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Cherry Popper! - Fem!Reader x Yandere!Sylus Synopsis: Sylus loves that youâre 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 youâre a virgin with him, thereâs an almost imperceptible clench of his jaw and dilation of his pupils.
He can feel his heart rate increaseâno man has ever touched you? Good, because the idea of you with someone else, writhing below anyone that isnât him, moaning a name that isnât 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 wouldnât 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.
âUnâŠtouched?â His usual sultry voice will have the slightest traitorous tremble; his toneâusually confidentâwill practically be a whisper.
Of course, he has been monitoring you closelyâlike the dutiful protector he isâfor 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 werenât 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 treasureâand doesn't that simply scream fated souls?
When he finally has you in the bedroom, his thick cock juts outâtall, proud, and like a beacon of pure want against his toned lower abdomen.
Itâs 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 impressedâthis 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 whatâs hisâbringing 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, heâll 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 âjust tooooo much.â
You're fucking right itâs 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-âcovering your face and cheeks flushing darker lets him know that youâre not used to being touched here either, making him lick his lips and forcefully swallow at the excess saliva youâre making him produce.
Iâll be gentle,â 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 isnât 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. Itâs 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 isnât 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. Youâre squeezing him tighter than his hand ever could. You feel absolutely perfect, and in that moment, he swears to himself that heâd rather dieâagainâthan 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 thatâs keeping him from fully making you hisâand thatâs a fucking problem.
He tsks softly as he feels the paper-thin membrane against the tip of his cock, âCanât have that, now can we?â And without warning, he jerks his hips, eyes on your face as tears prickle the corner of your eyes from the discomfort.
âOhhhhh, Kitten,â 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.
Itâs also the sight of everything else that makes Sylus's cock twitch inside your heat, his eyes canât 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.
Youâre singing sensual love songs made of your most profound pleasure, and itâs all. for. him.
And all the while, he wonât stop talking to you while heâs stirring your guts. Itâs a constant stream of chatter:
âHow does that feel, sweet one?â
âDo you like it when I make love to you like this?â
âOh, Kitten. Shhhh, I know Iâm deep. Itâs ok. I wonât give you more than you canât handle, I promise.â
âDonât be shy. Tell me how it feels, baby.â
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 youâve never felt anything like this before, especially down there.
Yes, please tell him youâre close because, fuck, heâs close too, and as much as he enjoys fucking you, heâs 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 heâs not wearing protection, and heâll only force his hips forward to be flush against you to plug you up moreâpressing his balls against your clenching hole to ensure all that he so generously provides, takes.
He has such a big load for you and canât 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 itâheâs too lost in the sensation of you, and youâre too lost in the feeling of being impossibly stuffed.
Heâll give you breaks, of course, but that first night, donât expect much rest before heâs 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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Being Rhaenyra's Only Daughter and Heir
Yandere House of the Dragon/Bastard! Velaryon! Reader
warnings: yandere content, platonic yandere, romantic yandere, reader is based on my oc naelys velaryon, but is a reader insert for inclusiveness, protective mama nyra, readers father is cole, hubby! aegon, daemon
RHAENYRA, who adores her baby girl! Oh, she would waltz around the Red Keep with her baby in her arms, showing the little Valyrian bundle of joy to anyone who crossed pathes with her. Her daughter, I imagine, would be the product of her time with Ser Cole, and while they no longer were close, and Criston seems to despise Rhaenyra now, she holds nothing but love for her precious daughter. Rhaenyra is very protective of her babies, but moreso of her daughter. Society is cruel to little girls, and she knows this very well. During the Dance, Rhaenyra became increasingly paranoid because her baby was stuck in Kings Landing. Her ultimate fear is losing (Name), and they are separated after the death of Viserys.
DAEMON is (Name)'s stepfather, and while she doesn't seem to like him very well, he holds a great fondness for her, as though she were his own daughter. He isn't very adequate as a father, and he often comes off as annoying and cocky, but he loves (Name) dearly! There is a theory that Daemon and Rhaenyra had Laenor killed so they could be together, and she hears these whispers. (Name) tries to keep a distance between her and Daemon, but he almost pushes himself into her life. As soon as Daemon and Rhaenyra marry, he starts to refer to himself as (Name)'s father, and this makes her upset because she still grieves Laenor.
JACAERYS, LUCERYS, AND LITTLE JOFF love their big sister! She's so wise and beautiful, and she dotes on them all like little ducklings. Jace is only a few years younger than (Name), so he takes on an almost protective role towards his sister. I imagine she's soft-spoken and sweet, much like Aemma was, so Jace feels like he needs to watch over her to make sure that no one corrupts his dear elder sister. Lucerys depends on (Name) for emotional support, as he's rather insecure. Both Lucerys and Joffrey follow her around and look up to (Name). I imagine she'd be especially close with little Joff, as he often clings to her like a suckerfish.
AEGON is (Name)'s husband and father of her children. Viserys marry them to each other in a bleak attempt to mend the differences between Alicent and Rhaenyra. It doesn't work, obviously, but Aegon is absolutely whipped for his wifey. He follows her around like a lost puppy and is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her at his side. Once the war begins and their first son is murdered, Aegon becomes paranoid and forces his wife into isolation, for her own good, he says. He holds a hard disdain for her mother and tries several times to turn her against Rhaenyra. Aegon really just wants to take his wifey and babies to essos to life peacefully, but he knows he can't.
CRISTON COLE is (Name)'s true father, and despite holding disdain for Rhaenyra, he yearns to be close to his daughter. As a knight, Criston knows that he will never have a wife, nor will he ever become a father to happy children. He knowingly gave all of that away when he said his vows. Alas, Rhaenyra's pride and joy is a living reminder of his shame. She is innocent, sweet, and honorable, everything Criston is not. The pain of having to watch his child being raised by two different men kills Cole, as all he yearns for is to cradle her in his arms like any father would. Once the Dance begins, Criston fights with dedication. The dedication of a father.
the reader is based on my oc Naelys Velaryon from my fic 'prisoner of vows' (âĄă»xă»âĄ)
masterlist ᥣđ©
#cw: yandere content#cw: yandere#yandere rhaenyra targaryen#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere jacaerys velaryon#yandere lucerys velaryon#yandere joffrey velaryon#yandere aegon ii targaryen#yandere criston cole#yandere house of the dragon#house of the dragon#yandere hotd#hotd#yandere game of thrones#game of thrones#yandere asoiaf#asoiaf#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#pumpkin writes â
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Persephone, Swept Away Into the Deep
Yandere! Wriothesley x GN! Reader
Summary: Youâre a florist who catches the eye of the Duke, ruler of the underworld in Fontaineâand as the object of his affection, thereâs nothing you can do to avoid your fate.
