wasn't worth it.
***
"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.
It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.
You pull the blanket higher. "I do."
He knows it.
The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.
"What kind?"
Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.
Or-
You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.
She probably thought you abandoned her.
"Cats."
Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.
"We can get one, if you'd like."
"No."
Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.
"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.
The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.
She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.
Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."
A chair creaks. "Why?"
You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.
"Don't need it."
"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.
"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.
Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.
There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.
"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"
Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.
"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."
His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"
"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.
There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.
"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.
"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.
He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.
Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.
"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.
"On what?"
"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."
You don't respond.
To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.
Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.
His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.
"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.
"It's early."
"Mm."
He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.
You watch him. Wait.
"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."
Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.
"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."
You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.
"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."
"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."
You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.
He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.
You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.
"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.
His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.
"I'm right then," you say.
"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."
There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.
"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."
You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,
"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."
***
The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.
Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.
Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.
You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.
A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.
It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.
You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?
Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.
"Dear."
You almost jump.
Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.
"Mm?"
"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."
You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.
"Was just thinking."
"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.
True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.
For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.
Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.
He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."
His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.
"What was on your mind then?"
Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.
"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."
If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.
"Tell me."
You hate when he does that.
"It was boring."
"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."
Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.
If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.
It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.
"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."
Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.
"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."
There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.
"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"
"Yes, I got sad."
Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.
"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."
"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.
It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.
"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."
You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.
"Mm," you say.
Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.
606 notes · View notes
yanderismo · 2 months
Text
Yandere Platonic Superman Concept/Idea (?)
Tumblr media
BRO, BRO, I DON'T KNOW IF I LOVE OR HATE MY MIND FOR GIVING ME IDEAS THAT I'LL NEVER START OR FINISH. But okay, I have an idea for a platonic yandere Superfam, maybe it involves Batfam or the entire DC universe. I think this is more platonic yandere Superman. Let's go. (using the translator, be kind to me please 😭) 
— Imagine that you are originally from the Injustice universe. You were a neutral young/teen heroine who wasn't at all interested in siding with Batman or Superman. Well... that neutrality of yours had consequences, and now, somehow, Superman and Batman were in a bloody tug of war to get you on their side. And you are the cable they are selfishly pulling. And one day that cable would break, and that's what happened to you, you broke it. So broken that I would consider it irreparable. 
— But luckily for you (bro, are you lucky?), after so much physical and mental suffering, you ended up in a way that I won't explain, in the original DC universe. In other words, no superheroes is crazy tyrants. Too bad you don't know that (yet).
— You were living as if the world was a danger to you (just like it was in Injustice). But you discovered that you were REALLY in a different universe or timeline when you met Lois Lane, the woman who drove Superman insane after her death. And it shocked you, you thought maybe you had gone back in time. And as reckless as it was, you felt hope that you could stop the future of Injustice from happening, stop Lois Lane from being murdered! After all, you were still a hero, even if you had probably lost half of your original universe's neurons.
 — So you made a decision. You decided to protect Lois Lane! You practically become her protective shadow. Being noticed wouldn't do any good, and for SO FEAR of being confronted by Superman/Clark for apparently stalking his wife, you stopped watching her when Clark showed up and you went back when Clark left. (In your head, this Superman is the same Superman from Injustice, just before Lois' death happened). You were wary as hell of all the heroes. Anyway, a lot of trauma caused by Injustice.
— And I believe that Lois, even if she was a civilian, would notice that she was being watched (or maybe you're just not very good at stalking because you're a very young heroine). Whatever it is. Lois noticed and she became cautious (she is a journalist, there are many people who may not like her to the point of committing atrocities), as you could be a threat to her life. Although you haven't revealed yourself as any threat so far.
 — But let's suppose there were events in which she was in danger (actually, it was just something like shelves falling, preventing her from being run over, preventing some rabid dogs from biting her, small things), events in which you managed to remain hidden, however Lois knew it was You, her strangely protective stalker. Lois was trying to know your intentions and work it out for herself, so she didn't say anything about it. If this is something much more than she can handle, Clark can always lend a little help. 
— But on another one of those times when she was in danger, you desperately saved her (the situation was quite dangerous, more than normal), asking if she was okay and everything. Lois was surprised, you were surprised. Before you know, the idea of staying in the shadows went down the drain. You were almost begging (you were begging) her not to tell anyone that you were persecuting her (protecting her), you didn't want her to report you to some authority (that would only hinder your mission) or worse, report you to Superman. You said, stammered, that you were just protecting her. Wanting to make sure Lois didn't feel threatened and report you. 
— The desperation, the panic in your voice, seemed too young for Lois to feel comfortable. You were like a scared child, you looked very much like just a scared child, and that made Lois uncomfortable but at the same time... motherly. If you wanted to hurt her, you would have done it already. You at least accomplished one thing: making Lois not feel threatened by you.
 — The other thing you couldn't do was stop Lois from telling Clark about you. Look, I'm sure Lois didn't mean it, it's uncomfortable to be watched almost every day, but also, since she discovered you, she's been quite worried about you.
 — And Clark is all worried, like, "What?? My wife is being stalked??? Oh wait, my wife is being stalked and protected. Well, that's still very worrying, I'm definitely going to check it out for myself." Furthermore, Lois insisted that he be gentle when approaching you. And Lois saying this to him made him even more intrigued. 
— He tried to approach you just as Clark Kent, just to know how you would react around a seemingly civilian person, think of it as a method to read your character (he didn't want to confront you as Superman in a careless way. After all, who wouldn't Does he act nice or change to a more pleasant personality around Superman?)
— Needless to say, Clark was surprised and confused when you looked at him like he was the greatest terror of your life before simply running away from him. He recognized that look, only villains who were traumatized after a confrontation against him have that look (but the you look was much, much worse than that). That day, you didn't chase Lois.
 — Clark suspected you knew his secret identity. There is no longer any reason for you to have reacted like this. 
— lol, that day Lois noticed the absence of the feeling of being watched and scolded Clark for scaring you. Although it wasn't his fault, he apologized. He really didn't mean to scare you ;( You were gone for a few days after that. But of course, you still had to protect Lois in her everyday life. Even if you were scared. 
— Anyway, it didn't matter how softly, friendly Superman approached you next time. You ran, or at least tried to run. Do you really want to bet on who is the fastest? He easily caught you and held you by your forearm. And that was enough to make you scream, cry, struggle and finally, shrink as much as possible.
— And Superman was all confused, he wasn't even hurting you or squeezing you hard. His voice was also friendly. If anything, it made him even more worried. Add the fact that you appear to be very young and his paternal instincts kicked in. 
— To his surprise, you pulled out a knife. Something like that couldn't hurt Superman, of course not. But who said the knife was meant to hurt him? Let's say you picked up the knife and tried to slit your own throat as a last resort escape. (What did you go through with Superman from Injustice to the point that you tried to commit suicide just to escape him?) 
— Superman was surprised and then horrified. He immediately knocked you unconscious before you cut deeper into your throat. Now with you unconscious, you seemed more vulnerable and fragile than you should have been. Now he understood why Lois was worried about you. (You know, if Batman can adopt multiple children, why couldn't Superman...? You seem like a good kid and even Lois agrees with that. Conner and Jon would definitely like to have a sister) 
— Superman wondered what happened to you that made you reach the point where death was a usable route. He wanted to question you personally, but the moment he confirmed that you knew his identity (you acted the same way when he approached you as a civilian. He was the only one to receive this reaction from you and no one else), this matter became the subject of the Justice League. Discovering the identity of a superhero and pursuing someone close to that superhero was not going to be taken lightly. Who's to say you don't also know the identities of others? Although Superman wants to deal with you alone, he doubts he'll get any information out of you with you yelling and screaming. So he took you to the justice league. 
— Batman can definitely help you solve this.
(Imagine the anguish it would be to probably have to get used to people having the same appearance and the same voice as your captors in Injustice. Imagine them acting all soft after finding out you come from a universe where the heroes are corrupt and broke you😩)
Notas: I leave the rest to you. Or to any author who wants to use this idea (I beg you, some author write a Yandere platonic Superman/Superfam fic😭 They could even add other platonic Yanderes like Batfam, it would be so interesting 🙏😭)
(I just realized that the one who acted the most Yandere was Reader herself, lol)
775 notes · View notes
muzanswaifu · 11 months
Text
Fated Pair
Alpha! Tomioka x Omega! Fem! Reader
18+
Tumblr media
Your entire life, you lived as a beta, not having to worry about such tedious things like glands, heats, and instincts. But that all changed when a certain slayer came to town, altering everything as you knew it. It seemed fate had finally brought you together.
Since fated pair won my omegaverse poll, here ya go 👀 Might make a second part in the future just to clarify some things in their relationship...
Big thank you to my beta readers @mistymuichiro & @thosestarry-nights & @astrasolitaris !!!
Warnings: Omegaverse, Smut, Yandere Tendencies, Dub-con, Rut, Heat, Kidnapping, Scenting, Mating Bites, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Face Riding, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, Rough Sex, Creampie, Knotting, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Impregnation, Dirty Talk, Praise
5k Words
-
-
-
“Go get more water… towels too!”
“Guard the entrance to the block as well - make sure no one comes through-”
“Close the door!”
You could still hear the commotion outside, your family scrambling with commands and precautions like busy bees in a hive. Although if you were in their place, you supposed you would be too.
This was all your fault. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for you. Why did it all have to change?
You were a beta. You were supposed to be a beta. In your family lineage for as long as anyone could remember, everyone either grew to be a beta or an alpha, and even the ladder was quite rare. Your siblings and yourself were always warned to keep your distance from omegas. They were needy, weak, and always brought trouble along with them. Even your father, who was an alpha, biologically programmed to desire an omega, despised them, citing them as nothing but lustful rodents who relied on others to care for them.
At the time, you neither held resentment nor admiration for the secondary gender. If anything, you were grateful. Even when your age of puberty came, you hadn’t needed to deal with the struggles of a heat or rut or anything of the matter. You were simply normal, experiencing the usual growing pains and figure development. You hadn’t worried when your cycle never came, plenty of people blossomed later in life. Life was easier, nobody shamed you, you fit in with the general population, too well. You never could bring yourself to date or fuss over anyone. It wasn’t that you didn’t have crushes, you did, but they never seemed worth any hassle. You couldn’t imagine a future with anyone, nor did you hold any attraction except superficial. They weren’t the one.
But that all seemed to change overnight, your world quite literally flipping over the next morning as a strange feeling overcame you. Your parents warned you all that morning to be careful as there were reports of a monster near the village, so you assumed the feeling of uneasiness was a result of your body’s natural apprehension. But you fell terribly ill within a few hours, hellish cramps overcoming your body and bile spilling out of you to no end. Mother chalked it up to some surge of influenza and the others joined her theory, and you kept your own thoughts to yourself. You’d still never admitted that you’d never gotten your period, and now seemed too late as you’d become an adult already. It was far too late to worry them.
Thankfully the illness had come and gone within a few days, leaving as quickly as it had come. But just when you’d given in to the assumption that it was just a sickness, it’d returned again, far stronger and more potent. You couldn’t even walk then, your body in so much pain that you couldn’t stop throwing up and trembling. You’d genuinely thought you’d been dying, but, yet again, it left you after only a few days. As did the company that had returned to the village. You family was becoming concerned, and you felt far too afraid to admit to them of your fears. Moreover, you didn’t want to speak them into existence.
The third bout of sickness was when a doctor was called in, the worst of your suspicions confirmed. You were an omega, later developed, but developed nonetheless. You worried Father wouldn’t speak to you ever again when he disappeared for several weeks, not a whisper of where he was going, until he’d returned late one night with the reason for his departure - the strongest heat suppressant available in the country. You took it without a second thought, uncaring of the symptoms as you prayed they would free you from this curse of misery. And it seemed to work for some time. You weren’t plagued with crippling pains and aches, you didn't have as many thoughts of depression and anxiety. You thought you were cured.
But it was only a temporary reprieve.
As only weeks later you were burdened yet again with an explosion of suffering, the worst one yet. You spent most hours weeping and crying, begging the gods to let you experience even a moment of peace. Your father seemed to change strategies as he instructed your siblings to go into town and fetch articles of clothing to bring back to you, to find the source of these forcefully induced dry heats. One by one you smelled them, scrunching your nose and cringing at all of them. They smelt disgusting, horrid enough to make you spit up all over again. It’d gotten to the point where you’d sob in Father’s arms and beg him not to make you smell another one, begging for his forgiveness for ruining everything. He just held you tight and pushed another piece of cloth to your nose, asking you if this was the one. You threw up again.
Finally, your youngest brother stumbled in one evening, the color drained from his face and his eyes wide. You wept when you saw him, another test clutched in his quivering fist, knuckles whitening. Slowly he handed it to you, a hand to your neck to force you to take it in. With tears in your eyes you did so, preparing to gag, but the feeling never came.
With a single breath your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, drool collecting on your tongue and threatening to drip down your lip. It smelt magnificent. A delicious combination of sweet rain and fresh moss. Purrs of pleasure came rippling from your throat and you nuzzled against the fabric, the tip of your tongue gently tracing the fibers. All the pain slowly melted away, your brain becoming fuzzy and clean like swabs of cotton. For the first time in forever, you felt truly safe.
Your mother gasped
“Where - who did you get this from?” she croaked.
Your brother gulped. “The - the guy who came ‘c-cause of the monsters…,” he mumbled, “The slayer…”
Everyone stopped and looked at him, their eyes dark and grave.
“H-he came up to me in the square… asking for my scarf - or actually… (y/n)’s scarf…”
Father glared at him. “You idio-”
“Let him finish!” Mother interrupted as she held him back. Your brother just looked down and fiddled with his hands.
