#The Yandere Speaks [OOC]

[shrineofprophecy]

I'm glad Vivian turned out to be a normal Phaethon fangirl, who respects their privacy and doesn't get jealous of other people they talk to.

[justicepuppet]

My guess is it's gonna be tsundere before I even do this dere list

[ridiculed-baker]

Attention span was all over the place, but I got drafts done!

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓:Zayne could not contain the possessive need to keep you all to himself, to not let anyone see the most private parts of your being. So if he had to convince you to let him perform your routine gynecological exam, then so be it. 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗:Zayne (Love & Deepspace) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙:1.2k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘:Fem!ReaderxZayne. ⚠️NSFW Dark Content⚠️.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:Pussy inspection, yandere themes, fingering, depraved thoughts, possessive behavior, praise, degradation, dubcon, medical malpractice, sexual coercion, power dynamics (kinda?), doctor/patient play.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: It's time to get this shit started!! (•̀ᴗ•́)و Welcome to the first official post of my kinktober. We're starting off strong of course with a character I've never written before, oops. So I do apologize if Zayne is a wee bit ooc. That being said, I hope you enjoy and I'll see you in the next one! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ᵕ`∩꒱ྀིა See full kinktober master list here.

 Zayne typically didn’t perform this kind of examination, he was a surgeon not a gynecologist. However, the mere idea of anyone, even another medical professional, having access to your most intimate places was enough to make his skin crawl. This profound possessive energy he felt when it came to you was not something he was familiar with but he couldn’t contain himself. So here you sat, legs in stirrups, knees locked together as much as possible, shy for Zayne to see your most intimate areas. He had to swallow a chuckle, the stirrups making it impossible for you to try and hide yourself from him. He eyed you as he slid the latex onto his digits, sitting on the chair in front of you and rolling until he was positioned between your legs. He hummed lightly, a cold hand sliding up the warmth of your thighs, parting what you could close of your legs to expose yourself to him.

“Relax, it’s just a routine exam, it’ll be over before you know it.” His voice was calming the low baritone soothing but holding a sternness that had you complying under his touch. Zayne was grateful he was sat at a lower level, your eyes also being transfixed on the ceiling, because if you spared a glance you might have caught the way he needed to adjust himself in his slacks. The sight of your glistening pussy was enough to have his cock stirring. He cleared his throat, focusing at the task at hand. “I’ll be inserting my fingers, they may be a bit cold due to the lubricant.” He tried to keep his tone professional and tried to keep the desperation from his tone.

He felt like an animal being held back on a tight leash. The urge to thrust his fingers in your tight heat, to lean forward just a bit and finally get a taste of you. The number of times he craved to be in a similar position, the countless nights he had fisted his cock as the thought of feeling you around him was mortifying. As his first digit slipped past your entrance he swallowed a groan. Your walls welcomed him fully, practically sucking in his digit with your tightness. He wasn’t sure if it was his own desire speaking or if you were wet enough without the lubricant for his fingers to ease inside of you. He catches it, the sharp inhale. he deludes himself into thinking that it's in response to the stretch that his fingers provide and not the temperature of his digits. He slides in a second digit, your walls hugging his fingers tightly. “I need you to relax, you think you could do that for me?” His voice is gentle, your tightness indicative of being tense.

“But I am relaxed, Dr. Zayne.” The words fall from your lips without hesitation, being sincere in their delivery. Zayne blinked to himself, you couldn’t possibly be his tight. He chanced his words hopeful tone forced to be swallowed. “So are you always this tight? Would you say you are active in your sex life?” He watches between your knees as your face flushes, sparing a glance between you legs had been a mistake. Seeing him looking up at you between your thighs, while his fingers were knuckle deep inside you, caused an involuntary clench of your cunt. Sucking his fingers in deeper as if begging for more. “Well, I..” Your voice trails off, embarrassed to say your last partner had been quite some time ago, since you had rekindled with Zayne, if you were honest.

Zayne it seems senses your words you were grateful you didn’t have to continue. However, that gratefulness is replaced with mortification at his following words. “With how, well, responsive you’re being I’d say it was quite some time since you have taken a partner. That kind of sexual deprivation could cause a build-up of frustration and tension, its not good for your evol.” Zayne offered a pensive sigh, trying to make it as believable as possible that this was in your best interest for your health. “The best course of action would be a stimulated orgasm, to release some of that tension.”

The way Zayne spoke, so certain and absolute, had you believing that this was the only course of action to assist with your issue. And you’d be lying if you hadn’t imagined this exact scenario while at home with your own fingers buried in your depths. “Whatever you think is best, you are the doctor afterall.” Your voice quivered albeit nervous as his fingers began to move, hoping this meant more than just a routine exam to him. Though you must admit, you’ve never heard of this type of treatment ever taking place. Even Zayne himself was doubtful you would fall for his ruse, but he also was hopeful you’re agreeance was because it was him. He knew he was right to think no one else should this exam, not when you were so easily goaded into following his instructions. “Yes, just like that, you're doing so well for me.”

His fingers set a steady pace from the beginning, pumping in and out of your walls easily and without resistance. He took the thumb on his free hand, his tongue swiping across the latex covered digit to act as lubricant, not that it was truly needed, before using it to rub tight circles on your clit. He relished in the sounds that slipped from your lips, the cry of “Dr. Zayne” reaching his ears and making his cock throb against the confines of his scrubs. Unable to qualm his desire any longer he groaned. “My apologies, snowflake, this is going to be very unprofessional of me.” His voice came out husky, dripping with need as he leaned forward, replacing his thumb with his tongue.

He tries and fails to swallow the groan as he finally takes you against his tastebuds after yearning for longer than he is proud to admit. His wet muscle moves in time with his fingertips as they work in tandem to bring you to release. He takes his now free hand, applying pressure to the patch of skin below your belly button. The added weight of his hand makes it feel as if his fingers are pressing impossibly deep, your head being thrown back, making the parchment covering the seat crinkle, alerting yourself just as to where you both were. Even if you wanted to protest or express concern that anyone could walk in, your voice dies in your throat cut off by a moan as the pads of his fingers find that oh so delicate spongey patch within your depths.

Your receptiveness to his touch has him abusing that spot, picking up the speed at with he lapped at your clit until your hips bucked against his face riding out the waves of your orgasm as much as the stirrups would allow. He allows you a moment of reprieve, watching as you res against the seat, chest rising and falling to catch your breath after the intense orgasm. “Now, we’ll continue with the examination whenever you’re ready.” He speaks, wiping your juices from his chin, as if he hadn’t just eaten your cunt. “Though I will recommend you come visit me again to release some of that built up tension, cant have one of our best hunters out of commission now could we?” if you hadn’t know any better you would have sworn there was a curl to his lips and a wink thrown in your direction. But, hey, who were you to disobey the doctor's orders?

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘. 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖜𝖎𝖋𝖊 @eevees-hobbies 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊, 𝕴 𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖇𝖇! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @serendipitous-fernweh @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[yurunivo]

Hello! I really love you self aware idea! Can you please make another part? This time Can you focuse more on Mavuika and the Creator!Reader (Gender Neutral),please? (Also om how the other archons and Neuvillete would be trying to search for the reader and maybe using other organizations to help the search) if not please feel free to ignore this. Have a wonderful day!

This is my first time getting a request! Hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: hanging out with Mavuika! (And the other nations' planning to reach you) part 1 part 3 part 4

TW: Mavuika and reader's relationship is implied romantic but can be read as platonic, OOC, yandere, SAGAU imposter au, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, not beta read

Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader (again can be seen as romantic or platonic), yandere Archons + Neuvillette x reader

Cleaning at bars was a tedious job. It was easy, sure, but it got boring at times. Customers always made the day fun with their gossip, so you leaned into that. It could've been something simple, like how their boyfriend cheated on them, but it was still more entertaining than mopping the floor.

However, there was always one customer every night that you were looking forward to meeting.

Always clad in a mysterious cloak that made them look like a runaway, blazing bright eyes and red hair.

It was Mavuika.

She came a bit later than usual. You decided not to worry, Archon duties are a lot after all. Yet, she came anyway, dressed the same as before. The cloak was a bit messily put on, so her hair was still visible. You sighed as you left the place you were cleaning and went up in front of her.

"You didn't have to come y'know," you fixed her cloak to hide her hair, yet she only smiled at you.

"I insist," she only replied back. You rubbed your temples at the stubborn woman. Seriously, shouldn't she be busy with work or something?

She seemed to be eager to tell you something, considering how she was holding your hand. You raised an eyebrow at her as you gestured her to speak.

"Well, want to combat practice with me later, (fake name)?" Oh no. You didn't know how to fight! Sure, you did fight against the abyss, but you barely managed to survive!

But you only nodded. Declining now would only make her suspicious, even though the fact that you were being chased around without fighting back was suspicious enough. But, you'll find out a reason later, for now, all you had to do was agree.

"Sure, but only at my day off. Maybe the day after tomorrow?" You were trying to find a lie to tell her then, but for now, you hid your feelings with a smile. She nodded, looking content with your answer.

"The day after tomorrow it is."

Your hands were uncomfortably sweaty.

The day after tomorrow being right now, you had to tell Mavuika as quick as you could to not gain suspicion. Telling her you got isekai'd from another world was obviously not an option, but you had already prepared something in your head. It was similar to the isekai idea, but it's much more believable. The execution was the only problem.

You were at the outskirts of the Scions of Canopy, where Kinich lived. She came 5 minutes later and greeted you with much courtesy.

"Hope I didn't make you wait for long (fake name)," she told with a bit embarrassment. You shrugged her off.

"It's fine Mavuika, and you can just call me (name)," you replied back. You mustered up the courage to tell her your reason not to fight. But before that, you had to ask her just this one thing.

"How did you know that I was the creator? I don't think there was any part of me that stood out," you were interested to know, after all you thought that you hid yourself very well.

She all but smiled as she pointed out the grass behind you.

"The creator is connected to Teyvat, so everything would bloom in their wake. Since you were in the nation of Pyro, where I'll know everything that's going on, it was quite easy to find out." You looked behind to see beautiful flowers right behind you. You were shocked to see this many flowers in one trail. Wait, then why did the other Archons not realize that you were the creator? Eh that doesn't really matter, what matters was that you were here with Mavuika, safe and sound. But, you took this revelation to gift her something.

You took a flower from the trail. Mavuika was interested to see what you were doing, but you hid it from her. Using the flowers and leaves, you created a flower crown for her and put it a top her head. You smiled, she did too.

"Thank you (name)," she laughed softly. But now you had to explain the fighting part. You sighed as you contemplated.

"Err, Mavuika, I actually don't know how to fight.." You mumbled and cursed your self for it. She looked surprised.

"Why not?" She asked again. You felt embarrassed for having to say the reason. You took a deep breath and prepares to say why.

"I'm.. Not the creator. Like the original one. I'm a reincarnation of them, I have no idea how to fight not do I know anything about the past," you breathed out, cringing at what you just said. However all she did was look at you with understanding, after all, she knows the pain of reincarnation.

"It's fine! But do you know anything about the previous creator then?" She asked curiously, to which you shook your head. She hummed. She got an idea to improvise, it seems like.

"How about I teach you then?" Huh?! This wasn't going as planned! You didn't want to fight at all.

"T-that's not needed, I'll j-just waste your time," you tried convincing her, but she didn't budge. Eventually though, you reluctantly agreed. She smiled and thanked you for allowing her to help.

"Just try to imagine yourself using Pyro abilities, you'll get the hang of it later." You were really trying. The amount of stress that you had to not burn yourself to death was enough to actually kill you. Still, you trusted Mavuika and her abilities, so you tried anyway. You tried and tried and tried, but nothing really came. You were visibly disappointed, but Mavuika tried to encourage you.

"How about this, you imagine something you don't like, and try to use your emotions to drag your Pyro ability out," she suggested. You seemed to find this useful, so you tried it.

Closing your eyes, you thought of something terrible happening, and instead of seeing the imposter hunt that you very despised, you instead saw Mavuika.

You were being hunted down, sure, but what was most important was that she was getting punished by the Archons for not giving up the imposter. Her face was battered and bruised, and she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness. You watched in horror, and tears started to well up in your eyes. This couldn't be! Unfortunately, you were crying in real life too, and Mavuika realized immediately.

"Okay, uhh, you don't need to think about it now," she tried comforting you, bringing you in an embrace to calm you down. Once you came back to reality, your eyes were puffy, and your face was red.

"... Sorry, can we do this another time?" You sniffled, still holding her. She was warm, and you found your self drifting to sleep. She sighed as she picked you up.

"Of course, just don't overdo anything, kay?" She smiled warmly, brushing the tears from your eyes. She wrapped you in a cloak, getting ready to start camp.

Neuvillette contorted his face in disgust. The waters tasted disgustingly sweet. The creator's happiness with another person, likely an Archon. But the waters then tasted bitter, from the creator's sadness.

If only he could just drag you out of that place and keep you for himself, but no. He'll need the help of the other nations to do so, so he sucked it up and left the Palais Mermonia. He visited Furina, just checking in on her before leaving. He'd leave some of the work for Clorinde to do, he trusted her enough to do that anyway.

Reaching the imposter's throne room, there was a long sitting area where the rulers of the nations were there. Only the Cryo, Pyro and Anemo Archons weren't there, but the acting grandmaster came for Anemo, and the director of the Fatui Harbingers came for Cryo. The Geo Archon returned to his status as the God of Contracts, and the Electro and Dendro archon were sitting in their own seats. The imposter was on the creator's throne. They were dead, blood seeping out of their head. Their expression was one of shock, as he could vividly remember the day the Geo Archon killed the imposter.

A seat was vacant. He clenched his teeth at the mere thought of the Pyro Archon. He'd get you back from her, no matter what it took.

"We all know that the creator is in the nation of war, Natlan. However, since the neither of us know its weaknesses besides the Pyro Archon being a human, we need to create a plan to ambush the nation," Jean spoke up. Everyone in the room nodded along with her, too obsessed to notice their wrong doings. However, there was one who objected to this clause.

Nahida raised her hand to interrupt Jean, turning all eyes on her.

"You all chased down the creator like a rabid dog, and now you're trying to kidnap them to do a job that they don't want? What kind of leaders are you? The creator was in Natlan for a few months by now, and since they're not leaving, they are probably enjoying a better life there than your own selfish desires," she objected.

Neuvillette all but admired the young Archon. Despite being small and weaker than the others, she still had the bravery to stand against everyone. However, this was one thing that he didn't agree with. He just stayed quiet though, waiting for someone to object the small Archon.

Raiden did. The God of Eternity looked at Nahida with disdain, preparing to answer the deity.

"And how are you so sure that the creator is having a better life in Natlan Buer? For all we could know, they could actually be running around the vast nation. And, you are one of the younger Archons after all, what use does your words have?" She asked coldly. When she was about to respond back, she got interrupted.

"It is settled, we shall find the creator in Natlan, no questions," the God of Contracts added in. Nahida couldn't speak now. After all, what power does she have to a much more experienced God?

Neuvillete glared at the Archons.

"Whoever shall get the creator first will be the one to solely have the creator in their nation," Neuvillete furrowed his brows at the Archons. They did the same, but still agreed to the conditions, not really thinking of what you want.

Now, all the leaders were going back to their nation, telling their line of military to get prepared. They had to have you all for yourself, and they will do anything for it.

Done! Hope you enjoy!