Warning(s): yandere, toxic behavior, possessive behavior, mention of blood, violence (Wriothesley beats someone up), stalking, obsessive behavior, unjust execution of the law, possessive behavior, corrupt official Wriothesley (?), drugging (needle injection), kidnapping, captivity, implied stalking, non-consensual touching, forced romantic relationship
A/N: Iâm not sure if I did a good job at translating the themes âš of the hades and Persephone myth (however slight they may be in this particular fanfic) but I tried ;)
âââââââââ
Every happy customer that came out of your shop would inevitably spread your business through tongueâthatâs just the way things worked in Fontaine.
Of course, you werenât complaining. You were running a thriving business and their lively conversations often brought you joy and pride. The little gardener on off of main street, the florist who sells the most beautiful bouquets youâve ever seen, the flower shop tucked away like a hidden gem, theyâd say, fondness in their tone and the echo of good memories in their minds.
You were proud of the lifestyle you had made for yourself and the reputation you had garnered. Your natural green thumb had made your shop quite popular among commoners and socialites alike, as anyone of any class could stroll inside to find something for a person precious to them; whether it was a child, a spouse, a friend, or an infatuation, you had helped mold their stories, crafting and shifting them around petals and bows.
Though some days, you let yourself dream. Of petals and bows, not meant for someone else, but meant for you. Though your business had seen many love stories, its owner had yet to find a love of their own.
On your worst days, you scoffed and thought to yourself about how ironic your life was.
ButâŠsome days, your aching romantic heart would have you sighing wistfully as you watched customer after customer buy carefully cultivated blooms to gift to their beloved. They would leave gleefully, only for you to remain in your shop, watching them walk out with a piece of you. A piece that you wanted to give to your own special someone.
Always watching, never experiencing.
And then suddenly, everything you had built was being torn down by the one thing you desired the most.
âââââââââ
On a day that was insultingly ordinary considering the damning events that followed it, you were sitting in your shop, furiously pruning flowers and cutting stems and leaves. You were a little behind in work, so you had kept your shop open later than you usually would.
A festival was going to be thrown at the center of the city, and that meant you were busier than ever. Business was slow at the time, but it always picked up during events, as it was common for people to take advantage of the merry mood and ask out the apple of their eye, or propose, or buy a bouquet just to enjoy life.
And your bouquets were certainly beautiful, as you had heard from the many couples that walked into your shop, fawning over the arrangements and each other. You were sure you would see many lovers come into your shop once the joyous celebrations began.
You sighed, feeling the solitude of the your profession begin to seem depressing. It made you happy knowing your creations would be appreciated, yet, you knew the festival would end up torturing your heart with the same stale loneliness you often felt.
Friends had invited you to come with them to enjoy the festival together, so you werenât all alone. Ultimately, you had declined.
Business would be booming.
âŠPlus, it wouldnât be as special if you couldnât go with someone special. It would only hurt to go out into the bustling streets and to see all those people holding hands, touching arms, carrying your bouquets, while your side was cold and your hands were emptyâŠ
You snipped at a rainbow rose a little too hard, hissing as the tip of the shears nicked your finger. You watched in mild panic and exasperation as the blood began to fill the small cut, feeling a sting form in your finger. Reaching for the medical kit you kept close by, you swiftly treated and bandaged yourself, watching the gauze go from white to a bright red.
Shaking your head, you waved away the pain and your nasty thoughts. You were sure your friends would be fine without you and, more than anything, you needed to be here to sell your flowers. It would be a waste to throw out your beautiful blooms because you let them wither, and soon customers would be grabbing for themâŠand who knows? Maybe you might meet someone.
Maybe you would even find someone to enjoy the festival withâŠ.
You heard the telltale ding of a bell and looked up, peaking out from behind the wall of floral remains you had constructed around yourself.
A man walked into the shop, and the first thing you noticed is that he was handsome. And big. Like, slightly intimidating big. A large, built stature, with broad shoulders and heavy boots on long legs. You pinched yourself, feeling your cheeks slightly heat up. Who were you to get flustered? And by a stranger? Pull it together.
âHello!â You greeted cheerily, thankfully turning on your usual customer service voice without problem. âHow can I help you today?â
âYouâre still open?â The man asked, a note of surprise in his voice. The question sounded weirdly familiar for it to be spoken by a stranger, but you chose to ignore it. Plenty of people knew your hours, it wouldnât be odd for one of them to send a new customer over.
You paused, taking him in. The stranger was tall, dark, and brooding, a person that looked strangely out of place in your little safe haven that was crammed to the brim with mosaics of colorful flora.
However, his eyes were the clearest color you had ever seen. They were like steel in their cool quickness, taking seconds to size you up. You unconsciously shrunk under the pressure of his gaze. Still, you smiled up at him.
âYes, sir. Weâre still open. What can I get for you?â
âWell, to tell you the truth, Iâm not exactly sure. I came here because of a recommendation; they say youâre the best in town, with the freshest flowers. Iâm guessing you outsource from the country?â
âNo, sir. I grow them myself.â You said, still smiling sweetly.
A flash of recognition behind those steel eyes. âAh. Youâre the owner then?â
âYes, sir.â
He hummed, looking away in thought. âIâd like an all blue bouquetâsomething with an air of delicacy to it. Nothing too fancy, just something pretty and light.â
That soundedâŠreally romantic. Delicate? Pretty? Those were words people used to describe bouquets with romantic intentions behind them. You had heard them time and time again, as you carefully put together arrangements and your customer fawned over the person it was for, tone sugary sweet. Those words never failed to clog up your chest with a bitter jealously.
A feeling of disappointment filled your chest and your heart sank. Of course, he was already going with someone. It seemed that everyone, except for you, had a date for the festival. Of course. That made sense. Anyone that good looking would most likely have a dateâ
You smiled, sweeping away the disappointment and putting back on a false merry face. You had just met this man, really. What was there to be sad about? You decided to fill the silence that was quickly making you want to curl up into a ball and hide.
âSo youâve got a date for the festival? Iâm sure theyâll love it, since you seem to know what theyâll like. Can I get a name for the order?â
âWriothesley. And, no. I havenât got a date.â
Your brain short circuited.
âBut youâre so good looking?â You blurted out, the thought in your head coming out of your mouth without warning.
Wriothesley looked momentarily stunned, and you wanted to scream. Of all the times to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy, it had to be nowâ
âA-Ah!â You stuttered out. âIâm sorry! Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain! I just said what I was thinking, I hope youâre not insulted by itâŠor uncomfortableâŠ.not that I meant to insult youââ
He laughed, the sound startling you. When he looked at you again, he seemed less guarded, his eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at you with interest. Oh, and that smile. Oh wow. That. Wow.
âYou know, people are usually too afraid to say stuff like that to my face. Or really, theyâre too afraid to say anything to my face. Guess I was just lucky to meet you today, huh?â He grinned and let his voice drop as he spoke. The glint in his eyes turned bright, like a dancing flame. He leaned into your space, letting one arm rest on the counter.