“So I gave it to h-him, a-and he seemed to like it, so I took his handkerchief, b-b-but,” he paused to look up at them, “h-he said it didn’t matter… that he’d… pay for her.”
Your father took in breath and sighed, carefully walking over to him, towering over the small boy.
“Were you followed?”
“I-I don’t think s-so…”
“Good. Lock the doors.”
Everyone took shifts to stay up that night, guarding the doors and peeking out the windows for any sign of visitors. You could sense their troubles, but for the most part you kept to yourself, cuddled up against the handkerchief and resting. Despite the brief ease of pain, you still felt the discomfort of your heat, still missing something but not quite sure what yet. 
There were no signs of any trouble for several days, until the night you woke to hushed voices and sounds of scurrying. Listening in, you quickly gathered what was happening.
The man - no - the alpha was here. Father went outside to talk to him. Although you were pretty sure there was no talking involved… more likely there was yelling… maybe some threatening.
After a few painful minutes, he came back in, a deep scowl painting his face. He also carried with him a multicolored robe, half red, half tessellated. He threw it to you before walking to the main room where the rest of your family was. You quickly huddled over it and started cuddling. It smelled perfect.
“... What did he say?” Mother hesitantly questioned.
“Bastard is stubborn. Says he’s not leaving without her. Told him ‘tough luck’. Nobody is leaving until he does.”
Your siblings all groaned, resuming their posts of either guarding the door or taking their turn of sleep. Despite not being yourself, you still felt the guilt of it eat at you. As soon as they left, your mother leaned closer to him.
“Dear… are you sure this is what’s best? Look at her - she’s miserable… we all are.”
He just shook his head at her.
“He’s not taking her. Not my daughter.”
-
The following days were gruesome. For everyone. No one was allowed to leave other than the occasional grocery run. No one could go out to their individual jobs. Even hobbies were off the table as every hour of the day was spent protecting the house. Protecting you.
This was the longest heat you’d had yet. It was as if your body knew your alpha was nearby, waiting for him to come claim you before you were allowed to calm down. The dry spell was wearing off, the sharp pains being transformed into uncomfortable cramps that made you desperate to wrap your legs around something. Your every entrance ached for company, feeling empty and barren without the presence of your alpha’s taste and essence. But regardless of your buzzed mind, you were still you enough to be too embarrassed to complain about that discomfort.
But even that part of your dignity was wearing thin. Every day without your carnal needs being tended to was just multiplying them. They all tried to give you privacy to take care of yourself, but it was simply impossible to leave you alone for too long. You needed to have eyes on you at all times in case the worst happened. In case he found you. So you settled for wrapping yourself up in his clothing. How was it possible for a single man to smell so edible? You found yourself wondering on the quiet days what he looked like, where he lived, how many pups he wanted. The primal part of you was oh so desperate to please him, regardless of how much you knew about each other. The omega part of your mind assured you every hour of the day that this was fate. That you were meant for each other. That you needed each other. 
But some part of you was still skeptical. No one else had felt right, so why would he? 
Everything would be fine… within a few days, surely the standoff would break. The man had to leave sometime. Regardless of the heartbreak such a thought brought you, it was what was best for everyone. 
-
You were awoken one night to a sudden crash of noise outside your room, followed by voices bickering. Vaguely you could make out the voices of your parents, followed by one you didn’t recognize. One that sent warmth right to the core of you. Within moments there seemed to be an altercation, two thuds hitting the ground. The sound was short lived as silence followed soon after. Your heart raced with the footsteps that slowly crept to your door, your arms hugging your scented jacket to your chest. The steps were ceased with more conflict, another bout of harsh words spoken before several more thumps followed. Like they were nothing.
Frantically, you crawled into your closet, quietly shutting the door and shaking as you curled into yourself. You tried your best not to cry, not to make a sound, but you were scared, horrified. Every conscious cell in your brain was screaming at you to run while the other half were begging you to get pupped. Your breathing stopped as soon as the door slid open.
His footsteps treaded carefully across the wooden floor, taking their sweet time to take in the scenery of your room. To find you. A subtle trill of growls could be heard along with the creaking of the floorboards, adding to your horror. He seemed to stand still for a few moments, taking in long drawls of your scent before heading straight to your hiding place. You froze.
You braced yourself as the closet door was carefully, slowly pushed open, your eyes shut tight and pouring with tears. A sob escaped you as the moonlight poured in to shower you. You were done for, you were sure of it. 
A gentle hand whispered along your hairline, tucking the hair out of your eyes.
“It’s okay kit, I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”
The sound of his voice was like that of an angel, soft and pleasant to the ear. Shyly you looked up from your lap, curious to find the owner of such a song, and you were not at all disappointed. Velvety, fluffy dark hair, a large muscular build, deep azul eyes. You could get lost in those eyes. You so desperately wanted to.
You were confident then that you had died and standing right in front of you was an angel ready to take you to heaven. No other explanation would suffice. He was simply too beautiful to truly exist. A rush of slick pooled down your thighs and you whined. Your hands were reaching up toward him before you could stop them, his own sinewy arms coming down to wrap under your arms to hike you up. You whimpered as you were lifted to his chest, looking back sadly toward your abandoned coat. He promptly leaned over and snatched it up. “I know, omega, I see,” he mumbled into your ear, sending a thrill up your spine.
He draped your haori, his haori really, over your shoulders so it would cover your nude back before he headed back out the door. You didn’t know where he was taking you, nor did you care. All you cared about was getting more of his scent into your body as you smelled and licked at the gland in his neck that he had so gracefully exposed for you when he tore aside his uniform.
As he carried you out, you could see the unconscious bodies of your family lying on the ground, not one of them with a single scratch. He must’ve knocked them out somehow. All except your father, who still seemed to be attempting to get up. He rambled angrily at your alpha, words no one could understand as they slurred from his mouth. Your alpha stopped in the doorway to your home, turning to face your struggling father who glared from his place on the floor. You looked down at him sadly and tears welled in your eyes.
“I left my payment on the table. We’ll see you again… sometime," Alpha spoke, not a hint of sympathy in his eyes. Not even when he turned you around did he seem to be riddled with guilt, a mewl falling from your lips as shape canines pricked at the nape of your neck, sinking deeper and deeper until you were howling from the pain, your vision going stark white as you were claimed. You passed out not a moment after, your alpha licking his lips of your sweet blood.
When you awoke you were in a house you didn’t recognize, in a bed that wasn’t yours, but you had a hard time caring as everything smelt purely of him. His scent fermented in the air you breathed like a fine wine, getting you drunk off the mere smell. Perhaps it was because he sat only a few feet away at the foot of the bed, as if guarding you from the outside. It made you feel that much safer. As soon as he saw you rise from your slumber, his pupils grew, the cautionary slits becoming dilated orbs. You pouted when he backed off the mattress, his hand pointing toward you, as if commanding you to stay in place.
“Nest, omega.”
The command rang in your ears like an alarm, your mind quickly working overtime to complete the task. Your alpha must’ve prepared as there were several piles on the floor composed of blankets, pillows, and clothing, all perfect for your nest. You set about collecting the one that you deemed fit, weaving them together over the bed like a second layer. It was like your body instinctively knew what to do as you not once had to overthink how to craft your nest, your hands doing all the work while your mind wondered. When you were finally finished, you sat at the center of it like an obedient dog, looking to your owner for your next order.
Your heart soared when he softly smiled at you, briskly walking over and cupping your cheek, running his nose along your jawline. His skin touching yours felt like fireworks were going off inside of you. Heat rose to your face as you then realized he was completely naked as well.
“You’re such a good girl… good omega. It’s time for you to complete the bond,” he murmured as he joined you in your nest, setting himself in front of you and moving his fluffy, long hair to the side, exposing his nape. Your own mating bite throbbed like a reminder on your neck as you eagerly latched your little teeth to his skin, biting as hard as you could until blood filled your mouth. It tasted sweet. You licked your lips as you pulled away, blushing at the indent it left in his skin, showing your marking of him. The throbbing eventually faded away into nothingness, paving the way for a heady pleasure that reached from your head to your toes. You felt complete, like a part of you was missing this entire time and you just hadn’t realized it. Every sense of struggle and rebellion inside you vanished, and you collapsed back onto the bed.
“Alphaaa…” you moaned, writhing in your nest with a newly awakened pleasure, one that made the emptiness in your womb all the more noticeable. Pups. You needed pups.
“Get up, omega. You’re going to sit on my face,” he leisurely commanded, staring down at you with possession and licking his lips. Your body moved on its own, shifting to the side so alpha could lay in your place while you straddled his head. Embarrassment still managed to weasel its way inside of you. What if he didn’t like the color? The smell? The taste? For once, your brain and your omega were both anxious about the same thing.
He seemed to notice your apprehension as took a deep breath of scent, growling lowly and dragging you down to properly seat yourself in his mouth. You cried out as he dragged his tongue between your slick folds, settling the tip on your clit and bringing it into his mouth to suck. Your legs trembled on either side of his head, your hands falling to clutch at his locks to brace yourself. His own paw wrapped around your ass, guiding you to properly grind yourself against his tongue while he enjoyed you. Sounds of rapture tore from you, falling upon his eager ear like music from the gods. Slick poured down his throat like an elixir, coating his tongues and messily dripping down the sides of his mouth. He ate from you like you were a ripened fruit, abundant with juice and teeming with nectar ready to be plucked and devoured. 
Your grief of emptiness quickly fell to the back of your mind as you focused on the divine ecstasy of being eaten, your sex swollen and sensitive as alpha relentlessly took what he needed from you. He shamelessly groaned into your heat, openly expressing how pleased he was with what you had to offer. He cursed every so often, spreading your lips open with two fingers and pressing his nose close to smell your feminine scent. Those same two fingers were quick to sneak into you, spearing you open on his thick digits, all to prepare you for something much bigger. It didn’t take you long to come, juices leaking out of you generously as you clenched on his thrusting fingers and cried out. He still rocked you upon his face as you came down from your high, licking up every messy drop from you regardless of your sensitivity. You bit back your tears and let him do as he pleased, so very eager to please your alpha. You’d be in agony without him so the least you could do was feed him.
You turned back after a moment to distract yourself from the overstimulation, desperate for something to cling to. Your gaze instantly landed on the cure for all your agony.
His cock stood tall and proud between his strong thighs, the tip flushed with color and large veins popping all over it. It was so thick… so long… it was going to tear you apart so easily… you’d never wanted anything more in your life. You drooled as you looked back at it, a renewed vigor alighting in your cunt. Especially when your eyes lingered down to the base of it, the beginnings of a bulbous knot taking root there, preparing to plug you up so you can keep all his little babies warm. You salivated at the thought.
Finally, alpha had his fill, pressing several soft kisses to your pussy before unraveling you from his face and setting you aside. Your belly stirred as you watched his cock bob between his legs as he rose up, his muscles straining beautifully like strings on a harp as he moved. You wanted nothing more than to crawl in his lap and lavish him with attention, worship your alpha like he so deserved for taking care of you so well. But your body refused to move, clinging to his every word and awaiting his command. You watched hungrily as he stood and stretched his arms and neck, likely sore from lying about for so long. He laughed softly as he caught you staring, your eyes staring lovingly between his thighs as you panted like bitch in heat. After all, you were one.
“Down,” he told, his voice imposing and husky, “Spread your legs.”
You didn’t even have to think as your body did what it was told, lying on your back obediently in the center of your nest and opening your legs. He grinned meanly.
“Not that way. Present for me.”
You whined as you rolled to your front, planting your face in the sheets and raising your ass high in the air, presenting your little hole for breeding. 
He chuckled and climbed in the nest behind you, running a warm hand along your spine.
“That’s a good girl. So obedient for me… You want my kits don’t you?” he crooned. 
You cried out into the bedding, raising your hips higher and wagging your ass at him. He tutted at you and kept you still with hand, leering down at you with predatory eyes like a fox to a rabbit.
“Puh-please alpha… it hurts…,” you sobbed, sniffling weakly and trying to press your thighs together to ease the ache inside of you. He easily pried them open again, slipping his swollen cock between your legs and dragging it across your cunt and belly.
“I asked you a question, omega. Answer me.”
“Y-yes, alpha!,” you cried, biting your fist with frustration, “I-I want your kits… s-so bad…”
He chuckled again with approval and playfully rocked his member against you. “You do, don’t you… I’d bet this is your first time wanting anything like this, isn’t it?” You furrowed at his question, plagued by its accuracy. He seemed to take enjoyment with your confusion.
“I was in a similar situation myself,“ he muttered, taking his cock away from your legs and pressing the leaking tip between your folds, making you shiver. “I didn’t want anyone, didn’t need anyone, I thought it just wasn’t meant to be.”
He slowly pitched his hips forth into your tightness, stealing your breath away as he split you open. Despite the abundance of slick, the stretch hurt more than anything, tears dripping down your cheeks as you whimpered. He only stopped when he was balls deep, every inch of his cock swaddled by your plush insides. You swore you could feel him all the way to your brain.
“Didn’t - didn’t think I’d ever meet anyone I’d wanna mate with,” he grunted, nearly whining from how tight you were, “But then I was called to that small, little village, could smell you a mile away… took me weeks to find you…”
“Please d-don’t move yet alpha,” you begged feebly.
“I know kit, I know… ‘s your first knot, I’ll be gentle,” he promises, easing your worries as you went limp into the bedding.
He waited patiently for your pain to ease, running his hands along your sides and petting your thighs. Regardless of the hurt, slick gushed from you due to such nurturing.
“Asked your father to give you up… even offered him money, but he refused. So, I had to take you. Alpha knows what’s best, don’t I?”