[love-toxin]

Godslayer -> Phainon

(cws: yan!phainon and probably ooc, gn!darling, very elaborate kidnapping, amphoreus story spoilers, brief mild violence, brainwashing, phainon's a lowkey perv, guilt tripping, gaslighting/manipulation, mild nudity) word count: 4.3k a/n: @yandere-romanticaa ding ding! i'm ringing the dinner bell darling <3 (also yes i wrote this specifically bc of u teehee)

“Then it's settled,” Aglaea declared with a disarming smile on her cold lips. “The Trailblazer will remain here as collateral, while you two head back to the stars.” 

Caelus and Dan Heng both looked between themselves, and then back at you uneasily. Not even your own smile could quench their anxieties, but this was a necessary evil that you were willing to lay yourself at the mercy of. 

The demigod leader of Amphoreus didn't trust you nor your fellow Trailblazers, at least not enough to keep your secrets of the worlds beyond the stars to yourselves after your companion's little incident. They needed to return–Caelus for the Stellaron that he housed inside him, and Dan Heng for his lineage, his knowledge and experiences the Astral Express crew needed to continue their venture. But you?

You were an old dog by this point. Too many adventures had left you tired and lagging behind the younger ones, and there was no feat you could perform in battle that the others couldn't achieve ten times over. Your wisdom couldn't touch that of Himeko or Welt, and you couldn't even carry the mood like Pom-Pom or March 7th. After your journey to Penacony, the crew even had the Memokeeper and Sunday to add to their ranks, and the cars were getting busy nowadays. The truth was there even if they didn't want to admit it.

Nobody needed you. They had all grown up and branched out, and your tending wasn't a necessity anymore. And more importantly, Aglaea demanded a peace offering to ensure that the Astral Express would keep the existence of Amphoreus to themselves. Though both boys offered themselves up like lambs, you knew better than either of them that they weren't destined for the slaughter quite yet. 

You ushered them away, kept the goodbyes brief; Caelus took one last photo of you for March, and Dan Heng pulled you into an unexpected hug, to whisper a promise that they would come back for you in your ear. You patted his arm, knowing he shouldn't be deterred lest he be forced to show his real emotions about your departure, and simply reassured him that there was no need to rush. You would be well taken care of, even if at the back of your mind you knew it was in captivity. As the two young men took their leave and watched you disappear as they hurtled back into the sky in their car, the urge to spread your wings and follow them welled up inside you–but it was swiftly and staunchly quelled as you were led to your quarters, where you would while away an unfathomable string of days with a new, hollow world ahead of you. 

Although you didn't know him well, you grew to like Phainon as you adjusted to your new home. 

The white-haired boy was seemingly on the younger side, though he held a calm serenity about him that spoke to years of hard-fought battles. He didn't come to visit often, only on rare occasions, but he brought gifts when he was able and he was a welcome source of companionship, even on days where he was more quiet than friendly. Aglaea's warnings about you ensured that the people of Okhem kept their distance, which was useful to keep your vow, but dreadfully lonely. When Phainon arrived, he would tote along all manner of things to entertain you: a jug of wine, a puzzle box, bits of seaglass to decorate your balcony, bread, salt, things you neither needed nor asked for but he brought nonetheless. He once brought you a kiss on the cheek but you both refrained from speaking about it since–with you hoping it was merely a cultural oddity–and sometimes, he would bring you a little carafe of oil and leave it in some conspicuous place for you to find. 

Why a man as handsome as he was–and a hero no less–would seek refuge with you was…uncanny. Strange. It wasn't as if Phainon had eyes for you and nobody else, in fact he often barely looked at you at all, even when he came knocking on your door. But he was steadily encroaching on what little space you had for yourself, and despite finding it unnerving, you never asked him to stop to his face. You didn't even tell Aglaea about his visits at all, though you were sure she must know. 

It was the day he visited you in your quarters and asked outright if you needed more oil that things finally came to a breaking point. You asked him, point blank, what he intended you to use it for. And his answer was as blunt as you expected it to be.

“For you.” His blue eyes caught the light and shimmered, much like the shallow water of your bath where he was lounging while his clothes hung on the chaise nearby. Most citizens of Amphoreus were free-spirited enough to attend the public baths nude, but to have a man you barely knew strip himself down in your chambers was something else entirely. He did so on rare occasions, yet he still never acknowledged it nor your reluctance to join him. 

The quiet, peppered only by the soft splashes of water feeding into the bath from the miniature fountain, hung like a heavy pendulum that could barely swing. Phainon's crystalline eyes bored into you for once as you lounged stiffly in the chaise beside his belongings, and you felt a distinct shift take over the air. 

“Your friends won't be coming back.” He murmured. He slowly stood from the bench while the water cascaded down his rippling musculature, your gaze averted in an instant despite him making no move to cover himself. He had no reason to be ashamed, but even as he took slow steps towards you–drip, drip, dripping on the marble floor–you steeled your nerves and avoided peeking even out of pure curiosity. Especially because, due to his brazen nature as of late, it seemed as though he wanted you to look. “They will never be allowed to approach Amphoreus again.” 

He didn't need to tell you that for you to understand the reality. You weren't an evergreen adventurer; you were a Trailblazer, a seasoned veteran of the stars, and with the freedom of your exploration you knew fully well the consequences could be as dire as the pain of death. Finally turning your head towards him, you locked eyes with those endlessly blue ones and got to your feet to match him. 

“The Astral Express never abandons its crew. They may venture on, and Amphoreus may crumble while they're away,” A light flickered to life in your eyes that he could see, and his breath hitched despite him being the one that was so bold. “But they'll come back to find me. They always do.” 

“Aglaea's pact stands.” He rebutted, his brow furrowing. “They won't be allowed entry. Even if I have to intercept them myself, I will, under her order.” 

“They don't need your permission.” You answered in kind, reached down to the chair beside you, and threw his clothes carelessly at his chest. “Get dressed, and get out.” 

“Kick me out, and I won't be back again.” Now his teeth made an appearance, glaring scornfully at you in a manner much more akin to a villain than the hero he proclaimed he was. “See how long you last alone. I was doing you a kindness.” 

“Do me a greater one and leave. Your presence alone pisses me off.” 

His breath caught in his throat at your insult, but his anger evaporated as if it were a ploy all along. Phainon suddenly looked frightened, anxious, as if he was hoping his bluff would sow enough doubt in your mind for you to plead with him to stay. Now, he seemed altogether out of place, shifting weight from foot to foot while you made your way out to the balcony and took in a breath of fresh air. 

After several minutes of fabric shifting and the clicking of buckles and buttons, your door creaked open and shut as you were finally left on your own. The polished stone cooled your arms as you leaned against the railing, and peered out over the lively streets of Okhem with a longing ache for home. 

Despite the confrontation during your last meeting, it didn't take very long for Phainon to come knocking on your door again–less than a week had passed since you threw him out. After a few days of him trying to gain entry to your dwelling and being turned away, he started bringing gifts again. Every time you refused them he left them sitting by the door, a pile steadily growing over the days and weeks that followed. 

Aglaea questioned them only once when she came by for a rare visit, but your mild answer at the time seemed not to satisfy her. Even so, she only glanced at the stacks of wilting flowers and jugs of stale wine briefly before attending to the business she had with you. 

About a month had passed since your interaction when you came home to your quarters, fresh off a walk supervised by two guards as per usual, and found Phainon waiting for you on your balcony. He was fully dressed this time, thank the aeons, but the kicked puppy-dog look on his face immediately soured your mood. He held not a flower nor a loaf of freshly baked bread in his hands, but a book. One you hadn't seen in a long time. 

Despite your better judgement you approached the people's hero, and he held out the leather-bound bundle of pages and letters for you to gingerly take from his hands. 

“I found this at the crash site, where you and your comrades first landed.” There was no need to flip through it, you were already readily familiar with this precious treasure. It was your diary, stuffed full of memories from years of trailblazing…it was something you thought you would never see again after losing it in the explosive collision. Your fingers mindlessly traced the etchings in the leather that Welt had spelled out in your name, while the slightly askew binding was the work of March and Dan Heng's dogged collaboration. The pages had been scented with flower oils from Himeko's prized collection and stamped with Pom-Pom's paw print; it was a gift from the Astral Express for a birthday that had long passed, one that marked so many years of adventuring with the steadily-growing crew. It was a memory of happier times, and aside from the lightest bit of scorching around the edges of the cover it was still intact. 

Phainon cleared his throat, having watched you stare down in deep contemplation at the book. “I take it this is special to you?” 

“Yes,” You answered, finally lifting your head to look at him. “I don't know how you found it, or why, but you have my thanks for returning it to me. This is…very special, indeed.” The sickening, hollow feeling of homesickness set in again as you tenderly laid the diary down on your side table to keep it out of reach of any more danger. 

“Well, I brought it as a token.” Phainon declared, and straightened his posture subtly as he clasped his hands together before him. “You have a duty to assimilate into Amphoreus’ culture, but I imagine it'll be difficult if you cannot confront your past, first. Hence why I went out of my way to retrieve it for you.” 

His words put a bitter taste on the back of your tongue. Confront your past? Something about the way he said it, with such imminent finality, put you ill at ease and drew you to turn and face him with half a scowl already brewing. Phainon seemed to sense it in an instant but only appeared more determined. 

“If you think I'll be throwing this into the fireplace, you're abysmally wrong.”

“I wasn't expecting it to be that dramatic,” He sighed, though your stout rejection put a pout on his lips. “But yes, I do think you should get rid of it once you give it one last read.” 

Here we go again. “I have half a mind to hit you over the head with it. Are all the heroes of this world as arrogant as you?” 

“Let me be very clear with you-” 

“Enough of this.” Cutting him off abruptly was the only way you could imagine saving yourself from more of his drivel. 

“-I'm trying to help you!” But he continued, the prim and calm façade cracking as he grew increasingly irritated with your interruptions. “Don't mistake my kindness as anything else! If you just listen to my proposal-”

“Proposal?” You scoffed. “Tell me you mean something else.” 

“What I meant is what I said.” He growled. “You are, by divine rights, mine. You're just fortunate that I possess some self-restraint, and haven't forced you to accept that against your will.”

“Have you lost your mind?” With a shake of your head, you brushed him off conpletely. “What delusion has possessed you to think that I'm in any way yours?” 

“Because I claimed you!” He finally burst out. “When Aglaea told us you would be exiled, I begged her to allow you safe haven. I promised her that if you were here, that if I could keep you, then I would gain the strength to slay Nikador myself–to slay any god that stands in my way!” Phainon's voice rose to a tremoring bellow, his blue gaze nearly bordering on a scarlet glare as his eyes pierced into your very soul. In that moment he was no man, but a terrifying, hysterical beast that roared so fiercely he left the silence shaking afterwards. 

“You aren't here as collateral damage. Make no mistake–you are here for me to claim, as your husband.” His words resonated off the polished walls, overwhelmed the soft bubbling of the bath and the breeze that blew in from the beautiful, blue sky beyond your balcony. 

Phainon’s outburst left you aghast; had he always been such a selfish and arrogant hero, or were you simply blind to it up until now? “I am no such thing, and I never will be.” You seethed. “Get the fuck out of my room.” 

“Fine.” He took several steps forward and latched on to your wrist, his grip so tight it threatened to break you. “But you're coming with me. I've had enough of this charade–I won't entertain your childish rejection any longer.” 

You yanked your arm from his grasp to stumble backwards, and your eyes flicked towards the door. Phainon took a step before you even worked up the courage to sprint, and when you did, he threw his weight into you to take you off your feet with ease, and flipped you down on to the floor, his hand twisted in your hair and your cheek pressed to the cold marble. 

“...I love you, can't you see that? You're the one I love!” He cried out, his knee digging painfully into the small of your back as you struggled. Clearly he took your attempts at escaping him as an insult, and freshly infuriated, he gripped you harder by the hair and pulled you up to meet your ear with his lips. “I need you. I need you, or nothing else matters. I don't care about the gods anymore-” His teeth grazed your ear and he bit down hard, the blood fueling his hunger with the smallest taste of it on his tongue. ��-But I need to become one so I can protect you. My world.” 

“You're…You're out of your mind,” Phainon scoffed at your gasp for air, at the insult that you thought would hurt him, and does. “..Your gods are nothing compared to the aeons. You're just a sheltered little boy, you don't scare me.” -Which was a lie, because he scared you–he scared you a lot. 

“You will change your tune with time.” He muttered back with one last dab of his tongue on your bleeding cut. “I tried to ease you into loving me, but you just can't get over that wretched simple-mindedness of yours. We'll have to work on that before the ceremony.” With one last hard squeeze, he finally dropped your head from his grip and let you slump, pained, to the ground. As he stood, you lashed out and tried to sweep his leg out from under him, but he avoided it with ease and just glared down at your pathetic form. 

A soft knock at your door brought the tension to a halt; you raised your head, hopeful, yearning for whoever was opening your door to see Phainon's cruelty and save you from it. The long, white locks of Castorice, the mortician whom you didn't know very well, floated through as she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. The hope was quick to drain from your spirit as she walked over to Phainon and looked down on you with him, the two of them speaking in hushed whispers with each other without ever sparing you a glance. 

“C-Castorice-” Finally, she turned her icy gaze towards you and stripped away your defenses with nothing but her chilling, near-demonic aura. Your body started growing cold, and Phainon murmured some false reassurance, but you couldn't hear anything but your own heart thumping as the rest of the world froze out of your mind. Eventually, all the connection you shared was the heavy stare Castorice held with you, before she raised a finger and hovered the tip of her nail above your forehead. 

“It will be painless.” She whispered in an echo of a thousand voices. The press of her finger to your skin was unbearably frigid for only a moment–and then, in the silence, your heart ceased its reckless beating in your ears while the world turned cold and black.

“Phainon! Phainon's back! C'mooon, hurry up!”

“Okay, okay!” You laughed as you were dragged along by the gaggle of children at your knees. The kids were high-spirited in the face of any circumstances, it seemed like, but even moreso when their favourite hero was returning from an epic journey. 

Phainon, the white-haired hero of Okhem and beyond, was the subject of many stories and whispers between the people of your city–and for good reason. He was a kind, fair, and loving man who was as friendly as his wit was quick. Even when hanging around Mydeimos, who was a characteristically brutal man with a near-nonexistent sense of humour, Phainon could make light of any situation and see the good in any person he met. 

It was no secret that he was popular with the ladies too, for all those reasons and even more. You could go to any corner of the city and find a man swimming in muscles, you could find confident men and smart men and ones who were as handsome as the gods themselves. But Phainon had every piece of that puzzle and it made him irresistible to just about everyone that met him. And of course, that included you, too.

You had a special connection with Phainon that, despite contradicting your rather simple existence in Okhem, acted as a source of jealousy for the hero's other admirers who hoped to be noticed by the endlessly charismatic (future) godslayer. Before you'd settled into your life in the city, something awful had befallen you that, to this day, you had no memory of. In fact, your memories from before the incident were all bleary and incomprehensible; your first moment of waking up had been spent in agony, your body aching as you'd been caught and wounded in the midst of a skirmish with Nikador's forces. In the fire and chaos that ensued, you were certain you were going to die, frightened and alone. But before you could, a man with snow-white hair had appeared and slayed the enemies pursuing you–and from that day on, it was history. 

