silv3rswirls - Tumblr blog

silv3rswirls · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet Thing

Requests are open, desperately in need of some more Yandere/dark requests <3

my masterlist for these kinds of fics

Summary: Sweet thing; mourning lamb. Believe him good or evil, or somewhere in between. He doesn’t care, what’s done is done.

warnings: dark yoongi, cults, religious themes, abuse of power, sex, mentions of virginity, corruption kink, mentions of mental health, manipulation, coercion, dead animals, blood, carcass. Can you tell I love a good sacrificial lamb theme

fic playlist for vibes

note: Requested by an anon, I hope you like it <3

You covered your mouth with your hands, your stomach churning and your dinner threatening to come back up.

You didn’t mind the role you played here, enjoyed it even. Until it was time to clean up the mess left behind. Why make the ones who raise the lamb clean its remains? You looked at the table, watching the slow drip of blood fall onto the floor. The room is empty and dark; earlier it had been filled to the brim and bustling with followers. Everyone seemed to like watching the sacrifice, listening to the father rant and rave all night.

You swallowed, filling tears threatening to brim your eyes as you forced your body to approach the animal’s body.

You loved taking care of the animals. It was your job, along with a few of the other young girls and older women. Everyone had a job. Everyone in the father’s flock contributed. It was one of the many rules you had been presented when coming into their group. You had only been a part of the flock for about a year now, maybe a little less. It was hard to keep track without phones: no television, no internet, and no socializing with the outside world. Only the trusted members of father’s council could. There was a man that ran the organization's webpage, he had the only computer in the compound. The rest of the men that Father surrounded himself with also had phones, allowance to leave, and other perks for being more devoted, you supposed?

All you really knew was that you didn’t, and likely never would have those kinds of gifts here. You were new, too young, and didn’t know enough about father’s words. You weren’t sure if you ever would. You liked it here, but it was confusing sometimes. Maybe you just needed to pay more attention.

You hadn’t been looking for the word of father at the time. You had been heading home after another failed job interview. Anxiously waiting for the train home, watching the crowds of city goers weave around each other.

You didn’t attend college, and your marks in school had never been the best. It was getting harder to find jobs to apply to now. No one wanted you. Not educated enough, and seemed to demure and slow to think in your interviews. At least, that’s what one particularly rude man had told you at the end of one. You didn’t even want to work, your family was pushing you. You couldn’t make them understand what was happening inside you. You couldn’t even explain it to yourself, let alone articulate the abstract happening in your head.

Your train was running late, you looked down at the folded flier in your hand. A man had practically forced you to take it from him. You were used to seeing it; crazy people out this time of night trying to recruit people to their schemes.

You unfold it, looking at the paper that spared little information on their group. Not a cult, they insisted with a laugh. An organization for those who felt lost, and needed help and guidance.

“We take care of each other, we’re family.”

There was a code hidden on the flier, if you could solve it you would gain access to their website. You went home that night, and two days later you had solved it. Not long after you found yourself wandering out to meet with them. The rest had unfolded so fast, so smoothly. You pretend, as we often do. You were pretending to be an ignorant cynic. Terrified of waiting, or wanting something that you may never get. Daring to dream for anything more than what was on the platter life presented to you at birth. You hardly noticed the change, and soon the remnants of your old life faded. Father’s words set in, rooted inside your being. You liked him, and everyone here. You had never heard of Father’s God, but you didn’t mind turning to him just to have someone to take care of you.

You closed your eyes and scooped up the lamb, setting it in your wagon. You turned back to the blood smeared over the stone table and began to scrub.

It took a long time. Your arms felt like jelly and your back hurt from hunching over. It was washed and dry for the most part, but the past stains of blood remained. Faint traces left over from years of the same ceremony. You looked around the empty, dark room. Everyone else had left by now; your tasks always took the longest. The windows here were stained so dark even during daylight you couldn’t tell if it was light or dark out. It was late though. Most of the candles stacked around the room had burnt out, a few stays remained flickering.

You stood up, giving a big stretch and turning back to the lamb's body. When you saw the dead little lamb you could feel yourself starting to cry again. Too wrapped up in your woes, you hardly noticed the gentle click of the room’s door closing. Soft footsteps slowly make their way towards you. A comforting hand brushed against your back, murmuring slowly about how your tears should be of joy. Their sacrifice would make your life better, this would lay yet another small stepping stone to the future Father was building for everyone here.

The voice, so smooth and quiet, you recognized. Min Yoongi, a man you had never spoken to before about a month ago. He seemed to be good friends with father and was one of the higher-ranking members of the organization. He had taken notice of you on one of his many walks through the meadows you and the other girls watched over the lamb. He had come, snaking through the thick grass and wildflower, stopping just to look down at you. Asked about how much you liked the animals, made small talk, and came back every day afterward to keep talking.

It was odd at first. You were never sure of what to say or do in his presence. He seemed a bit untouchable during the rare moments you caught sight of him. Standing up there with father, and six other men. Men who felt like gods at his side. But he was persistent, and he liked you.

“We’ve talked about this” he smiled at you, his thumb tracing your cheek to push the tears aside. You nodded, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Did you miss me?” He asks, his smile a bit cheeky as he waits for you to nod. You do. You missed him the past few days and have grown used to his presence. You weren’t sure about the feelings you held for him though. It was confusing, as was everything else in your head. But you liked him, liked the way he would kiss you just out of sight of everyone else. How he would guide you to his room some nights and spend hours basking upon you.

Yoongi moves in to kiss you, to which you meet him and return it. He smiles again, “have you thought about what I said the last time we met?”

You hesitantly nod. “I’m just not sure…I mean, father wouldn’t be happy if we were caught, right?”