“Y-yes, alpha,” you faintly murmured, your body heating up as you were molded around him like clay.
He softly smiled at you and rolled his hips, churning his cock into your guts. You shook with the sensation, so sure you would burst any moment with how full you were. Every second he moved, the wetter you became, slick sticking to his thatch of pubic hair and coating his heavy balls. The ache of penetration melted away with every second, pleasure filling the gaps it left.
His hand reached under you and pressed at your belly, rubbing the bulge he’d left in you.
“Gonna leave my pups right here, right where you need them… need you to keep them warm until they make it to your belly.”
You hardly even heard him as you drooled into the nest, moaning and mewling like a little whore. The pain was hardly there anymore, euphoria overwhelming you as you eagerly ground back into him, desperate for more of what your alpha could give you. Taking the hint, he began truly thrusting into you, pulling out several inches before shoving it all back into you, bullying your cervix into submission. Your cries of pleasure only increased in volume and frequency, filling the room along with the sloppy noises of your union. You wanted his cubs. You needed his cubs.
His knot, you realized. His knot was the answer to everything, the solution to all your problems. Without it you were just a hollow shell of an omega. You came from just the epiphany, squeezing tight around him and squirting slick into his lap.
“Kn-n-not,” you whined, “kn-not… knot… knot!” You were going to die if you didn’t get it, you could feel it!
He laughed cruelly behind you, “You want my knot, omega?” His hips moved faster, pounding you into the bed and ruining the nest you worked so hard to make. You didn’t care. There were more important things at stake.
“Yes!” you pleaded, sniffling pathetically and digging your nails into the many blankets surrounding you. He growled darkly and loomed over you, threading his hand around the back of your skull and shoving you into the mattress, limiting your air intake. He violently pistoned into you, using you as nothing but a hole to breed his cum into, precisely what you wanted. You squealed for him, happily gave him free use of your form to use for his benefit, anything was worth it if you got his babies. 
You could feel his knot grow as it pressed in and out of your hole, thickening furiously and stretching you beyond repair, ensuring that not a drop of his precious essence would exceed it. A dopey smile was plastered on your face as you let him use you, your hair messy and tousled as you were buried into the bed.
Finally his knot threatened full capacity, popping in and out of you painfully before locking inside, swelling to its full size and keeping you in place. You wailed with bliss, your climax a mere hair's breadth away as you awaited for a single push to make you tumble over the edge.
Your alpha panted viciously behind you, grunting and groaning as your cunt milked him unforgivably, The moment the first wave of cum filled you, you saw stars. Fireworks of scorching white lit up behind your eyes, blinding you and making you bawl. You’d never felt such bliss, such elation, it was bordering on the edge of painful as one high bled into another and another and another. Wave after wave of piping hot sperm was emptied inside you, filling out your belly and gushing into your womb. His large knot promised not a drop would go to waste as every ounce was kept in your pussy, filling you to brim so much so that you could nearly taste it.
You weakly tried to crawl away as it became too much for you, you couldn’t take it anymore. But even without his unrelenting hold on you, his knot wouldn’t allow you to go anywhere.
“No, omega,” he growled harshly, “Warm my kits that you begged for. You aren’t going to leave here without my litter growing inside you.”
He leaned over and pinched his teeth around your scruff, rendering you useless as you went limp underneath him. It was too much, you couldn’t take it all. But what choice did you have as he kept you in place, taking load after load of his potent seed into your womb, exactly what you had asked for. You pathetically wept against your arms as your belly was filled.
As was an omega’s fate, regardless of what was planned for. 
-
-
-
2K notes · View notes
pynkgothicka · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
Beast Miguel o'Hara
Synopsis - After you sister leaves you to hang with your boss, both his and your lives becoming a waking nightmare
Pairing - Yandere! Miguel o’Hara x Fem! Reader
Featuring - Jessica Drew but the black version cause I luv black women
Tags and Warnings - Stalking, Kidnapping, Violence towards reader
Authors Note - I LUV HIM SM MY GOD. I HADDD TO WRITE SOMETHING. Also I believe this contains slight spoilers??? I think???
A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!
“Jess! Are you sure it's okay that I'm here? I'm not really spider-like.” You followed behind your sister, her afro swinging as she walked. You fiddled with the band she gave you in order to keep you from glitching out.
It was all so casual, and almost everyone greeted her. The architecture was other worldy, almost only to benefit the inhabitants. Speaking of, there was many, too many to count. 2D, 3D, Male, Female, Pigs, Horses, Cats, almost anything imaginable.
While you looked at it all in amazement, they all looked at you, and gave you dirty and worried looks. At least thats what it looked like under their masks.
“Oh Miguel won't like this…”
“I didn't know they allowed just anyone up here?”
“I mean Peter B brings his daughter so I guess it's a pass."
“I just know Miguel doesn't like anything new. He might bare his fangs or something. You know that guy and sacre tactics.”
You shuddered at the way they spoke of this Miguel guy. But you kept following behind Jessica until she came to a huge hatch, in which opened up on her walking up.
“Miguel!”
“What do you need Jessica, aren't you supposed to be on a mission?”
“I do, but I need you to do a favor!” Jessica yelled, shoving your shoulder to push you ahead. “My sister is visiting from college in my dimension. I need someone to watch over her and I trust you'll do that without letting her get hurt.”
You finally looked up seeing a sharp jawed man looking down at you. His spider suit glew a dark blue with bright red highlights. His brown hair was pushed back, framing his face perfectly. Not only that, but he was huge, built like a giant.
He came down from his workspace, now closer to you than ever. His chest was too your face and you had to look up too look at him. He seemingly almost over analyzed you, eyes trialing up and down your form. “Fine. Just go handle the situation.”
Jessica raised a brow and crossed her arms. “Fine? Just fine? You usually aren't just okay with this type of stuff. You sur-”
“Your questioning my decisions?” Miguel said his stature becoming stiff, seemingly fed up with her constant questioning.
“No… just wondering. Don't have too much fun you two.” Jessica said giving you a small hug before walking off. As the hatch door closed, Miguel's hand went to your back, ushering you to walk with him.
“I'll give you a chair so you can stay within my sight. I don't want to lose you.” You nodded, watching as he turned away from you, going back to his work. A chair was pushed your direction, and when you finally got to sitting down the cushioned seat almost swallowed you whole. You could take a nap if you wanted too, it was just that comfortable. And you almost did, until you were pulled from your rest with a deep voice.
“Did she tell you, or did you piece it together?”
“Huh?"
“Jessica. Did you just figure out she was Spider-Woman?”
Miguel's hands just kept working, his focus divided between talking to you and his work. “To be honest, I just figured it out. When I asked her if what I thought was true, she just seemed relieved and told me everything.”
Miguel seemed surprised at this making a strange humming noise. “You two must be very close huh?”
“Yeah. I wouldn't trade the world for the bond me and her share. I'm glad she trusted me enough to tell me about that side of her life. From what she told me, Spiderman doesn't usually tell people about what he does. It's refreshing you know… I'm sorry am I rambling too much?”
“No. Your fine, I'm actually enjoying the company. I'm in here by myself most of the time. It's nice to hear another voice.” You gave him a small smile in which he returned, smirking at you. He stopped working and his screens switched off. “What do you do for fun?”
“Me? Fun? Uhh I don't know. I'm a college student with just about 0 connections. I guess reading?” You finally chased for a reply.
“LYLA get someone to bring me a book from the library. Hell bring two.” Miguel said, finally an AI woman popping up. She teased him a bit before finally having someone bring you two books. Miguel then sat down next too you beginning to open one of the books he brought.
“Your willing to read with me?”
“Yeah. I need to get my mind off of things anyway.”
🩸
Once Jessica had picked you up, Miguel felt weird. He knew you were attractive. Like very attractive. But that wasn't normal for him. He usually didn't see attraction in people.
Something else he also knew was that when he was around you he felt comfortable. He had no worries and you took them all away. It was a feeling he could only recall when he was with his “daughter.” He'd let you snuggle up close too him, physical touch being something he hadn't felt in a while.
“LYLA. I need you to pull any information on Jessica Drew's sister. It can be from any dimension, I just need to know everything.” Miguel basically ordered the ai. She popped up in front of him, with that same smug look she always gave when questioning his any of his decisions.
“Why would you need that?! It's not like she's ever going to get bitten by a radioactive spider.” LYLA said bringing up a huge collection of information she'd found on you in a heartbeat. “But hey I'll indulge this. Let's see, she's almost always college student, future looks like a journalist, ooh she's judgemental! And just about always single. Seems like her connection to Jessica Drew is always the sisterly role.”
Miguel fell more and more in love the more LYLA talked. “Send all that too my computer.”
“Gotcha! Hopefully this will help you.” LYLA said dissipating away. Miguel stared at the picture of you on one of the screens.
He had to have you. At any means necessary.
🩸
You'd finally saved up for a apartment to where you could stay without the need for dorm mates.
Being a journalism major meant you needed all the focus you could get. And you couldn't find that when around all those people. So you left.
Usually you wrote uplifting pieces for your sister as her and the press don't usually get along well. Even though your pretty sure she knows you wrote majority of her good stories, you also know she'd smile seeing that people appreciated her work.
As you were turned around and began slicing open a box to unpack in your room, a voice boomed from your window. “Hi sweetheart.” From across your room stood a towering Miguel o’Hara. He crawled his way into your room, shutting the window behind him.
“Umm hi Miguel. Are you looking for Jess? She's not here i-” Miguel cut you off.
“I'm not looking for her. I was actually looking for you. I came to talk to you about something.” Miguel started moving closer, slowly stepping towards you. He ducked past your light fixture, finally truly Intimidating you. Something about the way he was coming towards you frightened you. His size almost made it worse.
“Oh. Well of course. You can talk to me about anything.” You trailed off putting your knife to the side, giving Miguel your undivided attention
“I want you to come live with me. At the headquarters. No one has to know. Not even your sister.” He said causally. He was right on you, making you trip and buckle to fall on your bed. You looked up at him, pushing yourself further into the bed.
“That's, crazy Miguel. I can't that, I'm a college student! I don't even know you enough for that!”
"But I know you. I've studied you. Every possibility of you. I know more about you than you know yourself!" You let out a small gasp. This man had been essentially stalking you.
"Miguel. That makes it even worse, the last answer is no. And.... And I need you to go."
“You just don't get it do you?” Miguel's hand hit the wall, claws digging and dragging in the drywall. “I don't think you understand I'm not asking you to do anything. This is me telling you.”
And with that you kicked against him, trying to immobile him at any means possible. You had to find Jessica.
But he grabbed your wrist, trying to drag you to your window. He hoisted you up to his shoulder like you weighed nothing.
“Let go! Let go of me, Jess! Jess please!!” You began to scream out for your sister seeing if maybe, just maybe she was around to help you.
But she wasn't.
No one was.
You started to beat on Miguel's back. He was now out of your window and climbing up the side of your apartment, heading to the roof. “You better stop fighting, this is destiny. Our destiny.” When he finally made it to the roof he put you down and a hexagonal portal appeared as he messed around with his arm band. You began to heave on impact with the hot concrete. Miguel then turned back towards you, watching in amusement as you dragged yourself slowly to get away from him.
“What are you doing?!” Miguel's head snapped as he stared at LYLA who now stood in front of him at full height. “Your pulling the exact same thing you tried before this, before you made the society! Made me!”
"You don't understand. You will never understand."
"I understand more than you will ever know. You need to stop. And you need to stop now!"
You took this as a opening to crawl your way to the nearest side of the building. You could hear Miguel snarl and yell at Layla. But you tried to pay no mind to that as you looked down over the right edge of the building. You saw a metal of the top apartments stairway.
Fuck this would hurt.
Your body hit the metal with a loud bang, the adrenaline wore off as you finally felt all the bruises and gashes you gotten. “Fuck, my god. Jess… Spider-Woman! Plea-” You felt a hand on the back of your neck. Claws dug in to the front, slightly nicking at your neck.
“Where are you going?”
Miguel picked up your body like you weighed nothing. He then carried and slammed you against the nearby wall. When trying to move your hand to tap on the glass pane, Miguel's other hand grabbed at your wrist, immobilizing you. “Miguel please don't do this! Jessica, she's going to look for me I know it jus-”
“Shh My Love… this won't hurt a bit.” Miguel barred his fangs at you opening wide and moving to your neck. And before you could protest he bit deep into it, venom seeping into your veins. You felt woozy, and realized you couldn't move an inch. Just how he wanted you.
“It's all going to be okay Mi Vida. I know exactly what you need... A family. And not just any family. A family with me."
2K notes · View notes
howdoesagrapewrites · 4 months
Text
𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬
Tumblr media
Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.
