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moyazaika · 17 days ago

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housewife syndrome

yandere! rockstar x fem! reader

cw; possessive + obsessive behaviour, severe mental instability, paranoia, anxiety, violence, heavy nsfw themes, mdni 18+

genie's notes; commissioned piece by a very sweet anon ♡ thank you so much for trusting me with this absolutely stunning idea. i’ve always been a fan of domestic horror, especially of the spiralling housewife variety, so it was fun to explore a new dynamic and fresh writing style. <3

"welcome home, sweetheart!" the television runs on low volume in the background as you greet your husband with a knowing smile. you run through the motions as you always do, make sure to ask with the most innocence you can muster, "how was your day?"

feroze can make out the sound of gallant applause that indicates you'd been watching reruns of last night's award ceremony.

"such a fucking drag." your husband pulls you into his arms, buries his head into the crook of your neck with a long, satisfied sigh and takes his sweet, sweet time to breathe you in. "couldn't fucking wait to come home to you, meri jaan."

his answer remains the same as it is every other day, and you can't help but smile against his lips when he pulls you in to steal a little kiss; you sigh into his mouth, and feroze is so fucking overwhelmed by gratitude for the familiarity and comfort of this little routine the two of you have seemed to settle down into so well.

"i love when you call me that," you confess; my life.

you know just as well as him that, well—it wasn't always this easy.

"yeah," feroze hums. "i know you do, baby."

you weren't always so lovely for him, were you?

you're quiet.

though the two of you are sitting across from each other at the dining table, your attention is clearly elsewhere. conversation is slow, if not stagnant. it's a far cry from how talkative you usually are; and though he would never fucking admit it, least of all to you, he worries, for a fraction of a second, that things are slipping.

"meri jaan?" he sets down his fork very carefully, reaches for your hands over the table.

you blink, pulled away from wherever you'd been lost in your mind and back down to this moment that stretches on before you.

"oh, sorry, my love. what was that?"

feroze watches your eyes quietly track the movement of his fingers, sliding over your wrists, lingering, momentarily, on your pulse—nice and steady—before they intertwine with your own.

your gaze lands on him, then, expectant. he drags his thumb over your knuckles, glad to find they're soft; unmarred by any labour. he loves having you here, tucked away within the walls of this home he built just for you, away from the rest of the rotten world.

such a darling girl like you deserves to have everything taken care of for you. as far as he's concerned, the only thing on your mind should be him.

which is why the silence is beginning to irritate him, now. he's not really upset with you, doesn't have a reason to be, just yet—he's just wondering what it is you're so focused on. where do you keep going back to in that head of yours, and why aren't you here with him?

is this where it all falls apart?

—again?

"rosy?" you try. "is everything alright?"

"yeah," feroze's hazel eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, endearingly patient. "i just wanted to know how your day was."

"ugh, don't remind me." you stick your tongue out. "it was so boring. i woke up so late today and didn't really do anything interesting."

"shit, i'm sorry to hear that, baby."

your husband nods towards the television, still playing from inside the living room across the hall; the screen's bright colours reflect against the glass windows that take up half the wall. though the program is muted, he can still hear the echoes from the cacophony of applause ringing loud and true.

the four hour program's been running on loop on some of the smaller channels, and you really seem to enjoy tuning in, he's noticed.

it would be more difficult not to notice this new habit of yours, really. because if he's been counting right, this is the seventh time you've seen the whole thing through to the end.

"seems like you were at least watching the music thing again."

"well, when my stunning husband won half of the awards," you shrug coyly. "how could i not?"

"flattery won't get you anywhere," feroze deigns, though neither of you mention the involuntary curl to his lips as they lift into a small, self-satisfied smile.

"huh, that's strange," you frown, pull your hands away from his own and make a show of examining the elaborately stacked engagement ring and marital band wrapped around your finger. "if i seem to remember correctly, flattery is exactly what got me this ring."

"oh," he laughs. "is that so?"

"uhuh," you nod, still admiring the rings. they're big and they're flashy and there's no fucking chance anyone could ever miss the sight of them; make the mistake of misunderstanding what they mean. you're so obviously his, and fuck, it suits you so perfectly to belong to him.

i love you, he thinks fiercely. i fucking love you.

"you've got an ego, rosy." your knowing gaze flickers back to him, accompanied by a teasing smile. "bit of a praise kink, too."

"and yet, darling wife," he'll never tire of calling you that; never really overcome the thrill that overwhelms him when he sees you adorned in the markers of his devotion and tucked away all safe and sound. "you're the only person whose words mean anything to me."

"ohh, is that so?" you taunt, "whatever happened to 'flattery won't get you anywhere?'"

feroze takes in the sight of you. you're dressed casual, donned in a baggy old shirt and a pair of his softest sweats hanging low off your hips. comfortable in your own home, as you should fucking feel, you have no makeup on, and your hair is unkempt; overdue for a shower; but fuck if he cares.

feroze decides, within a moment, that he needs you—

now.

"come here, meri jaan. i'll show you."

"you greedy, greedy man," you chastise lightly, rising from your seat. "i've just fed you dinner and you're still salivating at my table."

feroze watches you make the small effort of pushing your chair in, before turning on your heel. you pause in the doorway for a second, spare him a knowing glance over your shoulder; "well? aren't you hungry, darling husband?"

he knows that none of it evades you; the nervous bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. the way his fingers are digging into the edge of the table to keep from sinking inside of you right here. his heart is racing; his pants are tight. though you're so willing to be his now, he remembers it wasn't always this easy.

"my love." feroze grits out, "i'm fucking starving."

you disappear into the hallway, mellifluous laughter like the loveliest song, echoing off the walls—inside of his head, for fuck's sake—as your husband follows faithfully behind you when you lead him into the bedroom.

dinner goes cold on the table. you never touched your plate.

upstairs, minutes later, your husband bottoms out inside of the welcoming warmth of your sweet cunt, just as your fingers brush against the butcher's knife tucked right underneath your pillow.

feroze gets you to come twice before he decides he has his fill. he's rummaging through your nightstand for the contraceptives he knows you keep in there. it's got less to do with what he wants and more to do with what he believes is best for the two of you.

it's not that he doesn't want children; he dreams of them often. a little baby swaddled in the softest fabrics, wrapping its entire hand around just one of his fingers. the sound of a second pair of footsteps excitedly running down the hall every time he comes home from the studio, from tour. something more to take care of. to keep you busy.

but your husband knows you.

and though he's always been selfish, he can't risk kids until—well, until he knows you won't try to kill them.

it's taken you years to accept him. he won't undo that.

feroze, so caught up in his thoughts, only really registers the blade until it's slicing into his skin, the sharp edge of it pressing against the side of his neck with just enough pressure to draw blood.

he is disappointed, though by no means surprised, to find you on the other end wielding the knife.

he turns to face you, abandoning his search. you're holding onto the hilt of your makeshift weapon with trembling hands, and though he's suddenly overcome by exhaustion—because, baby, how many more times are you going to pull this—an involuntary shiver runs down his spine at the sight nonetheless.

"jaan," he tries to reason with you in hushed tones; oh, love. "what are you doing?"

you dig the knife in just a little deeper, and he winces; "i hate you, feroze." the words sting, though the relative lack of conviction they’re laced with serves as a promising sign of reconciliation.