Yoongi scoffs, laughing a bit as he looks around. “Baby, he doesn’t care what I do.”

“And what about what I do?” You frown. You hated the way Yoongi could insinuate that he was above everyone else. Maybe he was, maybe father didn’t care what he and the other higher ranks did. Maybe they were favored, you just didn't want to think about it. But there were rules. Rules everyone here was expected to follow. Did father rules apply to him, you wondered for another moment. He would decide who got together for marriage; God would tell him. But, did it matter if it was him? Did it matter to who he chose to be close to?

Would Yoongi marry you?

You looked up at him when he stood, peering through your eyelashes nervously. You liked Yoongi, he made it hard not to like him.

“Just lay down here, come on.” He coaxed. Yoongi wet his lips, his eyes fixed on you. He wanted you. Wanted more than kissing and holding you, he was getting bored of it. He wanted you to lay back for him, let his hands roam your body, peel back your clothing, and trace every soft inch of your skin.

Your will tetters and grows tighter as you lay back for him, finally snapping when he gives you one last reassuring smile. You try to relax, ignore the faint stain of lamb blood under you. “Exciting, right?” He asked and you nodded, your stomach swirled with excitement for him and anxiety for the room surrounding you. You wanted him, you had never felt such an urge for someone before in your life. Guys never looked at you before, and when you joined Father’s word it was far from everyone’s mind here. But Yoongi had been trying, peeling away every reserved and anxious layer on your body. He poked and prodded, his interest was never a secret.

He got close and kissed your cheek rather than your lips again. Then your jaw, just under your ear, then your neck. The way he moved, feverish but restrained, his breath hot and lips tracing your neck. He would stop and peck, and bite. It felt like he was trying to get to your throat, bite it open to listen to your secrets and hushed words spill out. Everything goes blurry when you experience him, you aren’t sure why or how. You wanted him, but here? Your eyes scan the room again. A sacred place like this, laying on the same table the pierced lamb on. Yoongi wanted it to be here, were you his lamb now?

You unbutton your blouse for him, growing meek under his hard stare. His hands are cold as they run up your ribs, stopping just at your breast.

Yoongi's breath hitched in excitement. How long had it been since he’d been with someone? A few months maybe. While you, he knew, had never been with anyone. He wouldn't admit aloud that that was what attracted him to you. The meek, reserved vibe you gave off. He liked women like that, he liked walking the fields and searching for his next.

He loved it. Watching you shrink under him, turn away, try to cover yourself up in embarrassment under his hungry eye. The noises you made, noises you likely hadn’t made before. Your legs around him, pulling him closer. His hips pressed against yours, how eager you are, how you would look back at him.

“Thank me for picking you. Come on say it again, thank me.” His breath hitched hearing your voice. So perfect for him at this moment.

“Thank you” you managed to get out between breathy moans. Your arms around him, tight and desperate to hold on. His face pressed into the crook of your neck. Teeth sinking into your skin, soft violent marks left in his wake.

Was it poetic in some odd way to be taken on an altar of sacrifice? You’re head lulled back, your throat exposed for him to press hot kisses to and nip at. You looked up at the ceiling. The same stained panes of glass circled above you. The faint spears of moonlight leak in. The candles burned out as the seconds passed.

“My sweet lamb.” He hissed, “So perfect for me.” His body dropped closer to yours. His mouth latched to your shoulder sucking marks onto it. “You’ve been waiting for me to come, right?” His fingertips press into your hips, kneading the soft flesh, nails pricking your skin.

Was that all you were? An animal, standing alone in a clearing waiting for its mother to return. Fawns do that. A young doe placed among flowers to wait for her mother, or anyone really to return for it. Placid and waiting, like now. Waiting for him, or someone else? Your mother, when was the last you had seen her? Talked to her, was she waiting still? Did she know about you, what you were up to? Had she left or had someone taken you, you couldn’t tell anymore. Your memories were blurry. How have you found your way here again?

What had you thought when you first met the recruiters? You couldn’t remember. And when you were sentenced to the farm, slaving away for the lamb. Was that better than your old life at home? What had been your old life anyway? And him; what of him? When he walked the fields until finding you. You looked at him, and you knew he wasn’t the one you were waiting on. But everything was cold, and warmth was warmth. Had you been left there, but by who? God? Fathers God, or God himself? What had he done to find you; why had you sat patiently waiting.

“Sweet thing, little lamb” Yoongi’s breathless, eyes clouded as he looked down at you. Your chest rising and falling, your breath still trying to find you again. He gets off of you, but you take a second to lay there to soak up the feeling. Yoongi, how good he had felt, yet how much anxiety weighed your stomach. You could feel him on you, sticky against your inner thighs. Dripping from you, onto the altar. Thick and sticky, you would have to scrub the table off once more tonight.

Yoongi finishes fixing himself up and moves back to you. Standing over you, eyes piercing your being once again. He twirls a piece of your hair gently between his fingers. “Sweet thing” he grinned, more to himself than you. “Finish up here, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You feel him tilt your head towards him. His lips pressed against yours one last time. You watch him go, and the stark silence of the room rings in your ears.

What fear a man like him, and those around him brings upon those like you. A woman like you and the unfortunate circumstances thrust upon you in early childhood. You didn’t want him to look at you anymore, and he could see it. In your eyes, he keeps looking. Eyes so dark, yet bright. You can see them, even through the thick darkness of the room. He was there when you spilled your first blood, and now your second. Standing, looking. No good, no evil, he was simply him; man, being, animal, serpent- whatever he was and would continue to be well after you.

taglist: @aft3rhrs

#yandere bts #yandere min yoongi #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader

138 notes · View notes