Phainon had been your hero when you needed him most, and now, you had a second chance at life because of his bravery. As the kids dragged you to the bathhouse, you stumbled somewhat but still maintained your cheerful demeanour–it was only when you got to the top of the steps that the waterfall parted on its own, and the man himself stepped out like a god emerging from a sacred lake. The kids rushed him, he laughed and humoured their excited questions, but through it all he had his attention focused on you until he could manage to part the youngsters and make his way to where you stood. 

“I missed you,” He grinned, and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. You'd always thought it was an odd greeting for friends, but once Castorice gently informed you that it was simply the custom of Phainon's people, you accepted it without batting an eye. “I hope the children haven't worn you out while I've been gone.”

“You worry too much.” You returned his smile and patted one of the young ones who hadn't left your side, her eyes wide and sweet as she clung shyly to your leg. Phainon had helped you get a job working with the children of Okhem as their mentor, and as tiring as it could often be, there was no greater sight than seeing the new generation flourish under your care and gentle countenance. Besides, Phainon took so well to the little ones–you had no doubt that fatherhood was one of the many goals he strived for. 

“May I have a moment alone with your teacher, little one?” He knelt down and asked her kindly, his confident yet gentle tone easing her off of you while you directed her to go play with the other children in the baths. Phainon was quick to lead you away from the other admirers fiending for his attention around the entrance to the bathhouse, into a quiet alley where few people would eavesdrop on your conversation. From his sleeve he produced a small, yellow flower, and your cheeks warmed as he delicately pressed it into your palm as a gift. He always brought home little trinkets like this, and you treasured each and every one of them as they granted you a lingering sense of nostalgia. 

“Oh, this is lovely, Phainon.” You sighed with reverence, clutching the flower to your chest. “Thank you. I hope you didn't strain yourself just to get a gift for me, you know you don't have to.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “It's because I love seeing how happy they make you. I love yow grateful you are for my gifts..” He trailed off and stared deeply into your eyes, a question pressing at his lips. “I have something to ask you, my sweet.” 

“You do?” He nodded. Phainon plucked the flower from your hands and tucked it behind your ear, before taking both your sweaty palms in his and getting down on his knees.

“You see, I…I've been in love with you since the day we met. Since the first moment I watched you stagger out of that ship-” Wait…what? “-I knew you were destined to be mine.” 

“You..?” As tempted as you were to ask what he meant, what ‘ship’ he spoke of, you let him continue. And how fortunate it was, as Phainon took it as a sign that his wooing was in full swing, and beamed up at you with the most glorious joy.

“Yes! Yes, I do. I want only to give you a comfortable life–I want to part the clouds so the sun shines on you always.” With your encouragement he climbed to his feet to meet your gaze. He was friendly, and jubilant, but you'd rarely ever seen him so blindly excited; it was pure and innocent, and as tightly as he clutched your hands and as odd as some of his words were phrased, you couldn't bear to pull away from him during such a crucial moment. 

“I don't…I don't know what to say, I-” Out of nowhere, a cold sense of dread made its way into your heart, and despite your befuddlement as to why it settled there it refused to let up. Your mouth grew drier as you tried to speak, but eventually Phainon helped you. 

“Say yes?” He pleaded with glistening blue eyes, tears threatening to spill against the backdrop of his hopeful smile. “Please?” 

“I-I..” You swallowed the growing anxiety that choked you up, and without words, you nodded. 

“You'll be mine?” He prodded eagerly, and again you mumbled a soft ‘yes’. Phainon leapt to his feet and practically cheered with joy, slinging his arms around you to lift you off your feet and twirl you around. He laughed, and happy tears made their way down his cheeks, before he planted a cool, wet kiss on your mouth that somehow chilled you right down to the bone. 

The guilt, the fear, the unease that grew inside you would all come to a head at some point. But the truth could be so easily twisted, cut up and rearranged to fit the story he wanted to play out. There wasn't any urgency aside from his own impatience, and not a single one of his fellow heroes or the demigods could judge what he did when it propelled him leaps and bounds closer to slaying Nikador. There would come a day when you would uncover his lies, just as surely as the sun would set at dusk and rise in the dawn. 

But what difference did it make? He had so much time to clear your mind to a blank slate, and conjure up a new life for the two of you as many times as it takes.

[juricel]

god your yandere smc lives rent free in my head i wanna punch him, kick him in the shin and then give him a lil kiss

also if you're feeling up for it and your requests are open, would you mind writing some headcanons about yandere smc w/ a reader who is defiant but not really in the "kicking, yelling, screaming" way but in the "i will do my best to make your life miserable and inconvenience you as much as possible " (think refusing to talk or engage, entertaining herself in isolation, snarky backtalk; very much "cat making eye contact with you while pushing a glass off the table" energy, defiant yet still subdued)

bonus points if the reader is usually an affectionate person and continues to be like that w/ candy apple (hugs her/pats her head, speaks nicely and sweetly to her, treats her like a lil sis/daughter)

thank you so much for your time!! your writing is amazing!!

a/n: i'm flattered! and please do feel free to do so, anon... he more than deserves it with how he's been treating the reader in my fics.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x defiant! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, mentioned and implied mindbreak, stalking, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ oh, he would adore your defiance! shadow milk cookie loves games, and he would view your defiance as such and daresay, it certainly has became his favorite game, even taking over the throne of his most beloved hobby of breaking cookies apart and observing them falling down the never-ending rabbit hole from illusions.

𖦁 your distant attitude towards him wouldn't faze him whatsoever either, and if anything, his lovesickness would delude himself into thinking it was a natural reaction of yours from being in love; oh, you're not listening? oh, that is no biggie for him! he'll simply blabber your ears off, isolating yourself? has his dear forgotten? he is an omniscient presence within earthbread and his kingdom, there is no way to flee from him, he'll just trail along behind you! being a petulant thing against him? oh, that's adorable! surely, you jest! breaking one his precious gifts he spent his time on solely for you? oh, silly little you! how clumsy you are! being such a nice lover, he'll put it back together! you didn't mean to break that, don't you? you didn't, right? he'd break your arms. regardless of how you much you pay no heed to his presence, he is an everlasting existence and will forever be right beside you! there is no escaping him and his sight, it is just as fate concluded, after all!

𖦁 candy apple cookie—although, you treat her nicely—doesn't mean you're still exempted from her trickery: for her undying loyalty to shadow milk cookie overshadows anything to her; she'd allow you to braid her hair, all the while inquiring you why you loathe shadow milk cookie when he's just protecting you from the cookies outside, in love even! in that sickenly sweet tone of hers dripping with deceit. she'd even ask you to come with her for something she proclaimed was in dire need of help for only to lead you to back to shadow milk cookie with a cheerful face, giddily probbing shadow milk cookie if she did good.

𖦁 to shadow milk cookie, your defiance is none but a mere game to him, however, the moment you went against him and betrayed him by helping pure vanilla cookie within his spire? oh, that is when he actually takes your advances seriously. why are /you/ helping that pesky little thief? can't you comprehend that he's punishing him for taking what was his? don't tell him that you fell for that querulous cookie's lies? yes, surely, pure vanilla cookie did something to you that turned you against him, truly! what a fiend, stealing his soul jam and then you? oh, he is gonna crumble him into pieces! he vows on the witches the moment he's done with him he would be beyond recognization. you, on the other hand, unmistakably needed some tweaking—yes, he'd need to find a way for you to not do that again, surely, his sweet dear wouldn't mind being confined, would they?

a/n: extremely short compared to my other works but i do hope its fine.

[honestcompassion]

𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. state of being overly involved in a relationship

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 yandere pure vanilla cookie headcanons

warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, moral ambiguity, inferiority complex, guilt complex, emotional dependence, guilt tripping, stalking, potentially ooc

A/N: The ribbon has been cut, the store is now open, and here comes our very first customer! I lost the request for this one but they asked for one order of yandere pure vanilla cookie headcanons. I apologize for the mistake this early on, I hope you enjoy this sweet treat!

Pure Vanilla Cookie as a yandere would be as sweet as a soft, fluffy cloud of whipped cream atop a slice of warm pie, light and tender, yet undeniably indulgent. His sweetness is the kind that brings a sense of peace, like the first sip of a perfectly brewed cup of tea on a quiet morning. He'd be so endearing and affectionate that you'll fail to notice just how much he's slowly changing as his love for you grows more and more.

He would dedicate himself entirely to your happiness, attending to every need and want with almost unnatural precision. He notices the tiniest details—your favorite treats, the way you prefer your tea, and even your smallest habits—and adjusts his behavior to cater to them perfectly. However, this attentiveness comes at a price: he begins to believe that no one else could possibly care for you as deeply as he does.

Pure Vanilla Cookie’s adoration for you is boundless, but beneath his gentle exterior lies a storm of conflicting emotions. To him, you are the epitome of perfection—kind, radiant, and far beyond anything he could ever hope to be. The way you carry yourself, the light in your eyes, even the simplest of your actions—they all leave him in awe. He holds you on a pedestal so high that he feels utterly insignificant in comparison.

He tells himself that his feelings are wrong, that someone like him—flawed and unworthy—has no right to desire someone as extraordinary as you. The guilt eats away at him, a gnawing ache in his chest every time he catches himself lingering too long on the thought of you. "How selfish of me," he thinks, "to want someone so pure, so beautiful, for myself."

Yet no matter how hard he tries, he cannot let go. You are his light, his guiding star, the only thing that makes the world seem bearable. He convinces himself that his love is selfless, that all he wants is your happiness. But even that reasoning begins to crumble when he realizes just how dependent he has become on you.

Every time you speak, every time you smile, he feels a pang of inadequacy. He wonders how someone like you could even spare him a glance. He berates himself for his shortcomings, for the things he cannot do, and he becomes obsessed with trying to be better for you. Yet, no matter how much he does, it never feels like enough. "You deserve so much more than I can give," he whispers to himself in the quiet of the night. But even as he thinks this, he cannot bring himself to let you go.

His love for you blurs the lines between right and wrong. He knows it’s wrong to follow you when you don’t know he’s there. He knows it’s wrong to memorize every detail of your life, from the places you visit to the people you speak to. But the thought of not knowing where you are, of not being able to protect you, fills him with such dread that he convinces himself it’s for your own good. The guilt of his actions warring with his desperate need to keep you safe.

Your happiness becomes his only source of joy. If you’re upset, he feels as though the world has lost its color. He tries to fix everything, bending over backward to ensure you’re content, even at the cost of his own well-being. If you’re happy, he feels like he can breathe again. But this dependence is suffocating—not for you, but for him. He begins to tie his entire sense of self-worth to your approval. If you were to reject him, he feels he would shatter completely.

While he is too kind to voice his jealousy, it festers beneath the surface. When others take up your time or attention, he feels a pang of envy so sharp it makes him sick. He tries to rationalize it, telling himself that he has no right to feel this way. But the more it happens, the harder it becomes for him to suppress. He starts to find small ways to keep you close—insisting on helping you with tasks, offering to walk you home, always being there when you need him.

His love drives him to extremes he never thought himself capable of. He follows you from a distance, his heart pounding as he watches over you. He tells himself it’s only to make sure you’re safe, but deep down, he knows it’s more than that. He needs to be near you, to feel connected to you in some way, even if you don’t know he’s there. The guilt eats at him, but he can’t stop. You are his everything, and he’ll do anything to ensure you’re protected.

In the end, Pure Vanilla Cookie’s love is as sweet as it is tragic. His selfless devotion becomes tangled with his selfish need to keep you by his side. He struggles to reconcile his guilt with his desires, walking a thin line between love and obsession. All he knows is that you are his one constant, his one truth, and no matter how much he doubts himself, he will always choose you.

The night was still, the castle shrouded in silence save for the occasional whisper of the wind against the stained-glass windows. You stirred in your bed, the faint feeling of being watched prickling at the edges of your awareness. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find a familiar figure standing at the foot of your bed, bathed in the faint glow of his staff.

"Pure Vanilla?" you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped closer, his beautiful eyes shining with an intensity that made your heart race. His usual gentle smile was there, but something about it seemed… strained, as if it masked something deeper.

"I’m sorry if I startled you, my love," he said softly, his voice carrying the same warmth you knew so well. Yet, the way he said my love felt heavier tonight, almost possessive. "I couldn’t sleep knowing you were here all alone. What if something happened while I wasn’t here to protect you?"

Your brows furrowed. "Pure Vanilla, it’s the middle of the night. I’m safe here, aren’t I?"

He hesitated, his grip tightening slightly around his staff. "Yes, but… I can’t help worrying. The world is unpredictable, and I’ve seen too much to take your safety for granted. You mean everything to me."

The intensity in his words made you sit up, the sleepiness fading from your mind. "You don’t need to worry so much," you reassured him. "I’m fine, really."

But he shook his head, his expression almost pained. "You don’t understand," he murmured, stepping even closer until he was at your bedside. "I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Every moment you’re out of my sight, I feel this… emptiness. This fear that I’m not doing enough."

You felt a chill creep over you. "Pure Vanilla, I appreciate your care, but… you’re scaring me a little."

At your words, his eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees beside your bed, reaching out to take your hands in his. His touch was trembling, desperate. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I don’t mean to frighten you. I just… I love you so much, more than words can say. You’re the only light in my life, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please, forgive me if I seem overbearing. It’s only because I want to keep you safe."

You hesitated, the raw emotion in his voice tugging at your heart despite the unease creeping up your spine. "I forgive you," you said quietly, trying to steady your voice. "But you have to trust me too. I can take care of myself."

He nodded slowly, though the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t entirely convinced. As he rose to his feet, he lingered for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Rest well, my love," he said finally, his voice tender. "I’ll be just outside if you need me."

Something is wrong.

[standamianwayne]

yandere! batfam/damian’s twin! reader

so everybody is obsessed w the whole ‘yan! batfam/neglected! reader’ or whatever which i get cause it’s like angsty but i can’t help but ADORE the possible opposite

like picture this: damian’s (who’s been aged up to 18) twin sister, who’s only older by like 10 minutes, and she’s just the apple of everyone’s eye. shows up to the manor when she and dam are like 10 and is so doe-eyed and kind despite her background.

like that’s Bruce’s baby girl! he just straight up adores and spoils her completely. he’s so serious and almost cold in the public eye but that image completely evaporates around his daughter.

she was his robin, but i feel like you would much rather be her OWN hero. so, she becomes a completely separate hero and Bruce is like 🧍‍♂️well damn. i think Bruce is a good dad, like really, but i also think he kinda has an issue with letting his kids become their own person with their own identities. so, it definitely takes some getting used to. but, hey, at least he still has Damian!

speaking of Damian, i adore any storyline that’s to do with twins. twins who hate each other? yes! twins who would die/kill for each other? love it! twins who don’t know about each other at all? oh yeah!

i think that her and damian’s relationship can be best summed up as: “oh my sister? yeah she’s annoying and stupid and blah blah blah” “damian you’re quite literally holding my hand” “so?” he’s almost like a cat where he pretends like he can’t stand her, but also he’s glued to her side whenever he can help it.

like it’s pretty standard sibling stuff. but then you throw them behind trained assassins and all the crime fighting on top, and i believe that they become pretty protective over each other (even if they don’t wanna admit it). plus, even though it’s only 10 minutes, she is still older. which is a fact she does not take lightly, if her teasing is anything to go by. sure, they were babies at the same time, but he’s still her baby brother!

ill upload the other batboys+girls later but yall pleaseeee let me cook 🙏 also might be ooc but im a fluff girl at heart so f it we ball

[tacowacco]

˚₊‧꒰ა his heavenly light ໒꒱ ‧₊

shadow milk x angel! reader | inspired by @purely_sugar’s bot on c.ai

a/n: thank you guys so much for all the support and love, i really appreciate it :))! requests are appreciated and heavily encouraged.

cw: posessive behavior, implied forced relationship, yandere themes, mention of mind breaking, and potential ooc.

