#Yandere Final Destination | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whimsyvixen · 6 months ago

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𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 ~ 𝟙/?

Stalker Fic (original work)

Rating: 18+ Pairing: Female Reader x Male Yandere Synopsis/Excerpt: It felt like someone was looking at you. A predator looking at a fawn. Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart. WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark fic, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, stalking, yandere, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, masturbation, captivity, non-consensual bondage, dacryphilia, forced breeding, forced orgasm, vaginal sex, fuck or die, tags will grow as this story progresses. ⚠️READ THE TAGS: Please be aware this work contains content that the reader may feel uncomfortable with or otherwise triggered by. DO NOT READ if bothered by tags . NO minors. ⚠️

A/N: Wooo! so I finally decided to make story for this post I made awhile back (a thousand thank you's to everyone who liked and commented <3 ). Please read up on the tags, so you know what to expect in the coming chapters. Happy reading!

-Dividers by @adornedwithlight-

It was raining outside, the distant thunder and pitter patter of raindrops hitting the window creating a lullaby that was lulling you to sleep. Combined with the soft rumbling of the bus, you could feel your body’s desperate need for rest after a grueling shift at work.

Familiar streets and roads were tracked by your eyes, the expected relief of almost getting home brightening up your mood despite the gloomy weather. You estimated that you'll reach your destination in less than half an hour, rummaging through your purse to take out your phone to set up a timer in case sleep overtakes you and you miss your stop.

Pressing the lever of your seat to recline, you got comfortable and laid your cardigan over your chest, finally giving in to the urge of closing your eyes. Seconds ticked by and all you could think about was how you couldn't wait to be in the comfort of the soft bedding on your mattress. Your muscles were practically begging for relief and you had enough pillows and blankets waiting for you back home to alleviate this problem.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes that passed– your mind completely disassociating from reality while you snoozed– when your peace was shattered. A shiver of unease ran through you, waking up your consciousness abruptly and causing you to jolt awake.

The same feeling that’s been haunting you for weeks now was back.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood and your heart rate picked up.

It hadn’t always been like this. You could still remember a time when you climbed inside the vehicle without your gut twisting anxiously. At first, you chalked it up to it being caused by some low level of anxiety you were experiencing or lack of restful sleep. Something that could be easily remedied by swallowing a pill stashed inside a drawer back home.

However, as of late, a feeling of wariness and fear seemed to consume you, your fight or flight response triggered whenever you climbed up the stairs of the bus, each step weighing heavy on your legs as you went to take your seat.

It felt like someone was looking at you.

A predator looking at a fawn.

Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart.

The paranoia getting to you, you turned your head to the right, swallowing down your nervousness as you tried to find the source of your panic.

There was a man seated in the opposite seats across from you. His stretched out and bulky frame took up much of the space, the black cap on his head and the mask he wore obscuring his features and giving him a mysterious vibe. The turtleneck shirt clung to him, emphasizing the broad muscles of his upper body even in his relaxed state. His back was to the window, his left leg bent in a careless fashion along both seats, facing you directly as he was browsing through his phone.

At least, you thought that's what he was doing. You didn't want to believe that the man was taking unwanted pictures or videos of you while you slept.

You didn't realize you were staring for too long, the stranger’s attention shifting away from his phone when he could feel your gaze, freezing you in place as your eyes connected with those dark depths. For some reason, you couldn’t look away, too afraid to blink as a chill took over you from being under the perusal of those piercing eyes. There was something wrong, you just couldn’t explain it. He tilted his head to the side, regarding your stunned state for a moment before his eyes crinkled with amusement. He waved good naturedly at you, a normal gesture of greeting that you would've returned if not for the twisting of your gut that warned you against doing such a thing.

When you didn’t return his gesture, the stranger’s eyebrows furrowed in dejection, bringing his hand down to lay against his lap almost disappointedly.

A good few seconds passed with both unwilling to look away from each other.

Your eyes, firm and guarded while his were inquisitive and curious.

As if finally sensing your unease, the stranger backed off by turning to sit properly in his seat and shifting his focus back to his phone.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, you grabbed your purse and whipped out your phone, your shaky hands nearly dropping it when you first grabbed it. Turning the screen on, you realized you had taken a ten minute nap with seconds to spare from your alarm ringing. You were mere minutes away from arriving at your stop.

Taking a quick glance at the stranger once more, you tried to rid your paranoid thoughts that he was the reason for your being on edge these past few weeks. It couldn’t be, you tried reasoning to yourself. If anything, you were in the wrong for staring at him funny when you’ve never seen him before. Maybe this was his first ride on the bus and you made his experience weird because you kept looking at him as if accusing him of something heinous. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly and not spook you when you caught each other’s eye by accident. Maybe your groggy mind was making things up about a complete stranger.

Could the stress of work and your responsibilities piling up for the past few months be messing with your awareness? There was nothing special about you. You weren’t an important person. There was nothing, no gifted ability or priviledge, that separated you from the throngs of people you saw every day while heading to work. Why would someone want you with your bleak existence and no future aspirations?

Your anxiousness and worry slowly left you when you drew those conclusions about yourself, replaced with self pity as you realized you really had nothing going for your life. The somber expression staring back at you through your phone’s black screen only dimming your mood further.

It was a while before the bus slowed to a stop, the driver’s familiar voice announcing your destination and making you stand to walk to the front. Not paying attention to your footing, you tripped over your own feet and felt gravity pull you under. A small yip tumbled out of your lips, feeling pain on your left elbow from the hard impact on the floor. Your purse went flying in a comical fashion, your disoriented mind not sure in which direction it landed or if anything fell out of it.

Embarrassment quickly flooded you, feeling the eyes of other passengers stare at you and hearing a few snickers amongst them. Wincing from the blossoming pain in your arm, you had barely braced your hands on the floor ready to stand up, when you felt warm hands encircle your waist.

“Here,” a deep voice whispered against your ear. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

You were lifted from the floor easily, your weight meaning nothing to the man as he held you gently until you got your bearings straight. You looked up at him, having to crane your neck upwards due to his tall height and seeing it was the masked stranger.

“I, uhm.. Thank you,” you stuttered over your words, a flush of heat blooming in your face at his proximity. You wanted to kick yourself for how high pitched your voice sounded, unable to maintain eye contact with him when he gazed so intently back at you. If you dared to say, it felt like he was trying to memorize every small detail about your face– birthmarks, the slope of your nose, shape of your lips, the emotion in your eyes. Realizing that you still held on to his arms wrapped around your waist, you nervously laughed before going to break yourself away from the intimate embrace.

“I’m okay now, you can let go,” you assured him, the fake smile plastered on your face concealing your tense disposition from his closeness.

You chose to ignore the way his fingers dug momentarily into your waist, gripping you a little too tight to be normal before he loosened his grasp, allowing you to generate a more respectable distance between you and him. Seeing your startled reaction to his handling of you, the stranger immediately apologized for his actions.

“You’ll have to forgive me for my forwardness.” He told you, imploring you with his eyes that he meant no harm. He bent down to pick up something on the floor, his other hand holding up the strap of your purse for you to take it. “I only wanted to make sure you wouldn’t trip over yourself again.”

“Oh! I-It’s ok really, I-,” your words were interrupted by the harsh voice of the driver telling you to hurry to the front if you planned to get out. You quickly snatched your purse back, ignoring the little jolt of electricity that zipped through you when you grazed his fingers. “Um, I have to go but thank you, again! Bye!”

You turned to walk briskly down the steps of the bus, thanking the bus driver for his patience and stepping out into the familiar streets of your neighborhood. Luckily for you, the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, an umbrella not needed for the small trek you took to arrive at the apartment where you’ve been renting for the past year.

Locking the door behind you, you sighed audibly before throwing your purse at the chair nearest you. You walked over to your room, kicking off your shoes to land haphazardly along the floor because you were too tired to bother putting them away. Removing your damp clothing, you grabbed a towel and some night clothes to head to the shower.

Relaxing under the spray of lukewarm water, you found your mind straying to the stranger in the bus.

Who was he?

You weren’t lying that you had never seen him before. A man of his formidable size would have been easy to spot, sticking out from the rest of the passengers like a sore thumb. He was dressed peculiarly too, his attire giving off the impression that he values secrecy and privacy. And his voice! Goodness, you could feel yourself nearly melt remembering the richness of it. The way he held you like a dainty object didn’t escape your notice either, your cheeks aflame at how good his hands felt around your waist. The feminine thrill that his presence ignited was hard to subdue, unbidden thoughts of his hands squeezing and trailing over your naked body filling your mind.

Would his hands be soft and gentle? Or would they be strong and rough?

As if your hands had a mind of their own, they moved up your body to cup your breasts making you gasp at the contact. You looked down at your chest, seeing the peaks of your nipples hardening under your soft touch. You tried envisioning his hands squeezing the doughy flesh, your head tilting to one side as you wondered if he'd be satisfied with your size. Small moans escaped you as you continued to fondle yourself, closing your eyes and imagining him whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he teased your breasts. You were sure he’d trail a line of kisses down your neck, pressing his naked front against you so you could feel his excitement poking at the small of your back. A sudden hard pinch to your nipple brought you out of your fantasy, the thought of his cock causing your fingers to twist the sensitive tip excitedly.

You shook your head under the shower, trying to calm your racing thoughts before they got more explicit.

To think such things about a man you hardly knew wasn’t good. What if you see him again tomorrow? Could you bear to look at him knowing where your thoughts were straying at this moment?

You winced, memories of the loaded eye contact you threw his way making you want to smack yourself. Maybe you should apologize next time you see him. To prove to him that you weren’t a crazy lady that regularly gave the stink eye to neighboring passengers. Explain that your stress was getting to you. Perhaps be the first to wave at him next time to show there was no animosity between you. Maybe something could develop once you introduced each other, a giddy little voice tickled your ears.

Once you were done showering and drying your hair, you went back to the living room for your purse. You had placed your phone inside so the rain couldn’t wet it. You needed to wake up at a good time tomorrow to get ready for work so setting up an alarm was crucial. When you grabbed your purse, you noticed it felt lighter and looked down to see it was unzipped and wide open.

Oh No. There’s no way…

You dug your hand inside, hoping to feel the familiar mass of your phone only to come out empty handed. Then you remembered your fall from earlier.

“Damn it, it must have fallen off when I fell,” you cursed under your breath, gnawing on your fingernail in worry for a minute before sighing tiredly. You needed to sleep and staying up late thinking about your lost phone was not going to help. You’d have to wait until tomorrow morning to ask the driver if anything was found.

Turning off all the lights in your place, you finally headed to bed, a yawn leaving your mouth as you placed a knee in your mattress. Under the covers of your blanket, you tried clearing up your mind so you could sleep quickly. A sudden image of the masked stranger flashed through your head, your growing curiosity of him affecting you even in your most tired state.

Right before you slept, a nagging at the back of your mind told you to be wary of him.

A man lay on his bed alone, hair plastered to his forehead as he breathed harshly. His shirt was raised to his waist, exposing his naked pelvis and muscled thighs as he pumped his rigid dick at a furious tempo.

His choked groans and huffs were muffled by his mask, the man tilting his head back on his pillows to bask in the pleasurable sensations of his hand firmly stroking his length. Perspiration ran down every inch of him, the sweat dampening his bed and making him grunt at how his sheets clung to his heated skin. He slid his hand down his shaft– tightening his grip when he got to the base– hissing when it caused his cock to twitch before sliding it up once more to tease his cockhead and repeat the process. The squelch of the lubricant coating his dick was a decadent symphony next to his pleasured grunts, the aggressive handling of his pleasure nearly causing him to erupt as he continued to fuck his fist.

He was nearly there, half lidded eyes eyeing the drop of precum threatening to slide down his shaft and mix with the lubricant.

No, he didn’t want to cum so soon. Not without the image of the pretty bird he’d been stalking for the past month etched in his brain. God, she was so beautiful. Never had he seen a more perfect woman than you. His hands tightened remembering how soft and demure you were when he picked you up. The slight tremble in your body and your skittish behavior making him want to devour you where you stood.

Biting his lip, he slowed his pace and closed his eyes in concentration, conjuring up an image that would help to reach his climax.

In his mind, it was no longer his hand wrapped around his dick.

Instead, smaller hands were slowly stroking him in an almost reverent manner, seeming to worship every protruding vein and jerk of his member. A small gasp escaped you when cum drizzled out of his tip, smearing your fingers with the warm liquid to combine with the lube drenching his dick. He could feel the stickiness of it running down his thighs and balls, causing him to shudder at the sensation.

He could see you biting your lip anxiously, staring at him with those expressive eyes of yours waiting for his instruction. Unable to resist, he'd grab your hair and yank you his throbbing cock, your flushed face gasping at the heat emitting from his rod of meat pressed against your cheek. He hoped you were a smart girl, knowing what he desired from you as he slapped his dick on your lips.

He'd stare you down, arching an eyebrow as he waited for you to open that sweet mouth of yours. He knew he wasn't a small man–his girth was enough to intimidate even his most experienced past partners– but he was sure he could teach you how to swallow him down like a good girl.

You'd hesitate for too long, testing his patience. He’d need to be firm with you then. He'd pinch your nose between his fingers, blocking your airways and driving you to open your mouth to take a breath. It was all he needed to shove half of his cock inside your heated orifice. A guttural groan would echo in his room, the warmth of the hot cavern of your mouth and wiggling tongue on the underside of his dick making him see white for a second.

He could picture your muffled whimpering, your hands bracing against his thighs to pull away. He'd lift his upper body to get a better grip on your head, not allowing you to escape and forcing more of his dick down your throat. He'd praise you for being so good and lovely for him. Telling you to relax your throat, to make it easier for you. Before long, you'd obey his commands and start bobbing your head slowly to adjust to the fullness in your mouth.