"i know, baby. can you please just put the knife down so we can talk like adults?"

he glimpses the almost imperceptible change immediately.

the lines of hesitation on your face; a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. when your hold on the weapon looses just the tiniest fraction of an inch, he wastes no time in gently but firmly prying the knife from out of your trembling hands; tosses it underneath the bed where it lands out of your reach.

he’s getting better at this. gets through to you so much sooner than he used to.

you’re listening, now, aren’t you?

the thought of it makes him oddly proud.

"there we go," feroze says. you're still shaking, and though he wants so fucking desperately to pull you closer and console you—he's learnt to tread the waters carefully in times like these. you're evidently scared. obviously upset with him. he can give you a little room to breathe. “now do you want to use your words and talk to me properly?”

“i keep rewatching the awards show. every other winner had someone there with them. some girlfriend or wife they kissed before they went on stage. you’re the only one who—” you swallow, voice wavering. “i’m the only one who wasn’t there. i’m the only one who’s kept hidden away.”

“you don’t want to show me off.” the tears fall almost immediately. “you’re ashamed of me.”

there are millions of words in the english language, and millions more in his own. he’s put into words every fleeting feeling you’ve made him feel; spun both the most magnificent and mundane of emotions into beautiful songs and compelling lyrics and composed entire albums from nothing—and yet, somehow, in this moment all of it evades him.

"i spend all day stuck here w-waiting for you to come home, and when you do—i keep thinking about all those ceremonies and galas and parties you go to, rooms i can never follow you into—and i hate you. i hate you for how much you hate me—”

“i’m sorry,” feroze’s hands run up your spine, to lightly curl his fingers around the back of your neck. he tilts your head up so that you’re meeting his gaze; leaves you nowhere to look away, “meri jaan.”

his touch is so soft and so, so cold against your skin. you've always run warmer than him; but he thinks you might be burning up right now. maybe you've got a fever; or maybe you're just this delirious even without one. it doesn't fucking matter, doesn't change anything.

“i’m sorry for ever leaving you alone long enough to even think that. let me make it up to you. let me show you how much i adore you. let me build you back up again.”

“you can’t fix this,” you whisper.

he smiles, but it’s strange; doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “so you said the last time.”

hours later, you’re less of a sobbing wreck when he’s got you perched in his lap, and all curled up under his chin. “okay… then…” you sniff. your words are somewhat muffled as you bury your face into your husband’s chest. “i’m sorry, too. i didn’t mean to hurt you, rosy. i was just scared, i-i promise.”

"i know.” his knuckles wipe away the tears drying on your cheeks. “give me a kiss, please.”

and ever the sweet wife, you do; but your lips are trembling.

fuck, that’s—

shit.

—not going to work, is it?

with a gentle but firm hand, he pushes you down onto the bed and watches you land on your back amidst the dozens of pillows that decorate the bed. even then, the softest thing here is you. he forgets that, sometimes. let this be a lesson, he thinks to himself, to keep your fragility in mind. this is only further proof that you need him more than he'd even realised.

but you picked the right man, didn’t you? because none of that scares him.

the two of you have faced far more difficult times together; this is just a little hiccup in your life as a married couple. some story you’ll look back on and laugh about, when you’re all better.

so when you look up at him with wide, wet eyes and ask, "its just—can you promise me you still love me one more time?”

feroze regards you closely. you’re so beautiful. so fucking perfect that it overwhelms him. sometimes, he wishes you could see yourself the way that he sees you. though he’s always believed that may just scare you; knowing how deep his devotion really runs. things are fine as they are now.

well, mostly.

he has decided that he will retire from music completely, but the two of you can broach that topic when you’re in a better headspace for it. it’s been a long time coming. work keeps the money coming in, and he wants to spoil you but—he wants you to be happy, above all. you don’t really know what you’re asking for right now, but he has every intention of giving you exactly what it is you wished for.

he can’t give in when you beg to come along with him—but he can come and hide away next to you in this little pocket of the world that solely belongs to the two of you.

"you drive me to madness, my love. nothing about this life means anything if i can’t keep you happy.”

the two of you never had a white wedding; because he wanted to honour your union the right way and celebrate you as his culture deigned. so, yes, he never got to read you any vows, but he'd like to think you've come to know him well enough to understand he doesn't necessarily need to say something so sacred out loud for it to hold true.

"do you understand? i love you," he lowers his forehead against yours. “till death does us apart.”

you put your heart in his hands one more time, looking so small, so vulnerable beneath him. "you promise?"

"i promise," he closes his eyes and revels in the soft, sweeping feeling of your lashes fluttering against his own. "always and forever, meri jaan."

feroze loves you, of this he's certain.

he also knows that you fucking terrify him.

it's a small price to pay, if it means keeping you—

besides, he thinks, reaching once more for the contraceptive pills on the nightstand.

—marriage is all about compromise, is it not?

#feroze #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x willing reader #male yandere x you #male yandere x y/n #male yandere x darling #yandere male x you #commission

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seungkwan-s · 2 years ago

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☆ — Put this star in the inbox of your favorite blogs. Its time to spread positivity! 😚💓🫶🏻🌙

i love you <3

#genie 💗#moots ♡#( mail 💌 )#love letters 💌

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bambisnc · 7 days ago

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𝖷𝖮 ♡ use me, i'll be your genie

❪ ➴ ❫───엔하이픈; asking them to teach you how to kiss

ft. bsf!OT7 % hcs + 1.5k (180+ per member) && w. kiss talk ˖ ✧

♡ [ 1-800-XO HOTLINE ] : new layout #bless ++ no one talk to me ab this for 3 business days. but i do personally LOVE how this turned out icl

🔗. 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝘍i𝖫𝖤 ᰈ̠ 𝖭𝘈𝖵𝗂𝖦𝘈𝖳𝖤 ✮

이희승 — ❪ LEE HEESEUNG ❫

౨ৎ as soon as he hears you casually bring up the question—a simple “so will you do it?”—heeseung responds with a flat out refusal. nope. no way. nuh-uh.

it’s not like he particularly hates the idea of kissing you, hell, he’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a few (or slightly more than that) times.

but … past experiences have made it plenty clear that the thin line between friendship and something more is delicate. one wrong move, one wrong act, and the entire dynamic could crumble.

when you huffily tell him to forget about it, wanting to keep some face, he immediately protests.

“no wait! just... don’t ask anyone else to do it. if—if it has to be someone, i’d rather it be me.”

before the sentence is even finished, he’s closing the gap between you; hands cautious, touch careful.

heeseung’s lips brush against your jaw first, dipping slightly to the plane of your neck before tracing their way back up. if he has to do this he’ll do it right.

your breath catches and he pulls back, just barely, before looking at you to ask if you really want this. you can only hope the way your hands rest on his shoulder are enough to convey your yes.

zero palpable hesitation, his kiss drips with confidence. like he has a point to prove. like he’s decided that if you are crossing this line, it might just have been waiting for you both all along.