You were one of the many angels sent down from heaven to protect cookies from the dangers of Earthbread. For centuries, your duty has been safeguarding these cookies from threats such as monsters, apparitions, and other hazards. You have dedicated your existence to ensuring the cookies remain safe from all sorts of harm. 

It was during the golden age of the first five that Shadow Milk first fell in love with you. A beam of light from the heavens split through Earthbread, and from that light emerged a beautiful seraph angel—you. Although you might have appeared terrifying to the naked eye of a mortal, to him, you were everything he could have possibly wished for. He vowed to lift your veil as a marriage proposal when right.

Unfortunately, that moment never arrived. After he succumbed to corruption, you abandoned him. A celestial being like yourself could never be with someone so deeply flawed and steeped in sin. You simply refused to accept the person he had become, and since that day, he’s been locked away in the Silver Tree—forever.

Or so you thought. 

————

You were taking a stroll in the faerie kingdom, admiring the white lilies and the mesmerizing array of iridescent colors scattered throughout the area. As you walked, you stopped to focus on the towering tree at the center of the kingdom. This tree captivated the ancient evil that slumbered in the form of five fallen heroes: Beasts. You leaned closer to the tree, your fingers brushing against its trunk. Suddenly, you stopped as you heard a whisper.

"I'll come soon, my cherub," a familiar voice said, followed by a soft giggle. You quickly stepped back from the tree, recognizing that voice immediately. 

“Shadow Milk. No, it can't be..” you thought to yourself as you bumped into something behind you. 

“Are you alright?” Elder Faerie asked.

“Of course, I just got startled by your sudden appearance, that’s all,” you said, attempting to play it off.

“Ah, I see. In that case, I apologize, Y/n. Thank you for coming. It seems we have a lot to discuss, as there is a matter at hand,” Elder Faerie said.

“What seems to be the issue, Elder Faerie cookie?” you asked, looking at the cookie before you. 

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, and you began to sense a wave of worry emanating from him. He sighed before speaking, “The livelihood of cookies is in danger. A great threat is approaching Earthbread soon.”

“What are you talking about? What threat?” You asked, nervously.

“The silver tree seals are breaking, and I’m afraid if we don’t do anything soon, the lives of all cookies are in danger,” he said. 

You began to grow nervous. “Can’t we reseal it, Elder Faerie? Don’t you have the power to reseal the Silver Tree again?” 

“Unfortunately, I cannot. With each day that passes, I am losing my powers and growing weaker. Therefore it's not possible for me to reseal the silver tree.” Elder Faerie replied, his tone becoming uneasy.

You walked over to the Silver Tree, your hands grazing the tree trunk, “If the seal breaks, does that mean Shadow Milk Cookie will be free?” 

“Yes, he and the rest of the beasts will be released.” Elder Faerie Cookie, said solemnly. 

————

After being trapped in the Silver Tree for centuries, Shadow Milk was overjoyed at his release along with the other beasts. He was eager to unleash chaos on Earthbread and seek revenge on Pure Vanilla, the thief who had taken his soul jam. However, before doing so, he needed to reclaim what was rightfully his—you.

Upon being released, Shadow Milk began wreaking havoc, turning nearby cookies into dancing puppets. He grinned at every move as the cookies screamed and ran like mice in the dark.

Your face dropped seeing the beast in front of you. 

​​“My Cherub!” he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity, reminiscent of a criminal consumed by spite. For so long, he had longed to see you and to have you by his side—exactly where you belonged. After all that time locked away in the Silver Tree, he had finally found you, and he never wanted to let you go again.

“My love, I’ve finally found you!” he exclaimed, reaching out for you. However, you stepped back, refusing his touch. Your paths had diverged, and it was clear that you could never be in love again. The weight of this reality crushed him, pushing him over the edge.

He couldn’t accept your rejection; you were already his, and there was no way to escape that. He’d ensure to break you and make you dependent solely on him. You belonged to him.

You were his. 

His to cherish. His to love. His to break.

[moonsaver]

tw; yandere Phainon, obsessive feelings/tendencies, arranged/forced marriage au. Phainon x reader (gender neutral). One sided yearning. Different setting from that of Amphoreus, kind of a royal au?

Also extremely ooc probably. Idk anything much about amphoreus <3

———

Phainon is perfect. Without flaws. A hero. A lover.

So why can't you love him?

Sure, he never expected an arranged union to go anywhere he wanted. It was an obvious rocky start. Stilted conversations, withheld words, occasional stiffness from your side. Of course he was patient. Titans above, how could he not be? It was unutterably obvious how in love he was growing with you – the perfect hero fumbling over his words and blushing like a swan over his supposed "lover".

But it was equally, and painfully obvious, you didn't return his feelings.

And he was fine with it. So frustratingly understandable. So kind. So patient. So soft. Just for you. Just because he loved you.

Until he wasn't.

Polishing his sword was a double edged knife – the clear Sunny sky a reflection of the peace under his rule, and the burgeoning of his own heart on the other edge when your mirage of a reflection appears, vanishing in an instant behind the cloth as he slides it over the sleek metal, stopping just once as his mind processes the glimpse.

It was like you haunted him. Made him obsessed.

Like seeing the past and the future reflected in countless mirrors; he saw you everywhere.

The echo of your shoes as he follows, just a corner behind, his own creaking silently, hurried steps as he grows closer, and as he rounds the corner, winded, you vanish. Signs you were in rooms – your hairbrush splayed on your mattress, adornments scattered over your dressing table, candles burnt and melted, the wax imprinting on your other furniture, the hint of your perfume snaking into his senses, penetrating his weak resistance.

You were everywhere but in his arms.

And he never dared to encapsulate you without your will.

He stares down at your golden-lit face, eyes half lidded and silently swirling with the haze of wine and exotics. His arm wraps around your propped up knees, his cheek resting on your kneecap, looking down at you. Your hair splays perfectly on the silk pillows, your slip twisted and folded around your figure makes it easier to see the rise and fall of your chest. Even, and deep. Your arm thrown over your stomach.

His eyes don't dare peer directly into the Sun, but he swears he can touch it.

So he allowed himself an exception. Once. Curiously entering your room when you weren't present, noting the way you liked to keep your curtains, the candles you burned often, whistling quietly to himself as he picked up your hairbrush, casually inspecting the insignia of your family on its broad back. The wedding gift you were so devastated to recieve.

Once turned to twice.

As the Sun sets, did he leave. And as the Moon rises, he returned.

Quietly, he sat, the mattress dipping under his weight as he watched your back. The pillows remained untouched on his side, the side he would traditionally occupy, and of course, under your displeasure, did he never breach the film of stillness over it. It was still the same as the night the servants fixed it for your arrival, for both of you to unite. And of course, that never happened.

His eyes follow the curve and the ridges of your back, down to your hips and your legs.

He had seen the Moon, and he swears he'll feel it. One day he will.

Twice turned to thrice.

But there was no excuse this time.

What does the Sun think, when it sets it's eyes upon the Moon twice a cycle? No more, no less.

Sunrise, he approaches you, insisting on helping you dress for the day. Despite the awkward resistance of the servants, an amicable smile and a reassurance is all they need to scurry away and leave him in your silent presence.

You want to speak, force the whistling pot to boil over and burst, bright hot and red. But all that's reminiscent of your anger now, are the flickering candles in your room. An unwanted union long done. Phainon is nothing like you. He watches the pot boil, the water sizzle from it's edges and evaporate into fumes. Tampering with the flame, increasing, decreasing, always stabilizing the simmering until it's impossible to go further. Right before it boils over, does he snuff out the fire.

It's always the small things. The purposeful grazing of his fingers over the skin of your back as he "helps" you. The slow movement as he covers your shoulders with fabric. The eye contact he tries to bridge through the mirror facing you. The barely restrained, quiet breathing of his hot breath on the curve of your neck, as he reaches over to your front from behind, fixing the folded fabrics around your waist. He swears he can admire every speck of you like stars blurring an ink stained night.

You don't say anything – what can you? a man reputed to be of his people, high standing, without flaws. A lover yearning endlessly for the scornful. It's not like you haven't heard what the others whisper and mutter about you. You bite your lip, and unfortunately attract the attention of your "lover's" peculiar blue eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.

He's done. But he doesn't move. You feel the faint heat buzzing from his front to your back.

Phainon ponders what the Moon dreams of.

——

Jealousy was a laughable thing.

Phainon's familiar voice echoes through the gathering, unfortunately for you. Learning to avoid someone is simply the other face of the coin, the same as learning to find someone. Perhaps Zagreus laughs at you.

You sigh, observing the golden coin in the palm of your hand. It's insignia is foreign to the land Phainon rules over.

Rather, it's more familiar to you than was Phainon's.

The insignia of Castrum Kremnos.

Jealousy, yearning, devastation. Laughable, silly feelings under the various Titans' watchful gazes. A minor inconvenience easy to dissolve under plethoras of problems. Except perhaps Mnestia.

But trivial feelings matter most to those who have nothing else filling their vessel.

Unfortunately, that was you.

For once, you may understand Phainon's yearning, your gaze sweeping hazily across the gathering and subtly landing on the Prince clad in red.

Fiery, restrained, straightforward. An equal standing to Phainon.

Your eyes, swirling more with the champagne and wines you've drank throughout the night, admire the man he could have been. Admire the man that could've belonged to you. The red markings over his body moving with his muscles as he raises his cup to the other man. You avert your eyes before someone catches on, but your imagination is more than enough to envision the intensity of his golden gaze.

You think you realise what it's like to stare at the Sun.

There's a reason people don't do it. There's a reason Phainon always jokes in silence about it. There's always a reason his eyes follow yours everywhere you look.

You place your empty glass on the table, and move to leave. Phainon decides to cut his meeting short.

He thinks the Sun burns the Moon.

——

He slumps down into your bed.

The soft sheets of the mattress, cool against his skin, sticky with sweat. The crumble of your soft quilts framing the edge of your bed. The lingering of your scent so unquestionably you.

He looks rabid – he's sure of it. You were his undoing the entire evening. His eyes are blown wide open, his breathing uneven, erratic, but restrained. He stares at your ceiling, countless obsessive thoughts warring so loudly in his head that it renders him motionless, stiff. His hands clench into fists at his sides, crumbling the soft silk, thrust into by his fingers and threads snapping in his palm.

He couldn't find you. Upon return to the gathering, Mydeimos had mentioned the agitated and restless demeanor of the Hero. It was as though watching the Sun swallow the Moon. But Phainon could barely pay attention, barely laugh.

The gathering ended early. He returned to your empty room. The moon poured in through your shifted curtains, wind knocking gently at your windows. No candles were lit. It was as though the room was holding it's breath in his presence.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the air cloggy and sodden in his chest. His fist relaxes, the distressed fabric released from his grip.

he wonders if you spoke to Mydei. If you smiled at him.

Something quiet rose in his chest. White hot. Trodden and ugly.

he wonders if your hand grazed against his. If you allowed him the luxury of feeling your gentle breath fan his shoulder.

A creak resounds in the silent room, stirring Phainon from his impossibly swirling thoughts.

You stand there, clad in thin nightwear, like the gentle film over a still pond. Phainon sits at the edge of your bed, observing you for a moment.

You stay silent, disturbed.

He doesn't break the silence – rather he immobilizes it.

He gets up, walking towards you. You take equal measures back, an unsure hand stretching behind as if to reach for the door. Phainon is faster. He corners you, right against the door.

The moon shadows his face.

You must be on the wrong side of an eclipse.

This time – it feels as though the Moon swallows the Sun.

——

[deffonotsupposedtobehere]

𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐏)

Yandere! Batfam x F!Reader

Synopsis: No matter where you go... you're always—always—bumping into one of them.

Warnings: Implicit sexual content and scenarios, implied noncon, maybe ooc writing, kidnapping, extremely obsessive behaviour, isolation, manipulation, threat, mentions of stockholm syndrome, dead dove: do not eat

Disclaimer: Everyone is depicted as 18+. Your relationship with yandere batfam is ambiguous, but it is not platonic, at least, not in their eyes. This is a horror, not a romance.

You don't think you've ever felt your skin crawl as much as it does when those boys look at you.

The feeling is vivid, this coil of disgust that weaves between your bones and squeezes you tight enough to make you shudder.

It curls around you like a snake. Hissing and gliding and slithering through your ribs until it leaves you reeling back from all the slime, a wince barely able to describe the expression on your face.

But it's nothing compared to when they touch you.

"Y/N?"

They claim to be bats but it's only spiders you feel on your skin when Tim brushes his fingers against it.

"Are you alright?"

You don't bother to hide the way you flinch back, or ease the way your hand yanks out of his grasp.

"I'm fine."

Tim frowns, gaze falling down and stretched-out hand retreating to hold his other arm, gripping it like he would've done yours had you let him.

The sight is enough to make you feel green.

"Are—uh, are you sure?"

He starts playing with his sleeve as he asks you that, fiddles with it like he's some sort of nervous school boy speaking to his crush and not a fully grown adult who took part in your fucking kidnapping.

It's sickening.

"Yes," you hiss out through barely gritted teeth, "I'm sure."

Tim flinches back, Adam's apple rolling along his throat as his gaze flits to the side.

"Well, uh," he starts, tongue sweeping over dry lips, "In that case... you should probably head back inside. Everyone's worried. You've been out for awhile."

Inside... where the rest of them all are.

You take a moment to flick your eyes to the right, the familiar sight of a zoomed lens stuck on your form greeting you with a smile.

You don't want to go back inside.

Something liquid passes over your tongue and spills down your throat before you're taking a step forward and training your gaze onto the hoodie-wearing male before you.

"Do I have to?"

The effect is instant, Tim's gaze almost immediately glazing over as his lips part and his mouth somehow visibly goes dry.

"I—uh."

You give yourself a second to squeeze your eyes shut in brief disgust before taking another step forward and holding in a shudder when his breath hitches.

"Can't I just stay out here a little longer?"

He stares at you with blank eyes. But not blank enough.

Just a bit more.

"...With you?"

Bingo.

Tim's breath doesn't just hitch this time, it shudders, breaks up every second like there's something blocking it from leaving his mouth, like he's forgotten how to properly breathe.

His whole form is quivering and his legs look like they're a centimetre away from giving in, from collapsing until he's on his knees in front of you.

And then he is.

The cotton of your skirt scrunches up as he holds it with both hands, head tilted up and gaze swirling when he looks at you, all previous pretend normalcy gone like the fake persona that it was.

"Anything..." he breathes out, grip tightening over your thighs, "Anything... anything... please..."

This time, you can't hold back the way your expression contorts, the way your body leans back and your spine coils like a spring just waiting to jump away.

What he's pleading for, you don't even want to think about, all your previous willpower leaving you at once when he starts to press his lips right up against your hips, murmuring into your clothes with a breath hot enough to seep through them and into your skin.

"Off... get off of me!"

You almost fall in your struggle to get out of his grip, and something icky settles in your stomach when you register the wet patch on your clothes right where his lips were.

Fucking freak.