You felt the smooth words roll down your back and over your skin, excitement or fear (or maybe a mix of both) running up your spine and through the rest of your body.
You laughed, trying to play off his words as if they were meant to be friendly. (At least, you thought they were meant to be friendly.) Maybe the naturally deep tone of his voice and his intimidating aura made your brain misinterpret harmless words asâŠpredatory.
You grinned. âWell, I donât know about luck, but everyone deserves a compliment every once in a while, right?â
He leaned back, that dangerous glint disappearing into his eyes as if it was never there. He crossed his arms, looking smug.
âRight.â
Silence filled the air again, and your curiosity got the best of you quickly.
âGoodness, Iâm sorry but who is this for then?â
He chuckled and you were immediately relieved that he wasnât annoyed with you. People didnât like it when others pried into their business. The thought of Wriothesley with his leather boots, pretty face, and icy eyes glaring at you with disdain nearly sent you into shock.
âItâs forâŠa co-worker, you could say.â He continued. âShe does a lot for me and I thought it might be nice to get her a gift to show my appreciation. Everyoneâs in a good mood with the festival coming around, so I might as well, you know?â He smiled. âSorry to disappoint you, though. No romantic feelings involved.â
You nodded, a weird feeling of relief filling your chest after finding out that a man you didnât know and that you probably would never see again did not have a date for the festival.
Maybe you were just glad to know that you wouldnât be the only person going without a partner.
You began to gather sample flowers, spreading them out between you fingers and taking comfort in the familiar weight of them in your hands.
âNot disappointed at all.â Iâm also single, you thought, but thankfully didnât say out loud. âI guess Iâve just gotten so used to lovebirds walking into my shop, I was surprised you werenât one of them.â
âBecause of my face?â He asked, amusement seeping into his tone. You wanted to smack that smile right off of his smug, beautiful face. Of course, you wouldnât, because that would be a crime to everyone else who had eyes. You couldnât mess up that piece of art.
You nodded, your face burning. âBecause of your face.â You confirmed.
âWell, Iâm flattered.â He said.
You thrusted the sample flowers out in front of you, mortified that he was making your already embarrassing situation worse with teasing.
âPick out the ones you like.â You said, your face practically on fire.
He did, without further comment at that, but a smirk pulled at his lips the entire time. He looked at you, with that grin molded onto his perfect lips, more than he did the flowers in your hands.
He refrained from torturing you with teasing remarks for the rest of the conversation, and when you told him it would be ready for pick up in a few hours, he gently placed a bag of mora on the counter.
Only when he was walking out the door did you realize how much mora he had given you.
Your eyes bulged as you peeked into the bag, nearly fainting at the amount. Who carries this much on them?! What if he had gotten robbed?! Well, he would probably never get robbed looking likeâŠthat, but still.
âHey!! WaitâSir!! You gave me way too much!â
He waved as he closed the door behind him, the bell ringing cheerily as he ignored you protests without even turning around.
You stood gaping behind the counter. You turned to the bag, determinedly picking out the correct amount and putting the rest away so that you could throw it at him when he came back. Not his face, though. Never his face.
A few hours later, he came back, his face neutral and undisturbed, like nothing in the world could move him to react.
He saw you, and his expression twitched and changed, looking just as smug as when he left.
You wordlessly pushed his bouquet, which you had worked extra hard on out of spite, not because you wanted him to like it or anything, towards him. Again, without saying anything, you pushed the bag of mora back towards him.
He quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, also determined to win the quiet challenge that you had started. He (rather cheekily) slid the bag back towards you, a smile fighting to pull onto his face.
You, more forcefully this time, slid the bag back towards him, face betraying no emotion.
Eyes sparking with amusement, he held out his hand.
Oh my Archons. You thought. What does that mean? He doesnât want toâŠ.does he? You hesitatingly raised your hand in response, suspicious of the man in front of you. He gently slid his hand under yours, making your heart pound in your rib cage. His gloves covered most of his hand, but the skin that did touch you was startlingly cold. Your skin downright tingled where his touched yours.
Whether it was from the temperature or just him, you didnât know.
He placed the bag of mora in your hands, a graceless plop and a cheerily jingle sounding through the quiet room.
Okay. You take it back. This mora was going directly at his face.
âThis mora is going right at your face.â
âWhat?â
âWhat?â You parroted. Inside, you were crying. The first time youâve ever threatened a customer and itâs the most beautiful man youâve ever seen.
He chuckled, the sound low and deep and long and archons even his laugh sounded angelic.
âI couldâve sworn you justââ
âI didnât.â You cut him off, panicking. You pushed the bouquet towards him, hiding behind it. âEnjoy your day. Thank you for your purchase. Have fun at the festival.â
ââŠThanks.â He said, still amused, but following your lead and taking the flowers from your waiting hands. For a moment, maybe on purpose, his hands brushed yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up and down your arms, making your heart beat fasterâŠ.Must have been the cold from his skin, sending you into shock or something.
He left the shop (without the bag of mora) and you wistfully thought that you would never see that beautiful face again, kicking yourself for not asking him out. You were both single, right? Right??
Ultimately, you went home with the same familiar wistful feeling that soon turned to giddiness at having almost held hands with such a handsome manâhis personality was odd but that could be overlooked.
Overall, it was a good day.
ââââââââââ
Except he was there the next day.
And the next.
âŠ.And the next.
Everyday he would order a bouquet of a different color. Once he ran out of colors, he began grilling you on what kinds of flower combinations you liked best. You would tell him, practically shaking while trying to prevent yourself from imploding, and thatâs what he would order. He spent an enormous amount of money at your shop as the ridiculous mora bag battles continued (you were going to throw it at his face, you really were. You just needed to muster up the courage).
He would take the flowers home, and you would be left with a burning face and a quivering heart.
Then one day he asked you if you would like to go out. With him. Together. And you said yes, tying a bow around his order with trembling hands as a strangling giddiness filled up your entire chest.
So, you went to the festival with him right after work.
For the first time in weeks you were closing the shop and stepping out into the fresh air during the middle of the day.
You had an amazing time.
You found out that Wriothesley was extremely funny, and that his dry, sarcastic wit could have you doubling over and laughing in seconds. You found out that he liked tea like, a lot. Like a concerning amount. You found out that the co-worker he gave the first of many bouquets to is a melusine and a nurse. You found out that he talked to the Chief Justice regularly and somehow knew a lot of important people.
You explained to Wriothesley that you actually did have a life outside of flowers. You told him about your friends, your hobbies, and whatever else you could think of in the moment, feeling comfortable with him after just a few hours together.
He bought you food, somehow correctly guessing your tastes at every stall you visited. When you protested and offered to buy him something in return, he merely shook his head with a smile and said you could buy him lunch another day.
You walked together through the streets under golden lights, eating delicious food and buying trinkets. At the end of the night, you tentatively inched your hand toward his, and he interlaced your fingers together, holding your warm palm against his cold one tightly.