He'd allow you to work at your own pace, content with seeing your tear ridden face for a few minutes more before taking over when you were going too slow for his liking. Your eyes would widen with alarm when he thrusted his hips up, a gargled whine vibrating through his manhood from the fierce jab in your throat. He’d repeat the same action again, a pleased groan rumbling out of him at the feel of your mouth struggling to accommodate him. From there on, he'd use you like a fleshlight, gripping your hair tightly to pull your face down to every one of his savage thrusts. Spittle and cum would rain down your jaw, messing your appearance as you gagged and moaned around the dick hammering your throat.

It was the fantasy of seeing you look up at him, eyes pinched with distress and tears streaming down your heated and sweaty face, that made him finally snap.

His hips jerked up in his hand, his body vibrating violently just as his cock shot out endless ropes of cum in the air. He grunted with each twitch of his pelvis, feeling the warm liquid pooling in the crevices of his contracting abs and staining his shirt. His chest heaved with exertion, the stranger breathing heavily as a result of cumming from his heightened lust. His mask hid his delirious smile, the stranger chuckling to himself at the euphoria he felt and the mess he created.

Only you could make him cum so strongly to drive him to lose himself.

Minutes passed until he was able to get his breathing under control, begrudgingly getting out of his bed to clean himself up.

Something about you had him hooked. What started off as a fleeting crush morphed into a distorted and unhealthy obsession, the stranger falling deeper in love with you every passing day, as well as the urge to take you growing exponentially worse. .

He longed to know what it felt like to have you in his arms, the thought keeping him up often at night.

Luckily for him, his wish finally came true tonight, remembering the softness of your body in his hands. You were a small little thing compared to him, barely reaching his chest. It wouldn't take much to overpower you, the statement giving rise to depraved thoughts of your squirming body underneath him, naked and helpless under his ardent touch. It took everything in him not to pull you closer, wanting to feel your delicious shape against his frame as the fantasy played in his head. He hated his mask at that moment, realizing he could've caught a whiff of your scent too if he wasn't keen on hiding his identity.

The stranger's eyes furrowed in displeasure at this, angry at himself for missing an opportunity to know you more intimately. Turning off the sink, he didn't bother to dry his hands when he ripped his mask off and flung it in the trash.

In a foul mood, he exited his bathroom and marched towards his study. It was already past midnight but there was something important he had to do before he slept.

Entering the room, he didn't bother to close the door and sat down, sliding the chair closer to his desk to get to work. He was inputting his PC’s password when he glanced at the rectangular object next to him.

It was your phone.

He inspected it, taking note of your phone cover and thinking it suited someone like you. He pressed the on button, seeing your phone screen light up and ask for the passcode to access it. He typed in a few guesses and not to his surprise, none worked.

No worries. This would only be a momentary issue. Nothing that he couldn't crack open once he plugged your device to his computer. Sure enough, within a few moments, all your browsing history and personal information was revealed to him. His eyes traveled greedily over all your files, desperate to know who you were and what you liked.

His impatience to claim you was nearing a tipping point. He already had a small taste of you and it was not enough. HIs hands clenched into fists. He wanted more. Desired to thoroughly possess you and infect you with his love.

One way or another, you were going to be his.

He would make sure of it.

#yandere #yandere male #obsessive yandere #stalker bf #cnc stalking #yandere male x reader #dark smut #dark content #darkfic #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw yandere #dark imagines #yandere oc

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eevees-hobbies · 3 months ago

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Cherry Popper! - Fem!Reader x Yandere!Sylus Synopsis: Sylus loves that you’re a virgin. CW/BEFORE YOU READ: Dark Content. Yandere, Extreme Virginal idealization, mention of murder (but not portrayed), stalking, masturbation, voyeurism, possessiveness, breeding, dubcon, no protection pet names: sweet one, kitten, baby. || WC: 1.2K. Banner by me. Dividers by @adornedwithlight. As always, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Oh, you thought this man was protective before? When you share that you’re a virgin with him, there’s an almost imperceptible clench of his jaw and dilation of his pupils.

He can feel his heart rate increase—no man has ever touched you? Good, because the idea of you with someone else, writhing below anyone that isn’t him, moaning a name that isn’t his, is enough to have him palming the glock in his pocket. This man has murdered for far less, but when it comes to you? Massacring masses for even slightly inconveniencing his girl wouldn’t even make him blink.

But are you truly surprised? Dragons love their maidens, after all.

You were always meant to be his, and this simply further solidifies this truth.

“Un…touched?” His usual sultry voice will have the slightest traitorous tremble; his tone—usually confident—will practically be a whisper.

Of course, he has been monitoring you closely—like the dutiful protector he is—for some time, but no amount of intel could have prepared him for this information.

And Sylus will swear that you left yourself virginal for him. No amount of convincing will sway the leader of Onychinus that you weren’t saving yourself for him to deflower, to push into your slick, tight depths, and take your innocence.

You, his sweet, pure girl destined to be for him, saved herself like the most precious treasure—and doesn't that simply scream fated souls?

When he finally has you in the bedroom, his thick cock juts out—tall, proud, and like a beacon of pure want against his toned lower abdomen.

It’s heavy and pulsing eagerly from where you lay on the bed beneath him, already weeping thick, syrup-like globules of pre from his slit. It gives a few visual twitches as your eyes widen at the sight of him. He wants you to be impressed—this is the cock that will be responsible for your orgasms for the rest of your life, after all.

He takes a few beats to admire what’s his—bringing two fingers against your southern lips and stroking them with a deep sense of longing and reverence. He spreads you slowly, two thumbs parting your folds to eye at your precious bud swelling just for him. He pads it gently with his thumb, groaning as it twitches for him, needy and neglected.

He has you flat on your back, bare and exposed, exactly how he likes you. He settles himself between your thighs, hissing because he swears the heat of your cunny might just scorch him.

Part of having you in missionary is the intimacy, he’ll have you on all fours later tonight, but your first time demands the tenderness and closeness of such a position. Selfishly, he also desires to see every expression your cute face makes as he splits you in half.

Let him see the way your bottom lip trembles, the way you gasp and ask him to slow down and shimmy those cute little hips because it's “just tooooo much.”

You're fucking right it’s too much, but you'll open up nice and pretty for him like a good girl, won't you?

His eyes, much like his hands, are all over you, similar to how he appraises a jewel but with far more adoration and something more possessive and dark. He gropes your breasts, fingers pulling at your nipples until they swell against the pad of his fingers. The way you respond-–covering your face and cheeks flushing darker lets him know that you’re not used to being touched here either, making him lick his lips and forcefully swallow at the excess saliva you’re making him produce.

I’ll be gentle,” he coos, large hands already separating your plush thighs and exposing your delicate petals to his gaze. Sylus swears he wants to keep his promise, but as he watches your tight little hole flutter and smooch around nothing in anticipation of being filled, he isn’t so sure that he can.

As he sinks into your wet, tight sex, you swear his crimson eyes roll back into his skull. He can feel absolutely everything. It’s far better than what he was able to imagine when he was fucking his fist to the footage of you undressing in your room at night, courtesy of Mephisto.

Sylus is not a premature ejaculator, and that certainly isn’t the case here, but the way your silk walls grip and suckle him has him chewing the inside of his cheek to get a fucking grip. You’re squeezing him tighter than his hand ever could. You feel absolutely perfect, and in that moment, he swears to himself that he’d rather die–again–than give up this feeling.

You gasp, your hands shooting out to slow his movement and claw at his chest because you feel the slightest resistance, a barrier so thin, yet an obvious obstacle that’s keeping him from fully making you his—and that’s a fucking problem.

He tsks softly as he feels the paper-thin membrane against the tip of his cock, “Can’t have that, now can we?” And without warning, he jerks his hips, eyes on your face as tears prickle the corner of your eyes from the discomfort.

“Ohhhhh, Kitten,” he hisses through clenched teeth, trying his best to be a pillar of support for you but also fighting the urge to fold you in half and fuck you until your sweet virginal cunt is molded permanently in the shape of his cock.

It’s also the sight of everything else that makes Sylus's cock twitch inside your heat, his eyes can’t stop sweeping over your body, the way your breasts bounce with every hammer of his hips, the way your eyelids flutter when his pelvis mashes against your clit, and the way your mouth opens and closes trying to grasp at something other than guttural whines of pleasure.

You’re singing sensual love songs made of your most profound pleasure, and it’s all. for. him.

And all the while, he won’t stop talking to you while he’s stirring your guts. It’s a constant stream of chatter:

“How does that feel, sweet one?”

“Do you like it when I make love to you like this?”

“Oh, Kitten. Shhhh, I know I’m deep. It’s ok. I won’t give you more than you can’t handle, I promise.”

“Don’t be shy. Tell me how it feels, baby.”

And every time you respond in a way that strokes his ego, he groans and pulses inside of you because, yes, please tell him more about how he's stretching you to the brim.

Yes, please tell him how you’ve never felt anything like this before, especially down there.

Yes, please tell him you’re close because, fuck, he’s close too, and as much as he enjoys fucking you, he’s going to enjoy watching your eyes grow wide as you feel unbridled and unrestricted seed flood your womb. Panic will set in as you realize he’s not wearing protection, and he’ll only force his hips forward to be flush against you to plug you up more—pressing his balls against your clenching hole to ensure all that he so generously provides, takes.

He has such a big load for you and can’t wait to give you every last drop.

His gaze is unrelenting as he watches the way you suck your plump bottom lip between your teeth, breath coming in harsh pants as his ruts push you up higher and higher up the mattress. The headboard is thudding against the wall, but neither of you can hear it—he’s too lost in the sensation of you, and you’re too lost in the feeling of being impossibly stuffed.

He’ll give you breaks, of course, but that first night, don’t expect much rest before he’s pulling you against him again, large hands spreading you open and hilting himself into you for the umpteenth time.

@interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch

#cw: breeding #cw: dubcon #cw: yandere #love and deepspace #lads smut #lads sylus #lads #love and deep space #lads x reader #love and deepspace sylus

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lavandulawrites · 21 days ago

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Yandere HSR Men With a Darling Who Catches them Kill Part 1

Yandere Anaxa x reader, yandere Argenti x reader, yandere Aventurine x reader, yandere Blade x reader

This will be in 5 parts with 4 characters each part:) When all the parts are finished, I will put all the drabbles in one big post;) I got slightly carried away with Aventurine’s part

Masterlist

Warnings: murder, dead dove do not eat, gore, graphic description of murder, obsession, possessiveness, overprotective behaviour, they’re all such simps oml, delusional behaviour, the yanderes are all insane, manipulation, reader does not get hurt

Word count: 2632

Anaxa

Being a well known professor had its perks. One of them being that trust was something people granted one rather freely. Anaxa had at first wanted to use his immense brainpower to lure the rotten man to him, but the said man had come to him rather willingly. He had placed great trust in the sage and his admiration was clear as the endless day in Okhema. The man’s name was uninteresting and a name that tasted like bile whenever the teal-haired man uttered it.

Whenever they spoke, his blood boiled within his veins like molten lava and he wanted nothing more than to claw out the man’s eyes with his fingernails. His idiocy was insulting, but it was something Anaxagoras could use to his advantage.

The biggest mistake the poor excuse of a man had made was ruining you with his touch and words. The professor had seen the way the man had make you uncomfortable and he had heard on countless occasions that you only viewed the man as a acquaintance. However, this seemed to fly over the man’s head as he continued to pester you. Anaxa had grown tired and a well deserved punishment was due.

The sun was high on the sky and warm wind ruffled Anaxagoras’ hair. His lone eye was plastered to the form of the man as he wiped his for head with the back of his hand. Sweat was sticking to his disgusting neck as he wheezed. “I must say, I didn’t take you for the hiking type” he barked out a disgust laughter that made Anaxa narrow his eye in pure disgust.

“Hmm… Well I am” his reply was curt and with a biting edge. Two minutes till they reached the destination. Then Anaxa could finally rid the world of that pest. The dagger in his coat pocket was heavy and ready to be used. So far everything had gone according to his calculations.

The plateau was filled with lush grass and multiple wildflowers in pastel colours. The wind was stronger up there and it caused Anaxa’s eye to become watery. Normally that would have annoyed him greatly, but not now.

As the man peered down over the edge and onto the ground far below, Anaxagoras stalked forward with quick and silent steps. His dagger was raised high above his head and he brought it down onto the man’s back with enough force for it to completely impale him. The man screamed as blood splattered across the baby pink flowers underneath him. He gurgled on his own disgusting blood as he collapsed on his front. He was only a meter from the edge and it was dangerously tempting for Anaxa to just kick him down, but he knew better.

A choked cry sounded across the cliff. “Anaxa… what is this?” you asked with a quivering voice. Anaxa smiled at you gently. His eye dark as the wave of darkness that threatened Amphoreus.

He stalked towards you with slow steps. His demeanour was confident. “My dear, do not worry. He won’t hurt you anymore” he spoke with a soft tone as his bloodied hands found yours. His grip was tight, yet gentle.

“Hurt me?” you asked while tears streamed endlessly down your cheeks.

Anaxa’s expression shifted to surprise before it went back to the soft look that always made you feel warm inside. “Don’t tell me you weren’t aware?”

You blinked at him “Aware? What do you mean Anaxa? I don’t understand…”

His fingers gently wiped away your tears. “He had been planning to stab you to death, [Name]. I am sorry you had to see this. But it had to be done. I couldn’t let him take away the most important person in my life. I couldn’t let him take away you, the most precious person there is” he pulled you into a hug. Your face against his throat as he hugged you tightly as if you were his life line. You hugged him back, grateful that he had saved you from your doom. Grief filled you. How could you ever doubt him? Anaxa had always tried to protect you, it was for the best if you listened to him. For had he ever lied to you?