You don't even bother giving him a second glance as you run back into the manor, the wind pushing against that damn patch and making the skin underneath it feel abnormally cold compared to the rest of your body.

You're definitely changing your fucking clothes. Holy shit.

"Miss Y/N?"

Your ears perk up, the voice of their butler stiffening your spine.

"Are you alright?"

Your gaze hardens. Why does everyone keep asking you that?

You barely mutter out a response before you're pushing past him. He may not have taken part in your kidnapping himself, but he's still complicit in their fucked up little scheme.

And you aren't about to treat him any better than them.

You release a breath after a few steps, shoulders falling for just a brief second before rising again, tenser than before.

Goosebumps.

Someone's watching you. Demon spawn.

Your gaze falls to the right, and sure enough, there he is, cloaked in shadows just like his father.

His gaze is piercing. Unreadable. Every bit the expressionless ghost that he is.

He doesn't say a word. Usually never does. Just watches. Waits. For what, you don't know. But you usually don't stick around long enough to find out.

That's not changing today.

His gaze follows you as you walk, and you're squeezing your eyes shut again at the sound of his nose taking you in when you pass by him.

And just when you think you can get away with once again not saying a word to the usually quiet man, his grip on your arm renders you still.

"Beloved."

Something burns in your throat.

"Where are you headed?"

'Away from you.'

"To my room."

"Allow me to accompany you."

"I'll be fine on my own."

You attempt to tug your arm away.

"I insist." His grip tightens.

You stare at him. He stares back at you.

For a moment, everything stills, the world stopping to accommodate the both of you, drowning everyone else out until it's just the two of you.

Then, the water drains away.

"Demon brat. The hell are you doing?"

The grip on your arm loosens enough for a tug to free you, and you waste no time rushing to your room, catching a glimpse of dark hair paired with a broad frame before you're slamming your door shut and leaning against it with a chest heaving up and down.

But of course, you should've known that even your own damn room isn't safe from them.

"Hm, is this the gift I got you last summer?"

You still, eyes flying over to the figure by your dresser.

"I was wondering where it was." The oldest grins, your jewellery's glint practically reflecting off his white teeth with a wink. "How come you never wear it, babe?"

He's leaning on one arm, the other holding your gift high enough to catch the light of the sun that bleeds through your window as he looks at it like an artist admiring a painting. If said artist was a monster hiding behind a boyish smile, that is.

"Dick..." you breathe out his name, and squeeze your eyes shut at the way he licks his lips, "...get out of my room."

"Nah"—he lowers your necklace, grin wolfish—"I don't think I will."

The piece of jewellery meets your dresser with a soft clink before he takes a step towards you, and your eyes dart around the room for just the smallest opening.

He blocks your gaze.

"Tut tut tut"—Dick shakes his head, wagging a finger as his eyes glint with that sick sense of amusement of his—"is the little birdie trying to escape?"

Your jaw sets, almost biting your tongue had it not retreated further into your mouth in time.

"And here I thought I was your favourite."

You avert your gaze from his, trying your best to imagine you're anywhere but here, though apparently, he saw that coming.

His hands slam beside your head loud enough to make you flinch, and the rush of wind that accompanies his actions reminds you of Tim's earlier ones when the cold makes its way to your hips first, further solidifying that this, right here, is your reality.

Disgusting.

Your eyes squeeze shut.

Revolting.

Spiders crawl under your chin.

Nauseating.

"Mm. Hiding again, are we, pretty girl?" he purrs so close to your face.

You only gulp in response.

"Do I need to draw you out myself?"

His breath is on your neck now, lips ghosting over the exposed skin as you inwardly curse yourself for not wearing a turtleneck earlier today. For leaving your room at all really. Maybe if you hadn't spent so much time outside, they wouldn't be as antsy as they are now.

Fucking pieces of—

Your shoulders tense.

Tingles. Explosive, dangerous, horribly unpleasant tingles all over your neck. All around his lips.

You raise your hands, bracing yourself, but just before you can push at his chest—sob and beg and plead for him to go away and just leave you alone—a knock sounds at your door.

You feel the vibrations of his growl against your neck.

"What?"

The voice on the other side is muffled. "Uh, Mr Wayne wants you."

Dick pauses, head still buried in your neck, not reacting as though the longer he delays it, the longer he can stay here, nestled against you.

Like you'd ever let him.

You push at his chest, and he lets you, because he's letting you, pulling away with a groan before regarding you with one last look, intense and unwavering.

"Don't think this is over."

With that, you fling yourself off your door like it stung you, and he leaves the room briskly, sending a brief glare to the person right outside.

You release a sigh, gaze falling to your saviour.

"Uhm, Mr Wayne isn't actually calling him. I just figured that would keep him busy for a while."

The gaze of the most recently adopted son (though that was years back already) flits to the side, fingers playing with his collar.

Your lips quirk up. "Thank you, Duke."

He perks up. "It's uh, it's no problem, Y/N."

He stands there, awkwardly shuffling on his feet for a bit before you're letting out a sigh and following it up with a, "Do you... wanna come inside?"

His eyes widen at your invite, fingers freezing right where they were fiddling with his collar as he regards you with parted lips and an air of disbelief.

It is strange, you'll give him that, but your reason for it isn't anything noble. Having him in your room will likely deter the other, worse ones from entering in hopes of some sick one-on-one time with you.

Besides, you've seen no sign of him harbouring the same feelings for you as they do. At least, not to their intensity.

You'll kick him out if need be.

With a step back, you're nodding towards your room, and already, you make note of how his own steps seem all-too-eager as he follows you in.

Strike one.

You don't bother closing the door, not fully anyway, just enough to leave a visible gap so everyone can see exactly what you'd like them to, and stop reading your room as an open invitation to come harass you alone.

When you turn around, Duke is already staring back at you, lips parted and gaze distant, far, as though trapped in some sort of trance.

"Duke?"

He shakes his head, blinking his eyes wide open. "Oh, uh, sorry. I was just uh... thinking."

Strike two.

At this rate, he'll be out before even five minutes have passed.

"Do you... do you want anything?"

You raise a brow, watching the man rock on his heels.

"You're asking me if I want anything in my room?"

"Right, right. That was stupid."

Your lips quirk up, a dangerously fond thought crossing your mind before you halt it right in place and steel your expression again.

You didn't think this through. You did not think this through at all.

You're not supposed to have thought that was cute. Why did you think that was cute?

He kidnapped you. He and his brothers—they all kidnapped you.

Strike three.

"Out..."

Your words come out quiet, a whisper in the wind, a barely-heard current over hail.

"Huh?"

"Get out."

Duke takes a step back, blinking with those stupid fucking wide eyes of his that he just can't seem to stop regarding you with. But even still, he makes no further indication of leaving.

Is he deaf or something?

"Get. out!"

The man flinches at your tone, though unlike before, he actually starts towards the door. But not without throwing one last glance at you over his shoulder, brows scrunched and eyes swirling with that same look they all take on when they pretend to care.

The one they give you before all the brothers know about your outburst.

The door shuts with a click.

Your hips feel cold.

Spiders crawl all over your skin.

And before you know it, you're curled up on your bed, lower half covered by nothing but your underwear, and skirt laying discarded in the corner of your room.

A knock.

"Princess?"

You pull your knees closer to your chest.

"I'm coming in."

Why even bother with a warning?

The bed dips with a weight.

"You alright?"

'No.'

You purse your lips.

"'Ts okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

His hand, calloused and familiar and full of just as many spiders as all his other brothers', presses flat against your bare thigh.

"I'm here to make it all go away."

He pulls, gentle, but firm enough to unravel you, like a gift carefully being opened.

"You'll feel so good."

The bed dips even further.

"Promise."

And the last thing you see before all your fight gives way—

—is Jason's face smiling down at you.

[mystictimemachinedream]

Irrevocably Yours

a/n: I always wanted to make a yandere x yandere fic. I feel like it didn't come off as dark as it could have been lmao.

Cw: Yandere x Yandere(which means usual talks about killing, love potions, confinement, etc), Yandere!Levi, Yandere!MC(but you're trying to do better), Double Penetration, Rough Sex, Levi having two dicks, some dub-con(there's protests at first but MC actually wants him), Fem!MC, kinda ooc.

----------------------------------

It was becoming too much—how you felt, the way your emotions churned inside you like a storm you couldn’t control. You were trying so hard not to give in to your usual behavior, to be normal, to keep it together. But the obsessive thoughts, the relentless impulse to take, to control, to own, were beginning to creep up, growing stronger with each passing day.

You’d managed to keep that side of yourself under wraps—relatively speaking—by focusing on anything and everything else. You buried yourself in distractions, anything to keep your mind off the darker urges. That was why you avoided relationships, why you pushed away any romantic feelings.

But that wasn’t enough anymore, because you were in love. Completely and utterly in love. The target of your affection was Leviathan, the shy, awkward, but endearing otaku. You hadn’t meant for it to happen; you’d kept your walls tall and unyielding, only offering detached friendship to the demon, just like you did with his brothers. But somehow, that detached friendship had morphed into an actual friendship.

You reasoned with yourself that it was okay to have a friend, as long as it didn’t become more. Friendship was harmless, right? You could handle that.

Wrong.

You quickly went from being just another normie to becoming his Henry, and with that came a shift you hadn’t anticipated. He started dragging you into his room more often, refusing to let you leave with those big, sad eyes and that lovely blush on his face. He’d ask you to stay just a bit longer, his voice tinged with a plea you found impossible to resist. Maybe your mistake was relenting so often, convincing yourself that you were doing it for the sake of your friendship, feeding into the denial that you weren’t crossing a line.

It was during one of those many nights spent gaming together that the truth hit you—like a bucket of ice-cold water. You were infatuated with him. The realization came when you found yourself wondering how you could keep him isolated, how you could ensure that no one else could be around him but you. The thought startled you, made you question everything. You were trying to be good, to do better. You couldn’t possibly be infatuated. That wasn’t you, not anymore. So you decided you needed to distance yourself from him, just a bit, so you could get over whatever it was you were feeling. It should have been easy, right?

Wrong again.

You didn’t anticipate Leviathan’s persistence. You thought of him as too shy, too easily flustered to chase after anyone, least of all you. But he never gave up. He whined in your ear, his voice desperate and needy, tugging on your clothes like a child afraid of being left alone. He even went as far as staying in your room with you, refusing to leave your side. It was so out of character, so unlike the Leviathan you thought you knew, that it rendered you speechless every single time. (And maybe, just maybe, another mistake you made was not paying closer attention to the hidden obsession lurking in his eyes, the way they darkened with something deeper, something more dangerous.)

Seeing such persistence warmed your heart, though. It showed you that he was willing to fight for you, to keep you close no matter what. Infatuation quickly turned into love—so completely in love. But just because you were in love didn’t necessarily mean it had to be obsessive or controlling, right? It could be a pure love, right?

Completely and utterly wrong. (And you wondered, in those rare moments of clarity, was anything you decided ever the right choice?)

The thoughts about being the only one around him consumed you. The maddening jealousy you felt when you heard him talk to his friends online, the burning urge to destroy all of his Ruri-chan merchandise—because how dare he love anything else but you?!—the overwhelming need to check all his electronics to make sure there was no one else… it all started to eat away at you.

All you could think of was him: Leviathan, Leviathan, Leviathan.

But still, you tried. You tried your best to fight it, because you were trying to do better. To be good. You wanted to love him in a pure, wholesome way. You didn’t want your love to be so obsessive, so twisted. But it was getting harder and harder to suppress the urges. (But were you really even trying hard enough, or were you just kidding yourself?)

It took all your willpower not to give in, but even with that, there were small things you did without his knowledge—like taking articles of his clothing, savoring the way they smelled of him. You took harmless peeks here and there at his computer and even his phone (and it wasn’t like he made it hard to figure out his passwords when he put it in right in front of you). Occasionally, you’d discourage him from going outside, convincing him it was safer, better to stay in. But it was all harmless, at least that’s what you wanted to believe, because at least you hadn’t snuck in a love potion to make him yours. (Not yet, at least.)

Still, you knew deep down that you couldn’t continue like this. The thought of hurting Leviathan twisted your heart—but you would, without hesitation, if he ever so much as looked at someone else. HE WAS YOURS. The intensity of your love for him made it clear that you needed to try again to put some distance between you, even if it meant spending time with one of his brothers instead. (It was almost laughable how desperate they were for your attention.)

That decision is what led you to your current predicament. It was your fault, yes, but your intentions were pure—at least, that’s what you told yourself. (Or was it that you were just too afraid to surrender completely?)

“I can’t,” you repeated firmly, holding your ground as you rejected Leviathan’s invitation to hang out. “I have plans with Beel.”

“P-Plans?” he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief, as though the word itself was foreign to him. His tone softened into a desperate plea. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Beel will understand if you cancel.”

The way he looked at you—so sweet, so hopeful—almost broke your resolve. But you knew you had to stay strong. “I already said I can’t. I’ll hang out with you afterwards.”

With one last, fleeting glance in his direction, you turned and walked away. If you had only looked back, you would have seen the dark, ominous scowl that had settled on his face.

When you returned from your outing with Beelzebub, who was sweet but unbearably boring, you found yourself debating whether to go see Leviathan. But you decided against it, reminding yourself of the need to maintain your distance, no matter how much it hurt. You clung to that conviction even as you ignored the constant stream of message notifications chiming from your D.D.D while you got ready for bed.

And maybe—just maybe—if you hadn’t been so completely lost in sleep, you would have noticed Leviathan standing silently at the foot of your bed, his demon form fully revealed, with slitted, orange-glowing eyes fixed intently on your figure.

This pattern continued for an entire week. You spent time with one brother after another, each day rejecting Leviathan’s invitations with an ache in your heart. But then, something strange started happening. Random pieces of your clothing—mostly your panties—began to disappear. Objects like your notebooks, chapstick, hair ties, and even pillows vanished without a trace. By that point, you knew it wasn’t just your imagination.

It made you want to scream. Someone actually had the audacity to take your things—and how dare they covet you when you belonged to Levi! The thought burned in your mind, making it nearly impossible to focus as Satan tried to engage you in conversation at the cat café. The soft meows and gentle purring of the cats around you did nothing to soothe the growing anger bubbling inside. Every time you saw a playful swish of a tail or felt a soft nuzzle, your thoughts drifted back to the house, to the annoyance you were going to have to deal with. You knew you’d have to investigate more thoroughly the moment you returned.

Once the two of you finally arrived back at the house, you were on a mission. Barely muttering a goodbye to Satan, you made a beeline for your room, your heart pounding with anticipation. The hallways blurred as you stormed through them, your mind solely focused on getting answers, to check and see if anything else went missing. Reaching your door, you flung it open with a force that made the hinges creak. But the sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

Leviathan was sitting on your bed, his posture casual yet somehow possessive, as if he owned not just the bed but the entire space around him. His presence filled the room, and for a moment, you faltered, the anger you had felt earlier mixing with surprise and something else you couldn’t quite name (was it excitement?). You closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should have in the stillness.

“Levi?” you questioned, your voice wavering slightly. The intensity of his gaze when he finally looked up at you made your breath catch. His usually soft and shy demeanor was replaced with something far more focused, almost predatory.

“Did you have fun with Satan?” he asked bluntly, his voice low and steady. The stillness of his figure, the way he didn’t move a muscle, made you instantly cautious. It was like he was waiting for something—for a slip, a crack in your composure.