You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, thinking that absolutely nothing could change the way you were feeling.
Everything was going great until you got back to your shop, laughing and chatting idly with the man beside you.
Your heart stopped as you realized that something was wrong, and your hand left Wriothesleyâs for the first time that night as you ran towards the open door.
The entire place had been ransacked. The money in the cash register was gone. Your precious flowersâcountless blooms that you had taken the time to grow and cut had either been stolen or trampled on. One window had been smashed in with a brick. You lifted up your foot, feeling the shattered glass break into smaller shards under the pressureâArchons, it was everywhere. Luckily, the small vault you keep most of your savings in was still closed but dented in multiple places and on its side.
You nearly collapsed on the floor right then and there. It was only Wriothesley, who caught you as you were falling to the ground, that kept you from completely breaking down. You were mourning. All of your flowers. All of your hard work, ripped from your hands, without so much as a warning.
You felt rage and misery burn in your chest, resulting in hot tears running down your face as you pathetically picked up the ruined flowers scattered across the shop floor. Next to you, shadow cast Wriothesleyâs face in darkness, hiding his expression from view. You heard him assure you that he would take care of it, that he would fix all of this for you, as he told you not to worry in that perpetually assertive tone of his. Your muddled and distressed mind immediately clung onto it like a life line, desperate for something to ground you.
Wriothesley would take care of it, you told yourself. If not him, then who would help you?
âââââââââ
You found out soon after that the man who had robbed you was a rival store owner whose business had gone under ever since you had moved in. His storefront was situated on one of the more populated streets, streets that saw more foot traffic and that attracted customers of a higher class. Still, he had been losing to you, a small shop on some nowhere street, for months. In the end, arrogance and jealousy had driven him to attempt destroying your business.
Whether it be from fear and intimidation, or hopelessness from losing all the money you had made in the past couple months, he had hoped that you would chose to pack up and leave after he ruined the inside of your shop.
Fortunately, he was not a master criminal. A few shop owners on your street had seen his face and identified him to the guards. According to rumors you had heard from friends, he fought the guards during his arrest, shouting that he was not some lowly commoner to be pushed around. The guards and some mysteriously clothed people flooded around him, dragging him to the court house and sentencing him within the hour. He was allowed to go back to his shop, as his home was above it, but was put on house arrest for the time being and had guards stationed outside of every window to await further punishment.
It had happened soâŠquickly.
Wriothesley, during all of this, was very supportive.
âââââââââ
It all came crashing down on the last night of the festival, a week after you had been robbed.
You were in the process of walking home before you realized that you had left your keys in your bag.
âŠWhich was at the shop.
âŠThat you would have to go back to.
Groaning, you made yourself turn around and trek back towards the storefront so that you could actually get into your house.
As you walked down the main strip of stalls and shops, you realized with a bitter heart that you would have to pass the shop of the man who made your life hell to get there and back quickly. You were glad that he had been caught and sentenced swiftly, but you were still incredibly angry about the damage that had been done to your business. The mental and emotional wounds left from the shock of seeing everything you had worked for destroyed were still fresh.
You fastened your pace as the night lamps began to turn on, the sky quickly turning dark as they became your only source of light. You knew the city was mostly a safe place to live, but that didnât mean crime never happened, and it would be just your luck for you to get robbed a second time.
Then there was shouting.
You slowed your pace as you heard a voice echo off the tall buildings, only amplifying the panicked screams.
Uh oh. Had you walked right into a crime scene?
You looked around you, noticing that there were no guards in sight. Hopefully they had noticed the trouble and were taking care of it.
You sighed. You really needed to get into your house, as you werenât too keen on sleeping on a bench for the night. Cursing whatever being had brought this upon you, you continued forward, walking in the shadows and hoping to avoid whatever drama was happening near the home of the man who had robbed you.
You turned a corner, freezing as you took in the sight of a group of men huddled together, seemingly trying to apprehend someoneâ
Wait. Was thatâ
You recognized that figureâthose bootsâthat coatâŠ
What was your boyfriend doing here in the middle of the night?
Swiftly, you moved back out of the light, eyes trained on the man you could now clearly recognize. You watched as Wriothesley raised his fist, his knuckles connecting harshly with someoneâs jaw. You startled at the harsh noise of skin splitting skin.
You felt yourself flinch as blood splattered across the pavement. For a moment, you were grateful for the imposing figures blocking your view of the violent scene.
The victim was splayed across the stone due to the force of the blow, thrown right into the circle of people that had formed around him, pathetically whimpering as he tried to pick himself up.
You watched as he was dragged away, looking genuinely terrified, screaming bloodcurdling words as he went mad with fear. His pleas fell on deaf ears as those around him stood still, Wriothesley silently watching as he was picked up and thrown into the back of a carriage. The door squealed as he yelled that he didnât deserve it, didnât deserve to go to the Fortress of Meropide, pleaseâdoors slamming shut, cutting off his final sentence as the men and the carriage disappeared into the night.
Wriothesley stood under a street light, a short distance away from where you hid in the shadows. His body was tense, his back drawn tight as he gazed at the retreating carriage, with the man he had assaulted and doomed to a life in prison lying within.
You stumbled back, you feet scuffling against the pavement. The noise sounded like an explosion in the dead quiet of the street.
His entire body stilled. He turned around, almost in slow motion, his eyes widening in horror as your gazes met.
You spun on your heel and ran, heart pounding in your chest. Heavy footfalls followed you, leather hitting stone with threatening thumps that seemed to get closer to you with every passing second.
You got to your shop, flinging open the door and rushing to the back of the building, heading towards the closet where you kept all of your supplies. Hearing the bell above your door chime mockingly, signaling that Wriothesley was in your shop oh Archons, you slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.
For some reason, you could have never imagined him being so violent. You were shocked and terrified, seeing your new boyfriend, who you had only ever thought of as safe, as anything but. Now you knew. He was dangerous. You were so stupid for trusting a complete strangerâ
You heard him run towards your hiding place, calling out to you as the heavy foot falls slowed to a stop.
âY/N.â He said, voice calm and level, betraying no emotion at all. It was like he was discussing the weather and hadnât just chased you down the street.
Your breathe hitched in your throat. Somewhere, in your frayed mind, you hoped, prayed he would just go if you were quiet enoughâ
âI never meant for you to see that. Iâm sorry. Let me explain.â
The doorknob began to turn. It stopped, hitting the lock.
You heard rustling and then a faint jangle as Wriothesley stepped away from the door.
You had left your keys in your bag.
The bag was on the counter, the keys were in your bagâ
âŠ.He knew where you kept your keys?
You had never told him that.
The door knob began to turn. You grabbed onto the it with a white-knuckled grip, stopping it from the inside.
Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating rapidly as you desperately held onto the cool metal.
âLeave me alone!â Please was left unsaid. You shouted the words, terror making you shake and tremble.
Wriothesley fell silent. You heard him lean his weight against the door, his movements causing it to creak.