⋅ ˚ ଳ ₊ ‧ others utc

박종성 — ❪ JAY PARK ❫

౨ৎ with one too many jabs about your "inability to pull bitches" and your "lack of rizz" from him, you will definitely be regretting your question within 10 minutes, tops.

because of course jay’s first reaction would be to make fun of the fact that you actually have to stoop to the level of asking him for help.

you try to huffily leave the rooftop at least thrice but he just laughs and tugs you right back to him by your sleeve.

before you know it, almost as if he hadn’t spent the last half an hour now teasing you unrelentingly, he casually leans in.

shifting closer so imperceptibly that you don’t even notice at first, eyes skimming over your features, unreadable smirk ever present as he angles your chin towards him—mumbling a quick “no time like the present, yeah?”—and then he kisses you.

no warning. no build up. just his mouth on yours, his touch patient but deliberate, with him simply choosing to allow his gentle actions to ease you into it.

somehow, the silence letting you get lost in the moment is worse.

심재윤 — ❪ JAKE SIM ❫

౨ৎ when what jake had originally imagined to be an ordinary study session at the library, ends up with you having him pressed up against one of the shelves, he really can’t be blamed for his flustered reaction.

okay, so sure, maybe blushing and bursting into laughter right in your face at you asking him to teach you how to kiss wasn’t the most appropriate response. so, sue him.

and fine, maybe you didn’t mean to let it escalate this much. he’s now visibly bothered, ears pink, and hands twitching awkwardly by his sides. “y-you’re serious about this? really? i just thought—”

you weren’t serious. you swear it. you really only meant to tease him. but then his wide eyes fluttered down to your lips once, twice, and... really how could you be expected to stop after that?

“d'you still find this funny?” you can’t help but murmur, voice barely more than a whisper.

he just stares at you, mouth slightly parted, like he has something to say. you see the exact moment he decides to lean in—tentative, a movement laced with anticipation.

and that’s exactly when you pull back.

“guess you’ll have to take this more seriously next time.”

and then you’re walking off, leaving him standing there—flushed, stunned, and definitely no longer laughing.

박성훈 — ❪ PARK SUNGHOON ❫

౨ৎ winner of the most nonchalant award !! you need help practicing how to kiss? sure. what else are best friends for?

he promises he’ll only be slightly cocky about it. “if you wanted to kiss me all you had to do was ask.”

“i don’t,” you’d shoot back, but the way he has to hide how the corner of his mouth quirks up, shows that he clearly doesn’t believe a word.

you ramble on a little about how this is just to familiarize yourself with the entire process, how it’s overrated and not even that deep—like why does a “first” kiss even matter? it’s literally just a kiss.

all sunghoon responds with is an easy “sure.” like you asked him the time. “c’mere.”

no teasing, no embarrassment. his hands are comforting at your waist and the kiss is slower than you expect. more cautious. when he pulls back, his voice is low, even. too even.

“there you go. you’re not half bad.”

he seems nonchalant, sure, yet... the faint red on his features tells a completely different story.

김선우 — ❪ KIM SUNWOO ❫

౨ৎ “you’re joking, right? Right?.”

sunoo stands up—he did always have a thing for dramatics—like he needs to have free range of motion to be able to process what you just said.

“you,” his fingers points accusingly like you’ve committed a grave sin, “want me,” finger pointing back at his own now pacing figure, “to teach you how to kiss?!”

his conviction is so strong that you almost believe in the sacrilege yourself.

you eventually interrupt him with an airy mention of just "dropping it" because you can always ask someone else.

“do you even know,” he gasps at that, “how easily people could literally take advantage of you if you walk up to them and say that??”

you snort, brushing him off. you’re confident, positive that you can handle yourself.

but when he moves next you hardly expect him to crowd into your space, pinning you against the bed you’d been lazily lounging against.

his lips ghost over yours, not touching but close enough that you can feel the words he says next before you hear them. “confident huh? i guess we’ll see how well you handle this, then.”

safe to say … lesson learnt. (maybe.)

양정원 — ❪ YANG JUNGWON ❫

౨ৎ finding yourself alone on classroom cleaning duty is usually plenty boring. it’s only natural you’d have … some interesting thoughts to distract you from the mundanity of the chore.

but thankfully, your best friend happens to be suffering on duty with you too! what better way to pass time than a quick chat with him?

so when you half jokingly bring up the idea you don’t really expect anything to come out of it.

and the surprisingly positive response you get is, if nothing else, a tad bit unexpected. jungwon almost seems to be a little too thrilled at the prospect. “so,” his face is carefully neutral, but years of knowing him have made you rather familiar to that knowing sparkle in his gaze, “this would purely be for educational purposes?”

you nod, still half thinking this is just hypothetical. he nods back in response.

he moves slowly, like he has all the time in the world, like this is something he doesn’t even have to think twice about.

you find your face cupped in both his hands and all your follow up questions silenced as he presses kiss after kiss to your lips, unorganized desks remaining forgotten.

"i'd hate to get in the way of proper learning, after all." is his only explanation as he lets you up for air (much) later.

西村力 — ❪ NISHIMURA RIKI ❫

౨ৎ it’s actually him who jokingly brings it up.

some offhand comment about first kisses tasting like lemons. when you admit you wouldn’t know, considering you haven’t had yours, he pauses. almost as if considering the logistics of what he’s about to say.

to fill the silence, you add a “you could teach me, you know.” not meaning anything by it at all.

but you can only blink when in a tone that is way too assured he says, “i could.”

“…huh?”

ni-ki has the gall to shrug at that, eyes glued to whatever 2000’s cheesy romcom you’d picked out earlier that evening. he insists you should get some ‘real experience’ and that it’d be a disservice to society (i.e., all the boys you could potentially date in the future) not to help you out.

one would think he's doing you a public service by how much he talks it up.

you roll your eyes, deciding to play along. if he wants to take the joke this far, you might as well get some fun out of it.

naturally, his only way to deal with your unserious attitude is to prove his point.

one short kiss melts into two, three, four—you end up losing count. and frankly, you couldn’t be bothered one bit about it.

his thumb brushes against your slightly swollen lips, stopping you when you chase after his own again, and you almost hate how he seems so composed.

“don’t overthink it.” he says, sealing the words with one last kiss to your forehead, a complete contrast to the earlier rushed ones, “i’ve got you.”

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit @douqhnxtss @soona-huh @amoressb @nicholasluvbot @manariee @rinrinninnin @ddeonuswife @douqhnxtss @lovenha7 @amatabelle @i-am-not-dal @liyahhhh620 @elleetlalune @eunwonji @s0shroe @wensurr ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

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mylovesstuffs · 21 days ago

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OT13 reacting to their s/o watching disney movies

Request: CELESTE MY LOVE HELLO 🫧

i have Thoughts for you ｡ﾟ( ﾟ^∀^ﾟ)ﾟ｡

i just 😭😭😭i’m just a disney girlie at heart 😭😭😭😭😭😭🩷 and i’m filled with wonderful prince dokyeom and prince wonwoo and king scoups and prince jeonghan brainrot thanks to my fyp and i was crying to tangled and beauty and the beast earlier and I JUST-

i need to hear your beautiful wonderful brains thoughts 🥺🥺🥹 WHENEVER TOU GET TIME MY LOVE (。･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

how would svt react to watching disney movies with reader (& reader crying if you wanna be extra, up to you) ╥﹏╥ JST SMTH CUTE AND FLUFFY TO CURE OUR FEELS SJOCJSJDJW

okay i love u always take care of yourself and UNTIL NEXT TIME~

- 🫧

A/N: MY SWEETEST 🫧 HELLOOOOOOO !! Your disney girlie feelings are so valid and BEAUTIFUL, and now I’m crying thinking of you crying over Tangled and Beauty and the Beast. You’ve planted a GORGEOUS idea in my brain and now… allow me to feed you the fluff you deserve

Seungcheol: Beauty and the Beast

You're his arms. If you’re giggling at side characters, he laughs too, because your laugh is his favorite part of the movie. He also watches you sniffle into his sleeve and just pulls you into his arms, stroking your hair like, “I mean I get it… but also… he was hotter as a beast?” Then kisses your head and whispers, “You’re my Belle, though. Always.”