“I did,” you lied easily, though the words tasted bitter on your tongue. The truth was, you had hated every second of your time with Satan, and it wasn’t just because of him. You loathed going out with any of Leviathan’s brothers.

Leviathan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he observed you. It felt like he could see right through your lie, peeling back layers to uncover the truth you were trying to hide. The intensity of his scrutiny almost made you shiver. But then, as quickly as the tension had arisen, it dissipated. Leviathan looked away, his fingers beginning to fidget with his D.D.D. The shift in his demeanor was almost surreal.

“W-would you like to come to my room? We haven’t s-spent time together,” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. When he looked at you again, his eyes were no longer sharp and probing but soft and vulnerable.

You hesitated, weighing your options. It should be fine to go with him this one time. You told yourself you’d make it quick—just a few minutes in his room, and then you’d leave. The sudden foreboding feeling you had should had deterred you yet you chose to ignore it (or maybe you just didn’t want to see the signs right in front of you).

“Sure.” A word that sealed your fate.

As you walked with him through the dimly lit hallway, the anxiety grew stronger, tightening its grip on your chest with every step. Leviathan was close enough that you could feel the occasional brush of his arm against yours, and each touch sent a jolt through your body, heightening your unease. The closer you got to his room, the heavier the air felt, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. You wondered if you would be able to bolt if things spiraled out of control, your mind already calculating the distance to the door and the speed you’d need to escape.

When you both stood in front of his door, the tension in the air was palpable, a suffocating presence that made your skin crawl. It was almost ominous when he opened the door and gestured for you to step inside, the sound of the door creaking open like a warning you were too stubborn to heed. As you walked in, your eyes darted around the room, searching for anything out of place, but everything looked the same. His usual setup, the familiar clutter of manga and figurines… So why were you feeling like th—oh.

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze landed on his desk. Those were your items scattered across it, some new things that you hadn’t even realized were missing yet. And there, in his tub, nestled among his many sheets and body pillows, were your clothes, panties and pillows, arranged almost reverently.

You stood there, paralyzed by shock, even as you heard the door close behind you, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing loudly in your ears.

“Levi, that’s… my stuff, my clothes,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, but you knew he heard you. He was standing so close behind you now that you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your back, making you shiver involuntarily.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked, his voice low and eerily calm, completely ignoring your statement as if it were irrelevant. His breath tickled your ear, sending another shiver down your spine.

This wasn’t what you expected. Leviathan wasn’t supposed to be like you, caught in the same struggle, battling the same obsession. The thought made your heart race. That wasn’t good—you didn’t want to be pulled further into obsession, into depravity. You wanted to be normal, to be better, to be good. You chanted those words to yourself like a prayer, a desperate attempt to cling to sanity, even as you finally turned to look at him.

He was looking at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch, his eyes locked onto yours as if you were the only thing that existed in his world.

But you couldn’t give in. You were determined to have a wholesome, pure romance with him. You had to resist, had to keep things from spiraling out of control.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave as he grabbed your chin with a firm hand, his hold almost bruising in its intensity (and his aggressiveness shouldn’t have been so arousing to you).

“Things were getting too… intense. I just wanted a bit of space so things could mellow down between us,” you answered hesitantly, your words stumbling over themselves as you tried to make him understand. But even as you spoke, you could feel the flimsiness of your excuse, the way it barely held together under the weight of the truth.

“Intense?” He grinned, a smile that was more a baring of teeth than anything else, with an almost maniacal edge to it. His eyes gleamed with a knowing light, as if he could see right through you, as if he knew all the things you’d done behind his back, all the secrets you thought you’d kept hidden.

But you stubbornly kept your mouth shut. You could do this—you could talk him down, make him see reason. You would keep your distance and regain control (liar, liar, liar. All you did was lie).

“I know you want me. At first, I couldn’t believe it because why would you want me? But then, you started taking some of my clothes.” He looked deeply pleased as he let go of your chin, bending down to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he spoke. “I could even feel your envy, your jealousy when I’d game with my friends or when I gave too much attention to anything else that wasn’t you.”

You sucked in a breath as he slowly nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt of sensation through your body, heat pooling in your core despite yourself.

“I thought things were going well,” he paused, his voice darkening as he continued, “but then you started spending time with my brothers. You were ignoring my messages and invitations to come to my room.” As those words left his lips, the nipping grew harsher until he bit down on your neck deep enough to leave a mark but not enough to draw blood. The sudden sharp pain made you yelp and squirm in his grasp, but his hold was unrelenting.

He snarled at your attempts to break free, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you froze again, your body betraying you as a wave of desire crashed over you. You wanted to give in so badly—you wanted him to be yours. You wanted to be his. This side of him was so unexpected but definitely not unwelcome.

“I need you to explain yourself. Now.” His grip tightened as he fisted his hand in your hair and yanked it back harshly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You licked your lips, trying to steady your breathing. “Levi, this just isn’t… healthy. I’m trying to do better.”

He scoffed, as if your answer was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “We want to be with each other. Does anything else matter?”

His words were tempting, far too tempting. But you wanted your love to last, to be built on a solid foundation (but really, you were just a fucking coward).

“It does matter. How about you let me go back to my room so we can think about this?” you suggested, your voice trembling slightly. The grip on your hair tightened, pulling at your scalp, and you winced in pain (but you wanted him to be even more aggressive, to show you how much he loved you).

“You, better than anyone, should know that you aren’t going anywhere. If I have to tie you up, then I will.” He released your hair with a sudden force and pushed you down onto the floor. The impact was harsh, and you barely managed to catch yourself with your hands before your head could hit the hard surface. He stood over you, a blank expression on his face as he watched you struggle to steady yourself.

“L-Levi, just calm down. We can talk about this,” you pleaded softly, your voice trembling as he dropped to his knees, caging you in his arms against the cold, hard floor. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the coolness of the floor beneath you. If he kept pushing, you knew you would give in.

“For someone who wants me just as badly, you’re protesting too much.” His voice was low, dangerously calm, as he leaned his forehead against yours. His breath ghosted over your lips. “But don’t worry, I’ll fuck the fight out of you. And if that doesn’t work, well, I don’t mind using other methods if it means keeping you with me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted. Heat pooled between your thighs, your panties already soaked through. You almost moaned at the sheer threat in his voice, and you wondered just how much rougher he’d get if you kept resisting. Would he lose control entirely? (You hoped he would.)

“Levi, please. We can’t,” you whined weakly, your resolve wavering as his lips brushed against yours. You somehow managed to turn your head away, but the gesture felt futile. The air around you shifted as he pulled back, his energy darkening. When you glanced up at him, his demon form was already out—scales glistening under the dim light, coral horns out, his tail swaying predatorily, and his glowing orange eyes fixated on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Fine, I guess we’ll do this the hard way,” he growled in your ear. The words sent your mind spiraling, and before you could fully process what was happening, everything became a blur of heat and sensation.

You gasped, eyes widening as his hand slid under your skirt with purpose, fingers expertly finding your soaked core. He moaned—a deep, guttural sound that sent a thrill through your body—when he felt how wet you were even through the thin fabric of your panties. It was the only confirmation he needed, the last bit of proof that you truly wanted him, needed him, despite your feeble protests.

With a heated urgency, his hands tore away your panties and skirt, ripping through the delicate fabric like it was nothing. Your shirt and bra followed, shredded under his impatient touch, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air and his hungry gaze. He didn’t waste a second, pulling you into a smoldering kiss that was all heat and desperation. Just like that, your resolve shattered, crumbling beneath the weight of your desire. You returned the kiss with equal fervor because you wanted—no, you needed—him so badly it ached.

He smirked against your lips when he felt you go pliant in his arms, the tension leaving your body as you surrendered to him. His mouth broke away from yours, only to descend upon your chest, his hot breath trailing over your skin as he left a path of bruising bite marks in his wake. Each nip sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through you, drawing breathless moans from your lips.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as he zeroed in on one of your nipples, his mouth hot and eager. He sucked on the small nub, his tongue swirling around it before his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. Meanwhile, his thick fingers pumped into your wet, warm cunt—two at first, then three, and finally four, stretching you open with a pace that was fast and merciless. The sensation was overwhelming, the roughness almost too much to bear, but you craved it. You needed more.

He didn’t give you a moment to adjust, didn’t let you catch your breath as he fucked you with his fingers, driving them in deep with each thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing tight, desperate circles that had you crying out, your body arching off the floor. The pleasure was intense, almost unbearable, but you loved it.

You hugged him closer, your whines and pleas for more filling the room, mingling with the sounds of your slick arousal as his fingers moved in and out of you with relentless speed. He was going to make you cum already, and you hadn’t even gotten started. His mouth finally released your nipple, leaving it glistening with his saliva, and he pulled you into an almost desperate kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he curled his fingers just right inside you.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you breathless. You cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth, and your cunt clenched around his fingers, gushing wetness all over his hand. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, riding you through your orgasm as if he wanted to wring every last drop of pleasure from you.

It was all so rough, so fast, but it felt so right, like this was exactly how it was meant to be. You could only watch with half-lidded eyes, your breath coming in short gasps, as he finally pulled his fingers out of your throbbing cunt. Your juices coated his hand and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a look of pure satisfaction.

But he wasn’t done. Not even close.

He leaned back, his glowing eyes never leaving yours as he reached for his zipper. The sound of it being pulled down was almost deafening in the silence that followed. He didn’t bother fully undressing, only tugging his jeans down just enough to free his cock—no, cocks. He had two of them, thick and throbbing with need.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and your cunt clenched on nothing as you imagined the sensation of him fucking you open on those thick, pulsating cocks. The mere thought made you shiver. You spread your legs wider, a silent plea, an open invitation that had him settling between them eagerly.

“This messy cunt belongs to me,” Leviathan rasped, his voice low and gravelly, as he rubbed both of his cocks against the slick folds of your cunt. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you gasp as he gathered the wetness on the heads of his cocks, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate movements. “You belong to me. I need you to remember that because I will kill anyone you so much as look at for too long. I don’t even want you leaving my room at all.”

You mewled softly at his words, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, and you knew in that moment that there was no going back. You couldn’t deny it anymore—couldn’t even pretend to care how twisted your love had become, how unhealthy it likely was. All that mattered was that he was finally yours, and you would do anything to keep him that way.

“Do you understand?” Leviathan’s tone was harsh as he gripped both of his cocks firmly, positioning them at your entrance. He pushed forward slowly, just the tips breaching your slick, swollen folds. The stretch was intense, borderline painful, but the pleasure that accompanied it was undeniable. A high-pitched moan tore from your throat as your eyes became teary at the sensation.

“Levi!” you whined, desperation lacing your voice as you attempted to roll your hips down, to pull more of him inside. But his tail coiled around your waist, holding you firmly in place.

“I asked you a question. Do you understand?” Leviathan remained still, his gaze dark with lust, waiting for your answer. When you didn’t respond quickly enough, his hand moved to your breast, fingers tugging one of your nipples harshly. The sting made you gasp, a mixture of pain and pleasure that sent a jolt straight to your core. “Or are you so cock-drunk already that you can’t even answer me?”

“I—I understand,” you panted, finally finding your voice. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you yanked him down, bringing his face closer to yours. “But that also means you belong to me. I will kill you and myself if you ever try to leave me.”

“Fuck,” he cursed, and you felt his cocks twitch at your words. His lips crashed into yours in a sloppy, heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, as if he was trying to devour you whole. The kiss broke only when he pulled back to latch onto the side of your neck that was still unmarked, his teeth grazing your skin before sinking in, marking you with more bruises that would be visible for days. And then, with a snap of his hips, he thrust both cocks fully inside you.

The stretch was overwhelming, the sensation of being so utterly full making you sob with pleasure. He didn’t give you time to adjust, his pace punishing as he pounded into you, each thrust harder and faster than the last. It was as if he were releasing all the pent-up anger from the week you had avoided him, taking out his frustration on your body. But you welcomed it, craved it even. You’d always loved the bite of pain with your pleasure, always been a bit of a masochist for it.

Moans mixed with cries of pleasure, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. It was loud, lewd, and unmistakable, and you knew anyone within earshot would know exactly what was happening. But the thought only fueled your desire for him, making you arch against him, desperate to take him even deeper.

You felt another orgasm building, coiling tight in your core as one of Leviathan’s cocks hit your sweet spot with each thrust, while the blunt tip of the other bumped against your cervix, making you see stars. The sensations were overwhelming, your mind going hazy as you babbled incoherently, slurred pleas and moans spilling from your lips.

Leviathan’s eyes were glued to your face, watching every expression, every reaction. The sight of you—completely fucked out, cock-drunk and lost in pleasure—sent a surge of smug satisfaction through him. He moaned loudly, the sound almost desperate as he lifted your legs, pressing your knees against your chest, and somehow, impossibly, drove even deeper inside you.

You wailed as another orgasm tore through you, your cunt clenching and throbbing around him, the pleasure almost too intense to bear. He whined at the sensation, his own pace faltering as he neared his release. With a final, forceful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his hot seed flooding your cunt. The feeling of him filling you, marking you from the inside out, made you moan weakly.

He panted heavily as he finally stopped cumming, his breath ragged as he slowly pulled out, even as you whimpered from the overstimulation. Cum leaked from your thoroughly used cunt, trailing down to your ass as he admired the state he’d left you in.

For a moment, he just looked at you—as if memorizing every mark, every bruise, every inch of you that he’d claimed. Then, with surprising gentleness and a now adorable flush on his face, he picked you up, holding you close to his chest. He carried you to his tub and he climbed in, laying down with you on top of him, his arms wrapped securely around you as he pulled a soft sheet over both of you.

You snuggled closer against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion washed over you. The romance between you two was never going to be pure, never going to be simple. It was twisted, dark, and even dangerous—but it was real. You belonged to each other, and that was enough.

You would do anything to keep him because Leviathan was finally yours. And really, this was the best outcome you could have hoped for. Now, you didn’t have to go through with your darker plans of somehow knocking him out and trapping him somewhere. You only hoped he took you seriously about never leaving, because you truly would kill him if he tried. He belonged to you, after all.

[leaf-line]

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥

Yandere! Jiaoqiu X Gn! Reader

❏ Jiaoqiu finds himself enjoying your company that he wants to extend it more.

cw: might be lore inaccurate, might be ooc, a hint of angst, you being called annoying, force feeding, mentions of pinning, no beta we die like Tingyun, written in Jiaoqiu's pov + he doesn't talk, pls don't be confused, reader is loud.

w/c: 962

Immortality is a crime... No, rather, it's a sin.

"Alchemy Commission... Agh—!! Where was that place again?! Wait a minute... Hey there! You! The pretty foxian boy with pink hair!"

Jiaoqiu finds it hard to believe that a human like you were accepted into a prestigious place such as the Alchemy Commission. You weren't even a Xianzhou Native, just a regular human. Why did he even try to put an effort into knowing who you were? Maybe it was because apart of him was curious about you and why the hell were you so loud? Honestly, he shouldn't have.

"Ohhhh, so this was the place, wow, I could've sworn I've ran into here multiple times before, why didn't I see it? Speaking of which, can you even actually see that? Why are your eyes closed?"

He wasn't exactly sure why he welcomed you so easily into his life. To put it into words... You were eccentric, goofy, and a slacker with no sense of direction, you speak out loud what's on your mind, no matter the place and time.