The doorknob stopped turning.
You prayed that he wouldnât try to force it, or worse, break the door down. You didnât know if it would hold, or if you could hold on, considering how strong he was.
You imagined his hulking figure standing outside, only a few mere inches of wood separating you, towering over you from your spot on the floor.
You were practically paralyzed with fear, and didnât know what you would do if he actually managed to get in and get his hands on youâ
âDamn it, I ruined it all, didnât I?â Wriothesley murmured.
You jumped, not expecting the despairing admission amidst your racing thoughts that were trying to pinpoint where you had went wrong in life.
His usually playful voice was monotone, eerily flat for the self deprecating words he spoke.
You didnât deign him with a response. You merely listened to the quiet that followed, feeling more scared than you would have been if he had been raging and banging on the door. There was something about the silence; something about it felt foreboding, like a threat was creeping up behind you and you couldnât hear it no matter how hard you tried.
You heard him turn away a few minutes later, heavy footfalls walking towards the door, and finally the bell signaling his departure.
For a few minutes, you sat there and waited.
Eventually, you opened the closet just a sliver, looking out into the dim lighting with flickering eyes, checking every possible corner that he could be hiding in. He wasnât there. He wasnât in here.
You slid out of the closet and almost immediately ducked behind the counter, still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins.
Shakily, you peeked out from behind the counter, checking for any sign of him outside. When you found the street to be devoid of him, you silently gasped in relief.
You ripped your keys out of the door with rushed hands.
You went home alone, without Wriothesley, who had taken it upon himself to personally walk you there almost every night of the week. A part of it felt strange to deviate from the routine, but you needed no reminder to know that the man you had trusted and spent time with all week was now a dangerous threat. You ran to the door of your home, opening it hurriedly and slamming it shut.
You tossed and turned as you slept that night, a doomed feeling settling in your churning stomach.
âââââââââ
The next day, you took measures to start rebuilding. Perhaps you were just frantic to get back to some sense of normalcy after having the rug ripped out from under you the other nightâor maybe you were desperate to have something to keep your mind off of the buzzing anxiety that was constantly gnawing at the back of your mind.
The man who broke in had already been put on trial and sentenced to an undetermined amount of time in the Fortress of Meropide, and had also been forced to cough up more than enough mora to cover the damages.
This, oddly enough, had all been told to you by a third party, someone hired by the court to watch over legal proceedings.
Someone was pulling the strings behind the case, and you didnât want to think about who it was, just in case the pieces started falling together. (Deep down, you already knew.)
When you had heard he was being sent to the Fortress, you felt something in your gut twist unpleasantly, a kind of stone-like anxiety that weighed and sunk a permanent pit in your stomach. People who went there didnât usually come back, or if they did, they werenât the same. They werenât viewed the same, either. What would happen to him once he came back? If he came back?
You shivered as the memory of him being dragged away resurfaced.
You sighed as you swept up errant pieces of class, determined to discard of every shard before you allowed any more precious customers or flowers to come through the door. The window had already been replaced, as a very nervous man had knocked on your door a few days after theâŠincident with Wriothesley, and claimed that he had been sent to repair it. You hadnât even talked to anyone about fixing the window. A sinking feeling appeared in your chest as you watched the jumpy man chip away at glass and wood, his movements tense and swift. When you went to close the shop, you checked if you had locked the door three separate times before rushing home, practically running through the stone streets, running from absolutely nothing at all.
There was no sign of Wriothesley during the months it took your shop to recover. You were glad that he had taken what you had said to him in your moment of fear seriously. Still, you feared that he would show up on some random day, at some random time, and catch you off guard. That you would be reminded of the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, leaving trails of devastation in his wake.
Everyday you went home glancing over your shoulder while walking briskly down the street, always making sure to make it home before dark.
âââââââââ
You unlocked the door to your home, hurriedly glancing behind you as you shoved the keys into the lock, pushing the door in quickly as it gave way. You closed and locked the door behind you, allowing yourself to relax minutely against the cool frame.
âBack so soon? I noticed youâve been closing earlier nowadays. Whatâs that about?â
You froze, an ice cold fear creeping through your veins.
There, sitting in the dark of your unlit living room, was the man you had been simultaneously avoiding and thinking about constantly for months.
You could make out the silhouette of his hulking figure, leaning back into your favorite chair with his fingers laced together and knees spread apart, relaxed and causal. His eyes, which always held a mildly scrutinizing gaze, had turned razor sharpâthey hadnât moved from you since the moment you had stepped into the room. You were a pinned butterfly under that look, being dissected and picked apart by glacial, stormy irises.
âWhat are you doing here?â You asked, your voice coming out a little more shakily than intended. You tried not to hyperventilate. You really tried, but you could already feel your chest tightening, like just being in his presence was suffocatingâ
He stood up. Rooted in place, you didnât dare move. If you tried to run, you knew he would catch you.
He moved towards you slowly, like he knew just as well as you did that you couldnât escape.
He stopped a foot away from you, his height easily trumping yours, his figure casting a large, beastly shadow in the dim lighting.
You tilted your head back to look him in the eye. Even now, those icy eyes were beautiful. You thought it was unfair. Now that you knew what he was, what he was capable of, you thought, his eyes should come as warning. They were the eyes of a predator. And yet, still cold and steely, clear like cryo vision that hung from his hip, which you had never even seen until now.
Still beautiful, reminding you of clear water and arctic oceans and quiet. It was so quiet.
Neither of you spoke. Neither of you dared to break the careful silence.
He reached up, curled fingers gently caressing your cheek, dragging down along the side of your neck, as if a simple touch with too much force behind it would shatter you.
His eyes flickered to the place where your shirt had lifted to expose your collarbone, coat hanging off your shoulders and pulling the fabric down.
He ran his fingers over the exposed skin, making you shiver as you felt rough, calloused pads run across you gingerly, lightly. A delicate touch from a hardened man. He looked back at you, his eyes soft. Intense. Adoring. He had moved closer in the last few seconds, you remarked. You only noticed because you had to crane your head up more to look at him. His chest touched yours. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over your forehead. His hand had moved. One had settled on your waist, holding and trapping you close to him.
You felt a prick in the side of your neck, vision going black as you collapsed into his arms.
âââââââââ
The next time you woke up, you werenât in your house anymore. There was gauzy, heavy fabric hanging above you. You had been placed in a canopy bed in a room that was expensively furnished, and yet somehow untouched. You were in a bed, which was in a prison, at the bottom of the ocean.
Wriothesley walked in only an hour after you woke. You had a feeling he had been routinely checking to see if you were awake.
He looked down at you, his eyes painfully tender in a way that you regretted not noticing before. There was a fondness, a suffocating fondness, which told you that all those things he now whispered to you at nightâhow he wanted to protect you, how he had longed to have you for so long, how he had been watching you from afar with his heart in his hands, just waiting for the right moment to give it to youâ
His eyes told you that they were all true.