Jeonghan: The Little Mermaid

He’s watching you, not the screen, but you catch him humming Part of Your World days later. When you cry at Ariel losing her voice, he scoffs: “Ugh, tragic. Imagine not being able to talk to me all day.” But hands you a tissue and kisses your damp cheek 🥺 He’s already pulling you into his side, loving every second.

Joshua: Cinderella

He’s smiling the whole time, watching you more than the movie. When you cry at her dress transformation and finally going to the ball, he holds your hand tighter. Later, he says, “I’d fight the entire royal court just to find you, you know?” and you do know he means it. He matches your mood with affection and dreamy smiles. A literal Disney boyfriend.

Jun: Mulan

At first, he’s totally into the action. He’ll ask questions mid-way and get way too emotionally invested. But when you're wiping tears, he squeezes your hand and whispers, “She’s so brave… like you.” You melt. He makes you hotpot after and lets you ramble about honor and sacrifice.

Hoshi: Tangled

He sobs with you. Ugly cries. Ready to fight the animators for hurting your and his heart. Yells “NOOOO” when Flynn gets stabbed. Clutches your arm and whispers, “I want a lantern date too.” Later brings fairy lights and throws a nighty lanterny tangled themed cuddle night.

Wonwoo: Wall-E

Just watches with a soft gaze and smile. His arm’s around your shoulder, thumb drawing small circles. Holds you in his lap while you cry over robots. He brushes your hair back and goes, “Why am I this emotional over a robot?” But he rewatches it later alone. Tells you, “I’d travel 700 years with you too.”

Woozi: The Lion King

Pretends he’s just there because you wanted to watch it, until Mufasa’s death. Then it’s over. You’re sobbing, he’s stiff and blinking fast. Later says, “That’s… not fair…” and you hug him tight. He doesn’t let go for a long time. BUT will not admit he teared up, even though he did.

Dokyeom: Aladdin

He LOVES it. Gasps. Laughs. Tears up. He holds your hand the entire time, clutches it when it gets intense, and probably sings along without realizing it. Pulls you into his lap during “A Whole New World” and softly sings it to you while swaying. When you sob, he panics a bit like, “Are you okay??” Then makes you laugh with his Genie impressions 😔

Mingyu: Frozen

At first he’s like “Pfft this is for kids” but by Do You Wanna Build A Snowman he’s a wreck. Gets way too into the animation or plot. But when you get soft or emotional, he pulls you into his lap and goes, “You okay, princess?” [Yes, he calls you princess. Even if you're not crying.] He tugs you into his side, whispering, “I’d kill a whole kingdom to protect you like Elsa did.” And then tries to braid your hair like hers.

Minghao: Pocahontas

Silent watcher, and very emotionally moved. Doesn’t say much until it ends, and then gives you a long, soft look and goes, “You really love these, huh?” Offers you tea without a word when you cry during. Later paints you a little Pocahontas-inspired landscape and says, “I think your soul is like hers—wild and beautiful.”

Seungkwan: Up

Oh. This man cries first. Yells at the characters like they can hear him. Also: he sobs at the married life montage and looks at you with red eyes like, “Don’t you EVER leave me, okay??” Tissues, forehead kisses, all of it. And then forces you to make a memory scrapbook together.

Vernon: Big Hero 6

Totally cool with it until Tadashi’s death and Baymax’s sacrifice. Then he’s just numb. You’re crying, so he rubs your back, doesn’t say much; just lets you feel it all while being there for you. And then he’s got one tear down his cheek. He just says, “That’s… a lot.” He’s the type to keep watching the credits, processing everything, then builds a playlist of healing songs for you both.

Dino: Moana

He adoreeeees Moana. Excited to watch it with you even if he’s seen it a million times. Reacts genuinely. Glances at you often to see your reactions. Tells you, “I wanna be someone who finds their way like her.” Then pulls you into a hug when you tear up and goes, “Let’s be brave together, okay?”

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nekomanager · 8 months ago

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HOW THEY ARE IN BED ♡ WIND BREAKER

headcanons - ft. suo, sakura, nirei, ume

—[♡] SUO HAYATO

Suo will be extremely doting and perceptive. This one would definitely be stimulating your senses and your feelings 💖. He's so in tuned with your emotions and with what makes you feel good. He is extra slow and very precise it’s almost a place unexplored. You gotta be begging him please. Like a lot. And he'll chuckle in your helplessness finding it cute.

"Fine, you really like it that much, huh?" he'll say with cheeky sweet smile on his face.

He’d see into it that there’s not a significant distance between you and would snake himself around you. Your breaths in each other's lips as he penetrates you deep, the tip of his cock is kissing your womb ever so slightly. Every movement of his lips on your body is a kiss and yes, that sweet sweet mouth never leaves you and here you thought he's only good at talking.

He’s in love with your moans, he hears them as your ‘i love you’s’. Suo would shower you with compliments and he’d say it like he’s breathless over you every time

“Sweet…you’re just so sweet.” he’d tell you whenever he’d get a taste of your skin, your lips or your pussy/dick. But ain’t he the sweetest? His gentle words and profession of love is reflected by how gentle yet firm he holds your hips with every stroke. You feel the intensity of his emotions for you by how he pushes in and out, losing himself into you. Suo's very last cry would be your name and you cradled him to your arms as you drowned in his love. Not to mention, aftercare king.

—[♡] SAKURA HARUKA

Sakura will be intense. There's no other way to put it. He has a tendency to lose himself with all the rough pounding and grinding which will definitely leave marks he'd be proud to have on you. He'll try to pace himself down as there's still that sweetheart side of him that wants to be slow, gentle and affectionate no matter how hard he denies. Because of this shyness, he prefers to take you from behind, at first.

"How're you feeling it, Y/N?! Do you want it harder?!" He grunts, wishing you'd say yes.

If you say yes, well, you'll get what you're asking for, he'll pounce on you, until you feel so full and almost close to sore you're losing your mind. He has a high stamina, he blooms right when he's getting the hang of it, and he just can't seem to get enough once you started it. He gets better and better in making you crazy. He's all or nothing and will pour a hundred percent of himself in fucking you and in spilling all of him inside you, feeling a sense of pride that it was a part of him that's leaking inside your precious little hole.

You can't help but loudly express the overwhelming pleasure he brings you. Your head is filled by the sound of your groaning and your bodies bumping against each other as he grind on you raw.

He is wants to be the best and strongest and he just have the perfect package to make you feel just that. Sakura muffles your scream with a kiss as you scratch his back. As you calmed down together, he held you close in his arms, all wrapped around you like. Then, your eyes met and you know he's down for another again.