"Alas, we meet again, blind foxian... So you're my senior? But you're so short—"

You were blunt, sometimes it was funny, sometimes it was annoying. But Jiaoqiu never heard you tell a lie ever since the first time he met you. Although if he ever hears you call him any more honest insults, he's gonna spike your lunch with one of his handmade concoctions.

"Noooo!! Please! I don't want to memorize another set of ingredients for a different medicine!! Have mercy!!!"

And did he mention that you were loud? He'd be lying if he said he didn't find it entertaining, since the people there were so serious and gloomy. You were like the clown of the class, and Jiaoqiu was simply there to be entertained.

"You mean to say that in your own eyes, you think that food is medicine? That's... Super interesting!!"

...That wasn't a lie right? Well, Jiaoqiu hoped so. You were cheerful, upbeat, and optimistic at some times, he's yet to be accustomed by that kind of personality.

"Oh, yeah, sure I'll have a taste of your cookings, leave it to me! I'm a good food critique!"

Have a taste, he says. He doesn't know what you will reply. Will you tell him it tastes garbage? Will you tell him it's the most godsend food you've ever tasted in your life? He doesn't know, not unless he tries to have you eat it. At some point you were brutally honest it hurts him through the gut, but surely at some point when he impresses you, it would feel rewarding, right?

"This straight up tastes awful, this one is painfully bland, and this is, hmm... Let me taste again, ...mmmm!! It's super delicious!"

Was it a wrong choice when he interacted with you more? No, otherwise he would have felt so much joy in a long while. Bit by bit, you warmed up your way into his heart, securing a comfortable place in it. There was a saying that the way into person's was through their stomach, so why was it when the more he poured into your stomach and the more he was successful at making you happy, the more was being poured into HIS own heart?

"Jiaoqiu... Thanks a lot."

The second you were calm and silent. Aeons, you were adorable, beautiful, handsome and majestic in your own way that Idrilla would be jealous. He wanted nothing more but to cup your cheeks with his hands and connect your lips to his own. He wanted to hug you dearly, bask in your touch, bask in your scent. But he holds himself to the ground, after all, looking at the picturesque scene in front of him will suffice more than enough.

"What do you mean my hair is turning white? I'm still young you know?"

...Oh. Did time fly that fast when he's having fun? Was it this early for someone he would willingly hold dearly to part ways with him soon enough? Or was time just cruelly toying him? How could he even forget that you were a short-life specie, just how?

"Ugh... Sorry and thank you, Jiaoqiu. I mean, for taking care of me, I'm still really sick, my body is just getting weaker and weaker by the day... I don't know why..."

Time is running out. Why was his time with you getting cut short? Why? Why? No. He's gonna fix this, he can. All he wants is a little more time with you, can't he have that? He doesn't want to feel lonely again. Please... Stay...

"Jiaoqiu... Are you okay? You've been stuffing your nose into books all day. I just... Have a feeling your doing something suspicious, don't get me wrong, I'm not accusing you, I'm just worried."

Immortality is a sin, he knows that, he knows it all too well. The only way to achieve it is through the flesh of an Emanator of Abundance. The last time that went... Didn't go well. Fuck around with immortality and there will be a cost... That he's willing to pay, unfortunately for you. All he needed is to make a medicine that will ensure you to live longer, even if you become mara-struck, it doesn't matter.

"Are you sure this medicine is safe? I don't think that it is..."

Aeons! Just consume it will you!? Do you know how hand it took him to get his hands in these things!? Do you want him to strip naked and beg you to consume it!? You want him to pin you and shove it down your throat!?

Jiaoqiu wouldn't really consider himself sinful... So he wonders why he's dragging you into the pits of hell.

a/n: uh... this is inaccurate as hell, i barely read the lore leave me alone— 😭

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader) pt.1

Summary: modern day college au! Choso pines over his cute classmate. Ngl this is super self indulgent, probably OOC, with lots of fluff and smut, borderline crack really. Enjoy!

Warnings: stalking, unhealthy behavior, p in v sex, unprotected, possessive/obsessive behavior, smut, and etc. Choso is clingy and borderline yandere.

wc: 4.2k

You’re a sweetie pie, friendly to everyone but seemingly not close to anyone. You wear cute dresses and blouses, and have adorably round cheeks, so plump and cute, with a warm smile that puts every person you speak with at ease. Choso on the other hand, though not socially inept per say, simply doesn’t put much effort into socializing with his classmates or really any person outside his tight knit circle. All Choso really needs is his family and a couple close friends, the ones he’s had for years. He doesn’t need to win any popularity contests and with his pale, nearly translucent skin, inky black hair, and somewhat somber expression, Choso had something of a reputation for being creepy. Walking down the street, zoned out eyes and a thin lipped frown, it wasn’t uncommon for a person to double take, wondering if they had seen a hulking onryo in physical form.

And so, when he met you, Choso was at a loss. Suddenly everything he did seemed so awkward and stilted. He was fumbling over himself attempting to make your acquaintance; from being assigned to class projects or during group discussions, of which Choso found himself hanging on your every word with rapt attention no matter how boring the subject material actually was, he could never seem to find the right thing to say. It was a miracle when he was able to speak at all, outside of strictly school related topics. 

On a mild sunny day, it was a classmate had ultimately been the one to indirectly help Choso make a connection. They had pointed him out to you, who had been sitting unaware on a blanket in the campus courtyard with a book and a snack, Your peaceful, cozy study session outside was interrupted when a classmate came by to say hello and warn you of the strange man watching you from the smattering of trees and bushes surrounding the area.

“He’s always staring at you.” They winced as Choso ducked further behind the large oak he was half obscured behind. “What the hell? I can call security for you.”

“Oh it’s Choso.” you beamed in his direction, waving one of your arms over your head. “Hey Choso! Wanna study with me?”

Unsure if he was hallucinating, Choso ventured from his spot, steps heavy as he walked briskly to where you were camped out on the grass. Your classmate gave you a strange look. "Will you be okay?”

“Aw, he’s just shy.” you told them, your smile widening as Choso lingered a few feet away from the edge of your blanket.

“Uh huh. Alright then” 

With a shrug, they left you and Choso alone; for a few seconds, neither of you spoke.

“Hi.” Choso looked from you to the retreating classmate, and back to you again. “Can I sit down?”

“Sure!” you patted the spot next to you. “Are you hungry? I have some cookies in my bag, made them myself.”

You chatted with Choso about nothing in particular; he mostly nodded or gave one syllable answers as he munched carefully on the cookies you offered. He heard you talk about baking once or twice before; granted Choso is pretty neutral on most desserts but ever since hearing about your casual hobby, one of his favorite fantasies was you gifting him with sweets made with care: chocolate on Valentine's Day, a special cake for his birthday, or maybe you wearing nothing but a cute apron in his kitchen while he pinned you over the table and-

Well, maybe he's getting ahead of himself.

“You know, you could have just come over. How long were you gonna stand there?” you asked after Choso finished the cookies; you had brought extra, hoping to see him around campus again. Nothing said, "let's be buddies" like sharing homemade goodies, right?. “Besides, someone might think you’re stalking me.” you joked.

Choso hadn’t exactly meant to follow you; he really had intended to come over and greet you properly, ask if he could sit or if you wanted to get a coffee, something. Every time he tried to approach you, Choso ended up lingering near you, telling himself he would say something, a hello at the very least, but his feet would end up feeling like lead blocks and his palms would get clammy. Besides, you looked so content to be alone typing away on your computer or leisurely reading a book in your lap. What if you thought he was annoying? What if the only reason you treated him nicely in class was because you didn’t want to be rude and you secretly thought he was an off putting weirdo? Just imagining you looking up at him with apprehension or disgust made Choso’s resolve crumble. By the time he found an ounce of nerve to take a few steps toward you, you were already heading out of the library or the courtyard or the campus cafe and he was left feeling stupid and cowardly. Besides, of nothing else he could be near, just in case someone unwanted came along to bother you. Choso would put a stop to that easily.

“Sorry. I was going to, but you looked busy and…yeah.” Choso scratched at the bridge of his nose, nail grazing over the tattoo; his stomach flipped, remembering how you complimented it the first week of classes. No one else really talked to him but everyone seemed to like talking to you. He had been so surprised, he hadn’t even said thank you, just nodded and averted his eyes back to his notes. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You don’t bother me. Actually,” you pause before taking out your phone. “I was going to ask during our next class: do you want to exchange numbers?”

Choso looked up at you, stricken faced and back straight. “You were?”

“Sure, this way we can make plans to hang out.” you explain casually, smoothing out your skirt as you shifted toward him, contact list open and ready to add his name. With that brief movement, your skirt hiked up higher over your thighs just well past your knees; Choso bit the inside of his cheek and prayed you didn’t notice his gaze flicker downward. It would take less than a second to reach over, feel the exposed skin, squeeze with his rough hand, and then he could get a better idea of how it would feel to have his head trapped between your quivering thighs while he-

“You mean it? So," Choso gazes at you hopefully; his eyes are so intensely fixed to yours that you almost feel the need to look away. "We would see each other outside of class?”

“Yeah, let’s get coffee or something. Also, if one of us is already busy, we can just reschedule. Or, you know, we can just text each other whenever. No pressure.” you gave him a thumbs up. “Sound good to you?”

“That makes sense.” Choso types his number into your phone; the pads of his finger are thick and he’s trembling a little, so he has to redo it twice. “Um, can I sit with you? Like, right now, I mean.”

“Of course.” you nod and scoot over a little to make more room for him on the blanket. “By the way, that song I heard coming from your earbuds the other day, it sounded good; what was it called?”

Choso was wrong, assuming approaching you would be the thing to test his will power and courage the most. Now that Choso has your number (he put a little rabbit emoticon by your name, his cute chubby bunny) he has to rein himself in from messaging you every fifteen minutes and even then he knows he texts you too much. Even so, no matter how many messages Choso sends, you never seem annoyed. Weeks go by and Choso has gone from sending you brief inquiries about the class material and when the next day off is to regularly texting you good morning and goodnight, links to videos he thinks you’d find funny, songs that remind him of you, pictures of ramen from the new spot he and his brothers had gone out to eat at, even an occasional selfie that had been taken about a dozen times until Choso felt confident enough to send it.  And that wasn’t getting into the questions, unprompted and random, about your favorite color, food, time of day, your family, your birthday, your preferred sleeping position.

You can’t lie, the attention is flattering and you find your heart seize up whenever Choso is brave enough to approach you first, when he starts cracking jokes, bringing you coffee and snacks every class, and finally volunteering more and more info about himself without your prompting. You want him to share things about himself with you, to feel comfortable and at ease. It took a little time and careful coaxing, but it was well worth getting to know this fiercely strong yet oddly gentle man. Choso who seemed to operate on a completely seperate set of rules and morals than most people yet still tried so hard to please you, as if it were his life's mission to do so. You never felt so curious about someone or so determined to have them be a part of your life.

In a short amount of time, Choso has become your shadow, always scrambling to pack up his notes and pens to follow you when you leave the room, practically bounding at your heels when you say you’re going off campus for a meal or shopping. He insists on accompanying you, offering to foot the bill, carry your bags; if you so much as sniffle, Choso is urging a packet of tissues and a bottle of tea into your hands. He knows it’s a lot, but he can’t help himself and you’re so quick to return the favor, to pay for him, bring him little gifts, check up on him if he’s looking particularly tired (usually because he was up all night stalking your socials and planning your next “date”)

You say one nice thing to him and Choso wants to shower you in praise; he doesn’t care if it’s excessive. Sure, technically you’re not his girlfriend, but in Choso’s mind, you might as well be. Besides, he’s happy just making you happy. So when the day comes where you put it all out on the table and ask him to be honest about what his feelings are, Choso is surprised he even has to spell it out.

“What are we?” 

The movie has been paused and you put aside the bucket of popcorn Choso had just made fresh for you with extra butter topping along with the pack of your favorite candy as a surprise gift for movie night. You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the hem of the band t-shirt Choso had lent you when he accidentally spilled coffee over your pretty new blouse. You never did give it back and Choso had never asked for you to return it. This is the first time he’s ever seen you so hesitant. 

“Listen, Choso, I like being your friend, I really do. I’ve never gotten this close to anyone before. You’re very...special to me, but I haven’t been completely honest with you.” you admit quietly. “I really, really like you, as more than just a friend. I’m sorry if that makes things weird. I know when you care for someone, you go all out, so maybe I’ve been misunderstanding this whole thing. I just had to tell you. You deserve to know. You’re such a great guy, I hope you’ll consider still being my friend.”

“I love you. Be my girlfriend.” 

Choso’s tone is so blunt and matter of fact, you’re almost startled into silence. 

“Oh. You love me?” 

“Yes.” 

"Oh." you repeat, still a tad taken aback. "I guess I was worried over nothing. I figured you might have a crush on me, unless I was mistaken, but I...really didn't expect this. Choso, are you sure? When you say love, you don't mean like a friend; you mean, love in 'that' way, right?"

Choso nods, pretty much looming over you; his outward expression is stoic, but you recognize the way his hands clench at his sides and his posture stiffens as him trying to calm his own nerves.

“I do. I meant it exactly how it sounds. I always wanted more, but I didn’t,” he shifts from one foot to the next, unsure whether it would be okay to sit next to you. “You aren’t scared of me? It’s really not…too much?”

Choso’s blood runs cold as you abruptly stand; you’re leaving. It’s too much too soon. Your patience has run out. You think he’s an overbearing freak and you’re going to run away, block him, avoid him. His eyes widen as you stare at him resolutely and it takes every ounce of strength he has to not crumble at your feet and beg you not to leave, to just give him a chance to show you how happy he could make you, the lengths he's willing to go to have you love him.

"I, I'm sorry." Choso steps forward, as if to block your path. "Just hear me out, one more time, plea-"

“I think I love you too.” you say softly, reaching for him slowly and cup his face in your warm palms; Choso brings his large hands up to cover yours, like he's trying to get you to squish his face. “I want to be with you.”

“Are you serious?” Choso exhales shakily. “You really love me?” 

You nod and lean forward barely a centimeter. “You’re really just too cute; can I kiss you now? Am I moving too fast?"

The words are barely out of your mouth before Choso wraps you into an almost painfully tight bear hug, your face is squished into his chest, arms trapped to your sides as Choso mutters softly into your hair.

“Are you really mine?” Choso asks quietly, his deep voice cracking a little as he drops onto the bed, cradling you like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind any second now, caging you with his whole being. “I know I get carried away. I just want to keep you safe. If I could, I’d keep you by me all the time. Is that wrong?”

“I don’t mind.” you smile into his sweatshirt and inhale his scent deeply. “I know you’re not a bad person. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Never!” Choso looks scandalized and you can’t help giggling a little at his bulging eyes and gaped mouth. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I’ll try to do my best; if I ever hurt you, even by accident, you can hit me.”

“But I don’t wanna do that.” you tell him with a pouty frown. “Aways so extreme. How about we just talk and apologize or something?” you wriggle out of his strong iron band like arms enough to look him in the eyes properly. “Choso, you’re kinda squeezing too tight, can you…?”

Choso immediately loosens his hold, but he doesn’t give you any additional space. “Sorry.” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Can we still stay like this for a while?” 

“Oh shoot, I was going to make a joke about you taking my breath away.” you grin impishly and return the hug with your newly freed arms. “So, about that kiss? Not that we have to! I guess we’re already moving pretty fast.”

“Not fast enough.”