Cw: fem!reader, cisgender female reader (I'm sorry mascs and nbs, I'll make something for you later) incest/targcest implied for later, platonic and romantic yanderes, yandere EVERYONE x reader, here's a list of every character that will be featured (not all of them are romantic):Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Rhea Royce, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Haelena Targaryen, Daeron Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon, Jacaerys Velaryon, Laena Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon
Notes: I go by a very strange mix of the series and the books, I haven't seen the series in a while so the timeline will most likely be a mess. I'd like this to be a series but I've been incredibly busy. Extra: at first I thought about making reader Mysaria's daughter, but this is a self insert, so it's best that you look however you like, leaving the mother anonymous. The only physical reference I'll make will be reader's silver hair
>After Rhaenyra was declared the heir of the iron throne, Daemon, insulted, flew away with his mistress, the white worm, who he would conceive a child with, even asking for a dragon egg for the prince or princess to come
>However, Viserys demanded him to go back to his home and wife, he sent Mysaria off to lys, where the stress of a storm in the trip back made her lose the baby
>Daemon never fully forgave his brother, and this left him less than eager to have another child anytime soon
>So imagine his surprise, when 7 years later, there's a rumour spreading in flea bottom like wildfire, about a girl carrying Daemon's bastard
>Many women had claimed to carry a royal child before, thinking this could give them any sort of prize, so Daemon didn't think much of it at first, but when he heard her name, he recognized her as one of his previous "favorites" who disappeared without a trace months ago
>She was said to have taken residence in Essos, and Daemon went on dragonback to find her. She was from the free cities, five years older than Daemon, and a heart as cold as a northern winter, or so they said. She was not expecting Daemon, running away to have the child in peace
>"They said I was too far along when I found out, moon tea would've only harmed me. Besides, it was lucrative in its own way" said the woman. Daemon did little to suppress the disgust on his face when thinking about her being defiled by other men while carrying his dragonseed babe
>She wanted no part in the baby's life, and Daemon, in his particular fashion, informed her he'd take the youngling as soon as it's out of her, may even pay her a few coins to make sure she won't do much as think about keeping it
>A few months passed, and he returned to king's landing with a babe in arms. Demanding an egg in honor of the birth of princess Y/N Targaryen
>This egg would later hatch into the dragon Dagahrion, the princess' bound dragon
>The court was a hot mess, according to Otto, he wouldn't be surprised if the young creature lost its left ear because of all the gossip and ill-speaking of her, just like her father. This was a scandal, considering he was still married to Rhea Royce, who he gravely dishonored time and time again, Daemon was always shameless, but this was crossing a limit, even for him, to call his bastard a princess while refusing to lay with his own rightful wife, disgraceful
>Daemon tried to use you as yet another attempt to get his brother to annul his marriage to "the bronze bitch", but even when he failed, he did everything in his power to legitimize his daughter
>Despite everyone on the council telling Viserys how foolish it'd be to do it, making enemies out of the Royce house, further insulting Rhea, and putting a whoreborn on the line of succession (no matter how far from the throne), all it took was a little yawn and the bright twinkle of your eyes to make him melt, he is fully committed to his role of uncle, even as a doting grandfather, considering his father passed long before her birth
>Viserys sent Daemon back to the Vale, saying he should do his best to give lady Rhea an heir, to make up for the slip and avoid causing the Targaryen house any more trouble. Viserys, for totally not selfish reasons wanted to keep the princess in KL, saying Rhea should not be made to raise his bastard
>Daemon said he'd rather be exiled again than to leave his daughter in Hightower hands to go try to fuck his wife. Viserys was greatly offended by the implication that the Hightowers truly ruled and schemed while he reigned
>To his outmost displeasure, he finally had to let his niece go to the Vale with her father
>Rhea loved you as soon as she set eyes on you, completely separating you from your father's actions, and seeing you as a pure angel in this horrible situation
>But it was so difficult with Daemon around, she just wanted to whisk you away and love you, she'd pray to the mother to be able to breastfeed you, crying when she heard you wail in frustration of your hunger, since it took several wet nurses to get you to drink milk
>But Daemon was always around to remind her you were not hers, that he considered her lowly, not worthy of you. He'd correct you when you learning to speak, and dared to refer to her as "mama"
>It was said the ground of the vale would shake upon them yelling when fighting over you
>But this joy to Rhea was short lived, as Daemon sent you to KL when he had to fight in the war of the stepstones, saying the "nest of vipers" was more deserving of you than she was. When you were three, your step mother had an accident while hawking, many said Daemon orderded for her to be poisoned when she was bed bound, others said the distress of your parting made her lose skill
>It was Viserys greatest pleasure when you were left at his care, his adorable baby niece was now an infant, and somehow you were even more charming, being able to speak, sing and walk
>To no one's surprise, Viserys' reaction was not generalized, with many not being keen on having a bastard running around the castle playing with the princes, by that point, Aegon was 8, Haelena was 7, Aemond was 5, and Daeron was 1, and almost all of them could see people treated you differently
>Rhaenyra was welcoming, baby Lucerys had just been born, and she was delighted to have a girl to spoil, it only helped that Jacaerys loved you as well, and would often fight his uncles for the chance to be with you
>Alicent in particular was not pleased with your presence, thinking you were an uncomfortable conversation to have with her children, especially resentful of the fact her youngest son would be attached at the hip with you
>To Otto, you were an annoyance, a living proof of Daemon's pure disregard for the norms, however, he could rest at night knowing you were ninth in the line of succession, and a girl, who would someday marry a son of a minor house and be too busy bearing children to present a claim to the iron throne
>Even though the Hightowers were tougher than the king, they did eventually succumb to your spell, and became just as enamoured with you as everyone else, in their minds, you were almost a product of spontaneous generation, completely ignoring your shameful father and prostitute mother
>Your arrival also caused the birth of Lucerys (who was again, born with a striking resemblance of Harwin Strong, just like his older brother) to be less gossiped about, after all, your case was much more interesting
>Some people in court starting referring to you as "The princess of flea bottom", this title costed quite a few tongues around the castle, ordered by Viserys, happily approved by Otto
>The Hightower hand was careful not to show too much affection to you, as it was improper and he knew how zealous was Viserys when it came to you
>Aegon was "already too old to be playing" in his words, and kept his distance from you, you reminded him to much of his sticky handed little brothers
>But as if you knew, you chased him around and praised him for his knightly demeanor (in your eyes) and how he's just like the heroes in Viserys' stories. It was not a long time before Aegon now appointed himself as your guard, watching like a hawk over his brothers and nephews when he thought they were being too rough on you
>Haelena loves you from the start, sees you as a little doll, she loves showing you her bugs, you're the only one who listens to her attentively
>Jacaerys and Daeron are only a year old, but always search for you, you think they're cute, something that spikes jealousy on Aemond, he wants you to think of him as someone worthy of admiration, like you see his older brother, he'd even accept being cute in your eyes, but he has none of those traits to appeal to you. You love him and love playing with him nonetheless, but he thinks he needs something else to win your favor
>The Velaryons dote on you too, with Laenor married to Rhaenyra and once your father marries Laena that same year, they are maybe too eager to become part of your family, and regard you as theirs
>Especially Laena, who Daemon allows (unlike with Rhea) to pamper and care for you, but still corrects you when it comes to remembering your origins, Laena may love you, but she's not your mother
>Maybe Daemon does this as a way to imagine you're only his, he doesn't care for the woman who abandoned such a precious treasure, she has been wiped away from your life and memory, you're only familiar with your father, you only belong to him
>You have his silver hair, you have his name, no matter who your mother was, you are his true valyrian heir, his dragonseed
>Unfortunately, Daemon is not the only one whose eyes light up when thinking of owning you
815 notes · View notes
mypoisonedvine · 8 months
Note
Drabble Idea: Judge Crane decides to give his obsession a third option. Death, exile, or…….
You know he would use his position in order to get his crush all to himself while Gotham burns.
YES OMG SOME LOVE FOR JUDGE CRANE he's so underrated and I actually lost it when I saw the movies in theaters and he popped up <3 like omg look it's my husband
warnings: coercion, ownership, threats of noncon, yandere vibes
Tumblr media
"You can't be serious," you mumbled, but you knew he was-- Dr. Crane wasn't an especially humorous guy, that whole death by exile bit from earlier notwithstanding.
He still smiled at you, though; "It's your choice."
"Well, it's not much of a choice, is it?" you scoffed.
"It's a better choice than anybody else got," Jonathan shrugged, "if you do choose exile, I'm sure these guys would love to give you a nice send-off-- right, boys?"
You didn't even have the heart to look back at the thugs who had dragged you in here, but you heard them chuckling and mumbling amongst themselves. Crane had made his message clear, and you let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine," you said.
"Fine?" he repeated. "What's that mean, you'll just die?"
"No, I--"
"You know, you said once you'd rather die than marry me, do you remember that?" He laughed. But that was years ago, when your father tried to set you up with him because he was a respected doctor and you were a nice young socialite-- it was more about rebellion than anything else then, but learning about his insanity and criminal activities wasn't exactly changing your mind.
"I was wrong," you admitted, "alright? I'm sorry."
He smiled again, a little more sinister than the last time. "Then you can wait for me with the others... sweetheart."
~
The huddled mass of the 'arrested' dwindled through the day, executives and politicians dragged up the stairs to meet their fate as determined by Crane; soon it was only half or less left behind, with you simply counting the minutes until you'd be taken-- you couldn't imagine what life would be like with Jonathan, and for now, you tried not to.
He came for you at the end of the day, standing above you and smiling down as you stayed sitting on the ground, leaning against a pillar and waiting for whatever he asked you to do. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," he admitted as he stared at you. "Hi honey, I'm home or something?"
"You don't actually sleep here, do you?" you frowned.
"No, no-- I believe in work-life balance," he shook his head; then reached his hand out to help you up. "Come on, let's go home."
Though you hesitated, you took his hand and let him help you to your feet with a wince.
"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the pain on your face.
"They kinda roughed me up," you admitted quietly, though your breath caught when Jonathan pulled you closer.
"Poor thing," he mumbled, petting your cheek briefly, holding your waist a little tighter. "And having to sit on this hard floor all day-- you must be sore, hm?"
You nodded slightly, though you felt strange talking to him like this-- like it was a normal conversation, and not something you had to do to keep yourself safe. If being with him could really be considered 'safe'...
"I can write you a script if you're in too much pain," he offered, "but I think you just need some rest: somewhere warm, a nice big bed..."
He leaned in closer as he trailed off, taking a deep breath beside your head as he rubbed your back. Though he must have noticed the way you tensed up and nearly pulled away, it didn't deter him.
"I'll be good to you," he promised, "if you just behave. You don't need to be so afraid of me."
But you could hear the excitement in his voice; he liked that you were afraid of him. Finally, he had the power over you that you'd denied him all those years ago. No matter how sweet he promised to be, one way or another, he was going to make you pay for that.
993 notes · View notes
urprettylittlething · 6 months
Text
Gojo Satoru x CursedKitty! Reader x Geto Suguru
warnings - Yandere-ish, not so much here, mentions of people dying very briefly at the end, this is pretty tame rn
genre - short drabble headcannon thing
note - Feel free to send in any drabble ideas you have for this universe with Geto and Gojo with CursedKitty! Reader, anything from pretty wholesome to darker sides send them in, pretty please, this is just a little intro thing
I just wanted to share this concept I had in my head the entire day <;/3
Tumblr media
- Just imagine CursedKitty! Reader is this petite human looking curse equipped with small fluffy ears and tail.
- Just like Mahito was CursedKitty! Reader is just a baby curse right now, she's currently living in this dingy looking alley, curling up in some ‘comfy’ sheets of cardboard every night, shivering her little tail off, but she's happy. 
- And of course no one can see her because she’s a curse, so CursedKitty! Reader is having the time of her life exploring this new world she's learning about dressed in a long cheap shirt she found one time and stole as hers, trying to copy the similar creatures she sees on the daily.
- CursedKitty! Reader’s favorite pastime is finding these small groups of fly curses and playing chase with them.
- They’d run and hide while CursedKitty! Reader peaks over the top of the bench and scares them with a yell, making them run to a new spot while she follows and does the same thing over and over again. 
- This is exactly how Geto and Gojo find CursedKitty! Reader, it was after school at jujutsu high and they were walking home down their usual route, making their way past the local playground where they spotted this strange behaving curse. One they had never seen before.
- Of course, Geto and Gojo could feel the cursed energy from a mile away, figuring it was something they’d eventually stumble upon as it didn't feel that harmful to them, and no screaming was being heard so that was also a plus.
- And now the two boys are standing there, dumbfounded, watching CursedKitty! Reader chasing around little fly curses with the dumbest smile on her face, tail swishing back and forth as she entertains herself.
- It didn't take them long to notice the lack of clothing CursedKitty! Reader was wearing, and only slightly longer to notice how she paid them no attention at all. So absorbed with this little game her dumb cursed brain came up with. 
- Geto and Gojo looked at each other and were murmuring about who, how and what to do with her. Tilting their heads to the side and giving the other a look and a shrug. Just a cute little cursed kitty, what the hell, might as well entertain themselves.
- Eventually CursedKitty! Reader’s newfound fly friends managed to wriggle away from her through a loose fence panel while she whined in sadness, before turning around and coming face to face with two of those people creatures staring right at her.
- And of course CursedKitty! Reader bounces right up to them all smiles and wide eyed with excitement, getting all close in Gojos face before he brings up a hand to gently rub and push on her head, the small space where infinity exists the only gap.
- Now getting some nice attention CursedKitty! Reader is all purrs and snuggling into Gojos hand, eyes closed in bliss and ears flattened a little to accommodate the affectionate palm.
- Gojo tilts his head as he looks down on CursedKitty! Reader, the smallest tug on his heartstrings after taking in her raggedy appearance and how content and happy she is with a little love.
- The shared look and little smirk Geto and Gojo swap, before they each grab onto one of CursedKitty! Reader’s hands and started tugging her along with them, was knowing.
- They’re looking forward to pampering and smothering her with love, dressing her up and playing with her for their entertainment. 
- They’ve spoken about something like this before but never found anyone quite right. Sure, they’ve had some shared ‘lovers’ in the past but those always ended up getting themselves killed somehow.
- Besides, it’s only a little something to take the edge off so why not this cutie, huh? After all, she is just a weak cursed spirit, not much of a fight she can put up against them, right?
Tumblr media
539 notes · View notes
moonsaver · 2 months
Text
Sumeru roses, House of Daena, Sticky notes.