Argenti

The smell of fresh roses mixed together with the suffocating smell of blood filled the air. The Knight of Beauty danced in an almost sensual tango with his trusted lance. Petals from the rose bushes soared in the air, quickly accompanied by crimson splatter that held similarity with red rain. The scene was just like the paintings one could find in the most grand museums.

With a quick and precise movement the blade of the lance sliced through the man’s chest, causing blood to spurt out like a hot and sticky fountain.

Argenti sneered at the pure ugliness of the man who had so greedily touched you with his sinful hand. How dared he dirty your beauty which such utter filth? The knight raised his heavy foot and stomped on the man’s bloodied chest. His heel dug into his skin and at the satisfying crunch of a broken rib caused his lips to stretch out into a crazed smile. Oh how he was going to enjoy ripping him apart. The universe was better of without such grotesque ugliness.

A shrill scream broke Argenti out of his bloodthirsty trance. His sage eyes widened. He could recognise that voice everywhere. He slowly turned his head and was met with your tear ridden face.

“My beautiful rose… what brings you here?” Argenti’s voice was a mixture of panic and admiration. His face softened at the sigh of you. Oh Idrila were you beautiful.

“Wh-what have you done Argenti?” your voice was shaky as you choked halfway through your sentence. Your eyes were as red as the blood that still poured out from the dead man.

The red-haired knight smiled gently as he shook his head. “My dear, this is no place for you. You really were not meant to see such horrible things” as quickly as lighting he had pulled you within his arms. His muscular form tightly pressed against you. He kissed the crown of your head as he murmured soft praise of your beauty. A gentle gloved hand gently raised your head so that you could meet his striking eyes. “Let’s go home. The ‘One and Only’ is waiting for us” soft lips pressed against your cheek in a gentle kiss. It made you wonder if he believed he would break you had he put any more pressure. And who knows, maybe he would?

The trek back to the spaceship was silent and suffocating. At first you had tried to stifle your cries, but after a while you did not care if he heard.

The gentle knight you once knew was gone, and all that was left was a hauntingly beautiful beast whose love was darker and more dangerous than any creatures in the vast universe.

Aventurine

“I will give you two options. Either you play a round of poker or-” the blonde man puled out a sleek black gun from the inner pocket of his luxurious turquoise blazer. The gun gleamed ominously in the lighting of the casino. “Or, I shoot you right now. Your choice!” his grinned. His canines oddly threatening.

The man swallowed hardly at the sight of the gun, before he forced a faux confident smile. “I chose the first option, poker.”

“Very well” Aventurine put the gun back in the pocket with a smirk. “I take it that you know the rules?”

“I do” the man nodded.

“Great!” Aventurine beamed

It didn’t take long for the man to realise his loss was inevitable. His hand was utter shit. Aventurine won the game with a royal flush. The air deflated from the man’s body as he stared down on the poker table in defeat.

“It seems that I won” the Stoneheart’s cheery voice sliced through the silence like a sharp knife.

“Why… Why do you do this? What have I done? Is it the money I borrowed? I payed you back some weeks ago! I know it was overdue, but I still payed you!” the man’s voice was frantic as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Why you ask?” Aventurine’s voice was like ice. “I will tell you why” he leaned over the table “It’s about [Name]. Do you seriously think you can take away the love of my life? Are you really that stupid? You are going to pay for what you have done. It’s only fair” his voice was laced with enough poison to kill a grown man. In the blink of an eye the gambler’s expression had changed from deadly to friendly. “Oh don’t be sad my friend! I promise I will show you mercy!” he chuckled.

“No! Please no! I beg of you! I promise I will never be near [Name] ever again! You have my word! Just please!” the man fell to his knees begging, the chair tumbled over as a result of his sudden movements. Fat tears ran down his disgusting face as he begged to be spared.

Aventurine’s handsome face twisted into disgust and pure hatred as he started down his nose at the begging man. “I have your word, hmm? As if that is good enough. You have already wasted my time enough. I have a date with [Name], and I cannot bear to have my jewel waiting” harsh words echoed across the dark lit room.

Aventurine rose from his seat. He stretched his limbs like a cat. In a blink of an eye the black gun was pointed at the man. Long fingers pulled the safety of. The sound of two gunshots rang through the thick air. The man wailed as he fell back onto his back. Blood poured out from the wounds on his knees. The flesh was ripped open and the white bone was clear on display.

Unhinged giggles fell from the blonde man’s lips.

Aventurine crouched down, his fingers running through the blood splatter. The blood was warm on his finger as he lifted his hand up to the light. “I am so glad you said yes to my invitation. It really saved me the trouble of dragging you here myself” he smeared the crimson liquid between his fingertips. “It was a fun game, my friend” his words were bittersweet, but deadly.

Back on his feet, Aventurine aimed the gun at the man’s head. With a wide grin and maddening eyes, h spilled the trigger. The gun recoiled in his hand and he almost shuddered. The bullet pierced straight through the man’s forehead and through his thick skull. The back of his head was blown off and onto the newly polished dark wooden floors. The bullet-hole started back at Aventurine like a dark abyss. Pink brain matter was shatter across the mean and it look oddly similar to some of the jelly candies that were awfully popular.

The door swung open and Aventurine’s heart stopped for a second. Fuck. Quicker than lighting he pulled his suit jacket off and laid it over the body’s head and shoulders. It was a nice jacket and it pained him to ruin it, but he could just by a new one. However, you getting traumatised was not something he could undo.

With long steps he was at the door. You creaked the door opened and smiled when you were met with the beautiful eyes of the man you loved.

“Hi Aventurine!” you greeted him with your beautiful smile.

Aventurine’s heart fastened at your precious smile. Oh the Aeons, how he loved you. “Hi [Name]-”

“Aventurine what is that?” your interrupted him with a silent tone.

Oh he was fucked. “It’s nothing really. Are you ready for our date?”

“Is he dead? God please tell me he isn’t. Did you do this?” you clasped your hand over your mouth as you watched the body with wide eyes.

Aventurine sighed. It was too late to make you unsee what you had seen, so why not just tell you the truth?

“Yes. He was more a monster than man, so don’t feel bad, my darling” strong arms wrapped around your trembling form. He pulled your head towards his chest so you could not see the horrors that was the deceased man.

“Don’t worry, nothing will ever hurt you. Not as long as I live. I will bring hell on earth if someone as much as touch you. I love you [Name]” his words was the only thing that echoed through your mind. Every other thoughts was drowned out by his honeyed voice.

Blade

The sound of a blade swung through the air filled the deserted clearing. The grass underneath the Stellaron Hunter’s shoes was stained red by the countless bodies that strewn out. Lifeless eyes gazed up at the black night sky. Stars were scattered across the horizon as the watched the scene unfold. The cold light of the moon shone on the dark blue hair of the swordsman as he moved effortlessly. He was brutal, but there was a certain terrifying beauty in him.

As the last man fell to the ground in his own puddle of blood, Blade breathed out. A cruel smile formed on his lips as he took in the sight with glee. 11 men he had cut through. It had been rather easy, easier than he would have liked, but that could not be blamed from such incompetent men.

He stopped by a seemingly blond man (it was hard to tell with all the blood). The man had plead for his life and it had only brought Blade annoyance. He had especially enjoyed tearing him limb for limb.

The men had all been to the same bar that you had been to a few nights before. They have all tried hitting on you and you had kindly rejected them all. The sight had made Blade’s blood boil, but he knew he couldn’t do anything, at least not yet. Not when he had promised to take a few days off to spend some time with you.

He had lured them to the clearing within the dense woods and slain them on after the other. Despite being filled with anger and pure hatred, it was rather therapeutic.

The sound of a twig snapping was enough to pull him out of his thoughts. A smile played on his lips. Finally.

You stopped at the foot at the clearing. Your eyes wide and your mouth agape. Your eyes found his blood red ones. Tears escaped your gaze and they plopped down onto the grass. Blade’s breath was caught in his throat as he watched you. God were you beautiful. Almost too beautiful to be real. A part of him felt bad for letting you see the massacre, but the other part of him knew it was for the best. You needed to know that he would protect you no matter what and that nothing would ever come between the two of you.

“I will always protect you. They had it coming” despite his gruff voice, his words had a softness to them. A softness that was unexpected.

Your eyes darted over the bodies, over the marred faces that were missing skin and revealing tendons and muscles for the world to see.

Suddenly, like the quickness of his trusted blade, he was beside you. A bandaged hand pushed hair out of your face as crimson eyes started down on you with adoration and love. His hand was dry despite the bloodiness of the field.

“I will keep you safe. I promise” he pulled you into a gentle hug that was so uncharacteristic of him that it made you blink through your tears. “I love you.”

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monstersholygrail · 12 days ago

Text

Been thinking thoughts about Yandere!Knight who was the third son of a second rate noble. His family rich enough so that even he would never have to work a day in his life but not rich enough to be alluring for any respectable woman looking to marry.

He didn’t have any wild endeavors of his own. His eldest brother working closely with their father and the second eldest having a myriad of hobbies and investment opportunities he filled his time dabbling with. Leaving him alone and bored at the estate.

The emptiness of it all echoed down to his very soul. The estate just as hallow as he felt inside. He had no passions or interests. Everything he did, he did with ease. Horseback riding, fencing, and hunting, it was all a breeze. None of it excited him, got his blood pumping.

So what else was there to do besides lose himself in the booze of his local tavern? There the people cheered whenever he could chug nearly a full barrel, they bought him drinks when he won a round of darts, and when they talked to him they had actually listened. That’s what he wanted more than anything. To matter to someone.

And when he finally met you he knew you were the one person he had to matter to.

You were the favored Princess of their kingdom. While your siblings stayed up in the castle, too high and mighty to visit the commoners below, you were different. You visited the villages frequently. Talked with them, helped them, and did all you could to ensure the happiness of the people.

And when the owner of his favorite bar cut him off and kicked him out, out of the goodness of their heart despite the dismissal still cutting deep, you were right there. All gentle smiles, kind eyes, and a soft hand that reached out for his.

He can’t believe his luck when you keep his rough dirty hand clasped in your soft one. He can’t believe what’s happening as you start to walk with him down the cobblestone street, feeling the eyes of everyone’s stares.

But your eyes never leave his and his certainty wouldn’t dare to leave yours. Fear crawling up his back that if he dare look away you won’t be there when he looks back. He doesn’t even want to blink but forces himself too in order to not scare you away.

It only takes a few coaxing words from you before he’s spilling his guts about why he was in the tavern and more importantly, why he got kicked out. You listen to it all without wavering for a moment. He’s never had someone care this much for him.

You stay with him for hours, ignoring your own guards warnings that it’s getting late and you need to start heading back. But their interruption seems to give you an idea.

Somehow after hearing his whole entire sob story, you gaze up at him with the utmost confidence and ask, “Have you ever thought about being a knight?”

Yandere!Knight who had honestly never thought about it or considered it despite all his related skills to the job before you had said anything. But now finds himself leaving his entire life behind, his world behind, in order to go with you back to the castle.

He started training with the other noblemen destined for knighthood the very next day. All of them skilled but none of them nearly as skilled as him.

Especially on the many days when you just so happened to walk through the training grounds. Your eyes always finding him before staying to watch for a few hours.

He had heart rumors flying around the castle that you had been staying at the castle more recently. Everyone wondering just why that is. His name coming up time and time again.

When those curious and nosy enough to come up and ask him if he held your favor, he’d only encourage them further. Giving bits and pieces of, slightly exaggerated, information on the your attention and affection for him.

The rumors only get worse when his knighting ceremony comes, almost the entire castle sitting restlessly in the white glittering church. Him and his fellow men all waiting to be knighted. When you stand up and insist you be the one to knight him.

All falls quiet around them but you stand tall, walking up to the alter and briefly taking the Lords place who’s knighted his fellow men. You tell them that since you were the one to find them it’s only right that the honor goes to you.

Yandere!Knight falls to his knees before you, pretending that it’s not because they gave out from the swell of emotion coursing through him. But you smile at him like you know it was anyway.

The rest of the world fades away, leaving only you and him as you hand him his sword. Everything is in slow motion as you lean down, your warm breath fanning his forehead before you kiss it tenderly. The softness of your lips has his mind spinning with what they’d feel like in other places too. Then you’re tapping his shoulder with an air of finality and a wave of air comes rushing into his lungs.

He’s finally done it. He’s a Knight. Now he’s your knight. With his one wish being to protect you always.

Yandere!Knightgets posted as your personal knight. Which only ends up distancing him from the other knights who thinks the fair Princess should’ve stuck with the man previously in his current position. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when he had you.

You stuck by him closely, returning to your daily outings into the village but now with him to protect you. He sees then just how kind and trusting you truly are.

It didn’t take long for him to then see just how the people in the village treat you in return. The way their hands claw and tug at you. How they shamelessly beg and demand things from you because they’re always met with your agreement. Zero resistance or a flicker of hesitation every time.

Again and again like a cruel cycle that neither the people nor you saw any problem with. His stomach began to churn each time they’d paw at you as if you were the last loaf of bread in the bakery and they were all starved. Something ugly, dark, and twisted was growing inside him with the passing days by your side.

Akin to a foul rot forming inside a helpless tree. Completely defenseless as the darkness quietly grew and consumed till there was nothing left but a hallow shell ready to snap.