—[♡] NIREI AKIHIKO

Nirei will be a big worshipper. This one is down for any kink you want. Roleplay? You got it, honey!

“R-really, you want that? A-are you serious?” his voice gradually diminishing from neurotic to shy.

As long as it doesn't hurt you.

Deep inside though, he is already planning to deliver what you desire. because he’s goddamn prepared. All the time. He got those mental notes of every kink, turn on and sensitive spot you have, and he'll use it to make you feel good.

He’d be your master, your servant…he’d be anything you’d ask him to. Your pleasure is his command. His best role ever. He’s your genie in bed and would grant any of your wishes, constantly asking you if he’s doing it right, do you feel good, and lavishing you with how much he’d do everything for you.

Harder? He’d do it and he won’t stop until he sees satisfaction in your face, in the trembling of your body and in the way you cried out his name.

But if you want the other way around…

This boy won’t hesitate to dominate you if that’s what you like…would even get fired up when he notices your excitement. It’s exciting because you get to see the serious part of him in a pleasurable way. He’d grip on your wrists very tightly until he leaves marks which he will be kissing in the morning, because you want him to do it, right?

He’d tease you, tentatively kissing the inside of your thighs and letting out soft breaths on your most sensitive part, “You want this, y/n? Tell me. Please say it.”

—[♡] UMEMIYA HAJIME

Ume will be very doting matched with his unique gentle firmness. Under his touch, you’re like a moth drawn to a flame cuz he’s blazing with desire all for you it can't be contained. You feel vulnerable and exposed but loving it.

With that unstoppable mouth of his, he’d kiss you in the dirtiest way and would say the dirtiest things.

“Just hear how wet I made you.”

“This feels too good, Y/N. Do you feel it too? Yes? Yes?”

How you’d wish he’d stop talking because it’s making you feel even hotter/harder/wetter, but you cannot help but answer, “Yes! That’s it! That's so good.” God damn, it's just his tongue! And if that isn’t still enough, he feels more energized hearing your intoxicated helplessness.

“Now, we’re going deeper," as he dug deep inside of you, you feel your hole stretching. He burns you in pleasure with every thrusts as your head spin, hazy fire red in your vision. You scream his name as he takes you there. He collapses on you and cuddles.

Looking at you, a smile formed on his face. “You were quite loud back there. It’s cute!”

Your face heats up and it is sure that you’re blushing like hell. It’s his fault!

@pixelcafe-network

#suo smut #sakura smut #nirei smut #umemiya smut #wind breaker smut #wbk smut #suo x reader #sakura xreader #sakura haruka x reader #sakura haruka smut #nirei x reader #umemiya x reader #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #suo head canons #sakura headcanons #nirei headcanons #umemiya headcanons

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yandere-wishes · 11 months ago

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⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Doc-Ringo⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✮ Yandere! Boothill x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: There's a slick black-clad little gal who's been messing with his bounties recently. Boothill's been dying to rustle her up and take a bite

⁀➷ Warnings: Yandere behavior, blood, and gore, war trauma, Genie trying to do a cowboy accent.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺: Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett

And I don't hardly know her,

But I think I can love her,

Ah, now when she comes walking over,

I've been waiting to show her,

My mind's such a sweet thing

I want to do everything

What a beautiful feeling

It's not like the movies, they fed us on little white lies.

~💜

The first time he sees you there's a tempest of bullets rattling off his chest. Metal singing metal, as shells vie for an opening. It's all very lethal,

like the center of a rabid dust storm. Kissing death and sucking in her poison. Boothill can't tell where the bullets are coming from only that there's a dozen at a time ringing over his head. He shields his face with the metal of his forearms peaking through the gap to catch a glimpse of black.

Pure black.

That's the first thing he notices as your frenzy yields, You're clad in black from head to toe, even going so far as to dawn an eerie familiar mask. He's seen this scene play out somewhere before, he just can't remember where. "Morning mister", he likes that voice, jejune and teeming with confidence. It reminds him of himself, back when the sunset used to mean something and he could still feel wheat stocks under his soft palms.

"Howdy lil'lady I reckon you're in my way. Mind stepping aside before you get yourself hurt?" Your answer comes in the form of an aimed pistol, spine straight, midnight serape caught on the wind. He thinks you look a little too much like the folks back home -back when there was a home- blood boiling over eager for a fight. His bounty is standing just over yonder, blocked partly by your stubborn shadow. Boothill doesn't think twice before firing two rounds.

He's met with four...

He's in a cheap motel on Penacony, screwing in bolts that came loose. In the end, you laid claim to his bounty. Dragging him away to the hills. He's left growling at the thought, bested by a muddle-fudging fox. Lil gal probably ain't never even been in a proper shoot-out. The screwdriver cracks under his metal fingers. Boothill ain't about to start letting some pretty little thing get in the way of him and his targets.

The TV screen flickers to a melancholy monochrome. The films are old, distorted, crippled in parts. But he keeps them around, much like everything else about him, it's a bygone thing refusing to die.

He still likes to play them from time to time, trying to elicit the tastes of home. Hearing Nick and Graey setting plates out for dinner as his siblings rush downstairs. The movies are older than the new universe in more ways than one.

They come from a simpler time.

He'd always wondered why someone would bother painting such precious things in black and white. Spilling melancholia into picture frames, leaving everything tasting of vodka and vanilla.

It doesn't matter though, not really. All that matters is the sound of hooves on sand and bullets shooting. So long as the cowboys live their stories, everything else can be forgiven.

But this time something's off. The bandit's black mask shines through, gleaming something awful making him grind his sharp teeth. That damn mask, sitting pretty over a sly smirk. it reminds him of you, little cutie with your slick attitude. What bandit goes around doing hero's work anyway? What kinda twisted little lady are you?

He's getting mighty sick of this. Do you think you own the universe or something? "Been seeing way too much of you lately." There's sand in his Synesthesia Beacon his voice coming out horse, brittle. He kicks the head of an IPC lackey trying to drive home a point. "You getting on my nerves cutie". The ground looks nothing short of a graveyard, bodies scattered some piled. The blood paints the sands in a deep maroon, reflecting the glint of the distant stars. The last soldier is cowering behind you, his whimpers singing in Boothill's ears, one more bullet, that's all it'll take. "This one's mine" you mutter, and he wonders for a moment if the dry weather is getting to you too. "Not a chance pumpkin" his gun's drawn, firing bullets before you can even feel for your holster. The smirking bullet impales your abdomen, aimed point blank at the officer's head. But before the last body can be claimed you kick the man out of the way.

"Damn it" Boothill's anger is tangible, he knows you can feel it between your teeth. He's going to kill you, tear off that star-saken mask, and riddle you with bullets. You're getting too confident.

He doesn't notice your bullets at first. Protostars trying to act all rough and mighty. There's a temporary cluster of dust, a fraction of a second where his eyes aren't pinning you down. That's all it takes and then you're off. Sinking into the darkness and swimming away, taking his target with you.

It's only after the initial anger wears off that Boothill notices a tear on his thigh. A letter scrawled on the frayed leather of his pants. So you've started leaving your own marks, ay cutie?