Tumblr media
-------
Being an asisstant for the scribe isn't so bad. Just ignore the persistent overtimes, the scent of your perfume everywhere, and the new ink bottles that keep running out on his desk. You didn't anticipate red being his favorite ink to work with.
A/n: more than 2.5k words. I didnt bother counting. I hsed google translate for arabic whoops sorry not sorry <3 also its been a while since i wrote.
Warnings/tags: reader is g/n, yandere Alhaitham, Alhaitham x reader, stalking, paranoia, obsessive themes, very very subtle mentions of blood (if you squint), kind of drawn out? Horrible arabic google translate quote. Probably OOC but you can ignore that
------
You admit, being an asisstant isn't so bad.
Of course, at first when you broke the announcement to your parents you wanted to further your studies at the Akademiya, your parents werent approving. They wanted you to get a cushy job and earn as soon as possible; you don't blame them. Having that life sounds peaceful, however, you think delaying it a bit won't hurt. You haven't had the proper chance to really scour the library at your own leisure, at least, not as a student.
So, while job-hunting, (which was wonderfully disrupted by the huge Archon-Overthrow-play-god plan for a good few weeks,) you got an offer as the Asisstant of the Grand Sage; which was suspicious from how good of a title it was. The Akademiya was desperate to get back on it's feet, and who were you to deny the offer?
Of course, it didn't quite occur to you until the first day of your job you'd be working alongside Alhaitham, the scribe of the Akademiya (and perhaps his infamous title as the one who curated a plan to foil Azar's shenanigans).
Which was fine. He was generally alright,if not great to work with. Straightforward, clear, brief, analytical and most of all – he wasn't pushy. Which was a relief, of course. You managed to make small talk from time to time (if you could really call it that,) and came to a consensus with him on many things, mostly that both of you were not pleased with overtime. The moment the clock hit 5:00 PM, both of you were out of your offices and posts. You were mutually respectful, and generally tolerated each other well.
Of course, things at your job got shaken up when your schedule was thrown off balance. Your favorite drink always ran out, your mornings were crowded and somehow you started showing up later than usual, which meant you went home later aswell (much to your dismay).
Another strange series of events started taking place, if you could even call it that. You swear you haven't been watering the plants in front of your home, and the soil is dry enough, so how are they so.. vibrant? And recently, you swear one of the plants is growing a little too much, basically covering one of the windows, threatening to break it. Sticky notes scattered around the front of your house which you originally thought of as littering from those raucous kids your neighbours can't keep in control – you only realised they were for you when you caught a glimpse of your name on it, and you can only agree with the suspicious look on your friends’ faces when you show them the notes – bright Canary yellow and the striking red colour across the notes (although, you've only shown them the more milder ones. You can't imagine the panic you'll be forced to acknowledge if they see some of the other.. strange ones.)
And you suppose your paranoia has caught up to you. Your sleep-deprived mind swears that new red coloured bottle of ink on Alhaitham's desk wasn't there. You swear he never used that bright Canary Yellow colour of post-its. Did he really like that drink he always seemed to get for both of you? It conveniently ran out when you wanted it, and even more so, he conveniently just brought an extra since it was on discount? Of course it all just seems like a coincidence. You're a fool to even think otherwise.
And well, you're fine. Your life has always been a long series of fine, even with the occasional weird mishaps. That's how it's always been, and you don't intend to change it; rather, you really do find change almost repulsive (save for the panic you felt deep down in your stomach at all the things you couldn't control). And that “fine” comes to a halt when you find your door absolutely mauled with sticky notes. There's a bouquet of Sumeru Roses at the bottom, as if to try and apologise sheepishly for the terrifying collage on your door. The terrifying numbness in your fingers, face, your brows furrowed as you can't decide just how to react, the elevated heartbeat – you swear you can feel the blood threaten to burst through your chest. 
You opted to stay with a friend that night. You don't know what you were expecting when you came back in the morning, and all of those notes were gone, except a singular one in the middle, “الهوس والحب مترادفان، لكنهما لا يقارنان بارتباط روحي بروحك” (which you had to reread almost 30 times with your broken arabic, checked with someone from the Haravatat Darshan, to really confirm – obsession and love are synonyms, but they are nothing compared to the connection of my soul to yours – is what it said, and it's echoed in your head for weeks). You can't remember the last time you wore your rose perfume after that.
Scouring in the House Of Daena didn't seem to alleviate your troubles that well, either. The books you read one day, and opted to continue the next – vanished. Someone else always had the upper hand. And when they returned, they were scribbled and annotated with many pockets of information. Sometimes they overshadow the information on the page itself. And on the rare occasion you put your head on the books as a makeshift pillow for a power nap, you jolted up from just a sniff. Sumeru roses hit your nose.
And of course, when you find notes with all different handwritings on your desk in the office, you think someone's playing a cruel prank on you. But your office was locked. No one saw anyone enter your office. You did your usual check up before you locked it last night, and assorted everything in place. None of these notes were here. And of course, your only clue is the fact they're all Canary Yellow post-its, and that striking scarlet red ink on it. Hasn't the bottle on Alhaitham's desk been running out? He mentioned it off-handedly. You remember saying blue ink was cheaper. He didn't respond.
overtime was disdainful, for the lack of a better word. However, that implies only to the masses – it is no problem for him to come up with better synonyms to describe the situation at hand. “Distasteful”, “loathsome”, “detestable”, and so on. However, complaining will not solve the stacks of files on his desk that he wishes to do away with as soon as possible.
If anything pleases him more than his usual combination of abstruse books, isolation from the general public, and extreme individuality, it is that as the Grand Sage's assistant – you are expected to stay back for the extended hours as much as he is, if not more. For once, working overtime (or being forced to) has brought him progress. Will a few more hours of scribbling away and reviewing files change anything huge? He will return to his post again tomorrow as he has today, and the work will continue. Although, this time, it is you who stays working overtime. So for once, if it manages to quiet down the poking and prodding of other nosy scholars, reprimanding him for never working even a minute after the allocated time, he does so for the exchange of working with you.
And he doesn't intend to burden you, but he knows the desperation you work with, trying your best to cram in any minute, second into trying to get ahold of those books at the House Of Daena. So, if at least to make you stay for longer, he assigns you the more dragged out, tedious work. And to make it better – you just got locked out of your office. He has an extra pair, which he diligently uses for his own interest. As for you; perhaps being so frantic and scrambling to gather all books you might have read the day before may have caused you to drop your keys somewhere along the way. Would he know? Of course – he's diligently collected and added it to his inventory. Would he tell you? It would be like stepping on his own tail. The lack of certainty in a schedule makes for more freedom – he thinks. It's for your own good; he almost says. And to have you work in the same proximity as him? It's a bonus. 
Many consider him to be talented and extraordinarily intelligent, so just take his advice as literally as you can. Or maybe he just needs to tell you directly while making small talk between you two more frequent. To his dismay (and your absolute horror), the sticky notes seem to be working counterproductively. Perhaps he should just show up at your house with a bouquet of Sumeru roses and a small journal filled with his advice? He jests, it's only an entertaining idea. The bewildered look on your face makes him adore you – even if only imaginative.
The lift stops at the top floor. He sees your figure standing beside his desk, an expanse of books behind you. The sharp yellow lights contrast your figure to the dim blue light sphere in the middle. He feels the corners of his mouth perk up into a smile,and stops himself.
Another overtime shift for the both of you.
Overtime was not easy. You wouldn't have minded it – the job pays you well, and its quite comfortably tucked into the Akademiya, where no one bothers you, and you can easily access the House of Daena. However, the stress and paranoia has absolutely drained you. 
You've visited the matra recently. Frantically scraping together whatever evidence you can, everytime your “admirer” decided to gift you something new, leaving almost no time in your schedule. Daily visits to the library turned into constant visits to the matra, detailing your issues. You would have opted to stay silent, brushing it off as someone who was.. weirdly shy. But shy people don't stalk you, shy people don't leave obsessive notes for you, shy people don't visit your house at unholy hours of the night. And who knows what else this stalker of yours has been up to recently?
Revenge bedtime procrastination turned into sleepless nights, flinching at every sound, hiding under the covers until there was no oxygen and your entire face was covered in sweat. Workload seemed to increase, from how often you kept messing up, many things clouding your mind. Alhaitham's prickly eyes took notice, and he suggested drinking another beverage aside from coffee in the morning, and offered to get you something else – which you generously refused and turned down. (the last thing you would want to be is in someone else's debt at this time. Even if it's just a drink, who knows what else it could add up to in the future?)
So, here you were; irritated, on edge and in the dimly lit office which was viciously devoid of any natural light. You wonder why someone would want such a stuffy office, with books probably growing mold inside. Sure, it's spacious, but it's utter lack of life in it repulses you. It has the comfort level of a hospital waiting room, and it's just enough to add onto the little things that bother you, on top of everything else.
If that wasn't any better – Alhaitham seemed particularly chatty this evening. Perhaps his parasitic roommate (whom he has lovingly mentioned, multiple times,) has been ignoring him as of late? Maybe a commission in the desert, or a commission that requires a huge amount of unnecessary labour? And the (Acting) Grand Scribe has mentioned several times how the blonde architect works himself almost half to death just to get a smile out of his customers. You painstakingly understand him in silence, and don't comment on it.
The rest of the night continues – the benignity of it isn't lost on you. Occasionally perking up from your own scribbling upon Alhaitham's call, searching for a specific book on the vast (dusty, if you may add) shelves, and commenting on a few meeting topics and research projects he grazes, assigning you a few. He doesn't miss the comical dragging of your feet as you walk back over to your desk, befuddled with more work. He wants to tease you, he wants you to ask him for help, for an extra bottle of ink, for an extra post it note, whatever way in which you ask for his help.
He theorises you don't remember much of your and his student days.
“shit, I forgot them.”
You searched the familiar pockets and zips of your bag, scrunched eyebrows in frustration.
“Seriously? I'm not lending you any of mine~”
Your friend laughed. You sigh.
“I let you hog all my lunch and this is what I get as a thank you?”
“Too bad. You don't like the blue coloured ones anyway.”
“I'm desperate for a sticky note. Does it look like I'm in a state to be picky?”
Your friend laughs again, and throws their little compact stack of post-its on your book.
“Fine. But you've already annotated so much, what are you gonna write about?”
“Hmm? Wouldn't you like to know?”
You playfully ignore them, as they chitter behind you; carefully sticking it into your textbook and scribbling down the information before you forget. You sigh and look up. You make eye contact.
Right. It's him.
The grey-haired Haravatat boy that rarely showed up. Everyone knew him for his quiet attitude, and his tendency to make your professor's blood boil due to his absence in every lecture. Your friends had a few inside jokes about him. You would dare say this is your first encounter, or really the only one, with him. A stoic look and a judgmental one at the same time, behind curiously multicoloured eyes. 
Nearing the end of the semester – usually the smart ones would avoid the house of Daena, as it would overflow with study groups of caffeine-run seniors and freshman alike. Some of the other clever ones chose spots that weren't easy to find in the first place, and some chose to simply come early.
The thing is, you didn't come early. You were here from midnight. The librarian and all the security checks probably missed you, since you were neatly tucked away into the corner, taking a well-needed nap on one of your reference materials. You only woke up when one of your friends, and that boy poked and prodded you. Your friend laughed until they were out of breath when you looked up – drool slipping down past your chin, eyes swollen from the lack of sleep (and the incessant crying of an academic student), handwriting illegible from just how drowsy you were. The boy only stood quietly, probably judging your.. mannerisms. You weren't sure how, or why, he sat down at the same table as you and your friend. 
—-
Every once in a while - Alhaitham does use the sticky notes.
He didn't buy them. He wanted to borrow them for a short second, but in your hurry, you gave him the compact stack and left, never looking back. After that, you never got them back. Neither of you had the time, and your fate simply intertwined for a brief moment. Things like these happen.
But you keep appearing in the crowd.
He sees you in a flurry of students, or alone at a desolate desk. On a high-up ladder reaching an impossibly reachable book, crouching down to pick up the several you dropped in the process. Passing by the dull lecture halls as he slipped into the library, following the reference materials his father recommended, picked out neatly from private journals and books. The yellow sticky notes never served him much purpose after a single use. He debated simply keeping them on your desk the next time he saw you, but never quite worked up the courage. He swore the sumeru rose scent gave him a headache.
So, when he heard you were continuing your studies at the Akademiya, he was pleased. Working as a Scribe was a simple job, and his chances of seeing you just increased. And he may have been too ambitious, but it worked greatly in his favour – as he opened up another Assistant role for you. 
He hums, content with his decision to keep the sticky notes. Now - how would he utilise them? He wonders if you remember that friend's handwriting. Simple notes turned into obsessive confessions.
Once in a while turned into almost everyday, the more he observed you.
His obsession alone could become the subject of his own studies – but for now you are his sole interest.
And the next overtime, his first after returning to his post as the Scribe – he decides to finally close the chapter.
Has your perfume always been this sweet? That headache's been catching up to you. All that worrying and panic.. when was the last time you slept?
He opens the door to his office. You stand under the warm light, horrified. Piles of sticky notes crowd your feet. The wall barely peeks through behind you from the sticky notes. He closes the door, and a flurry of them fall from the movement. Both of you stare at each other.
“Alhaitham?”
You remember looking at the collection of sticky notes you'd received over a period of time. Is the red ink turning brown? You swore the color changed. Is it supposed to smell? You don't think you want to know.
“Congratulations. You've made it this far. Ive been waiting to talk to you in private."
Your arms go limp, dropping the stack of files onto the floor. The clock ticks silently. You should have gone home. Your bad habit of staying past closing time and evading the security seemed to have not worked in your favour this time.