It finally happened, ironically, at the Butchers. The man who owned the shop was running out of hunters willing to sell to him and so it left the people there will less meats available for purchase. Being the kind Princess you are, you offer up a few palace hunters to come aid him.

His jaw was already clenched as he took in the greed of the Butcher. Less palace hunters meant less for you and maintaining your health was his sole purpose in this lifetime. To hell with the people, he would not have you in need.

But then as they turn to leave, the Butcher makes one last bold request, indeed. Asking the Princess to spare not only their hunters but their bows as well, for he does not have enough for them all.

You agree and leave but he stays rooted in his spot. Staring daggers at the Butcher who looks all too pleased with himself and the new arrangement.

His vision grows hazy and he blacks out just as he lunges at the man. Unsheathing his sword so quickly the metal rings out through the room.

When he comes back to the Butcher’s blood is mixed in with that of his meats, splashes of it everywhere. His body on the floor unmoving with no sign on life. It was the first life he’s ever taken.

Just as he’s about to open his mouth to cry, shout, or beg for help, he doesn’t know, he stops short of it all as the door opens. Your tiny gasp is all he can hear. A million thoughts flooding his head at that one simple sound.

His head nearly swings off his shoulders at the force of his head swiveling toward the sound of your voice. Your horrified expression meeting his own, though their reasoning for being there very different.

All the strength he has leaves his body in one fell swoop. His legs giving out from under him, the metal of his armor crashing against the stone floor as he falls to his knees.

Tears fill his vision and spill down his cheeks. The thought of disappointing you, letting you down, threatens to unravel him. You can stop looking at the blood painting his face as he helplessly crawls over to you.

“I’m sorry, please, help me. I’m so sorry, Princess, please,” he sobs, his arms winding around your waist as he nuzzles into your soft belly.

At the sound of his voice it’s like you snap out of your thoughts. Immediately moving in to soothe and comfort him. Your hands weaving through his hair, shushing him with the calming nature of a saint.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You were only trying to protect me. But know this is not the way,” you say in a hushed voice that curls around his very being and helps in calming him down quickly. His body melting against yours.

After that day he tries to put it behind him. To forget about the memories of the kill that came flooding back the same night it happened. Trying with all his might to forget about the satisfaction he felt with every blow. To avenge you for how that putrid man was taking advantage of your kindness.

But as the same begins to happen again from more of the villagers, that same dark sensation arises within him once more. Wrapping around his neck and squeezing him so hard he chokes on it. The urge to lighten their burdens on you coming back full force.

When he finally gives in and his blade swings down to take another life of one who has done you wrong, he doesn’t black out this time. There’s no shock, tears, and most importantly, no getting caught.

The more lives he takes the easier it gets. All of them done in your name, in his desire to protect you. Even if he has to protect you from yourself, he’s willing to do anything.

Right and left more people in the village go missing. None of them to be seen again. Eventually fewer and fewer people come to ask you for your aid, all of them growing too scared to leave their homes.

But it’s not enough for even if he can stop them he can’t seem to stop you. Following you around to each home in the village and watching as you ask if there’s anything you can do. Leaving him to massage your poor feet every night that ache from all the walking.

He knows he must do something to stop you once and for all. For your sake.

Like always, rumors spread around the kingdom like wildfire. With a little help from him word of there being a violent murderer in the kingdom fills the castle in a day. In your parents worry for your safety and to ensure the protection of the kingdom’s favorite Princess, they order you to remain in your room until the killer is caught.

You fight it as much as you can but ultimately you are powerless against the decrees of the King. So day in and day out from now onward you are confined to your room with only him to watch over you and guard your door.

Ensuring no one can get in and that you cannot ever get out. You’ll stay right here forever where he can keep you all to himself, leaving all your kindness just for him.

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heliosunny · 2 months ago

Text

Yandere!Anaxa x Mage!Reader

The first time he saw you, you were undoing his chains.

His wrists were raw, skin torn from years of iron biting into flesh. His once-proud posture was nothing more than a hunched, broken frame, his long, pale green hair tangled and dull. He had no strength left to fight, only hatred simmering behind the eyes that still refused to yield.

You tended to him with hands far too gentle for someone with your power. You fed him, clothed him, healed him. And when his body recovered, you honed his mind.

"You’re free now" you had told him, but it wasn’t freedom you gave, it was discipline, strength, purpose. You sharpened his survival instincts, refined his combat abilities, ensuring he could stand on his own before releasing him into the world.

At first, he thought you were no different from his past captors, just another powerful figure toying with him under the guise of mercy. But as time passed, your kindness never faltered. You spoke to him, not as a master, not as an owner, but as an equal.

And then, one day, you left.

No farewell, no explanation. You had done your duty, and that was all he was to you. A responsibility. A passing moment in your grand, untouchable life.

He should have forgotten you. But he couldn’t. So he searched.

He followed whispers, traced the echoes of your name through the cities and villages, piecing together the legend that surrounded you. Y/n L/n, the Kingdom’s Respected Mage. Revered, beloved, unmatched in power. People spoke of you in awe, their eyes filled with admiration, their voices dripping with devotion.

It infuriated him. They didn’t deserve you. They hadn’t seen you the way he had.

And yet, you had left him behind to return to them.

His fingers curled into fists, trembling with rage and something far darker. If he wanted you, if he wanted you to be his, he needed to become more.

More than the people who adored you. More than the kingdom that praised you. More than even you yourself.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. The Kingdom’s Grand Arcane Tournament, a competition where only the strongest mages, warriors, and scholars gathered to prove their worth. Victory meant recognition, power, and most importantly… a chance to stand before you.

Anaxa’s lips curled slightly as he adjusted his gloves, ignoring the eyes around him. He wasn’t here for glory. He wasn’t here for the approval of nobles or the admiration of the masses. No, he was here for one reason alone.

To surpass you. And he was close.

The trials had been brutal, designed to eliminate the weak and unworthy. Fire rained from the sky, ice storms threatened to freeze bones solid, illusion magic twisted reality into nightmares. Yet, he endured. He thrived.

Every challenge was a step closer to you.

And then, fate finally brought you before him.

He had been walking through the grand halls of the castle, led by a guard toward the final test, when he saw you.

You moved with effortless grace, your robes flowing like liquid magic, the insignia of the Royal Mage embroidered upon your chest. Power radiated from you, but it was your presence that struck him the hardest.

The way nobles bowed their heads in respect. The way knights stepped aside in silent reverence. The way the very air seemed to hum in response to your existence.

You had grown even more magnificent. More untouchable.

His breath caught as he stepped forward, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

"Y/n!"

For a fleeting moment, your eyes flickered toward him. And then...nothing. No recognition. No reaction. You walked past him as if he was no more than a stranger, your focus already on your destination.

Anaxa froze.

Something inside him twisted, snapped, burned.

You ignored him? No.... No, no, no. This wasn’t right.

After everything. After all this time.

His fists clenched, his breathing shallow, but before he could move, the guards pushed him forward.

"The final test awaits" one of them grunted, leading him toward the towering gates of the Arcane Trial Grounds.

Anaxa didn’t resist. He let them guide him, but his thoughts never left you. It didn’t matter. Soon, it wouldn’t matter. Because when he won, when he stood above everyone else, you would have to look at him.

The moment Anaxa stepped inside the Tower, the air grew heavier, thick with enchantments woven over centuries. The last trial wasn’t a simple battle...it was a test of mind, body, and soul.

Whispers curled through the halls, illusions flickered at the edges of his vision, phantoms of his past trying to drag him into despair.

He saw chains. Rusted. Bloodied. Binding his wrists once more.

"You will never be free."

A voice sneered from the shadows. His very own voice. The voice of the boy who had once been weak. The boy you had left behind.

Anaxa exhaled slowly, his pink-violet eyes sharpening with cold resolve.

With a flick of his wrist, magic surged through him, and the illusions shattered like glass.

He wasn’t that boy anymore.

And he would prove it.

One step at a time, he climbed. The Tower challenged him with spell after spell, enemy after enemy, but he never faltered. His body ached, his magic burned in his veins, but he kept going.

Until, at last, he reached the highest chamber, the domain of the Royal Mage.

Your domain.

His breath was ragged, his clothes tattered, but a smirk played at his lips as he pushed the grand doors open.

And there you were.

Standing at the center of the grand hall, surrounded by books, scrolls, and floating runes. You turned at the sound of the door creaking open, your eyes meeting his once more.

This time, you didn’t ignore him.

"You pass."

That was all you had said when Anaxa stood before you in the Tower's highest chamber, battle-worn yet victorious. No praise, no warmth, just a simple statement before you handed him his new assignment. He would now serve directly under you, a mage of the Tower, tasked with studying arcane knowledge, assisting with research, and maintaining magical defenses for the kingdom.

But despite his new status, you kept your distance.

You never looked at him for long. You never spoke beyond what was necessary. You never acknowledged the years he had spent chasing after you.

Still, he obeyed. He played the role of the devoted mage, following your every instruction without complaint. If keeping his head down, working tirelessly, and proving his worth was the only way to break through your walls, then so be it. But he pushed himself too far.

It happened late one night. The Tower was quiet, most scholars having retired to their quarters, but Anaxa remained. He sat hunched over an ancient text, his normally immaculate pale green hair disheveled, dark circles forming beneath his eyes.

His fingers trembled as he traced sigils onto parchment. His mind swam, exhaustion clawing at the edges of his consciousness, but he refused to stop.

Just a little more. Just a little longer.

He had to be stronger. Smarter. Worthy.

The ink blurred. His vision swayed.

And then.. his body crumpled forward, knocking over a stack of scrolls as he collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

When he woke, the world was softer.

The unbearable ache in his body remained, but something warm pressed against his forehead- a damp cloth, cooling his fevered skin. His mind was sluggish, his limbs weak, but as he slowly blinked his way back to consciousness, a familiar presence filled his senses.

You. You were there.

His head rested on something—no, someone. Your lap.

Your hands, ones he had longed for, ones that had once freed him now hovered over his chest, weaving delicate healing sigils into the air.

His breath hitched.

“...You’re awake.”

Your voice was as calm as ever, but there was something different this time. A softness, a quiet concern you hadn’t shown him before. Anaxa swallowed hard, unsure if this was reality or some cruel dream.

"You overworked yourself" you said simply, as if scolding a stubborn child. "You need to rest."

He should have answered. Should have thanked you, should have reassured you that he was fine. But his mind was drowning in you. Your scent, your warmth, the way your fingers had just barely brushed against his hair. For the first time in so long, he felt something other than burning obsession. He felt peace.

His lips parted, his voice hoarse. "Stay."

You paused, your fingers stiffening for just a fraction of a second. Then, with the same unreadable expression, you withdrew your hand.

"You need sleep" you repeated, carefully shifting his head off your lap and onto a pillow instead. "I’ll check on you in the morning."

And just like that, the warmth vanished. The door clicked shut behind you. Anaxa stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding, his fists clenching the sheets beneath him.

For a moment, he had hoped.

For a moment, you had been his.

And now, more than ever, he knew he had to make you stay.

Anaxa was always watching. Always waiting.

For your approval. For your attention. For you.

But no matter how much he proved himself, no matter how hard he worked, you remained just out of reach. Close enough to torment him with your presence, but distant enough to remind him that he was still beneath you.

So when whispers of forbidden magic reached his ears, whispers of power that could surpass even yours- he listened.

It started with a single spell. A curse laced into his fingertips, shadowed energy that crackled at his touch. The rush of it, the sheer force, was intoxicating. For the first time, he felt as though he could close the gap between you. But you found out.

The moment you saw the dark magic coiling around his form, your expression darkened, your voice sharper than he had ever heard.

"Are you insane?" You demanded, eyes burning with disappointment. "You know what dark magic does to the mind of people, to the soul. Were you really willing to throw everything away for this?"

He had expected punishment. Maybe even expulsion.

But instead, you chose supervision. From then on, you kept him under your watch, ensuring he didn’t step out of line.

It should have felt like a leash.

But to him? It felt like being caged in your presence. And he loved it.

Under your watchful eye, Anaxa returned to his duties, but the hunger in his heart never faded.

Late at night, when the Tower was silent, he poured over ancient scrolls, searching for something he had never dared to seek before- his past.

And he found it.

His people. His homeland. The ones who had sold him into chains. The weight of it settled in his chest like stone. The hatred, the pain boiled beneath his skin. He couldn’t stay here. Not when the past still breathed. So he did the only thing he could. He ran.

Slipping past the Tower’s wards was difficult, but not impossible. He had memorized every security spell, every blind spot. He knew how to disappear.

But he also knew you would never let him go so easily.

He should have known you were following him.

Every time the road grew dangerous, every time the enemy’s traps were one step ahead of him, something interfered. A spell dissolving a barrier. A blade missing its mark. A shadow moving just out of sight.

By the time he reached his enemies- the cowards who had once controlled his fate, he knew. You had been there the entire time. But it didn’t matter. Not when he stood before the people who had once sold him into slavery. Not when he saw the fear in their eyes. And suddenly… revenge felt meaningless.

They weren’t gods. They weren’t demons. They were just pathetic.

Killing them wouldn’t erase the past. It wouldn’t change anything.

So he turned his back on them.

And when he walked away, he knew you were waiting.

The journey back to the Tower was silent.

You never scolded him. Never demanded answers.

But when you finally reached your chambers, he fell apart.

"Erase it" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Erase everything."

You stiffened. "Anaxa..."

"Please." His eyes were wild, desperate. "If it’s you...if it’s your magic, master...I won’t fight it."

You frowned. "Memories shape the mind. If I remove them, it will change you."

"It’ll be fine if it’s you controlling me."

The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them.

For a long moment, there was silence.

"You need rest" you said softly.