Somehow, you couldnât hate him.
Wriothesley had been living as a lonely prisoner in his own kingdomâhis underwater kingdom that he ruled, because he thrived on the depths of the cold, dark ocean and its inhabitants that yielded to his power.
And yet the king of the underworld yearned for just a little bit of life. Life that you were familiar withâlife that you thrived off of, and that thrived in return under your guidance. Life that you loved.
Life that had attracted you to him.
You didnât know if anyone still talked about you on the surface; if they talked about your existence, or more so your disappearance, in hushed whispers with shifty eyes. No one talked about you down hereâno one knew you existed, except for the head nurse and your husband.
You had been stolen away, under the ocean, that little shop off main street missing its owner forevermore.
You, who had always been surrounded by the life of the surface, had been transported to the underworld, a land of misery and lost souls, away from all life, surrounded and trapped by the love you once longed forâand mourning the life you once had.
âââââââââ
Reader: *lets go of Wriothesleyâs hand bc they got robbed*
Wriothesley: oh this jerk is gonna pay *sends the guy who robbed you to the bottom of the sea*
heâs been waiting to hold that hand for so long )):< wtf dude
#male yandere#yandere#genshin#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#romantic yandere#cw yandere#tw toxic behavior#yandere wriothesley#yandere writing#yandere wriothesley x reader#yandere x gender neutral reader#yandere x you#yandere x reader#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley#wriothesely genshin#yandere genshin impact x gender neutral reader#tw yandere#tw kidnapping#tw injections#tw stalking#tw violence#yandere genshin impact x gn reader#cw: yandere
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AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART I
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || Part II -> coming soon! || masterlist ||
minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
âYouâve got it all wrong,â he murmurs, âbut what am I to expect from a stray like you? Youâve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you donât know what to do now that Iâve given you food and shelter.â Suguruâs fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, âa warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collarâso youâll never be lost again. No oneâs ever given you this before, hm?â
***
Suguru tries to tame you.
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
⧠SPRING FEVER collab masterlist â§
cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader if you squint, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?
a/n: this is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab!! i have been working on this for awhile now and i am excited to share it! this should be about 3 parts...i am very close to finishing the whole thing so i should be releasing a part a week for the next two weeks!
thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <333
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
âI think youâd be perfect.â
Suguruâs voice is a caress, low and soft, as he sits across from you.
Somehow, he always makes you feel like he is just beneath the surface of your skin, even if there is a respectable distance between you. He always makes you feel as if he is lurking somewhere in the lowest parts of you, pulling at strings you once thought hidden to yourself.
Youâve kept your distance for this reason.
You swallow hard.
And then you manage to get your voice to unstick, to find it somewhere inside of you and bring it to life. Itâs firmer than youâre anticipating and youâre proud;
âI donât think I would be.â
Suguru looks at you in a way that makes you feel as if heâs seeing through you, pulling you open slowly to gaze at all the inner workings of you. His dark eyes are keen, so sharp, even if theyâre shaded by half-lidded lashes.
He smiles pleasantly and indulges you, but you know he believes very firmly that he is, in fact, right, âwhy not?â
âI told you when I agreed to join youâall I wanted in exchange for helping you, was to be an unbound Omega.â You force yourself to meet his eyes and to not get sucked into the dark tide of them.
âYou asked for my protection.â He reminds you.
Your eyes flash this time, heated, a little spark that skitters to life inside of you.
âI didnâtââ
âIs that not what youâd call it?â Suguru asks, âwhen I interfered, every time, to be sure no other Alpha got to you? Or when I scented you to keep them away?â
Prickling warmth dots your cheeks, can feel at the back of your neck, too, the tips of your ears. You try a different tactic.
âIâm not a homemaker.â
His smile is soft, âI donât want a homemaker.â
âIâm not obedient.â You counter again, as if you could dissuade Suguru Getou once heâs made up his mind.
âYouâve been quite good for me.â Suguru says smugly and this time, a little noise of embarrassment or frustration eeks out of you. A short, sharp little growl from your throat, almost a groan of irritation.
âIâIâm doing your dirty work. Thatâs our agreement! You give me assignments that I complete and in return, I get my freedom.â
âI donât know why youâre so opposed to this. Is it not similar already to what we have now?â He asks simply, âIâd still let you roam, if thatâs what youâre so scared of.â
âNo itâs thatâthat power and mentality that I donât want you to have over me.â You snap.
âI already have it,â he says and it isnât intended to be cruel, but certainly is, âhow long do you think youâd last, without the protection of an Alpha?â
âI didnât have any before you.â
âYou were starving, injured, and constantly on the run before me.â You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, âit would still give you what you want.â
âI donât want to be yours.â You say frankly, perhaps to be cruel yourself. And then you show teeth a little, flash them in warning, âI donât want your mark.â
Suguru looks amused, if anything, by your display.
His smile is knowing and insufferable. It makes your anger ratchet up inside of you, hackles rising. You feel a little growl working its way out of your throat. It tears out of you in annoyance, when he says, âI donât believe you.â
You slam the door so hard on its hinges that it rattles the entire wall. You wish it would rattle all the world.
***
Your cursed technique rips to life like a star exploding outwards.
Beast that you are, it overtakes you, transforms you until you are all claws and dripping, little fangs. Your body elongates, elegant, and built for speed, viciousness. The horns atop your head are sharp, too, curled the slightest into a crescent shape. The beast in you stretches and pulls at your bones, fits your skin to it in a way that you have come to know well.
(âCursed technique: Cursed Creature,â Suguru hums, âallows you to turn into a cursed version of yourself, a sort of,â he pauses, looking you over, âmonster?â
âThatâs right.â You tell him, body trembling all over, in dire need of food. Care. Sleep.
He places a large hand on top of your head, strokes gently, until his hand nudges your cheek, beneath your chin so you are forced to look up into his eyes. Depthless violet.
âYou have a deal.â)
The sorcerer is cast backward with the force of your transformation. In this form, everything heightens, sharpening into brilliance. So much brighter, clearer. So much more overwhelming.
You are a flash of darkness when you move, a mass of lethality.
The sorcerer doesnât stand a chance, the moment you dash past him with a deep swipe of your claws, you know this will be an easy match. You chitter in this form, excited, warbly little sound erupting from you before you careen towards him again.
This time, he is warped away.
But you are fast, changing your trajectory mid-step to catch up to where he was warped.
Except, this time, a white haired sorcerer takes his place.
Your claws meet air.
A growling hiss erupts from your throat.
Satoru Gojo.
Suguru told you to stay away from him. At all costs.
And speak of the devil, your name is called, whistled almost. Your head turns to find Suguru appearing, too.
Faintly, the more human part of you wonders what the occasion is.
For a moment, all you can see is threat. Your hackles rise as your growling gets lower, more sinister, your form moving behind Gojo as if you might circle him, unable to let down your guard.