----
289 notes · View notes
dabislittlemouse · 6 months
Text
tainted angel 🪽 MASTERLIST
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
ෆ pairing: Dabi x Hawks’ little sister
ෆ Synopsis: While stalking Hawks and trying to find out more information about him, Dabi comes across his little sister, a sweet angelic thing that welcomes him inside her house with a bright smile on her face. Dabi can’t help but get obsessed over her, the sudden urge to make her his takes over him entirely, maybe to have Hawks under his control while he enjoys his little sister, or maybe he really does like her. Nevertheless, she does not know the danger she just involved herself in, nor does she know that her brother’s handsome “friend” is in fact a dangerous villain who has sick twisted intentions.
ෆ cw‼️: smut, yandere themes, corruption kink, dubcon/noncon, mixed feelings, Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, stalking,
ෆ A/N please read before going further: This multichapter fic is written in Dabi’s POV mostly, it’s written in first person. You will come across Dabi’s thoughts and feelings, how he perceives things. He calls Keigo’s sister “angel” instead of the famous Y/N label, so I’ll be calling her angel too. Sometimes I include angel’s POV too (which you can totally insert yourself and imagine being her. As I write this fic I also imagine myself being the sister as well). Due to her being Keigo’s sister she might have specific descriptions such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
CHAPTER 1
During a boring rainy day of wandering around, Dabi gets a call from the men he hired to get more information on Hawks. They had found his old house, where supposedly his mother lived. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit, not knowing the surprise that was waiting for him: the little angel Hawks used to keep hidden from the public.
CHAPTER 2
Hawks threatens Dabi to not get close to his family, specifically his sister. But Dabi definitely has other plans the moment he got her number, deciding to call her late at night.
CHAPTER 3
Angel continues to secretly interact with Dabi despite Hawks warning her not to. She is entirely captivated by his charm and mysteriousness. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit and leave a small gift.
CHAPTER 4
She finally agrees to meet Dabi behind an alleyway, late at night. They both head to an empty park, where Dabi decides to make a move and savour her. From that moment things get heated up.
CHAPTER 5
Hawks is worried that his sister was out so late at night. He starts doubting her words, wondering if she is even telling the truth. He is not pleased with what he sees once she comes back.
CHAPTER 6
As Dabi refuses to elaborate on who he is and what bad things he has done, angel starts getting more paranoid. Especially knowing that he might’ve possibly entered her house at night or stalked her. As much as she enjoyed his company, she doesn’t feel safe, so she decides to listen to her brother’s warnings and stop talking to Dabi. Though Dabi is anything but pleased with her decision.
CHAPTER 7
She has been keeping watch for a few nights by now, anxiously waiting just in case Dabi decided to appear again, living in constant fear. Strange dreams appear in her sleep, of him being so close to her, touching her body in ways she begs for more. But is this really just a dream?
CHAPTER 8
“You like the danger don’t cha?” Dabi smirks. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”
CHAPTER 9
Time for a real date. Giving Dabi another chance, she again lets herself swim in dangerous waters, though this time she won’t come back unscathed
CHAPTER 10
Giving in to the temptation and burning desire that could no longer be contained, she finally lets her body and soul into Dabi’s hands.
.
.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Divider credits @cafekitsune
🏷️current tags on this fic: @mostlyheinous @dabihawksluva @scariusaquarius @syrenkitsune @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabislittlebeaniebaby @madsttx @cr-33-d , if you want to be added in the taglist and get notified when a new chapter drops, let me know!
548 notes · View notes
merakiui · 1 year
Note
!! Goldfishie Riddle !!
Gosh the possibilities,, maybe you were originally a volunteer but were kidnapped as a test subject for Riddle and given to him as a breeding toy? The scientists haven’t quite figured out mer biology yet and you were closest to the standoffish goldfish… so you’re a sacrifice in the name of science.
Somehow they’ve altered you for life underwater so you can breathe and be with him, but you don’t have fins or a tail, only clumsy human feet and hands. Can’t have you swimming away from riddle after all. There’s a shallower part of the pool for you to be able to stand up in but overall Riddle has access to you anytime he wants.
The chase part,,, Riddle gently nonconning you bc he thinks chase = mate??? And you have to explain to him the eggs don’t come out of humans, they stay in your tummy. And when the time comes to give birth, you’re in the shallow area of the water with Riddle gently but firmly stroking your tummy to help the babies come out. He whispers encouragement into your ears <333 helping you through the birth until your little goldfish fry are born! They’re all mini copies of their father with a few human features from you.
As a side note I imagine he’s a lil bit chubby in the cheeks for some reason, I just wanna squish <3
AAAAA YES YES!!!!
(cw: yandere, nsfw, female reader, non-con, pregnancy, aphrodisiac use, oviposition, breeding, delusion, implied stockholm syndrome)
Just imagine how curious he becomes once he realizes your arrival in his enclosure is meant to be a permanent fixture. Riddle is so visibly pleased by this change that he's smiling brightly, so overcome with happiness that he momentarily switches back to mer language and so all you hear are delighted clicks and whistles. He adores you so much; that much is obvious when he tries to be as close to you as possible in the water, reaching out with webbed hands to welcome you into his arms even if you're so intent on staying in the shallows, as far from him as possible. He's growing frustrated with your aversion, but he must remember to remain calm. Nothing good will come out of impatience, and humans are fragile creatures. He must treat you with care and respect.
Riddle tries to talk to you about random things to soothe you. Aside from the fact that you have been paired for mating purposes, the both of you are still friends. And isn't this good for your friendship? Won't living with him in his enclosure bring you much closer than before? Riddle isn't dangerous. He's nothing like those brutish moray eels or that sly octopus! He's sweet and genuine, and he only wants you to be comfortable while you're here. His space is your space now, and he doesn't mind sharing it. In fact, it would be so nice if you could sleep beneath the water with him, yet you're so determined to stay away. He doesn't understand what he's doing wrong. He shares his meals, he smiles at you, he talks to you, he tries to love you even if you avoid him... He's doing everything a good friend (and mate) is meant to do!
Sometimes the researchers feed you a strange medicine and it allows you to temporarily love him enough for you to let him explore your peculiar anatomy. Riddle likes to learn through hands-on experiences, so when you're so pliable and obedient his delicate fingers will spread your pussy open so he can peer inside while silently wondering if this is where your eggs will come out of. You stretch so wide! He's so amazed and awestruck when he fits three fingers in in one sudden thrust. And the reactions you make to all of his touches are so inviting. When you arch your back, when you gasp and moan, when your fingers curl into his hair when he slides his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue... Everything you do is so cute. He drags himself out of the water and onto the platform in the shallows, pressing his body against yours, to kiss at every part of you, cold hands curling around your breasts to squeeze and tug. When you're like this, you always let him sleep with you in the aftermath. You even let him hug you! Even though you may dislike the medicine the researchers give you, Riddle loves the effects it has on you.
You've told him time and time again that you can't release any eggs naturally and that there's no way you can mate in the way he expects to mate with you. The first time should have landed, but it took a few more insistent statements for Riddle to understand. Of course it would be different for you. You're a human with different anatomy and mating customs. But that doesn't mean he can't give you eggs. Merfolk are very adaptable creatures, and Riddle is a determined goldfish in love! When he chases you in the tank and you avoid him (though you aren't very fast; how can you possibly out-swim a mer when you don't possess the fins and tail necessary for cutting through the water so smoothly?), he thinks this is finally happening. You're accepting him and he can start a family with you. He's made sure to produce many eggs of his own so that they can all find a nice temporary home inside that warm, wet hole he liked to finger and lick all those times when you were under the influence of the medicine.
He's so gentle. His arms are wrapped around you and his tail curls between your legs, and he presses himself flush against your front when he thrusts all the way inside, softly cooing at you in an incoherent mix of mer and human language. He's learned that some humans often mate facing one another, so he wants to try this for your first time. And it feels so snug inside you, and he gets to admire your pretty face as you cry and whine. He'll swallow every protest with plenty of open-mouthed kisses, rocking inside you so very slowly so you can get used to him. You're clenching so hard and it's so tight inside that he wonders how an entire clutch will ever fit, but he knows you can do it. And he tells you this when he fills you with a special sort of slick that will help the eggs settle so much easier inside your womb. You squirm and struggle in his arms, but he holds firm, promising to you that you're doing well and that it'll be okay.
Riddle's so blissfully happy when he deposits the first few eggs inside you and you slowly but surely submit, your eyes veiled with glazed emotions. He thinks he might be crying as well when he feels your stomach swell, so full of eggs and slick and semen. He's going to have a family with you! He's going to be a father! You've finally accepted him as your mate (or perhaps he ought to say lover instead?)! He can build a happy family, one that will be filled with the love he never received as a fry. Oh, he's so, so happy and he voices his enthusiasm even if you aren't all that present to absorb his praise.
You still stay in the shallows after the fact, and for once Riddle doesn't mind it. You look so beautiful with your full belly. He stares at you with his elbows propped on the ledge of the shallows, so distracted and lovestruck that even the researchers can't get through to him. Riddle panics when they try to get close to you, and he splashes them when they attempt to touch you. The minute a hand that isn't his or yours strays too close to your pregnant tummy is when he's turning red with anger, glaring so viciously at the researchers and berating them with harsh, loud clicks and whistles. Though you can't understand his words, you can tell he's threatening and cursing them to the deepest trench and back.
Riddle likes when you pat his head. He likes when you soften enough to run your fingers over his pretty ear fins or squish his cheeks between your warm, welcoming hands. His fingers wrap around your wrists to keep your hands in place and he smiles so sweetly at you. Humans have a dozen ways to communicate their love for one another and so do merfolk. Mer language sounds very musical and rhythmic to keen ears, and Riddle can sing of all the phrases mers use to convey affection. He uses these even if you can't understand the sentiment. All that matters is that you know just how much he cares for you.
He's nervous when it comes time for you to give birth. Your stomach has only grown so much in the following months, a result of the goldfish fry getting bigger within their eggs. (He never anticipated just how big you would get.) He's excited, of course, but then there's also the underlying thrum of anxiety that courses through him. You've gotten better at letting him approach you. You used to flinch away and glare; now you seem less averse to him and his careful touch. He'll hold you against his chest, one hand rubbing circles into your hip while the other caresses your bloated belly to help lessen the pressure of so many eggs. He whispers the sweetest encouragements to you, presses kisses to the back of your neck, calls you mommy so you can get used to hearing it. You'll feel so exhausted and empty after the entire process and Riddle is so proud of you. He knew you could do it.
And perhaps you'll miss the feeling of being so full and round to the point where you'll beg him to fuck you again. He will (that's a promise), but you need to rest first. You'll fall asleep listening to a lullaby sung so softly in a language you can't understand, but it sounds so beautiful all the same. Riddle will kiss your forehead while he admires the many eggs, each one filled with a tiny, precious bundle of life. He definitely cries when they hatch and he sees his precious fry for the first time, cradling as many as he can hold in his palms and arms. How can he not become so emotional when they are the culmination of his and your love? He will adore each and every single one of them, and he's so lucky to be able to raise them alongside you.
1K notes · View notes
bunny-yan · 10 months
Note
Love your yandere king so much ❤ But what if he kills his darling ?
TW:death, descriptions of death, violence, strangulation, content is not suitable for minors —
Strangled gasps echoed throughout the room, beating against the walls as your cries for help were silenced. 
You supposed it didn’t matter even if you could manage to get someone’s attention. The king could order a maid to stand and watch as he tortured you endlessly and they would act as if it was another normal day. Stone faced they’d watch, no signs of registering your pleas unless the king allowed. 
And the king didn’t allow much these days. 
Constantly irritated and on edge if you weren’t plastered to his side, you knew you should’ve woken him up and told him that you were going to the bathroom, but you wanted a moment of peace. Of silence. A moment to yourself. 
The punishment when you returned was his hands around your throat, squeezing as he leaned over your body and cursed you for trying to leave him, for attempting to escape. 
It didn’t make sense. 
You came back so you didn’t understand how he could accuse you of trying to escape. You could argue that maybe it was just his sleep deprived brain playing tricks on him. That the you inside his dreams was a bit more honest about how you felt and he was dragging that version of you to reality. The real you. The silenced you. 
But it still didn’t make sense. 
You’d gone to relieve yourself for crying out loud. In what world did it seem appropriate to reprimand a natural bodily function with violence? Of course, he was the king and he could punish you for simply looking at him the wrong way. There was no arguing for someone in your position. 
You were tired of self-debating the injustice of it all. 
You tried to apologize, knowing that it usually calmed him down. You would take the blame because it was your fault at the end of the day. 
You set him off. If you had just remained by his side, this wouldn’t be happening right now. You knew he would get angry and you expected this to happen. What were you thinking? You could only blame yourself for the hands that were actively squeezing the life out of you. You struggled to get the two words, that seemed to live on your tongue, out. 
I’m sorry.
He’d stop then. He’d still be angry, growl cruel words at you and shake you like a ragdoll, shake you so hard that it felt like your neck might snap off of your neck, but then he’d hold you close like the perfect lover, as if the monster that consumed him every waking moment never existed. 
But you couldn’t make a sound. 
Looking back and forth between his furious eyes, your mouth opened and closed but short breaths were the only thing that passed through your lips. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, begging him to loosen his painful hold but as if he sensed your squirming resistance he gripped you harder. 
You felt as he crushed something in your throat and a sharp jolt of fear passed through your body at the thought that this was it. 
You were going to die. 
You could fight, struggle, but you knew it would only make him squeeze tighter, completely cutting off what little air you were allowed. 
This is the end. 