He almost wishes he could feel the sting of your blade on his flesh. Feel your nails scrapping along his shoulders as he pins you to the ground.

Boothill fires at the moon.

Next time.

Next time for sure....

He's been chasing you for some time now. But catching up with you isn't as easy as he first thought. Seems like you go wherever the wind takes you and he's too busy with revenge to be following your capricious whims. The IPC ain't going to kill itself you know. And Boothill damn well wishes you'd start sitting still. He's heard from a reliable source that the IPC soldiers are throwing a little get to together down in one of the bars. Just a happy birthday for a colleague, nothing fancy. The thought alone makes his mouth water, place will be crawling with pests just waiting to be gunned down. Maybe tomorrow he'll try looking for you again, but tonight? Tonight's his night.

The neons have dulled now, they never were terribly bright to begin with. Penacony may be the land of dreams but not even dreams can stop reality from seeping through. The bar's loud, some new pop singer's music blasting from every speaker. Boothill downs his drink, liking how the ice cubes chime like a bad omen. He shoots the speakers first, needing some peace to focus on what comes next. The peace corp's lackeys are drunk, they stumble over themselves trying to reach him. He shoots each one like a kid playing carnival games. It's almost too easy...

The door is stampeded over by a heard of reinforcements. Somehow even in his drunken daze one of those yella-bellied lapdogs called for help. They're swarming the place like panicked rats, pushing past tables and chairs. Firearms aimed at his head. And for the first time, in a long, long time, Boothill feels a sliver of panic run down his bionic spine.

Motherfudger...

Boothill hears the familiar tumult of bodies hitting the ground before he sees what's actually going on. He feels you before he actually sees you. You're pushed up against his back, guns drawn locked, and loaded. "Heard you needed some help" Even though you offer your usual bravado, Boothill still picks up the nervous lilt in your voice, despite everything he thinks he likes it. It almost tastes sweet. "Best get away before you get yourself hurt little fox." "And let you have all the fun? Never."

"Certe murmur pugnando" Boothill laughs, he remembers those very words coming from a buddy of his before a duel. 'At least we'll die fighting' Somethings never change, even if you've carved out every principle from your body with a rusted kitchen knife. You'll always have those pesky morals stuck inside. He hears you chuckle, wonders if you find it odd that a rowdy galaxy ranger such as himself knows a dead language.

Well, he knows a lot about the dead.

The shoot-out lasts longer than he'd have expected.

But the real surprise lies in how neither of you are dead. Boothill's half laid across the bar, looking at you from under his hat. You're making him a drink following his instruction like a good little wife, not contradiction dressed in ebony. Gunpowder withers on his tongue, the bullet smoke permeates the air mixing with the gleeful tang of spilled blood. "Your drinks sure are complicated" you mutter pushing him his cup before picking up a bottle and reading its labels. "What's so hard about it pumpkin? Little bit of white gem and gin. All's you need." He sips your drink slowly, savoring your flavor. He imagines he's gulping you down, holding you for ransom behind his teeth, feeling your delicate little fists pounding against him. "I don't drink" you mumble as you sit across from him, you look so damn elegant, like a little princess from a fairy tale he use to read to a certain someone. You drink deeply from your glass of ice and water. Boothill focuses on the gentle motion of your throat. He licks his lips, trying to push down the thought of ringing such a fragile thing between his palms.

"So little lady, s'about time you start answering some questions...The hell you doing? Running off with my targets?" You set your cup down, eyes locking on his, there's the deficiency he's missed all night. The trigger hair that's just waiting for the right push. "They're not your targets...not really. They're just people. People whose planet got muffed up. I've been trying to gather them all in one place." For a second Boothill thinks you're talking about his planet, his home, his people. But it only takes one more look at you to understand.

"So, how'd yours die?" There's shrapnel in his throat when he asks, open wounds bleeding once more, filling his throat with bitter memories.

You stiffen, and he knows he's thumbing a broken bone, letting his finger dig between the cracks and snapping their frail linings. "Don't know, wasn't there. All I ever got to see were a few limbs, nothing enough to make a full person." you squeeze the glass until your knuckles turn white.

There's vindication rooted in your veins.

He knows the feeling all too well.

"We ain't so different you and I, reckon we make a pretty good team." His metal fingers lace between your soft skin, tracing the lifelines like an old map.

There's a goldmine hidden behind your lips, he imagines he'll have to kiss you to find the little nuggets. Your lips part, eyes filled with an odd-looking sympathy. What he wouldn't give to feel your plump lips bleed between his jagged teeth. "So..." you ask as his mechanic heart skips a beat. "What about yours?"

You've been laughing for five whole minutes. Boothill shouldn't find the noise as ethereal as he does. His anger lays heavily on his bones, he should be even angrier, lounging a bullet through your thick skull. But he finds the noise a little too perfect to disturb its source. Even if it's only created at his expense. Instead, he has half a mind to slap you, hard enough to shut you u and another to kiss you so hard you forget to breathe. "Damn hell so funny, cutie"

You look at him with those luminous eyes. Filled with pain and riddles. Boothill never did like solving puzzles. He only likes tearing things into bits. He needs you spartan, easy to read and use, and kiss. Not something he needs to piece together first.

"Dear stars you have no freaking idea how ironic you are." You say between bursts of spiteful-rooted giggles.

Why do those words sound so haunting like a ghost kiss? they should open phantom pains, but they sure as hell don't. Why do you always leave his head spinning? Boothill rolls his eyes, then leans over to pull down your mask. You jerk back, rewarding him with a dark grimace. You're out the window before he can ask your name.

"See you next time, cowboy"

"Next time I'm drawing blood"

The moment's over.

Fiddlesticks..

That night, Boothill dreams of you. He's lying in a stiff musty bed. It's too dark, even the moon is scared of showing her face.

Boothill dreams of the old saloons back home. Of their cracked wooden floorboards and the worn-out plush of chairs. In the dreams, you're wearing a black lace gown, like the saloon girls used to. He finds it all too funny that even in his dreams you still haunt him in black. Only now you're smiling, really smiling. Not that sly smirk, or mirthless grin you gave him back in the bar on Penacony. No, this here is a genuine smile and he's damn sure he's the one who put it there. You reach out for his hand, he feels warmth.

His

Yours

The dream is thick and dense like swimming through molasses. In another scene he's dragging you through the old doors, laughing as bullets and card chips hit the floor. There's a horse waiting outside. His horse. At least he thinks it used to be his. He pulls you up roughly in front of him. He's high off the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the rugged reins. High off the steed he holds in a vice grip between his thighs.

He's riding faster than he's ever ridden before, clambering for the sunset trying to engulf the sun. You hold on tight, pressing your cheek to his chest. His heart is beating something fierce between his ribs. He feels like an Aeon watching the universe collapse under his galloping feet.

He feels alive.

With the sun's rays behind you, Boothill could almost mistake you for the star-dwelling angels Nick used to tell him about. There's something poetic in all of this. The cowboy standing off against the black fox.

Dare he call it cinematic?

Boothill creeps closer. Tilting his hat and watching you flash a nervous smile through his lashes. "Volo sentire te inter dentes meos" so you know that dead tongue too. "You will soon darling, that's what I'm hoping for" his reply only dwindles your smile.