You turned away.

And for the first time, he wished you would just take him. The silence after his plea was unbearable. You didn’t answer him. You didn’t cast the spell he begged for. You simply turned away, as if his pain, his very existence, was just another fleeting moment in your long, untouchable life. And that broke something inside him. Days passed. Then weeks. Anaxa returned to his duties, but he was different now.

He still watched you. Still obeyed you. Still craved you.

But now, there was nothing else left inside him.

The hatred, the grief, the fire that once burned in his veins- gone.

All that remained was you.

You, who had refused to erase him. You, who had refused to free him from his torment. You, who had chosen to let him suffer.

And if you would not take away his pain, then there was only one other path left.

It happened deep in the Tower, beneath layers of wards and forgotten corridors, where only the most forbidden spells were kept.

Anaxa stood before an ancient circle, his fingers tracing over runes that pulsed with dark magic.

If you would not erase his past… If you would not take control of his mind…

Then he would give everything to you himself.

A spell older than time. A binding more powerful than any chains.

A curse that would tie his very soul to yours.

By the time you found him, the ritual was nearly complete.

"Anaxa!" Your voice cut through the chamber, furious and sharp. "Stop this!"

He turned, smiling softly. Finally, finally, you were looking at him.

"I can’t" he murmured. "I don't want to exist without you anymore."

The runes flared to life. Magic crackled around him, the binding beginning to weave itself into his flesh. You moved. Faster than he had ever seen before, you raised your hands, and in an instant, his spell was shattered.

The backlash sent him to his knees, gasping as raw magic burned through his veins. His vision blurred, his breath ragged, but none of it mattered. Because you were standing over him now, your face unreadable, your fingers curling into tight fists.

"You're a fool" you whispered. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

He let out a breathless laugh, his eyes filled with something between devotion and madness.

"I tried to give myself to you" he said. "But I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"You're the only one who can claim me. So do it, master." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Make me yours."

You stared at him.

At the man who had once loathed you. At the boy you had saved. At the monster you had created.

And for the first time, you hesitated.

Because despite everything… you felt it too, didn’t you?

The way he always sought you out. The way he belonged to you, in a way no one else ever had.

Maybe it would be easier if he was only yours. If he never left. If you never had to wonder if he'd disappear into the night, chasing ghosts of a past he could never change. Maybe it would be better if he belonged to you alone.

But in the end, you didn’t say those words.

You only sighed, kneeling beside him, your fingers brushing over his pale hair.

"You’re staying" you murmured. "That much is certain."

His breath hitched.

"But" you continued, your voice turning firm, "I will never take away your mind, your will, your soul."

You tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"You don’t get to run away from your pain, Anaxa. Not with dark magic, and not through me."

He trembled. He hated this. Hated the way you still held the power, the way you still refused to let him give himself up completely.

But deep down, he knew, he had already lost.

And yet, as he knelt there, drinking in the warmth of your touch, he decided.. that was fine. Because in the end, whether you wanted it or not. He was already yours.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere hsr x reader #hsr x you #yandere hsr #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr anaxa #anaxa #honkai star rail anaxa #anaxa x reader

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bloodfilt1 · 2 months ago

Note

You could write Headcannons about the Final Destination characters, in relation to a reader who has a similar personality to Mitsuri, if she were on the death list

(sorry for the spelling mistakes, English is not my native language)

⌗ Yandere characters w/Reader!Like Mitsuri Headcanons (Romantic) ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𖥔 Characters: Alex Browning, Clear Rivers, Carter Horton, Billy Hitchcock, Kimberly Corman, Wendy Christensen.

✦ "I don't care what it takes, who I have to fight, or what I have to sacrifice—I'll keep you safe from death, even if it means going against fate itself." — ???

. ꒷ 🔪 . 𖦹˙ — I just LOVED this request, I've been watching the entire Fate franchise lately! I really love this saga, and also the characters, I hope you like the post. 💗 (I apologize for any spelling mistakes) ˎˊ˗

→ TW: Possessiveness, Stalking, Violence/Agression (Mentioned), Intense Obsession, Manipulation, Control ‧₊˚

— Alex Browning ‧₊˚

Alex already has an intense personality, constantly trying to outsmart and escape death. Your presence, filled with sweetness and charm, would add a new level of obsession in his fight against fate.

He would dedicate himself to protecting you at any cost, often disregarding his own safety to ensure nothing harms you.

His obsession with the signs of death would be doubled by his constant concern to keep you safe.Alex would likely get frustrated with himself, realizing that his worry for you goes beyond logic and has become an emotional need to ensure your survival.

— Typical Alex phrases ˎˊ˗

“I won’t let death touch you, even if I have to sacrifice everything for it.”

“Please, listen to me! Every step you take, every choice you make, I need to make sure it’s safe.

— Situation ˎˊ˗

He shows up at your house, breathless, after noticing a new pattern in the death signs. “I know it sounds crazy, but... don’t leave the house today. It’s too dangerous. Don’t ask me how I know this.”

— Clear Rivers ‧₊˚

Clear is known for being independent and reserved, but her personality would become much more protective and close when it comes to you.

She would feel an almost spiritual connection to you, seeing your kindness and purity as a reason to fight against fate.

Her obsession would be quieter but equally intense. Clear would try to convince you to stay by her side at all times, believing that as long as you’re together, you can avoid any threat.

— Typical Clear phrases ˎˊ˗

“You’re so... unique. I’ve never met anyone like you. I won’t let death take that from me.”

“Trust me. I’ve been through this before, and I know exactly how to keep you safe.”

— Situation ˎˊ˗

Clear insists that you move into her house, where she can monitor everything. “It’s safer here. I’ve taken all the precautions. Please, just trust me.”

— Carter Horton ‧₊˚

Carter is impulsive and stubborn, but when it comes to you, he channels all his energy into trying to impress and protect you.

His obsession manifests in exaggerated actions, like confronting anyone he believes may pose a danger to you, even other survivors.

He constantly tries to prove his worth to you, acting overly dramatic and sometimes possessive in more tense situations.

— Typical Carter phrases ˎˊ˗

“No one will protect you better than me, got it? I don’t trust anyone but myself for that.”

“I know I seem like an idiot sometimes, but everything I do is for you.”

— Situation ˎˊ˗

During an argument with Alex over the death signs, Carter yells: “I don’t care what you think, Alex! I’m gonna take care of her my way. You’re just getting in the way.”

— Billy Hitchcock ‧₊˚

Billy is more nervous and insecure, but his obsession with you makes him overcome his own fears.

He would do anything to stay close to you, even if it puts him in danger.

His worry is constant, and often, he exaggerates, trying to convince you to avoid any form of risk, no matter how small. He idolizes your kindness and beauty, treating you as if you were almost unreal.

— Typical Billy phrases ˎˊ˗

“I can’t even imagine you getting hurt... Don’t let it happen. Please.”

“You’re like an angel. How can someone like you be on the death list?”

— Situation ˎˊ˗

He shows up with a bike helmet in his hands, looking nervous. “I know it seems silly, but... please wear this. Just for precaution, okay?”

— Kimberly Corman ‧₊˚

Kimberly combines her determination and intuition with an almost obsessive affection for you, seeing your warmth and beauty as a reason to fight against death even more.

She is extremely pragmatic and assertive, but she loses some of her rationality when it comes to you. She wants to be in control of everything around her, ensuring no danger gets close.

Kimberly struggles to hide her feelings and often ends up revealing her obsession through protective actions.

— Typical Kimberly phrases ˎˊ˗

“I’ve seen incredible people be taken by death, but you... you’re special. I won’t let that happen.”

“You don’t understand how important you are to me. I can’t lose you.”

— Situation ˎˊ˗

After a series of signs indicating danger, Kimberly shows up at your door with maps and diagrams. “I’ve made all the plans. We’re going to follow this to the letter, and you’ll be fine.”

— Wendy Christensen ‧₊˚

Wendy is extremely meticulous and becomes even more obsessed with understanding the patterns of death because of you. Her attention to detail turns into a need to predict every move and ensure your safety.

She’s a perfectionist in her protection, which can lead to controlling behaviors. Wendy refuses to let you out of her sight, even if it means sacrificing her own freedom.

Her concern is genuine but also suffocating, as Wendy believes that only she can keep you safe.

— Typical Wendy phrases ˎˊ˗

“If something happens to you... I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I know it seems over the top, but trust me. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

— Situation ˎˊ˗

Wendy refuses to let you go into an amusement park, even after you insist everything is fine. “I don’t want to hear any of it! I’ve seen what happens in places like that. You’re not going in, end of story.”

#yandere #romantic yandere #final destination #Final destination yandere #fem reader #x reader

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fangdokja · 3 months ago

Text

Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

In a world where love twists into obsession, Whispers in the Dark offers you fleeting glimpses into the shadows—short, striking stories that capture the subtle, chilling edge of devotion gone astray. These headcanons, drabbles, and snippets bring together yanderes from A Heart Devoured, Forbidden Fruits, and World Ablaze, alongside new faces destined to carve their own place in the recesses of your mind.

This collection is deceptively light, each story crafted for easy reading yet laced with the faint echoes of something far darker. Beneath tender touches lie the barest hints of possessiveness. Behind sweet words linger quiet threats. And in the softest moments, you'll glimpse a world where love binds tighter than chains.

Perfect for casual reading, these stories keep most of the darkness just out of reach, lurking in the shadows of every tender moment. They are whispers of what lies in the deeper, more dangerous corners of Fang Dokja’s other works.

For now, this is where you stay—balanced on the edge of a blade. Will you fall deeper?

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Trigger Warnings (Dead Dove): Contains dark themes, non-consensual content (not as explicit as my long form stories), and depictions of taboo scenarios. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Read the RULES so you are aware of what you're getting into.

♡ A/N #1. I have extremely high tolerance to anything controversial and taboo (e.g. explicit incest, gang rape, gore, vore, murder, bestiality, etc.). Nothing bothers me in reading and writing (except genuine stupidity spanning all forms). If you are looking for light submissive puppy or worshipping yanderes, who would never hurt you. This writing isn't for you, because all my stories have a base line of non-con (whether SFW or NSFW) and sadistic hard doms. The most common and comfortable writing style I have are "red and black flags that will hurt you, and can and may kill you." Yes, even if they are yandere. ♡ A/N #2. I do write different degrees, sometimes vanilla (e.g. most of my Genshin Impact and HSR works), other times erotic horror (e.g. R18 AHD). But, generally, expect non-con in some form. To put it into perspective on my tolerance level, I consider the usual rape, "vanilla rape". If there is no genuine danger of dying or bleeding to death (e.g. cannibalism, vore, necrophilia, edge play like extreme blood play and weapon play), then I classify it as "vanilla rape." Especially if it's just forced penetration or oral.

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Note: Want to make a SHORT request for original yanderes (OC's) or fandom yanderes? Read the Rules and Regulations, first, before requesting. Failure to abide by the rules will have your request ignored and deleted.

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Table of Contents

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ ⭐. Author's Personal Favorites. ♡ 🔞. NSFW / extremely explicit themes (non-con, sexual torture, dangerous edge play, degradation, humiliation, BDSM, etc.)

♡ Schedule. The following stories are released or scheduled for release:

Fandom Yanderes

♡ Book 1. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF) : Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 2. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

Mixed Character Stories

You tried to break up with him… but did you ever really want to? (Chrollo Lucilfer, Johan Liebert, Geto Suguru)

Genshin Impact

Mixed Stories

Humor First, Consequences Later (Tartaglia, Wanderer, Kazuha)

Original Yanderes (OC's)

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

Yandere! Best Friend

Headcanons 1 : Unspoken Desires (General)

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

Yandere! DILFs

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Sugar Daddy, Old Money, Professor, Sponsor

Headcanons 1 : Midas Eyes (General)

Some women play hard to get. You play impossible to afford.

You're not a gold digger. You're an entrepreneur. And business is booming.

🔞Every orgasm comes with a zero at the end of your bank account.

He’s not jealous. He just needs to remind you why no one else can fuck you like he does.

🔞"You wanna act like a whore? Then be one. On your knees. Now."

Yandere! IRL Authors

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Tumblr Smut Lord, AO3 Angst Demon, Webtoon Cult Leader, Wattpad Menace

Drabbles

You see ‘yandere x reader’ and click before you even register the title.

Yandere! Isekai! Knight

♡ Sub Story. In his eyes, your defiance isn’t strength—it’s foreplay.

Headcanons 1 : Light’s Last Lament (General)

He was a knight of light… until you turned his world dark.

Yandere! Haters

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Envious Hater, Secret Admirer, Moral Crusader, Anon Spammer, Doomed Convert

Headcanons 1 : ??? (General)

To be added

Yandere! Nerd

♡ Sub Story. No one else noticed the quiet boy in the corner, but he’s all you’ll notice now.

Headcanons 1 : Beyond the Data (General)

🔞You’re his project, and he’s determined to get you right.

Yandere! Neurosurgeon

Drabbles

You’re a Pervert, and He’s in Denial.

Your Idea of Flirting? A Box of Body Parts.

“I’d love to get inside your head.” He thought you meant emotionally.

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

System: “Would you like to resume the main storyline?” You click ‘No.’ They click ‘Yes.’

Imagine hating me so much that you chase me across lifetimes. Imagine being that obsessed.

Yandere! Retired! Demon! Spy

Headcanons 1 : Mission: Assassinate. Problem: She’s a Dumbass (General)

"I only tried to kill you because I love you. Why are you making this weird?"

Yandere! Royal Guards

Drabbles

Royal Duties: looking pretty, sitting still, watching your guards destroy the kingdom.

You got isekai’d. Now three murder machines think your blank stares are divine wisdom.