âCall off your pet,â Gojo says.
Suguru calls your name again and thereâs something else in his tone now, a little sharper.
(Fear, you wonder faintly, in some far away part of your mind. Is he worried Gojo would hurt you?)
You come to heel at Suguruâs side, remaining in this form, making a low, threatening sound still. Warning. Your claws still drip with the blood of that sorcerer.
âGo,â Suguru says to you.
Your head snaps to look at him, eyes narrowing. âIâm not leaving,â you snap and the words have a bite to it, around the curves of your fangs. You look back at Gojo. If this comes to blows, you donât want Suguru facing Gojo aloneâyou donât want to leave his back suddenly unguarded.
Itâs counterintuitive to you, goes against all of your instincts. You donât leave him, you donât leave his side, his back.
âGo,â Suguru says, harsher this time and the command seeps into you. You waver. And then, âI wonât tell you again.â
When you hiss at him in that warbling way of curses, he smiles faintly, almost fondly, as your teeth drip with venom. But you do listen to him this time.
And with your heightened hearing, you hear Gojo underneath his breath as you slink away;
âHow interesting.â
***
When Suguru returns to you, he is unharmed.
Youâd paced the length of the hallway outside of his room in the compound until you could have worn a hole into it.
Few would be brave enough to wait for Suguru outside his door.
When he arrives, he is mildly surprised to see you, before his expression melts into a sort ofâsmugness. A knowing glint to his eyes.
âWhy would you send me away?â You snap.
âYou couldâve gone in, you know, if it wouldâve soothed you.â Suguru says instead, head nodding towards the door to his suite. âWould you like a key?â
You blanche, taking a half step back, âI donâtââ
It allows him to get to his door and open it. Youâve been here before, in the privacy of his suite, but now it feels strange. A little different. He holds the door open for you.
You glance at the threshold and feel as if youâre making an important decision.
âCome on,â he says smoothly and before you can think twice about it, you are being led inside, his hand drifting somewhere near your lower back. He never touches you, the feeling is a phantom one, the impression of it. You shiver a little.
But you round on him again, âwhy would you send me away?â
He doesnât acknowledge you, instead he goes rifling in a drawer, digging around a little.
His suite is larger than others. The living room is open and attached is the kitchen. Itâs all light wood, with tall windows that overlook the courtyard. You know, despite never being inside, that his bedroom is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is across from it. Youâve sat many times on the floor of his living room with him, going over assignments, plans that he has, and what heâd like you to do.
When he finds what heâs looking for, he makes a soft noise, before turning to you with a small, gold key.
âI donât want a key!â You snap.
âItâs a spare, take it just in case.â He replies and when you donât move to grab it from him, he takes your hand in his much larger one, and opens your palm to him.
He places the key in your hand.
And then his eyes catch yours, âyou were worried.â
âNo-!â you get out, âI donât like beingâIâm supposed to protect you.â
Suguru smiles, hand still swallowing yours, âisnât that sweet?â he remarks, âan Omega attempting to protect an Alpha.â
Immediately, you jerk away from him.
The key is still in your shaking fist.
âDonât start,â you snarl, low and vicious and hurt, âIâve always been the one at your side.â
âYes,â he agrees, hand falling back down to his side listlessly. âI already told you that.â
Youâve always been at my side, heâd said, when he was trying to convince you toâ
âThatâs not what I meant!â Your voice rises without your consent and you feel an embarrassed, angry flush through your face for being so worked up. The room is thick with your worry and anger and frustration, all of your pent up energy like a knot in your chest, in your voice. Itâs in your heart and the way you look at him.
âIt doesnât matter what you meant,â Suguru says easily, âitâs still the truth.â
When you slam the door this time, you hear something fall from the wall.
But the key is still in your trembling hand, digging indents into your palm, and your heart is still a beast in your chest.
And behind the closed door, Suguru Getou smiles fondly, and retrieves the fallen, shattered frame from the floor.
***
For a while, you avoid Suguru.
You stuff the key he gave you in your nightstand drawer, far in the back, in an attempt to keep it out of sight and out of your mind.
And at first, you think he is respecting your boundaries; you receive assignments through others from him. You see him only in passing and he never speaks directly to you. He hardly acknowledges you.
But after a week and a half, it begins to feel like punishment.
And the key is starting to burn and itch in your mind. You think about it at night, tossing over in your bed; you think about unlocking his door at this hour. What would you find? Would he be asleep? Awake? Alone? Fully dressed?
You think of him half bare and lounging, hair slipping over his shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood and fig. Tonka or something woodsy, maybe. You know it well and it lingers long after he leaves you.
You suddenly miss it, crave it.
Him.
You twist beneath your sheets.
Why did he have toâ
You make a soft noise of frustration, turning over again.
Youâre restless.
Something beneath your skin begins to itch and squirm.
Previously, Suguru had hardly mentioned your status as an Omega. He rarely acknowledged it; you were too brilliant of a sorcerer for him to care, you thought. You were too powerful. The only instance he brought it up was to scent you, a form of caution in a particular instance, for a particular mission. The memory still simmers in your mind, the way heâd rubbed the gland on your wrist with a careful thumb. Heâd given you clothes of his to wear. Heâd had you sit in his quarters for long hours, until it seemed as if you were his, in some way.
But now that heâs actually brought it up, offered you his bite, to be his, it paints him in an entirely different light.
Had he alwaysâŠwanted you?
Was he always planning this?
The naive, desperate parts of you want to believe this is a recent thought of his. Previous to this, he only ever saw you as another sorcerer, a powerful one that aided him. You had always been one of the closer ones to him, at his heel, his beck and call.
Youâd be lying if you said youâd never thought of Suguru this way; as an Alpha. An unmated one, who kept your company.
And he does, no matter how badly it burns to admit it, protect you.
You know he wards off Alphas.
You know he perhaps does more than even that.
But you donât wantâ
You donât want to be mated.
You donât want to suddenly be coddled by him, held back, donât want to be the little thing that keeps his bed warm.
Your face heats with the thought.
Images flash through your mind, flickering, melting together like film that bleeds and runs, of him overtop you. Shrouding you. His hair on your shoulders and back. You think of his mouth on your throat, teeth in your neck.
You rub at your eyes suddenly as if to clear them.
You know he leaves on a mission for a week in two days.
You assume, at some point, heâll speak to you. And break this strange silence.
Youâll both return to normal then.
And then perhaps you wonât lose any more sleep over him.
***
Suguru never says goodbye to you.
It shouldnât bother you as much as it doesâyou just figured heâd finally drop this silly little silence game.
You suppose he mustâve thought the same of you.
Besides, what were you expecting from him? An apology? Itâs foolish to even entertain. You knew you werenât going to apologize either. The least youâll do, when he returns, is act as if all is normal again. Perhaps itâs better that way, not to address what heâs put in his head recently.