"Huh?"

Choso’s eyes flicker to your mouth and his tongue darts out to lick his own bottom lip briefly. “Can we?”

“What?” you have to gather your thoughts as Choso sits back; your legs are on either side of his hips now as you find yourself propped up on his lap. He’s looking at you with a familiar intensity, but you can’t help feeling a little nervous; after all, it’s the first time you’ve been this close to each other, in this kind of position.

“Wanna kiss.” Choso’s words come out faintly slurred, despite not having a drop to drink all night. The movie that had been playing on his tv is still paused, the only source of light in the room. Choso had one hand on your lower back to steady you; the other was on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles underneath the hem of your shirt. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Okay. Thank you.” you offer him a smile before leaning in again, pressing your lips to his lightly, once, twice, three times, until Choso apparently decides chaste pecks aren’t enough. He groans into your mouth, the tip of his tongue wet and broad, tentatively licking as you part your lips wider. He’s getting loud now and suddenly his hands are gripping your thighs; you gasp, but it’s muffled by Choso’s mouth fully over yours as he rocks his hips. He’s grinding into you, hands rubbing your thighs and waist, traveling up your body to your chest. He loves how your plush tummy feels, how his fingers easily sink into your thighs. Choso has the sudden urge to bite into your chubby cheek.

“Choso,” you manage to break the heated kiss only for him to switch to nipping and sucking at your neck. “Wha-what are you-?”

“Can we keep going?” Choso pants, resting his head on your chest. “Please? Can I touch you more? Please?” he’s groping your breasts, staring at them almost in awe. “I want to see them. Can I…?” Suddenly, a look of dread overtakes his needy expression and he draws his hands away back to your waist. “Is it okay? If you don’t want to, I’ll stop. I just,” he breathes in and out shakily; you can feel him, pressing in between your legs. He’s hard, moving frantically, like he's not in control of his own body, rutting against your plump ass and pussy to feel some relief, frustrated he can't feel you completely with stupid clothes getting in the way. “Sorry. I want it so bad, I’ve never done anything before, so…but I can wait, I just get so worked up and you feel so soft, I'm s-sorry-”

“It’s alright, I’m just surprised: I've never seen you like this before.” you confess as you run a hand through Choso’s hair; it’s still a bit damp. He showered before you came over for movie night; you don't think he anticipated this, but then, Choso’s been surprising you all evening. “Are you ready? I'm okay Choso; you’re making me feel good. I didn’t think you would want to go farther than kissing, but if you're up for it,” with a teasing smile, you spread your legs and rub against him. “Do you want to fuck me tonight, Choso?”

Choso can’t speak for the moment, so he nods his head rapidly, cheeks flushing, brows furrowed as he rocks his hips in time with you, nearly bucking you right off his lap from the force of it. 

“Hold on.” you slowly lift your shirt over your breasts; you hadn’t bothered wearing a bra and from the way Choso lets out a ragged curse, you think he appreciates that. “You definitely want to keep going? Here, you can play with them; it’ll feel better if you get me all wet first. Go ahead, touch me all you want.”

“Does this feel good?” Choso’s thumb lightly rubs back and forth across one of your pert nipples; he’s practically salivating as you keen and whine, back arching, your hands gripping tight onto his broad shoulders. “Can I use my tongue?” he slowly moves forward to the other side, lips parting already, eager to know how your skin will taste.

“Oh god, yes!” your voice pitches higher as Choso gently circles the tip of his tongue around your nipple before suckling it; his hand gropes at your other breasts, pinching and rolling his thumb and forefinger carefully around, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Choso's looking up at you through his eyelashes with a hooded adoring stare. You look like a dream come true, writhing on his lap, his shirt pushed up to your neck; he’s been dreaming of this, having your tits in his face, his hands, in his mouth, imagining how they’d feel, what your skin would feel like on his tongue.

After a few minutes, Choso releases your breast from his mouth. “More.” he demands in a low, hoarse voice. “Want more. Wanna see it…wanna see your pussy now.” you move up on your knees so Choso can slip your shorts down past your thighs. His fingers trace the cloth of your panties almost teasingly but really he just wants to savor every moment of this. Choso feels how wet you are through them and gulps. He's so close. He’ll get to feel you soon, feel how hot your insides are, how hot and wet your pussy will feel on his throbbing cock. Hurriedly, Choso yanks off his own sweatpants, barely taking a second before he has you on your back, head propped up on his pillow and recently washed comforter. He hoped it would be like this someday, that you would be here for him like this, naked, legs spread, his shirt still pushed up to show off your cute tits, your shining eyes basically begging for him to split you open on his cock. He’s happy you’re his first time; if Choso has his way, you’ll be his first and only. 

“I want to fuck you while you wear my shirt.” Choso strokes himself, from his base to his pink, leaking tip, settling between your thighs. “You’re mine now, right?” he asks, grunting as the thick head of his cock prods at your soaked pussy; he’s teasing your clit, loving the way you toss your head back, the way you’re actually dripping as he bottoms out. The feeling could knock the wind right out of him if Choso wasn’t so determined to have you just as overwhelmed and needy as he was feeling right now.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt?” Choso pistons his hips, holding your thighs open as he moves inside you; you manage to shake your head before letting out a shrill wail as Choso begins grinding into you as deep as he can. He’s rambling, greedily grabbing at you, holding you open, kissing and biting all over your exposed neck and breasts. “Fu-fuck, you feel so good! So soft and warm, I can’t get enough….wanna cum deep inside. Does it feel good? Am I making you feel good, am I making this pussy feel good?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” your nails drags over his shoulders and back as you struggle not to go limp from the force of his thrusts. “Choso, want to cum, touch me, please, I can’t take it anymore!” 

“You’re gonna take it. Gonna make you cum all over my cock.” Choso mutters; he’s slowly lapping at your hard, oversensitive nipples, salivating, completely lost in the way your pussy is clenching and the sweet pain of you scratching him, the burning red lines surely visible against his pale skin but he’s happy to let you mark him up. “Like this?’ he reaches down, still holding one of your legs up slightly while his free hand rubs his fingers over your clit. “Fuck yeah. I felt that, felt your pussy gush again. Go on, go on,” Choso grinds himself into you as he rubs your swollen clit, steady and quick. 

“CHOSO!” you scream as your body spasms; the sheets underneath you are damp and your body is hot and tense. The way he's stimulating every one of your most sensitive places is driving you crazy, you can barely think, just feel and listen to Choso’s low, raspy voice egging you on. “Oh god, please! I’m gonna-” 

“Yeah, cum on my dick. Cum all over me, you look so fucking hot right now, so cute...my chubby bunny.” Choso’s lips form an oddly soft grin as he watches you come apart; he feels it, feels you cumming around him, your pussy suddenly impossibly tight as you shake and sob. “Sh, sh, you’re okay.” his touch is slower, gentle on your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm. He thinks you’re so precious, twitching and whimpering as you come down from the high. “Shhh, relax. I’m going to move, okay? Can I?” 

Somehow you hear him through the haze and your rapidly beating heart and you nod. “Ye-yes, I want it. Keep fucking me.” you carress his cheek, smiling weakly. “Keep going, cum in me Choso. It's okay, I love you.” 

That’s when what little self control Choso had left snaps like a twig.

“Thank you." Choso wraps your trembling legs around his hips, anchoring you to him whole he shoves his cock as deep as he can inside you. Your mouth falls open but you can't even scream; somehow, it's like Choso’s gotten even harder. "Oh fuck thank you, I can’t believe it, can’t believe you’re letting me, thank you, thank you so much!” The headboard is knocking into the wall; all you can do is cling to Choso as he moans and babbles under his breath, rams his cock in and out of you like a man possessed. “Mine.” Choso has you wrapped in his arms again, pressing your limp ragdoll body to his. Your voice is too weak to let out more than little whispers of moans and frail, broken cries. “Fuck, you’re really mine.” Choso smiles down at you, cheeks flushed and eyes glistening with affection; he’s so close to cumming but he doesn’t want this to end. “Wanna keep you here with me all the ti-time, in my bed, gonna fuck you until you can’t go anywhere. Heh,” Choso kisses your temple with a satisfied, drunken smile as he strokes your fucked out face almost reverently. “You like that? Your pussy just got so tight. Let me, okay? Let me just take care of you from now on.” he picks up the pace again, molding you to him, kissing you as you go light headed; you may just pass out from this, but you don’t care, too busy getting swept up in Choso’s pleas and whines as he gets closer and closer to his own release, though he's the one at your mercy.

“Can I? Can I really cum in you?” he stutters, more begging than asking but either way he’s already losing himself in the sensation as his cock twitches and throbs with overstimulation. “Yes, yes, more, wanna stay like this, deep inside, gonna cum, gonna cum, shit, I’m gonna-!” Choso’s jaw clenches tight and he buries his face into your neck with a long, rough sob, rocking against you until he’s sure every last drop of his cum has been spilled deep inside your aching pussy. He has you in another deathgrip of an embrace but you melt into his arms, smiling dazedly as Choso brings your hand up and presses a loving kiss to your palm. 

“Sorry...I got carried away again, didn't I?” 

“You don’t look very sorry.” you pant, poking his tattoo lightly and let out a soft laugh. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sit up for a bit.”

The bridge of Choso’s nose crinkles and he does look a bit guilty now. “Sorry. I’ll take care of you. Hang on, I’ll get a towel.” 

“Mm, thank you.” you kiss his forehead. “You made me feel really good, I’m just super worn out. Could you bring me some water?” 

Choso nods and quickly stands up to fetch what you need; he’s still a bit dazed himself. When he comes back into the room, you’re still wearing his shirt with nothing else; he can see his cum slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh and has to stop himself from mounting you again. It’s obvious you’re tired and besides, there’ll be plenty of time for round two tomorrow morning when you’re waking up in his arms. “Hey,” Choso murmurs as you settle in under the covers with him. His finger lightly traces a particularly large love bite on the side of your neck. “Are you really mine?” “Choso, you really do worry too much.” Still, you can’t help but smile; he’s staring again, waiting raptly, looking absurdly innocent and almost childlike as he gazes at you beseechingly. “I’m all yours.” you kiss him tenderly once more before snuggling into his chest; Choso inhales sharply and has to fight back the tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He could die of happiness right now but then he wouldn’t get to have more kisses. 

“Come over for dinner tomorrow? I want to introduce you to my family.”

“I’d love to.” you sigh, content as Choso’s hand strokes up and down your back. “I can bake something.”

“Would it be too soon to say you’ll be their sister-in-law?”

“Hm, let’s hold off on that for a while.”

“Okay, I can wait.” Choso smiles, kissing your head gently. “Do you want to have kids?”

“Choso.”

“Sorry, right.” 

“It’s alright.” you murmur sleepily. “Talk later, sleep now.”

“Okay….can we do it again when you wake up?”

“Yes.”

[zenyyyluvyuu]

Bound by the dragon {1}

(yandere dragon! Jason todd x sacrifices! Fem Reader x Slight yandere platonic batfam)

Chapter: (1) (2)

This series contains dark themes and yandere elements, enter at your own risk! Here's the tw ↓

Tw: blood, Non-consensual captivity, manipulation, slight gaslighting, violence, mentions of past abuse, a little humor cuz i got a heart

Author note: a little misunderstanding here, i realized there's a difference between dragonlord and dragon, i hope you forgive me for my mistake.

kinda ooc and broken or incorrect English I'm sorry. I hope you like and enjoy my series :D

The night is still young.

Your feet feel hurt so bad, you swear you can feel some blood. They didn't let you wear a shoe or anything to protect your bare feet.

Your wrist and ankle hurts badly from the rope they tied to you. They didn't even let you speak, they gagged you with dirty clothes.

Sweat with slight blood dripping down your temple. Your body is full of bruises and scratches. They didn't dress you properly. Some of it was torn, exposing your bare shoulder, exposing the dragon mark on your shoulder.

Ah.

The dragon mark.

The mark that is sealed permanently on you that makes the whole village against you. It was already attached when you were born.

The rumored tale of the mark that will give misfortune, curse and evil stuff. the person who got that mark was burned Or even sacrifices to the dragon. The person will be the dragon meal.

Torn apart, eaten alive and dead.

With that the dragon will grant them a gift, a treasure. The village believes it. Because they are greedy.

And here you are, dragged by them to the stone altar. The villagers threw you forward, the harsh impact sending a jolt of pain through your knees as you landed on the stone ground.

They back away, kneeling, praying. You glance at them, your tears are dry. The chilling air sends shivers down your spine.

One of the village elders, stands up "our dear dragon. We offer you the curse to grant us a treasure."

You scoff in disgust, greed as always.

With that the tension in the air changed. You shudder, the air was hot.

No one dares to make a sound, even you. You didn't realize there's a person in front of you.

"so this is what you offer to me? The curse one you say?" A deep and rough voice. You didn't realize that you just held your breath.

With hesitation, the elders open her mouth again to explain "yes my lord, the curse one has a dragon mark on her shoulder. Meaning that she will be your meal, in exchange we want you to grant us one of your rare treasures"

"...dragon mark?"

With that you can feel his eyes on you, like strapping you naked, vulnerable. You tremble, you bite your lips until it's draw blood to stay quiet.

"yes my lord" the elders answered without hesitation.

There's a silence between the dragon and the villager, with you in the middle.

With a little bravely you glance at the dragon, curious about his appearance.

(yeah like that bcs I'm struggling to explain the details on his face and my English is not good 😔 so i have to draw it)

When he glanced back at you, you turned your head to the ground. Woah.

Was he always that big? Or are you just the short one..?

The dragon, flick something on his hands, revealing a big bag of gold in it. He tosses it on the ground in front of the elders.

The elders grab it greedy, their eyes glimmered full of greed. With a false smile they yell " thank you my lord! We are taking our leave soon, i hope the girl is a great meal to you" with that they leave you and the dragon alone.

The dragon didn't reply. He just stands there watching them leave.

They give you a last glance mock of pity. You clamp your hands tight. Glaring at them.

And now you're alone. You let out a sigh. You were ready to be eaten. You were ready to be torn apart, clawed.

But then you just feel a callous hand holding your chin, tilting it up. Your gaze finally met him. Sharp gaze.

"didn't know they believed such a false story."

You frown.

False?

He chuckled. "Yeah. All the stories about our kind were false. The dragon mark on your shoulder, was not a curse but a mark that tells that you were one of us now. I'm not eating you sweetheart."

Your face harden. So it was all a lie?

"so I'm one of you?" You manage to utter a word.

"something like that but you are my bride now."

What.

You thought that this is your fate. Your death. Being eaten.

But oh

How wrong you are.

You didn't know, that now you were bound to the dragon.

Bound to be his bride.

His only bride.

You tremble on his hold. He chuckled. And then process to lift you up on his arm. Your head resting on his chest.

The sudden action making you yelp, you hold on to him. Afraid he might drop you.

"what are you-!?" Before you can make you another word. Suddenly his wings flap, stretching itself before he starts to fly fast.

Making your hold on him tightened. The wind blows loudly on your face. You close your eyes. Too scared to open it.

His grip on you is tightened, protecting you from the wind blows.

He takes you away.

Away from the hellish of the village.

Away from your past.

You don't know where he will take you.

But you have a feeling that he brings you to his world.

Your journey was just the beginning.

Ok it is time for me to sleep, i hope you all like this cringe series ❤️

I'm sorry if there's any mistake, i hope you forgive me with that.