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss

♡ Main Story. 🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

Headcanons 1 : The Bride of Blood (General)

To him, you're perfect. To you, he's just a mission.

🔞"I don't need your love, I need your submission."

Yandere! Science Body

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! White Blood Cell, Red Blood Cell, Nerve Cell, Sperm Cell

Drabbles

You’re made of 30 trillion cells, and every single one of them is obsessed with you.

Yandere! Stardom

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Fanboy, Producer, Rival, Hater

Drabbles

A love letter: from a guy who’s watched every movie, probably knows your underwear size.

Rivals, fanboys, and haters all agree: your fanfic is a masterpiece… in the worst way.

Your most devoted fan writes smut better than published authors.

Capitalism By Day, Cock Worship By Night

AO3 Writer: “I just wanted to write smut.” | Society: “No, you leaked classified info.”

Yandere! Superpowers AU

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Golden Hero, DILF! CEO, Host Club! King, Mortal Enemy

Drabbles

You were born with the most overpowered ability in existence. You just don’t care.

Yandere! Yan-Apocalypse

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Boss, Neighbor, Torture Professional, Loner

Drabbles

The perfect Valentine’s present: something personal, thoughtful, and won’t scream anymore.

Yandere! Zombie Apocalypse! Survivor

♡ Sub Story. In the world of the dead, he was the only thing keeping you alive—and tearing you apart.

Headcanons 1 : Flesh and Fetish (General)

In a world where only the strongest survive, he’s the monster you can't escape.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on this post. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha , @astreaaaaaa6 , @poopooindamouf , @yandereaficionado , @esther-kpopstan , @iris-arcadia , @hopingtocleaemedschool , @doncellaescarlata , @futuristicxie

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

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donat-senpai · 2 months ago

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Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: possessive behavior, eunuch-related themes, stupid funny youth ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Part two

It was nearing lunchtime. Maomao finally decided to take a break. She set the box down on the table, wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, and glanced around in search of you. You were nearby, carefully arranging ingredients in their proper places. She wanted to call out to you to invite you to eat together, but she didn’t get the chance.

The front door swung open, and Jinshi glided in as gracefully as a butterfly, with his indispensable assistant at his side. To Maomao’s displeasure, the eunuch immediately captured your attention. You greeted the men politely, offering them a gentle smile. Maomao clenched her teeth so hard it felt like they might crack.

Maomao liked working in the pharmacy. She enjoyed handling medicines and having space for her poison experiments. She liked being useful, even though she rarely said so out loud. To her surprise, she also liked her apprentice. Curious and diligent, you had grown on her more than she cared to admit.

From the very beginning, you showed remarkable determination in your desire to learn her craft. Like her, you wanted to be useful to the imperial court. You wanted to ease Maomao’s workload, something you once admitted to her. You paid close attention to her every word, absorbing knowledge and striving to remember it for future use. Since you arrived at the palace, you had come a long way—transforming from a timid, frightened slave who couldn’t even write into a charming pharmacy assistant whom Maomao could already trust to manage a full day of work on your own. She was proud of you.

But, like any blossoming flower, you started attracting all sorts of insects.

Unfortunately, you weren’t only admired by Maomao. Lately, Jinshi had been visiting the pharmacy suspiciously often. At some point during your brief interactions, the eunuch-pervert (in Maomao’s one and only opinion, of course) had taken a liking to your delightful reactions. You were sweet and kind to him but didn’t swoon over his charm like every other girl (and not only girls) in the palace—excluding Maomao herself, who felt like vomiting every time he turned on his so-called charm.

He kept coming back again and again (though he could’ve easily assigned such trivial matters to any servant!) and flirted with you unbearably long—at least, as much as his status allowed (which, according to dear Maomao, was obscenely too much). Sometimes he grew bold enough to touch your shoulders or your hair (How dare he?), and—worst of all—he made you laugh. A lot.

Maomao snapped out of her thoughts and, deciding for now not to throw a book at the eunuch, smoothly slipped between the two of you, greeting the visitors in a (she tried) friendly manner.

“You’re here again, Lord Jinshi. Could it be that you’ve fallen ill? The sick are supposed to stay in bed and not get up.”

“Oh, not at all, dear Maomao. I’m here merely for a consultation,” Jinshi replied, ignoring the sly remark with his usual refined grace.

“With such burning enthusiasm for consultations, be careful—your manly virtue might awaken again,” Maomao fired back, choosing an especially sharp comment to jab at Jinshi and subtly remind you that he could never be a proper husband, so there was no point in even considering him as one.

“If that is fate’s will, then perhaps I’m destined for another purpose,” Jinshi responded lightly, as always unfazed by her mockery, casting a brief glance in your direction. Maomao’s eye almost twitched.

“But then you’d be dismissed from service. The entire harem would mourn such a loss. You’re of great value to us. If that ever happens, I’m ready to secretly prepare a special decoction just for you,” Maomao said with polite courtesy, omitting the fact that, instead of a decoction, she’d much rather put a hammer to good use. Perhaps to knock something else off the eunuch—like his head.

You watch their bickering closely. Your heart skips a beat with a sudden realization. You bring a hand to your mouth and whisper softly:

“Oh. They’re… madly in love with each other. How did I not see it sooner?”

Gaoshun, standing nearby, became an unwitting witness to your conclusion—and couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He slowly turned his head, casting a shocked glance at you.

But you noticed nothing, too lost in your own fantasies.

Gaoshun let out a heavy sigh. These young people would drive him insane.

#yandere x reader #yandere #the apothecary diaries #yandere maomao #maomao x reader #yandere maomao x reader #jinshi x reader #yandere jinshi #yandere jinshi x reader #yandere the apothecary diaries

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i-just-like-crk · 2 months ago

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Just finished playing the new EP and good lord. Do you know how terrifying Shadow Milk would be as a yandere? I mean, he’s already one by default.

He’s a master manipulator, a shape-shifter, can spy on anyone from anywhere from any place, the (ex) master of all knowledge, literally has the ability to re-write your memories, oh— and his house is a lawless time and space maze. We haven’t seen him in an actual battle yet either, but we can assume that the (ex) Master of All Knowledge must know magic that wields a devastating amount of power.

Seriously. How do you run from this guy??? You just.. can’t. He’s constantly ten steps ahead of you, in his spire where the past, present, and future intertwine. He knows your next move before you do, and has already laid out clever traps and obstacles by the time you come to your decision. Each hurdle you stumble upon challenges your resolve, challenges your knowledge. You begin to doubt yourself with each one; questioning everything you’ve ever known and everything that you are. Horrific hallucinations chip away at you bit by bit, until you’re delirious and vulnerable, uncertain about everything— but one thing does remain certain. Each path you take leads you back to him. And when you finally circle back to him (just as it was written in the script), walls broken down, leaving your fragile mind and soul bare and at his mercy— he strikes.

The worst part of all is how much joy he takes in seeing you try. It’s not that he likes it when you run off (in fact, he’d prefer if you didn’t leave his side at all), but the crushing defeat in your eyes when you realize how futile it all was, when you finally realize the truth— that you were destined to be his, from the moment of the world’s inception, it was written that you belonged to him. And there is no running from destiny.

#cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader #beast of deceit #shadow milk cookie x reader

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froggiewrites · 2 months ago

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Puppeteer

Pairing: Doffy x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your life is perfect. Doflamingo has made it that way. But a small slip of the tongue makes you think maybe your husband had more of a hand in the events that lead you to him that you initially thought. Warnings: Fem!Reader, Angst, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Possessive Behavior, Yandere, Doffy is...Doffy Word Count: 7.7k Notes: I've been working on this piece since November, so I'm SO excited to have finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy it!

Your life was perfect. Your husband made sure of it.

You had anything you wanted, when you wanted it, without exception. The life of a queen, even before he had gifted you a crown.

But that wasn’t what mattered to you, really. It was nice, but what you were truly grateful for was how Doflamingo had saved you. From the world, from betrayal, from yourself. You were at risk of falling into a dark place when you met him, and he lifted you up, brought you comfort and protection. To you, his cloak might as well be the wings of an angel.

He insisted that it was nothing. That was simply his job as your lover. He tended to ignore the fact he was not your lover at the time. Destined from the moment you met, you suppose.

“You might not have known it, but you were always mine. I was simply doing what’s right.”

You had always thought that line was sweet. You thought he meant you were destined, that you were his and he was yours.

For the first time in your life, you were having doubts about that.

It was a small slip up. Almost nothing, really. Baby 5 often goes on long tangents, so it’s a wonder you even noticed what she said, let alone processed it. But while extolling the virtues of her latest obsession, claiming this was true love (as they always are), you couldn’t help but notice an odd phrase in the middle.

“He’s so reliable! He was so worried about me, he said I’m ‘too naive’, and that I need someone to look after me. It reminds me of how Doffy is with you! Isn’t it so sweet that he wants to protect me?” She’s beaming, and you can barely get out your question as she tries to continue her ramble.

“Why does he remind you of Doffy?” Your husband is reliable, of course, and he does his best to look out for everyone in the family, but he would never call you naive. He had never, once, in your decade of marriage implied even for a second he thought you were incapable of looking after yourself.

You had asked him once, very early on in your relationship, why he insisted on doing everything for you, why he waited on you hand and foot when he knew that you would never ask that much of him. He had smiled at you gently, an expression you were sure no other person on the planet had seen, and spoken with such fondness you couldn’t help but melt. “I do this because I love you, little bird. You don’t need to read anything else into it.”

So when Baby 5 smiles again, saying, “He looks at me the way Doffy looks at you,” you can’t help the way your heart drops. You haven’t met this suitor, but you know the way men look at Baby 5. She isn’t a partner to them, she’s a target. A victim. Prey to be lured in and devoured. Your instinct is to say this is simply another delusion on her part, another desperate illusion from her need to be needed. But the way she says it, the look in her eye, it seems far more based in reality than the rest of her spiel.

But that can’t be right. Your husband loves you, respects you. This is just another part of Baby 5’s incurable lovesickness, her romanticization of any man that gets his claws in her. “The way he looks at me, huh?”

“Yeah! It’s so romantic.” And then she’s off to the races again, completely unaware of the seed she’s planted.

You can’t dig it up, no matter how hard you try. Once a thought is in your head it cannot be unthought. So instead you bury it, as deeply as you can, and you pray that it will not take root, will not be strong enough to break through the soil. You love your husband, your life together. You will not ruin it through unearned paranoia.

When he comes to bed that night, he finds you lying awake, staring at the ceiling. His voice and hands are gentle, as they always are with you. He has never spoken to you the way he does most people, has always given you the kindness he denies others. He still has a temper, of course, but on the very rare occasions it has turned to you it has been mild, and the apology has been quick.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” He lays next to you, his arm immediately coming to wrap around you. The weight is comforting, familiar, something that has made you feel safe for as long as you can remember. You try to relax into him, but a voice in you whispers we’re trapped. You feel like you can’t breathe. You want to ignore it, suffer in silence, but your ever observant husband notices immediately, removing his arm with a frown. “Did something happen?”

You sit up, moving toward the window. You need air. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just anxious, is all.”

“Anxious?” His frown deepens. “Darling, you have nothing to worry about. What is it? Let me help.” He follows you, reaching around you to open the window for you, letting the night air in. Your turn to face him. With his arms on either side, his eyes flashing in the moonlight, for a moment you feel like nothing more than an animal in a cage, with a predator bearing down on you.

But then the cold air hits your back, those terrifying eyes are filled with concern, and your husband is back. Of course everything is alright. Of course you have nothing to worry about. You’re happy. Doffy has made sure of it. “It’s just…a horrible feeling I can’t shake. Nothing is actually wrong, I promise.”

He purses his lips a moment, displeased. “If you need something, you’ll have it. You know that, right?” His hand rests on your cheek, cradling you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. To him, you truly are.

“I know, my love. I promise, it really is nothing.”

He lets out the smallest puff of a sigh. “Alright. I’ll let it go for now. Come back to bed, darling. I won’t be able to sleep without you.” His words start as an order, but his tone turns almost pleading. Doflamingo does not beg, of course, but for you he can at least command politely.

“Of course.” You practically fall into his arms, allowing him to carry you back to your bed. He holds you tightly, as though he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers the moment he loosens his grip. For a moment you swear you see some tension around his eyes, a slight clench of his jaw, but when you rest your head on his chest it all seems to vanish.

“Goodnight, little bird,” he whispers, pressing the ghost of a kiss to your temple. You fall asleep pressed firmly against his chest, where you’re meant to be.

You bury your doubts. You love him. He loves you. Why is such a small comment enough to throw you? Do you have that little faith in your husband?

Or did it simply uncover concerns you were ignoring? Force them into the light of day when you would much rather have let them rot?

You’re happy. What else could you want or need?

A month passes, then two. You’ve forgotten the conversation. You must have. You don’t lay awake at night, overturning small interactions in your head, desperate to find some hidden meaning in it.

He always calls you little. Is it simple affection, or is it demeaning? Does he see you as less than?

Of course not. Not your Doffy.

“I think I might want to visit home.” You bring it up casually, as you’re tucked against his chest. He’s in his throne, lounging, perfectly relaxed, with you perched on his lap.

He laughs. “Darling, you are home.”

“I know. I mean–I want to visit my home island.”

A miniscule tightening around his eyes. “Why would you want to do that? After everything that they put you through?”

You knew he wouldn’t be keen on the idea. You can’t even figure out why you want to go back, because he’s right: they put you through hell. You were miserable before Doffy got you out of there. Your home had chewed you up and spit you out, and there’s nothing left for you there. It really wasn’t home at all, not anymore. Doffy never liked you referring to it as such.