Strangely, the thought gave you peace. You couldn’t imagine how many times you’d woken up after dreaming about a simple life with someone you loved in a small village as far away from the kingdom as possible and felt the growing urge to cry. To bawl your eyes out as you lived each day in devastation, realizing that it was simply that. A dream. And a dream is all it would ever be. 
Until now. 
You finally got to escape. Escape the growing loneliness that seemed to burrow itself deeply inside of you, carving into you each day without remorse. Escape the callous remarks and repulsed stares, judging you for dwelling in a position you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemies. You would get to escape the king and his sweet, sick laughter and soft looks that’d morph into an erratic crazed obsession. 
You would finally get to be with the people that were taken from you, the people you loved and would no longer have to miss dearly.  
Finally. 
When the king’s anger ebbed, he ripped his hands away from your neck, climbing off of you to go to the balcony. He hoped that the cool air would calm him down because he was still seeing red and being near you wasn’t helping the situation. 
As he looked out on the silent night, he took a deep breath and pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. 
You would be the death of him. 
The king didn’t understand why he always got so angry when it came to you. It was never this difficult to control his anger, but he supposed with time his rage only grew. 
From the minute he laid eyes on you, he knew the two of you were meant for each other. He kept you by his side in order to get your to realize that, but no matter how many hints he dropped or passes he made, you refused to understand. Those around you didn’t make it much better. He noticed the way some of your fellow servants touched you casually when it’d taken him months to touch you without you flinching away from his touch or tensing up. 
You always reminded him of his position when he knew it better than anyone else. 
The prince was as kind as he was benevolent. He was wise and patient to better understand and lead his citizens. And if another dared to lay claim on something he already acknowledged as his, the prince was going to lose his mind. 
What good was all this power if it couldn’t give him what he wanted? He was raised  with the knowledge that everything in the world was within his grasp. 
And so he took. 
He felt awful. Anyone would when faced with their lover’s crying face. You were supposed to be happy, but your aversion was simply because you didn’t understand. 
And you didn’t seem to be the only one. 
He’d heard the conversation you had with your father and it broke his heart to hear that you no longer wanted to serve as his companion. You begged, pleaded to be demoted to the position of a stable hand if you had to, but your father understood his position. He understood that it was an honor to serve the prince in a position that most other nobles your age could only hope to dream about and told you there was nothing he could do. 
But he went to the king anyway. Asked him to reconsider the prince’s companion and place someone more suitable in the position. 
He fumed, realizing that you weren’t the only one he would have to educate. 
Your father was a nuisance that aided you in your foolishness. A nuisance that you’d helped him get rid of. You were despondent, but so docile and sweet once he got rid of the distractions in your relationship. 
Or most of them. 
He never imagined that his father would try to separate the two of you. The prince thought that he of all people would understand, but he wouldn’t muster his princely patience this time. He’d waited long enough to get you all to himself and nothing would stand in his way. 
He was king now and he’d all but assured that no one would ever stand in the way of your relationship again. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. No one would take you from him. 
No one would take you away. 
Pushing off of the balcony, he walked back inside, reasonably placated as he shut the doors to prevent a draft before climbing back into bed. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he was surprised when you didn’t flinch away. After one of his outbursts you had a tendency of trembling and angling your body away from him, but you laid still. 
He smiled before pulling you closer. 
It had to have been the most peaceful sleep he’d gotten in a while. 
~*~
The king’s first thought when he woke up the next morning was that you were oddly cold. He looked to the door, frowning when he saw that it was closed. He’d made sure to close the balcony doors so why did your skin feel like ice?
“Good morning, my love.” he said, caressing the side of your face. He smiled, leaning over your body before slowly kissing your frigid lips. 
You were silent. 
Placing a hand on your shoulder, he shook you lightly. “Wake up, love. It’s time to start our day.” 
You remained silent. 
“My love?” 
Looking at you, he slowly backed away when he noticed your body was unnaturally still. No fluttering eyelashes, no rise and fall of your chest, nothing. 
He was stumbling towards the door yelling for someone to call a doctor before he even realized what his body was doing. Maids entered, hands covering their mouths at the sight of you and he was sure someone screamed, but he couldn’t hear anything past the static in his ears. He couldn’t see anything, but you. 
It didn’t take long for the doctor to arrive. Rushing to your side as the king yelled at him to fix you, asking her what was wrong with you. He knew it couldn’t be anything good when the woman froze after touching your wrist, slowly turning before looking at him with those eyes. 
“I’m sorry,” she began to say, but he was shaking his head. 
“Get out.” he said quietly, coming forward before shoving the woman away from you. “Get out!” he yelled, not bothering to watch as she hurried out of the door. “That doctor was incompetent. Drag her away, punish her, and find someone else. NOW!”
Bodies bustled around, rushing to fulfill his orders, but he only had eyes for you. He held your hand, kissing each knuckle before he rested it against his face. You would be okay. You had to be. He didn’t know what he was going to do if you weren’t okay. 
Doctor after doctor arrived, feeling the fierce pressure the king exuded as he ordered them to do something and time after time he received the same words. 
I’m sorry. 
It seemed to be the only thing the incompetent fools could say. 
I’m sorry. 
He shook his head, wondering whether he would hang the doctors for their incompetence. You were fine yesterday. Talking with him, laughing and touching, and now you were… what? What would they have him to believe?
He walked to your side, the doctors backing away slowly as he leaned over your body. 
Silence permeated the room, everyone afraid to breathe lest they incur the king’s wrath, but it was abruptly broken by sharp laughter. 
The king’s laughter. 
Broken laughter that became muffled when he covered his mouth. 
His body shook violently, everyone in the room flinching when he whipped around to face them with an ugly sneer. 
“Are you fools so blind to not recognize a sleeping person?”
Everyone hesitated, too afraid to look away from the king.
“I have no further use for you. Get out.”
Maids, doctors, and servants alike left the king’s chambers single file, unsure what had occurred, but he didn’t seem to notice.If anything it was better for the both of you. No one was bothering you and you could rest peacefully. 
He came to your side, tugging the covers back over you as he sighed. 
“I shouldn’t have kept you awake for so long.” he said. You looked so cold.
His cheeks stretched into a soft smile. If you’d only opened your eyes to see how easily he could rest beside you now. 
Your routine followed the same pattern. 
The king would wake up, smiling as he kissed you and coaxed you to wake up but you remained as still as you’d been for the past couple of days. Your clammy skin did nothing to deter his affection as he’d kiss your forehead, your eyes, your pale lips. 
He was used to getting an adverse reaction. He wasn’t sure if he preferred not receiving one at all, but it had to have been progress, right?
The king could start the day without punishing his lover for not responding properly. He could go perform his duties as king without worrying whether or not you’d attempt to escape again. He wouldn’t have to order the guards and maids to search for you. You would just remain sleeping in bed until you saw fit to get up. 
The king hoped it was soon because he’d missed seeing your eyes, regardless of the emotion they held for him. 
After a week, no one mentioned the putrid odor that began to drift from the king’s bedroom. The king himself had nothing to say about it so the others would keep their mouths shut. 
His advisors continued meetings, exchanging glances between each other but none being bold enough to speak up. Maids would glance towards him nervously when he would pass by, too afraid to even whisper.
A considerate maid walked in and caused a commotion by screaming. What she saw remained a mystery to the other servants as the king barred others from his bedroom, lest they disturbed his sleeping lover and she refused to speak about it, looking distant. The servants were relieved they had an excuse to avoid cleaning the king’s bedroom. If not for the unspeakable terror then for fear that they’d aggravate the ghost-like king that appeared more haggard the longer you went without acknowledging his presence. 
He supposed he couldn’t blame you. You couldn’t speak to him if you were asleep. He understood that rest was important, but he missed hearing your voice. Even if it meant hearing things he would hate, anything was better than this awful silence. 
“My love?” he said, speaking to you even though he knew you wouldn’t respond. It wasn’t time yet, he told himself. You were still recovering. Still catching up due to restless nights he caused. He could give as many as he took, but it didn’t stop him from being lonely. 
If anything, it was the one emotion he had to realize he felt. 
He was terribly lonely. He’d only realized it after he no longer had the choice to speak to you. He didn’t have to seek you out anymore. He knew that you would be lying here, sleeping peacefully, but he’d look for you any day if it meant getting to hear your voice. 
“Do you think you’ll wake up soon?” he asked, brushing your hair gently. If only you would open your eyes and see the amount of love he held for you. You would just have to look at him to see. 
“Will you open your eyes?” he asked, on the verge of begging as he grew more and more afraid of the silence he knew he would be forced to endure. 
Wrapping his arms around your body, he held you gently as he tried to choke down distress at being deprived of something he’d taken for granted. 
“Please open your eyes.” he begged. “Please.”
After a month, the king was sure you were getting sick. 
He’d tried combing your hair since you couldn’t do it for yourself and was shocked to find that it was beginning to fall out. At first he thought it was normal, but as he persisted more hair clumped into the jeweled comb. 
He couldn’t wipe your body down because he’d begun to notice your skin change into a sickly color whenever he changed your clothes and the doctors that he’d attempted to enlist for advice responded with the same words he’d become tired of hearing. 
I’m sorry. 
There was never anything anyone could do. He had grown weary of even bothering. You would be fine. If he just gave you time, you’d recover and come back to him. 
But he didn’t know how long that would take. 
He’d begun to forget the color of your eyes, or what your expression looked like when it was filled with warmth. He continued to hold you as you slept and even if he hated it when you would flinch away from him, he needed something, anything from you. 
He craved to hear your voice say that you loved him. 
He wanted to remember the taste of your tongue as he held you tight. 
He needed to see you give something other than this god awful stillness. 
The king grit his teeth to the point where he felt as if his teeth cracked as he stared down at you, sleeping peacefully in the bed. 
“Get up.” he said, feeling something surge inside of him at the continued sight of your sleeping face. 
“Get up!”
The vase of wilted flowers on your bedside was the first thing to fly across the room, shattering into a million pieces as it hit a wall. He flipped over the table, ripped down the curtains, tore apart the bookshelf, wreaking havoc in attempt to bring you back from your persistent slumber. 
The king didn’t care when he stepped on glass, cutting into his feet. He didn’t care that there was a group of servants beginning to crowd outside of his bedroom, calling in to ask if he was okay. 
He only had eyes for you. 
“Wake up.” he ordered, voice hard and cold as he hovered above you, willing your eyes to open at the sound of his voice. “You’ve slept long enough. Get up!”
He yelled.
You didn’t flinch. 
All it took was the lack of a simple reaction  to break him completely as he sunk to his knees, pleading, begging for you to open your eyes. For you to end this tantrum because he had grown impatient of waiting for you.
The king couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep, feeling pain in his legs, but he couldn’t comprehend anything beyond the sound of your voice calling for him. 
“My king?”
A gaunt face looked up. Wide eyes met your soft ones and the king felt tears prick the corner of his eyes as his shaking hand reached out to touch you. He was afraid. Was it really you? He hadn’t heard your voice for so long that he couldn’t be sure, but when you leaned into his touch, the dam burst as he hugged you tightly. 
“What’s wrong?” you asked him. 
His body shook, wracked as he sobbed. He didn’t understand just how much he’d missed hearing your voice. How much he missed you. 
Pulling away, he cried in your lap feeling such immense relief that he was exhausted despite having just woken up. 
“I’m sorry.” he said, kneeling at your feet as he caressed the sides of your ankles. It was the first time the words had ever left his lips. You had always been unsure whether he was taught the meaning of such words since he acted as if he could do no wrong, but maybe it took your continued silence to draw it out of him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he said. 
He sounded so broken. It was unlike his usual haughty tone. The confidence he wore like a second  skin was gone now, replaced with an empty shell of a man as he prostrated himself before you. 
“Please,” he begged, not wanting anything more than your forgiveness in this moment. If it meant forsaking the kingdom and relinquishing his title, he’d do it if it meant keeping you by his side. “Please don’t leave me.”
It was quiet for a moment and the king felt a ghost of a hand against the top of his head. 
“Oh, king.”
Your voice was soft, gentle even. It gave him hope. Maybe he could fix things. He’d start over. He wouldn’t be so forceful. He always had a feeling that if he slowed his advances and focused on wooing you, you would’ve chosen to be his with time. 
“Don’t you know that I’m already gone?”
The king was frozen.  
You said the words so softly he was unsure if they were even said at all. He slowly raised his head, getting the distinct feeling that something was off, wrong. 
His mouth was dry, feeling sweat run down his neck as he attempted to steel himself. He couldn’t sit here frozen forever, but the sense of relief that encompassed him turned into a dreadful chill. It was foolish. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing had changed in the last few weeks. 
Months? 
Your words were ominous, but you weren’t to be feared. 
With a nervous breath, he lifted his head before his eyes froze on the stranger in his bed. 
His body locked as he struggled to pull his eyes away from the repulsive corpse sprawled on his bed. Ghastly pale skin that appeared to mold in multiple places, maggot infested sockets where eyes should’ve been housed, and a slack mouth that melted into skeletal jaw. He could see the bone. 
The king couldn’t move fast enough as his gag reflex kicked in, not just at the sight but the putrid smell that seemed to invade his senses. He retched, feeling his throat constrict painfully, but the smell was nothing compared to the body. 
He was no stranger to dead bodies, having created many of his own, but there was something about the sight of one in his bed, one that seemed to sink and decay in too many places. In the place where the two of you spent time together. In the place where you should’ve been. 
Shaking his head, he stumbled backwards as he tried to get to his feet. After almost failing twice, a sudden surge of fear struck him. 
Where were you? 
It was dangerous to stray from his side when someone had broken into his chambers to leave him such an unsightly display. 
Staggering to the door, he yelled for the guards, afraid to look behind him at the dead body he’d discovered in his bed. 