He's missed the old duels. Missed staring into the eyes of the one who could kill you. It's all a matter of skill and luck. Whose faster, who the aeon will trust?

Somewhere in the distance, the tumble weeds begin to rattle.

"Now"

His bullet glides through the air, piercing through the dust and sand. Your bullet reverberates from your gun a fraction too late and ricochets past his cheek. Leaving a juicy trail of blood.

But his bullet was aimed at your chest.

And Boothill never misses...

You want vengeance he won't deny you it.

So long as you stay by his side.

He'll tuck you away somewhere safe.

Somewhere you won't be leaving him again.

Boothill cradles your body to his chest. "I promised you blood little fox, and Boothill never goes back on his word." His cheeks hurt from smiling as he lays his hat atop your head. He's Picking you up and walking into the sunset. He knows a good ol'doc who'll patch you right up. And then it's a happy life together.

Well for him anyway.

The end

Taglist: @hihellomy @salhanskkdbfkekfb @gasoline-eater @sp1cym0chi

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yandere-yearnings · 9 months ago

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Know Me Like the Devil Knows My Sins (Loser!Yandere x GN!Reader)

feat. genie's loser yan

♡ oneshot, approx. 1.5k words

♡ post-specific warnings: yandere themes, implied kidnapping, violence, strangulation, implied death

♡ a/n: thank you to @moyazaika for letting me write abt his oc, loser yan!! genie, if you read this, pls ignore the fact that my characterisation sucks ass. this was over 3k but i went back and cut out the waffle bc there was a lot of it lmao, so ig it's technically edited, but not proofread.

♡♡♡

This basement was cold.

Heated blankets and warm meals, however many times a day they were brought to you, didn’t change much. No windows or light for even a semblance of passing time, all you had was the annoying draft that skimmed through the door at the top of the staircase — the one you weren’t allowed near. You wouldn’t have been able to escape even if you wanted to, not with the chain around your ankle. For as free as he tried to make you feel, the heavy metal was a constant reminder that there was no liberty in his love, if it could even be called that.

You were waiting for his return, less because you wanted to and more because it was the only thing you could do other than read the books he’d given you. They were all your favourites, from the stories your mother used to read you as a child to the ones you’d pick up on your way home when you’d grown up. At first, you’d found the thoughtfulness of it endearing, feeling seen and understood and catered to. Somewhere, kept within his walls, you didn’t blame yourself for becoming as delusional as he was.

How could you enjoy anything anymore, with no one to share it with?

Each new day that passed, every page you would read and read again, only accomplished you in realising the loneliness that coiled around you. Second by second, growing larger than your life had been before this. Soon, your loved ones would stop looking for you. Soon, you’d be considered dead — and in death you would be all his. You knew that was what he wanted.

You had made yourself comfortable on the vulnerabilities he presented to you, in the way he shook when your fingers stroked his skin, his shudders at your calling his name. That was all too good to be true. If you had actual control in this, he’d have surrendered to you long ago. You’d been testing it. Playing mind games, pushing limits — he’d shut you down quick, then cover the shrewdness in his eyes with a bashful smile. You were no fool, and clearly he wasn’t either.

Your bitterness surmounted with the echoing of locks clicking open. There wasn’t a need for as many as he had placed to keep you here, you weren’t sure you could even run anymore. You hadn’t used your legs in so long. He’d surely catch you. He’d rip your throat out like he did in your nightmares. You had no faith you wouldn’t become another layer of red on the white paint surrounding. Perhaps you should’ve been thankful, if fear were to be a knife, he’d certainly dulled it for you — slinking in, shoulders slumped and looking as meek as ever. Really, from the first glance, he didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.

“Darling…” there was that tone, demure, like you could do anything to hurt him from your place on this filthy mattress, your place on the floor as he stood above you. Towering. This entire thing felt like a sick joke. You’d once considered there being a chance for you. Hope crumbled just like he did, to his knees to look into your eyes. “I missed you so much today, my love.”

You blinked at him. You knew where this was going.

“I mean- I miss you every day, don’t get me wrong!” Sheepish laughter, twitching fingers — all signs of his wanting your validation. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, not at all. Work has been so hard, and you’re the only thing I can look forward to truly and- and I really, really wanted to come back home quickly and ask if you’d...”

His sentence trailed off, and it took all you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. He wasn’t very creative, that much was obvious. You’d initially chalked it up to some cute sort of performance anxiety that he experienced because he wanted to come off as appealing to you. Now, it had begun to dawn on you that he was simply struggling to keep up the pathetics. As you curled your digits into his hair, as you tugged him closer and let him muffle his weak moan into your neck, you wondered why either of you were bothering anymore. No audience except for the earwigs that crawled about, no one who’d watch this stupid, repetitive show.

“I’ll hold you,” you whispered, tired enough that even your dishonesty could be mistaken as gentle. “I’ll hold your heart. Don’t worry. I know.”

You could feel his lips on your skin, chapped, scraping where he tried to formulate words. You were sure he too felt this warring between the both of you, this constant fight, teasing superiority, challenging who would take the reigns in this sombre dance. Bored out of your mind, anticipating when he’d get tired of you — but you were his infatuation so that could never happen.

“Not enough about me,” he breathed, “my sweetheart, my entire world, you wouldn’t know what I’ve done for you.” His hands dug into your waist where they rested, gripping flesh over fabric like it would give him warmth. It wouldn’t, because it was freezing in here.

“Won’t you tell me?”

Quiet laughter. “You’d be scared if I did.”

“I already am.” Your words made him pull away, made him peer at you with those eyes. You held his gaze. “I already am afraid of you. I already know who you are. Tell me anyway, since-”

“Since you love me.” He interrupted you, finished your sentence with words you had not been planning to utter. He didn’t say it tentatively enough; gave himself away with that and the severe expression on his face that his hair did not hide. It was a shame that now wasn’t one of your better days, lest you’d have heeded the silent warning.

“Since I can’t leave,” you corrected. No energy for even a single ounce of regret, none to even whimper at the violent pressure of his grip on your collarbones.

Sometimes, he’d come to you with blood caked under his fingernails. Sitting there like he was sinless, mouth running for hours about you in every way he could. All your likes and dislikes, all your habits, all your life — as if you didn’t know yourself. Again, those lips were moving, spitting at you like it could quell the anger you could see bubbling beneath the surface.

Your perfect person, he spilled descriptions like the ideals you once had were his intimate study, asking you why. Why wasn’t he enough even though he’s everything you’d ever wanted? When he’d made sure of it? Your chance to answer was taken by lithe fingers on your neck, but if you could, you’d have told him that at its core, it was just that every desire you had, looked like something disgusting on him.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t like you, c’mon,” his words came ringing, buzzing, an entire choir of metal scraping metal underwater, your world spinning and head pressed back into the mattress too fast to stop him from climbing on top of you, “don’t deny your feelings for me.”

Your eyes rolled back and his hold on you only loosened a fraction. Staring at the dark inside your own skull, gasping breaths through bruised tissue. You thought you heard knocking, and surely it’d be death at your door if you didn’t backtrack now, didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, like you had been until you’d lost yourself in your own lies.

Survival instinct should’ve kicked in, but then sight and sound returned to you, and you accepted that you wouldn’t be the hero in your story. You’d get yourself killed, yet, how could you love a man that loomed over you with eyes on fire? He’d burn you up to make it through the winter, and find another once your ashes were blown away.