But a few bad years can’t erase everything it was before the fall. You can remember your childhood, sprinting through the most beautiful flower fields with your friends. Diving into the creek, coming up soaking wet, freezing cold, and feeling freer than you had since. You remember the taste of the pastries at the cafe you used to work at, the same one you met Doflamingo at. In many ways, it was still and would always be home, no matter how long you had been away. No matter what the people there might have done to you.

“I know everything ended terribly, but…”

“But?” A raised brow, a slightly bulging vein on his forehead.

“I still have a lot of good memories from before. Places I miss. People I might be able to forgive, if I saw them again.”

His nostrils flare. His controlled smile finally falls. “Forgive? Darling, they don’t deserve your forgiveness. They don’t even deserve to live in the same world as you, let alone have the privilege of seeing you again. This has been a fun joke and all, but let’s end it here. Going there will only hurt you.” His arm tightens slightly around your waist, hugging you to him protectively.

Possessively, part of your mind whispers.

“It’s been nearly a decade, love. I’ve changed. I’m sure they’ve changed. And…I feel like all of that still hangs over me, sometimes. Even though I’ve tried to let it go. I think going back to see it would help me finally loosen the hold it has over me.”

He doesn’t say no, because you hadn’t been asking for permission. You were simply informing him of your thoughts. He couldn’t make your choices for you. He had never taken away your ability to decide, not once. But somehow his displeasure makes your heart quicken, your stomach churn. When Doffy is displeased, something in you screams that you’ve done something wrong, something you need to fix. You didn’t do anything that he would disagree with, not if you could help it. You always told yourself it was simply because you were partners, that it was natural that you would factor in his opinion.

But how many times had he asked you about his comings and goings? How many times had he told you his plans, instead of just disappearing and reappearing when he decided the time was right?

“You should protect that delicate heart of yours, darling. Who knows what going back would do to it?”

“But I’m different now. Older. Stronger.”

He chuckles, like you’ve told him some silly joke. “But still soft.”

You want to disagree, but there’s something in his tone that makes you feel so horribly small. Weak and vulnerable, some storybook damsel waiting for your prince (or king, in this case) to come sweep you away and fix everything for you. “Do you really think that?”

His eyes narrow slightly at the tone in your voice, the hurt hiding beneath it. His own voice grows softer in turn. “You’re a sensitive soul. It’s one of your best qualities, dear.”

You nod, pushing your face into his neck. You can feel him relax beneath you as you desperately try to stop your thoughts from racing. Are you sensitive, weak, soft? You cannot recall anyone else ever calling you such things. You had been so headstrong when you were young. Perhaps that’s what drove everyone away.

You clutch his shirt tightly, as though tethering yourself to him will simply fix all of this, calm your mind and bring back the peace you used to enjoy. That’s how you got all of this in the first place, really. A strong hand on your back, guiding you away from the burning flames of your old life.

The feeling doesn’t leave. It infuriates you how deeply it’s weaseled its way into you, such a small thing turning over and over and over in your mind. Something so meaningless threatening to pull you apart at the seams. You can feel your edges fraying, feel the way you’re starting to fall apart.

You can still hear Baby 5’s voice whispering in your head. Just like how Doffy looks at you.

For the first time in your life, you intend to keep a secret from your husband. You scribble the messages quickly, shoving the papers back into your desk when you hear footsteps coming down the hall. You know that you aren’t doing anything wrong, but the idea of disappointing him, disagreeing with him, makes you sick to your stomach.

It’s only once you feel his hand on your shoulder, see his pursed lips as he looms over you where you were lost in your work that you remember that the reason you have never kept a secret from your husband is simply because you couldn’t. He knows everything about you, everything that happens under this room, everything happening within the borders of Dressrosa. You never stood a chance.

“Darling…” he doesn’t need to continue. His sigh says enough, sets you on the defensive.

“I never said I wouldn’t send them,” you mutter, a childish anger overtaking you. “And I don’t need your permission.”

His lips set in a thin line. “I never said you did.”

“It’s been nearly a decade. They’ve probably changed. And if they haven’t, then at least I can say I tried.”

His free hand pinches the bridge of his nose as his brow furrows. “Little bird, you’re the only one who ever tried. They never gave you a thing.”

“They gave me plenty.”

“What, then, did they give you? Pain? Suffering? An unending desire to please everyone around you?”

“They gave me plenty, before everything happened.” You can feel your muscles tensing, an unfamiliar anger bubbling up in your chest.

“I can’t recall a single kind thing they ever did for you, my dear.”

“I had a life before you, Doflamingo,” you snap. “Do you really think I’m so helplessly stupid I’d try to reconnect with someone who was nothing but cruel to me? They used to be kind. They used to care about me. Something changed. And if something changes once, it can change again. I’m not some doe-eyed fool begging for a kind touch from a hand that’s only ever bruised me. I’m just going to give them a chance to redeem themselves, or at least explain themselves.” You’re breathing heavily, teeth clenching. You very rarely raise your voice at your husband, but you’re tired of this. Of him looking at you like you’re so defenseless, so pathetic.

There’s a strange look in his eyes when you finish, something you can’t place. He takes his hands off of you, putting them up in surrender. “Of course, dear. I didn’t mean to imply you were incapable. I simply worry about my wife.” There’s an emphasis on his last words, on your title, your role. “But I suppose I shouldn’t presume to know about…your life before me.”

He spits the words like they’re poison in his mouth.

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before you realize the situation you’re in. You’re the one keeping secrets. You’re the one who snapped. You’re the one who wouldn’t drop the issue. You, you, you. A part of you screams that he’s the one who pushed you, but aren’t you still the one who jumped?

“...I’m sorry, love, for snapping. I know you worry.”

He doesn’t move.

“I understand why you’re concerned, really. I just…this feels like something I have to do.”

Still nothing.

“If they don’t respond, then I’ll drop it. I just want to take a chance.”

He lets out a breath, before he wraps his arms around you. “Of course, dear.” His grip on you grows a little tighter. “I just can’t help but want to protect you. It’s my job, after all. And I take it very seriously.”

“I know. I appreciate the sentiment, I just wish you trusted me a bit more.”

His voice grows softer. “Oh, dear, of course I trust you. It’s everyone else that I don’t trust.” He chuckles quietly. “Well, if it’s really that important to you, I won’t stand in your way. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

You sigh, burying your nose in his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And so the envelopes are sealed the next day, handed off to a servant to be shipped off.

You keep telling yourself the letters don’t mean anything. Don’t have anything to do with the creeping dread slowly overtaking you. This is simply an act of connection, of potential forgiveness. It has nothing to do with your home life. But you can’t deny the way your eyes keep nervously drifting over each envelope labeled with your name, the disappointment when it never has the return address you were hoping for. Weeks pass, then months.

Whenever he catches you lingering near the mailbox, Doffy always gives you a sympathetic look, a small click of the tongue. “Don’t you see, darling? You expect too much of them. You give people far more credit than they deserve.”

“It’s all the way in the North Blue. Mail can take a while to get there.” You don’t sound convincing, even to your own ears.

He sighs. “I hate seeing you hurt yourself like this, dear.” He approaches from behind, wrapping his arms around you, tucking you tightly against him, rocking you slightly. “Don’t give your attention to those unworthy of it. You have everyone and everything you need right here.”

He’s right. He’s always right.

You wait anyway.

The letters never come.

You expected this, it stings anyway. Even now, they can’t even spare you a thought. Your life was ripped to shreds, and they can’t even give you this. You don’t even exist in their memories anymore. You’re the only one who carries this pain, and you do it alone.

You try to talk to Doffy about it again, and while he plays the doting husband, you can see the satisfaction in his eyes. The pity in his face as he cradles you, the condescending, “Oh, dear, I knew you’d hurt yourself like this. You don’t need them," just screams I told you so. You can only be thankful he doesn’t say it aloud, his smile all teeth as he chuckles and pets your head like some pampered pet.

But he wouldn’t do that. He loves you.

The restlessness you feel doesn’t subside. You’ve taken to wandering aimlessly through the palace, as though you’ll suddenly find the answers hiding around a dusty corner and you’ll find the peace you so desperately crave. You want normalcy again. You want to lay in your husband’s arms and not wonder how much of his softened gaze and gentle caress is a lie, a carefully constructed act meant to keep you where he wants you. You know it isn’t true, really.

But the gnawing continues all the same.

The answers you wished for come in the form of an overfilled trash can.

You occasionally bring snacks to Doflamingo while he’s working. He doesn’t like you being in his office for long, preferring to keep you separated from the messy goings on of his work life, but you can tell he enjoys these small visits. Sometimes, on days when he isn’t busy, he pulls you onto his lap, allowing you to curl into him and enjoy the feeling of safety in his arms as he fills out miscellaneous paperwork or checks over maps. You used to cherish those moments.

Today’s conversation is brief, Doflamingo’s frustration with some issue or another clear in his every action. His teeth are clenched even as he thanks you, even as his lips brush against your temple before you turn to leave. You can’t help the jitteriness you feel, the way his discomfort sends a buzzing through your body. Once he makes it clear you cannot fix the issue (in as gentle of a tone as he’s capable of), you’re ready to make your escape, to hope the nausea subsides once you’re far enough away. You’re so upset you almost miss the envelope in the trashcan next to the door, no writing visible except for the return address.

It’s from a little island in the North Blue, known for its beautiful flower fields.

You can’t help the choked noise that escapes your throat.

“Are you alright?” His eyes glance up from the paper in front of him, the slightest hint of concern behind them.

“What’s this?” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your hand begins to reach for the trashcan, but you pull it back at the last second. No, it can’t be. And if it is, you don’t want to know.

“What’s what, darling?”

He wouldn’t do this to you. It’s a coincidence. There’s dozens of businesses on the island, many of which might be useful for a king and even more useful for a pirate. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, do this to you.

“This letter.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, your hands shaking. The only thing that keeps you from exploding is the genuine confusion on his face. “What letter?”

You fish it out of the trashcan, slowly bringing it back to him. It’s covered in spilled ink which has soaked through the paper. It’s clear that the letter inside is ruined, and the only thing you can make out on the front is a street name and the island. “Why was this in the trash?”

He frowns, his brow furrowing. He reaches for it, investigating it so thoroughly you can convince yourself this is the first time he’s seen it. It’s only when his gaze falls to the address that his eyes light up in understanding. “Oh. Oh, dear.”

“Was this for me?”

“I don’t know, dear, but there’s certainly a chance.” His voice is gentle as he reaches for you. “I’m sorry if it was. I don’t know what happened.”

It’s unlike him to apologize. It’s unlike him to admit to not knowing, to not being in absolute control. But god, you want it to be true. You want the comfort he offers. You fall into him, pressing your face into his chest, barely holding back a sob. “What if it was? What if that’s the only response I’ll get, and it’s gone forever? What if my only chance at peace has slipped through my fingers?”

His hands are gentle as they rub circles on your back. “I’ll figure out what happened. I promise whoever did this will be punished, little bird. I’ll never tolerate someone hurting you.” His lips brush against the top of your head, kind and caring and protective, exactly how you’ve always known him to be. “I had others in my office earlier, I’m sure one of them did this. I’ll find out who.”

It takes him nearly an hour to calm you down, but he does it without rushing. All of his work, his empire, set aside for you. How could you doubt him, even for a moment, with your proof of his devotion right here?

He tucks you gently into your shared bed after you calmed down, encouraging you to take a nap to recuperate. A glass of water is left by the bedside for you, and he places an extra blanket on top of you to keep you warm and cozy.

You don’t know how long your nap is. It certainly isn’t long, considering the sun is still in the sky, but it was enough to ease the pounding in your head from the sobbing. You aren’t thinking as you crawl out of bed and begin to wander in the direction of your husband’s office. You’re still a little upset, a little off kilter, and while it may be selfish to interrupt him twice in a day you want to bask in his care a bit more.

An angry voice stops you in your tracks.

“You threw them out?” He sounds furious, his voice booming down the hall. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, should trust your husband to take care of it, but you linger near the door anyway.

“You said to get rid of them!” You don’t recognize the voice, but you recognize the fear. It’s how everyone sounds in front of Doflamingo, faced with his power and grace. With the knowledge he wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever he needed to them to get what he wanted.

“Yes, and I expected you to do it right! Burn them, rip them up, whatever it takes! To make sure nobody finds them! Not leave them sitting at the top of a trash can, in my office, where anybody can see them! I’m used to being surrounded by fools, but this is beyond comprehension!” You hear the cracking of wood, and somehow you know he’s broken his desk. As much as you want to stay and hear the rest, the bile rising in your throat forces you away, back to your room, where you can hide under the covers and finally break down.

He had been taking your letters. You knew that, really, but you had so badly wanted to convince yourself otherwise. He had made sure you would never want to go back, simply because he didn’t want you to. He took your choice away. Why was he so desperate to keep you here? What harm was there in you finally letting go of everything that happened?

You had been miserable. You had spent years terrified that Doflamingo would abandon you next, just like your family and friends did. You had clutched him so tightly your knuckles turned white, and he had cooed and assured you he would never leave you, not like they did. “I love you, little bird. You’re mine. It’s my job to protect and care for you, and I intend to do that for the rest of my life.”

Is that how he wanted you? Insecure and desperate to remain at his side? Perhaps he loved you because you were easy. So eager to please, to bend yourself to his will until you nearly snap as long as it keeps him around, keeps anybody around. Maybe he was as desperate as you were, in a way, because it didn’t have to be him you latched onto.