It didn’t make any sense. 
You had been right there. How could you have moved so quickly?
“Find them.” he said, the minute the first guard entered his eye sight. “Find them. They have to be here somewhere.”
They stood stockstill, the king growing increasingly angrier the longer they stood and stared at him like fools. 
You could’ve been halfway to another kingdom at this point!
“FIND THEM!” he roared, grabbing his sword as he threatened to cut down any who would dare disobey his orders. 
“My king.” 
He whipped around at the sound of your voice, eyes wide and wild. 
“Don’t you know that I’m already gone?”
Where was this voice coming from? It was yours, but you weren’t here. You weren’t…
His eyes slowly made their way back to the corpse on your side of the bed. The same place you’d always slept. The place where you’d been for the last couple of months, sleeping. 
But you were sleeping, you couldn’t be… 
No. 
He shook his head, not wanting to come to terms with reality. It couldn’t be. This body wasn’t yours. It looked nothing like you. 
I’m sorry.
It was all they could say. 
I’m sorry. 
Each and every doctor he’d called to check on your condition. 
I’m sory. 
Even his own words that he’d realized he said too late. 
He was too late and you were gone. 
The sword clattered to the ground, the king’s quick breath becoming painful as bile forced its way up and out of his body. 
The body was you. 
No. 
Don’t you know I’m already gone?
No. Who said that? He’d heard you. He heard your voice. It couldn’t be. 
It couldn’t be you. It couldn’t be you. It couldn’t be you. 
The king apologized! He said he would do things differently and he meant it this time. He wouldn’t let his anger get the best of him. He would try to understand you better. If anything his time apart from you proved that he could patiently and wait for you, so you couldn’t be gone. Not when he was finally ready to make things right. 
I’m sorry.
Gripping at his hair, he let out something akin to wail that sounded unsettling and inhuman as he began pulling at the strands to rip his hair out. He fought against the hands that grabbed at him, forcing him to the ground to stop him from hurting himself, but he only had eyes for you. 
He only had eyes for you. 
3K notes · View notes
pieroulette · 10 months
Text
My Little Angel
Tumblr media
2023 | 18+ | ONESHOT | PARK SUNGHOON × READER
WARNING yandere fallen angel!sunghoon, noncon smut, pure filth. 🗿 minors don't interact but i'm not your mama that are able to supervise you, you have your own brain so consume content responsibly.
WORD COUNT 1.3k
AUTHOR'S NOTE just a small practice of ehem yk, cuz i don't write smut rlly and this is my second smut story obv, since route 1 has me coughing sm. so it might be rlly bad. plus sunghoon's hair is just giving me sm feels 🗿
Tumblr media
SUNGHOON WOULD NEVER LET YOU GO, you who were his pretty little angel. One that had brought him to complete euphoria and at the same time to his demise.
The first time he laid his eyes on you was when the priests summons spiritual angels for a holy ritual, and you were amongst the young nuns presented. Your existence took his breathe away that it cause one sinful thought arising within him.
That alone had him shaking his head in pure agony, trying to shake those thoughts away but strangely, those sinful thoughts only multiplies, slowly devouring his innocence and turning his prayers to God into prayers for you.
His mind no longer whispers the name of God but rather consumed by your name.
For a couple of months, he watches over you with his presence invisible, that the nun with a great psychic ability beside you one day asked if you were aware that you had a guardian angel remaining by your side, and that your guardian angel's energy wasn't the colour of light but rather of darkness.
That ripped your peace of mind into ashes, praying to the God for protection, answers of what has fall upon you, and so on.
Sunghoon saw it all, only remaining silent. Sure, he had fallen in love with you but he chose to stay behind the curtains, but one day when a man came into the frame—it broke him to pieces, and another type of sin arises in him; greed and desire for a human blood.
It shook you to your core when an angel who you often imagine as supreme beings with the light enveloping their magnificent wings—were soaking in crimson blood.
That was the first time he showed himself before you, voicing out a rather simple sentence. "I'll return again."
Even when you dared to break off the rules he created for you and escape through the white door that was supposed to protect you from the outside world, just like he said.
But you didn't listen to him, so now you had to pay the price because you were a bad girl—ruining his image of you being his obedient angel.
Sunghoon pushes you off to the bed with his enormous strength. As an angel, he's far more stronger than you are and now that he had fallen to the underworld, strangely he gained more power and strength—feeding on dark energies from the underworld creatures.
And the day he turned into a fallen angel with his once glowing white wings drenching in pitch black ink, was also the day he took you away from the church, stripping your right of freedom.
Locking you inside this room bathed in silk red, where behind those doors were engulfed with dark creatures you were beyond frightened to lay your eyes upon. But what you didn't knew was how they were afraid of you, who Sunghoon absolutely adores. That's why it had them at the edge of their life when your existence was nowhere to be found in the room.
Yet, it was not difficult for Sunghoon to capture you back but oh did it irritates him beyond his expectation. He expected you to be good and obedient just like when he saw you for the first time.
But this, such an atrocious act for him that he desires to give you a suitable punishment.
Your small and petite figure aroused him even more, adding the fact that you're nervous and writhing like a prey waiting to be devoured.
You knew there was no escaping, not when the windows and doors were locked, completely sealing you from any escape possible, not when this boy in front of you were much stronger than you are.
You are truly doomed.
He climbs on top of you and grips both your wrists on the mattress amidst your protests and cries, mouth trembling as the hot breathe of his mouth slides down to your neck, and licks it with his tongue.
"I've been too good to you, love. I guess it's only wise I take what's mine now," his finger slids down to your tummy, in which you immediately tighten your thighs together but he was quick to put his hand in between, using his strength to open your legs again.
And in a split moment, his hand cupped your private part making you panic along with a hint of arousal hitting your core.
"I really wanna make love with you since the first time I saw you.." Sunghoon growls, pressing his finger inside your clit making your back arched in pleasure.
You don't want this. You really don't want this.
"To feel what it's like it to be inside you.."
You pressed your lips tight, tears threatening to come out from your eyes as he pressed his body closer to yours, the warmth of him engulfing your entire body.
"Hear your sweet little sounds.."
His eyes filled with nothing but love and lust.
"Make you cum and all.."
The desire to eat you raw and stain your innocence with his hands and mouth were driving him utterly insane that his eyes and hands rattled immensely.
"Because of what I'm about to do to you, is driving me crazy right now, love." Sunghoon presses a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips brushing down your ears as he uttered another dirty words that sent shivers down your spine. "You would be so cute under me, so fucking innocent and yet so fucking dirty just because of me."
"But I was too kind, too lenient to let you do what you want. It's my fault you turn out so bratty like this.." he softly murmurs, as his fingers dig even deeper and deeper into your clothed clit.
"I should teach you now then, train you on how to be my sweet little good girl.." Sunghoon breathe out, "My little angel."
"N-no.. I'm s-sorry!" You choked on your tears, begging for this to just be a dream.
"Shh.. then show me how sorry you are while I'm fucking you raw."
He pulled your skirt down but you tried to stop it, yet he was stronger and faster and now the cold air hits your bare thighs. His hands slapped your arm away, gripping it against the mattress as he kissed your neck and licked it.
He buried his knee between your legs and his other hands cupped your breast making you let out a tiny moan — a sweet melody to his ears. His fingers made its way under your shirt, giving you goosebumps as his hand travelled to your bare tummy up to your breast, then he pinched your nipples and played with it.
You could only cry, and take what he's giving you. The more you resist, the more he gets aroused. The bed creaking, blankets wrinkling, and wet spots forming on your panties as you felt his hard and growing bulge against your core.
You were getting a weird delicious feeling under your clit and you hate it that you like it.
In a split moment, he gets rid of your shirt, exposing your breast and all. You tried to cover yourself but he growled, eyes narrowing as his hands harshly prevented you from doing so.
"So fucking cute.." he breathes against your ear, his hands forming circular patterns on your bare back.
He licks your neck with his tongue then the edge of teeth sank just below your shoulder, marking you as his as blood trickle down to your bare chest, a mixture of arousal and pain engulfed your entire body as he pushes himself deeper and closer to you.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
All you can think of was to get him to stop but the way your body reacts to his sinful touches was saying a different thing.
The clock hanging on the wall across the room were the only thing you were left to observe as he devours your body with his lips and tongue, the edges of his fingers and hands travelling it's way every edge of your skin without your consent.
1:05am
It has been nearly two hours since he was forcing himself on you, your clothes scattered around the floor with his and yet it doesn't look like it's gonna end anytime soon.
Your ears catches the sound of a belt unbuckling on its own and your tired teary eyes glanced towards the source of the noise, your breath hitched nervously as he unzipped his pants, his face were wild flushed and lips swollen with the amount of contact he forced against you and his soft hair gone into a wild mess, his toned body having bead of sweat on his neck streaming down to his torso.
He slowly puts his cock inside you making your back arched in both arousal and pain, your lower part felt so full, getting filled with wet and girth.
Then he starts to thrusts in you—loud, lewd and dirty slaps echoing through the room. The smell of sex strongly lingering in the air, beads of sweats forming on your forehead as your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in his skin bound to form fresh red crescent marks that will serve as a form of achievement for him tomorrow when he sees it in the mirror.
Sunghoon's fucked up expression contorts even wilder as he shuts his eyes and his mouth hangs low and his head throws back, leaning back down again to kisses you roughly, tongue meets tongue, lewd sound forming along with it — everything was incredibly wet and dirty.
His hand gripping your left thigh up to let himself sink even deeper inside you, you could feel every part of him inside your body, it was as if you were being filled with so much pleasure and pain at the same time. Your toes curling up in the air, and you could feel wet liquid dripping down to your wet hole.
Soon you couldn't suppressed your moans even though you bit your lips, he chuckled at how cute you are under him. "Fucking cute.. my little angel."
You felt a knot forming under your stomach and he realizes you were coming, your knees weak and a burning arousal all over your body as he keeps thrusting in you, his cock hitting all the sweet spots inside you.
Then he bends down, taking your neck with his hands as he deeply kisses you as you experienced your first orgasm, knees vibrating in pleasure while his tongue plays with yours.
Hot and wet liquids trickling down to your thighs, seeing it gave him satisfaction that he was able to pleasure you and also be the first man to ever take your innocence away just like when you stripped the innocence of his mind away.
Tumblr media
「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.
874 notes · View notes
yaymiyas · 11 days
Text
Tumblr media
THE NIGHTMARE.
warning: yandere!jock, yandere tendencies, gn reader, manipulation, unwanted sexual advances
a/n: its shorts 🤫
Tumblr media Tumblr media
you’ve finally were able to get some quiet time. your whole week as been packed with midterms and college apps, so you’ve decided to treat yourself to a sweet vist to one of your school libraries study rooms. the rooms weren’t anything to write home but they were functional enough to get a few hours of studying in. even though you could only get your hands on the study room that was way in the back, you were still happy you got one. walking down the hall, passing each clear glass room made you feel increasingly lonely. it has already been three months since your social life has been killed by to a few runors; that were completely untrue and deeply fabricated but nobody wanted to believe you.
it was agonizing at first; watching your friends avoid their gaze while they walked past you and even having your teachers give you some what of a cold shoulder become of it. from having to each lunch in your car to having to do group projects by yourself because the refusal to be in a group with you was always much stronger than the grip your history teacher had on the class. the longer the isolation prolonged, the easier it got for you to accept your own company. it felt nice honestly. it felt great being about to be at utter peace with yourself
giving yourself the opportunity to lean into the peace oozing from the room surrounding you, a few taps to the glass window caught your attention. you didn’t turn your head nor did you bother move a muscle. you knew who it was. who else would disrupt your peace other than noah muller. you have never voiced this out loud but you are fully convinced that he was the one who spread the rumors about you; who else other than that deranged freak would want to ruin your chances of normalcy. from the moment the two of you locked eyes, you knew he was nothing but a problem ready to happen. he never did anything objectively wrong. noah had good enough grades, was a pretty good/okay soccer player, seemingly good social reputation, and he wasn’t too bad on the eyes.
cutting your train of thoughts short, the thin door creaked at the hinges allowing you to know he was coming in. it would sound insane to want the only person who actually wants to talk to you to go away, but noah is a different case. a strange disturbed case you wanted nothing to do with but with the current circumstances, you would need to suck it up and he knew that. closing the door until a clicking sound was heard, noah slide his way into the seat right next to you. he wasn’t too far but he was too close for comfort, as the heat of his thigh was radiating and warming up yours. he must have noticed you were ignoring him, or at least attempting to ignore him because before you know it his warm hands met its way onto your upper thigh.
not wanting to make a scene, you stayed as still as you could. the room still being filled with laughing, keyboards, and chatter from the students around. the glass windows of the room leaving nothing to the imagination, so reacting to the sudden hand on your thigh would’ve sunk you into more isolation. more ridicule. more noah.
“y/n,”
his voice as quiet as a pencil hitting paper with a hint of teasing. he knew what he was doing, he knew what kind of control and affect he had over you because who else were you going to talk to and turn to? who else was there for you? nobody but noah. at this point, he was your whole school life. he could make or break you even worse. ignoring him was the best thing you could do because lashing out would have caused him to spread even worse things about you. slipping his index finger underneath the cloth of your shorts, you bucked your hips up to attempt to get him off. unfortunately, the only thing you did was make him move his seat closer. making sure the chair didnt make too much noise, noah lifted it up off the ground slightly putting the feet of the chairs right next to each other. with a smile on his face he sat down, putting his hand right where he left it.
“now, y/n”
he started, licking his lips and getting closer to your neck.
“you don’t want me to tell everybody here you were the one who pushed mrs. applebottom down the stairs now do you?”
168 notes · View notes