Even if it made you a villain, drowning in the blood pooling from your ears, you owed yourself your last rasp to him. “I hate you,” broken and choked on tears cutting through the numbness. Your nails clawing everywhere you could reach, on this bed of springs that felt nothing like the one you so desperately wanted to return to, you mourned all you were losing.

Limbs going numb — salt — you’d never see home again.

When under constant observation, there’s only so much one can conceal about themselves. He knew that well. From the pictures of you in his gallery and the endless notes with your name repeated over and over and over — he’d chosen to obsess, and you were forced to, and you became his mirror the longer he kept you. Going mad, crazy, insane because his was the only face you could remember anymore.

You knew his moods from his scent and his needs from his touch, you knew him to the heart of the blank slate he’d always been, you knew him rooted carnally to you because it was the only thing grounding him. He hadn’t needed to tell you anything really, and you didn’t need to push. You knew him like the devil knew his sins.

And he’d take you to hell for it.

#lovelettersfromdar #yandere x reader #x reader #gn reader #yandere oc #reader insert #male yandere #yan x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #gender neutral reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere original character #yandere x y/n #yandere x you

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moonchild9350 · 8 months ago

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Spooktober 2024 Masterlist

Hi hi! Below are the fics that will be released for my first ever spooktober. I will release two fics a week, except for the week of Halloween in which I will release only one on the day of honor. I decided to delve into our deepest psych/horrors since it's spooky time. Specific warnings are listed on the actual fic once released. I'm super excited and hope y'all are too ♡

The Manor

Summary: You're an avid horror fan looking for a thrill. Your boyfriend, Chan, tells you about a house in town that is supposedly haunted. You both decide to explore the house, but you may get more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Chan x fab reader, OT8

Genre: horror, mystery, smut

Fate Within the Depths of the Sea

Summary: Minho is saved by you, a siren, while out at sea. It seems like your fate is intertwined as you both fall in love. However, fate never seems to work out for a pair of star crossed lovers.

Pairing: Minho x Siren gn reader

Genre: angst, smut

Lost in a Dream

Summary: We all love to dream, to escape into a fantasy world. You find yourself trapped in the land of the fairies, searching for a way home. You meet a fairy, Changbin, who can help you find your way back home. But, you soon realize even dreams come with a cost.

Pairing: Fairy Changbin x fab reader

Genre: psychological thriller, angst, smut

Prey

Summary: In a world where vampires and humans coexist, albiet not peacefully, you come to realize everything is not as it seems after meeting Hyunjin

Pairing: Vampire Hyunjin x fab reader

Genre: thriller, fluff, smut

Three Wishes

Summary: You find a vessel one day and unsure of what is it, you take it home. Later, the being within informs you that you get three wishes only to change your fate forever. But, there's no warning to tell you to be careful what you wish for...

Pairing: Genie Jisung x gn reader

Genre: psychological thriller, angst

Chosen One

Summary: You are Felix's chosen one. The one he is supposed to keep safe throughout your tumultuous life. He's never put much stock into mortal beings, but that changes once he gets another chance encounter with you.

Pairing: Angel Felix x fab reader

Genre: fantasy au, romance au, angst, fluff, smut (dubcon)

Spell for Love

Summary: You were given a familiar, Seungmin, long ago to help guide you in your spiritual practice as a witch. Seungmin is your everything, both of you being destined to fall for each other. However, fate has other plans as there's chaos when you both break the rules with your love.

Pairing: Familiar Seungmin x witch gn reader

Genre: fantasy au, thriller, fluff, angst, smut

I'll See you in Your Dreams

Summary: You unknowingly summon an incubus after signing your name in an ancient book. Your dreams will never be the same.

Pairing: Incubus Jeongin x fab reader

Genre: angst, Smut

Annddddd last but not least the suprise collab fic with @jeonginsleftcheek.

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids angst #skz angst #stray kids #stray kids ot8 #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids kinktober #caitlins spooktober

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godnectar · 2 years ago

Note

the new format (?) of ur posts is adorable love love love

tysm sunshine 🥹 still have like,, half of my writings left to edit– 💀 but 'm happy happy it looks nice and u like it 🫶🫶

#nectar's rambling #♡ lovely genie ♡

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mqyra · 12 days ago

Text

aladdin au PRINCE JACKS

PAIRING: Streetrat!Jacks x Mughal!Princess

SYPNOSIS: JJ is a charming street rat stuck in the wrong time period. He can't stand it here. But despite all language barriers, he falls in love with the beautiful Mughal princess, daughter of the Emperor. Stumbling across a magical lamp, that unleashes a myth like no longer: Genie. With the opportunity of arising to get back into the present time with his Pogue friends, he finds himself embarking on a mission to stop the evil sorcerer Jafar and find his way back to Outerbanks. How could he go when he's fallen into the deep end for the Princess? Aladdin AU.

THEMES: Power. Deception. Fantasy. Ambition. Social Class. Inequality. Time Travelling. Freedom. Confinement. Myths and Legends. Rags to Riches. Forbidden Love and Love at First Sight Trope. Emotional Angst. Fluff. Be Careful for What You Wish For. Rebel Princess. Empire, Royalty and Monarchy. Secret Identity. Wishes and Consequences. Adventure. Interracial Couple. 1560's Mughal Empire Golden Age. Ram-Leela / Romeo and Juliet Vibes. Based off of the Aladdin Movie.

MEET THE LOVERS

Princess Soraya ♡ Streetrat Jacks Maybank

Assia the Handmaiden ♡ Genie the "Mariner"

MEET THE CHARACTERS

Jafar, the Royal Vizier and the Main Villian. A man of ambition and manipulation, hungry for power, wanting the Genie in the lamp and trying to get the Streetrat to get his way through that lamp. With his talking parrot sidekick, Iago, the comic relief.

Emperor Akram, Soraya's father and the Emperor over modern day India, Pakistan and Afghanistan, old and wise. Raja, Soraya's tiger and very beloved to her and he's bitter towards Prince Jacks.. like he could sniff his lies out. Abu, Jacks' partner in crime and loyal monkey, always helping him out of trouble.. sometimes is the trouble.

PLAYLIST. MOODBOARD. DRABBLES. ONESHOTS.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

𝐈. Act One World Outside Our Walls Act I, Scene I Telling Our Fortune Act I, Scene II Zapped In

𝐈𝐈. Act Two Cave of Wonders

𝐈𝐈𝐈. Act Three Living Twice

𝐈𝐕. Act Four To Rise is To Fall

𝐕. Act Five The Final Showdown

𝐕𝐈. Act Six Choose Me till The End

CREDITS: @strangergraphics for my golden dividers.

@fae-and-wolf for my teal dividers.

pinterest for the pictures.

TAGLIST: @bbyg4rl @aliyahwritings

DISCLAIMER: All rights are reserved to Disney. The writer does not take ownership of the plots, its original work, lore, characters and settings, respectively used as a basis. These plots and stories are not mine. These stories are a work of fiction, and have no affiliation to the actual characters. Inspired by Disney itself, the use of the Disney Princesses are for entertainment and creative purposes.

NOTES: This is one of the first series of my Princess Diaries folder.

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