You bite your cheek hard enough to draw blood. No more thoughts like that. It had to be Doflamingo. He was your husband, your family, and nothing can take that away. Not even this betrayal. Surely he thought he was doing what was best for you. He may be selfish, but never when it comes to you.

This was controlling, it was wrong, but it wasn’t cruel. And as loathe as you are to admit it, it wasn’t out of character. He’s always been in control, his entire life. It wouldn’t seem wrong to him for that to extend to some of yours.

You should go in and talk to him. You should figure out why he would do this. Some twisted form of protection? Jealousy? Fear? You should do something, anything, to get to the bottom of this.

You crawl back into bed instead.

You accept his embrace when he joins you. You don’t push him away when he rolls on top of you, whispering how much he loves you, how happy he is that you’re his. You fall asleep in his arms, as you’ve always done.

You spent months begging the universe for answers, for some sort of proof, and now that you’ve gotten it, you’re sticking your head in the sand. What a coward. You can’t even bring yourself to be angry with him. Maybe you’re in shock, or maybe he’s just done such a good job at clipping your wings you simply don’t know what to do without him, and you don’t care to find out. You tell yourself you just love him, trust him. You ignore any whisper in your head that says the contrary.

The days pass normally, as quickly as they always do. You almost feel normal, after a while, have almost convinced yourself that everything is fine, as it’s always been.

The bird at your window is a surprise. It taps hurriedly, almost as though it’s afraid to tarry for too long. The letter tied to its leg somehow isn’t.

The script is hurried and messy. You recognize it immediately. It was written by a boy you had once run through the wild with, one you had shared every step of growing up with. It was his betrayal that had hurt the most.

The letter is nearly impossible to decipher. Your friend always did have terrible handwriting. You used to tease him for how nobody else could figure out what he meant, how sometimes even he couldn’t read his own writing. But you were always good at it, somehow always on the same page as him, no matter how small his chicken scratch was.

I didn’t expect to hear from you ever again. I’m glad I did. I’ve missed you, all of these years. I’ve wondered if you were safe, if you were happy.

I’m sorry for my cowardice. I’m sorry for pushing you away. But I was scared. That pirate made himself very clear: get away from you, or he was going to kill me.

No.

No, no, no.

No, that can’t be right.

I don’t know if he meant it. But with everything else that came after, I suspect he did. I don’t know what he said to your landlord, or your boss, or anyone else. But I know he spoke to them, and I know you were gone soon after. I’m sorry I was never brave enough to tell you in person, or to send you this letter until now. I didn’t know where you went, and I was sure you’d never want to speak to me again anyway.

I’m glad you’re safe, or as safe as you can be. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I would be now, if I could. Not that that means much, really.

You place the paper down, shoving your head in your hands. No. This can’t be true. He may be controlling, he may be overprotective, but he would never hurt you. Not like this. Your husband would never have purposefully made you miserable. He would do a lot, but not that.

But you can’t help but remember how perfect his timing was, every time. How he’d gently encouraged you to open up in the days after you realized your friends were ignoring you. How he found you sobbing outside of the cafe after you’d been fired. How he found you idly wandering the streets after your landlord kicked you out. How he found you every time, right on time, assuring you that you didn’t need to worry anymore, that you could just rely on him now. That he always looked after his family, and he would love for you to be a part of it.

You look back on your life together. Had you ever made the choice to be here, or did he simply lure you in with the right bait every time? How many steps had you taken without realizing he was the one leading you here?

You could excuse a lot, deny even more. You can tell yourself again and again that he loved you, that everything he’s done has been for your own good. But hurting you? Hurting the people you loved? Even you couldn’t justify that.

He doesn’t even look up when you walk into his office. He hums quietly in acknowledgement, his pen scratching softly against the page. It’s only when you furiously slam the letter down on his desk that he finally looks at you.

“What’s this, darling?”

“I finally got a response. An intact one.”

He glances down at it, sneering slightly. “Intact? Dear, that’s illegible.”

“Did you threaten my friends for talking to me?”

He’s an excellent liar, a well practiced one. But you’ve known him for a decade, spent hours staring at him, starry eyed, tracking his every move. You can see the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“How many people have you done this to, Doflamingo?”

He huffs. “None. What are you talking about? Who said this to you?”

“Why do you want to know? So you can make good on your promise to hurt him?” You begin to pace, fury bubbling beneath your skin. “I can’t believe you would do this.”

“I want to know so I can know who you’re believing over your own husband.” He puts on an air of hurt, one that tugs at your heartstrings, but you won’t fall this time.

“I have tried to believe in you again and again, pushing down my doubt because I was so sure my husband would never do anything like this. But the evidence just keeps coming.”

“What evidence, exactly?” He snaps, annoyance slipping through. “The crazed ranting of some jealous old acquaintance? One who hurt you beyond repair a decade ago?”

“The first goddamn letter you tried to get rid of, first off all.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Don’t try to deny it, I heard you losing your mind on whoever you told to do it. I tried so hard to tell myself you were doing it out of some misguided attempt to protect me, but this proves you just did it to protect yourself. You just didn’t want me to know what you’d done.”

He sighs. “Dear, you’re working yourself up into a frenzy. You couldn’t have heard something that never happened.”

“Don’t lie to me! God, you must think I’m so stupid. You always have. And why wouldn’t you? I’ve fallen for everything, this entire time! I kept telling myself that this was normal, that you loved me, that this was what I wanted. I was so scared of losing you I let you look me in the eye and lie to me every goddamn day.”

“You want the truth?” He’s standing now, walking around the desk that separated you. “Can you handle that, dear? We can’t take back our words.”

You barely suppress the frustrated sob working its way out of your mouth. “Yes, please, give me the truth. That’s all I want.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, the way it always does. God, he has to make this so hard. “I’ll always give you what you want.” He reaches out, but you take a step back. He gives you your space, for now. “When we first met, I may have had a few…long talks with some people you knew. Just to make my intentions clear.”

“How many people?”

“I can’t recall exact numbers.”

“Are you why I lost my job at the cafe?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Are you why I got evicted?”

“Yes.”

You curl in on yourself. “God. What the hell? Why would you do this to me?” You can feel your world crashing down as every memory of the last ten years is tainted, rotting from the inside out. It was never real. None of it. “Why would you ruin my life? What did I ever do to you? Why did you pick me up after like some stray dog? Did you feel guilty?”

You expected anger. He was always prone to it, after all. You had expected his tense shoulders and gnashing teeth, a fierce insistence that you were wrong to be upset, to question him. That he was right like always, and that anything he did was simply the best option to some grand end goal you couldn’t see. What you hadn't anticipated was the confusion: the look on his face so lost it was almost childlike. "Ruin your life? You wanted this. I gave you what you wanted."

"You think I wanted–what, to be miserable?”

He has the audacity to look concerned. “Are you miserable? You’re supposed to be happy.”

“Happy? You hurt people! Hurt me!"

He bristles at that. "I never hurt you. You are my wife, my family, my responsibility. I look out for you. I protect you. Those obstacles were–"

"Obstacles? Doflamingo, they were people!”

“They’re nothing compared to you.”

You feel like you’re slamming your head into the wall. What is he not getting? Why does he not seem to think he’s done anything wrong? Why would he hide it if he thought he was right? “Nothing? I–God. What would ever make you think I wanted any of this?"

"You told me yourself!" He says it with such conviction.

You’re about to scream, to run out of this office and into the night, never to be seen again. He must be insane. More than you ever thought possible.

But suddenly you remember it. A small conversation, a month or two after you first met. You didn’t even know his name yet, only knew him as the handsome blond who always tipped well. He had been sipping his coffee slowly, an excuse to keep occupying the table and, in turn, you. His question had seemed so innocent then.

"Do you want to leave this place?"

"What?"

"Are you happy here, I mean. Do you really want to stay here, working yourself to the bone, when you could be living in the lap of luxury?"

You laugh. "I don't know what kind of luxury I could get so easily. Things like that don't just come to people like me. I have bills to pay."

He hums quietly. "But if it could come? Would you really still be here if you had someone to take care of you? If you didn't have to worry about all of this?"

You give a sardonic smile as you wipe down his table. "Mister, you say it like it's so easy. I have things to do, people to help. I couldn't leave them behind just because it'd be better for me."

You can't see them through his sunglasses, but somehow you feel his eyes pierce through you anyway. "But if all of that wasn't a concern? Then you'd want to leave?"

"Sure, in that fantasy world, I'd love to see what the world has to offer. But I live here, in reality, and I have another table glaring at me, so I'll be back in a few minutes."

And that was it. Such a small exchange, barely worth noting.

You never thought much of the conversation. You really didn't. But sitting here, now, you're starting to see it for what it was to him: permission. An invitation to do whatever he thought would get you here. Why wouldn't a pirate act on such an opportunity?

You can barely swallow the bile rising in your throat.

“You couldn’t have possibly–” Your voice catches, and through his frustration you see something almost resembling pity peek through for just a moment. Somehow that’s the most infuriating part of all of this.

“Couldn’t have what? Thought you were being honest? I knew you were, darling. I knew you were meant to be here. I knew you would never have taken the first step with everyone in that shithole holding you down. What was I supposed to do? Leave you there?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should have fucking done! You don’t ruin lives over a stupid flight of fucking fancy–”

“Don’t call it that.” There’s that oh so familiar rage. His teeth clenched, his nails digging into his fists, his eyes burning so hot from behind his glasses you can feel the room raise a couple degrees. “Don’t you dare demean what we have. Don’t dismiss the last ten years. You are my wife. My partner. Mine.”

He’s stalking toward you, long past worrying about frightening you.

“Don’t you dare treat my devotion like some schoolboy’s crush.”

You think you would laugh if your heart were not beating out of your chest. Before today, you would have sworn your husband would never hurt you. But now, you don’t know if you can trust anything you think. Not anymore. Clearly you’re an idiot, naive and foolish, incapable of sensing danger even when it’s right in front of you. So when he reaches for you, you flinch.

He has the gall to look hurt. His posture relaxes as he reaches for you again, slower this time. His hands reach to delicately cradle your face, but you pull away, curling in on yourself. “Don’t touch me.”

“Darling–”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me. I’m not your darling. I don’t even know who you are. My entire life is a lie.” You barely manage to hold in a sob. He boxes you in, trying to pull you into his arms, wash away your pain as he always does. You fall to the floor, curling into a ball, desperately trying to avoid him. This familiar softness might break you. “Don’t touch me.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t back away. “Your life isn’t a lie, little bird. Everything that matters is still true: I’m your husband and I love you.”

“Do you?”

The corner of his eye twitches. “Of course I do. Do you think I would do all of this for anyone? Only for you, my dear. Only you’re worth all of this. I’m sorry for frightening you, but I promise everything I have ever done is for you.” His voice is soft and cautious, as though he’s trying to lure in a wounded animal. You suppose in a way he is.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You pull yourself in tighter, your nails digging into your legs, the pain the only thing grounding you.

“You didn’t have to do anything. You were mine from the moment I saw you.” He says it with a dreamy tone, one that could be easily confused for a normal husband, so deeply in love with his wife. But beneath it there’s an obsession, a depravity to it.

“I don’t want to be yours.” The pitiful protest of a child, weak and wavering.

“Oh, darling, you don’t mean that.” He bends down to look you in the eye, put himself on your level. The condescension sets your teeth on edge. “I know you’re upset, dear, but you shouldn’t say things like that. A lesser man would be hurt.”

“A better man would believe me.”

You see the flash of rage that he swallows down before he opens his mouth again. “You’re lucky I’m patient, lover. Who knows what would happen if I took these little provocations seriously.”

“You never take me seriously.” So much of your life spent under the thumb of a man who didn’t even trust you to choose him yourself. Who didn’t trust you to choose a life together.

“You’re clearly overwhelmed. Take a minute to collect yourself.”

He didn’t disagree. So many lies for so many years, but he can’t give you the one you really want to hear.

“I want to go home.” Your voice is so pathetic, so broken.

“You are home.” His voice is gentle, but firm. A statement, a command beneath it. He leaves no room for disagreement.

“No. No, I’m not.” You close your eyes, picturing fields of your childhood. The smell of the flowers, the feeling of the sunlight on your face. The last time you had truly been free.

“You’re home, and you aren’t leaving.”

You feel yourself being pulled forward, your arms moving of their own volition.

No, not their own.

His.

His strings force your arms around him as he engulfs you in a suffocating embrace. His voice is no less sickeningly adoring than it was before. "Do what you want to me, darling. Hate me, fear me, hurt me. Rip me to shreds with your own two hands if you wish. But don't you dare leave me. You can do whatever you want as long as you're home safe."

Your voice trembles as you whisper, "And what if I wanted to leave?"

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, the condescending amusement of someone hearing a child wish for the impossible. "You don't. If you wanted to leave, you wouldn't have come here. Wouldn't have confronted me. Hell, you would have left the moment you found that first letter. Face it, little bird, you chose your cage. You love it here."

"But if I really wanted to?"

He smiles, all teeth. "Then I'd find you and bring you home.”

When he leans down to kiss you, you don’t have the energy to pull away. You can’t even feel afraid anymore as a deep sense of resignation washes over you. Ten years. Ten years of your life, gone if you leave. Your past burned under Doflamingo’s watchful eye, ensuring you have nowhere to return. Where else can you rest except your marriage bed?

It is that same bed he carries you to now, as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. The same bed where he takes you, as he has all these years. The same bed you’re pinned to, weighed down by an arm thrown across your waist. Despite everything, despite the fear and rage choking you, the feeling is somehow comforting.

Neither of you speak of it the next morning. What is there to say, really?

Your life is perfect. Your husband has made it so.

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#doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #donquixote doflamingo #one piece x reader #x reader #doflamingo x y/n #one piece #op

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