The more you speak of it, or think of it, the worse it unravels in your mind.
On the second day that he is gone, you realize you miss his scent.
You realize it has become such a staple in your everyday life that its sudden disappearance is almost alarming. It makes you more irritable, more vicious. You snap at the others faster, bite out insults and brutalities.
Youâ
Well, you miss it.
Him, maybe.
The admittance is a hard one to swallow around. It burns going down.
On the third day, youâre genuinely craving his scent in a way that makes your teeth ache. You had no idea you could even miss a scent like this, need it so bad that your body would betray you with a physical pain in your chest. Somewhere in your mouth, under your tongue.
You try to ignore it.
You go on with your life.
But by the fifth day, you are agitated and aggressive. Everyone knows something is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with you. You can feel it beneath your skin, crawling, squirming. It makes you want to tear out your hair, rip at your nails, or sink your teeth into something. Youâre restless.
You canât sleep.
You can hardly eat or think.
And as you lay awake in your bed, kicking at sheets, sweating and twisting, you know what it is you need.
Youâve known the whole week.
You throw back the covers and wrench open your bedside drawer.
The key rattles, hot, like it knows itâs finally about to be used. Itâs musical sound a siren song, itâs been burning away in there the whole week.
You swipe it and turn sharply from your bedroom. From your own apartment.
Itâs the middle of the night; not a soul sees you in the compound.
Like a person possessed, you walk. Your back is straight. Your steps are quick. Your mind is set, on fire.
Suguruâs door has haunted you the whole week.
The key in your hand digs into the flesh, carving itâs divots there like your hand might be the lock itself.
You try not to think about itâyou unlock the door. You throw it open.
You shut it behind you, slide the lock back into place.
Darkness greets you.
You wander in like you know the place (you do, you doâ)
You wander in like itâs yours to wander in.
Instantly, something loosens inside of you.
You exhale hard.
Inhale sharp.
The smell of him, fainter because heâs been gone, assaults your senses, sweeps over them. You take in a lungful like gasping for air, you smell faint traces of fig and sandalwood. Notes of tonka that you long for, that urge you to move deeper into his space.
In the dark, you make your way down the hall, towards his bedroom.
You haunt the arch for a moment.
Guilt or regret or embarrassment almost seize you. They make you pause.
Some sane part of you is clawing at your insides, wailing to turn around and leave. Leave now.
But he gave you a key.
He gave you a key, you think in circles, again and again. He gave me a key.
You cross the threshold.
You sink down into his bed and his scent is strongest here, even still, after several days itâs his.
You turn over the covers to get beneath them, cool sheets against your legs, sliding and smooth. You turn your face into his pillow and inhale.
A soft little groan works itâs way out of you.
Instantly, your muscles slacken.
Everything leeches from you; your anger and irritation and restlessness.
It soothes you so deeply and so swiftly it makes your head spin.
You curl beneath his blankets and take deep pulls of breath, squirming a moment if only to bring his scent tighter around you. You envelope yourself in it.You shroud yourself in it.
And finally, after five days of restless nights, you fall asleep almost instantly.
Not a single dream. Not one moment where you wake or stir.
You sleep deeply.
In the morning, the sun warms you through the broad windows like a content cat.
You stretch lazily like one, too.
Suguru will be home tomorrow.
You know you need to leave his bed, hope that your scent dissipates by the time he returns.
You didnât do anything wrong, you knowâhe gave you a key.
He gave you a key.
But rather, you know he would never let you live it down. He would use it instantly, as ammunition for his argument, the debate that the two of you keep circling.
You donât quite leave as quickly as you should still, though:
You linger.
Youâre comfortable.
Calmed for the first time all week.
And when you do slip out, itâs silently, locking the door behind you.
Like maybe you wonât ever let yourself back in there, trying to shut it like it was a one time indulgence and gone now from your mind and body.
But his scent clings to you.
And little do you know, your scent clings to his sheetsâand to Suguru, itâs sweet as can be and unmistakableâirreplaceable.
He collapses in his own bed when he returns and knows youâve been all over it. He can smell the crush of dark berries, jasmine, the soothing note of vanilla that clings to you, that heâs come to adore.
He grins to himself and knows then, heâs got you right where he wants you.
***
For a moment, you think Suguru is going to make you be the bigger person and apologize upon his return.
Instead, he finds you.
And he doesnât say heâs sorry for his recent behavior, but he does say;
âIâd prefer if you didnât avoid me in the future.â
It feels like sorry enough.
And for some time, things return to a state of normal.
A version of it.
It isnât quite like it was beforeâin fact, you seem to spend more time around him than previously. He calls on you more. He brings you into his space more frequently, often urging you to eat with him, beside him, at his table.
This is ideal for you. Close but not too close.
Although, he begins to ask, donât you have your key? Canât you let yourself in?
You say you havenât used it.
He hums like he knows differently, but doesnât press you.
Until finally he asks you to retrieve a notebook in his study and bring it to him.
Fetch, he says.
âItâs locked, isnât it?â
âYou have your key.â He answers simply, not looking up from the book he is reading.
For a moment, you almost protest, but something stops you. Maybe the twitch in his brow.
Itâs a useless argument to pick, anyways.
You do have a key.
It would be fastest, easiest, to just use it.
So you do.
And you hand him the notebook he asked for, fingers brushing against his as he takes it from you with gentle hands.
âThank you,â he adds, voice so smooth and low, almost tempting.
You swallow a little.
Then you quickly avert your gaze.
âWhatever,â you grouse, but he smiles fondly, amused.
And it opens another door, more than just the one to his suite.
***
Tentatively, you begin to come and go.
The first (second) time you use your key to enter without his order, he is careful not to react to you any differently than how he usually does.
His eyes brighten a little, though, like a leopard thatâs caught something interesting in its sights and is waiting to see what itâll do.
Still, you grow more comfortable entering his space on your own.
You claim portions of it; a corner of the couch. A particular cushion around his low table. All of the sunny patches in his suite become yours, scented with you, indented with you. More than that, some horrible, hidden part of you adores that your scent is all over his space.
Itâs comforting to find it beside his scent.
It soothes a part of you that you donât wish to admit to.
His hands grow bolder.
Now theyâre always hovering at the small of your back, the nape of your neck. He tucks strands of your hair away from your face and though you jerk away from him, itâs often half-hearted. You snip at him and he only smiles.
Pleased. Smug. Knowing.
His hands guide you as you walk beside him.
You grow accustomed to his touch in some wayâhe makes sure of it.
Then, as if to prove somethingâ
Another cult member begins to cause trouble with you; he is another Omega. He begins with snide comments and remarks that test your patience. He doesnât stop until you are growling and bristled and ready for a fight.
And all it takes to stop you is Suguruâs large hand coming down on the nape of your neck.
His thumb rests atop one scent gland at your throat, fingertips pressing delicately into the one on the other side. Hand wrapped around the back of your neck.
âEasy,â he murmurs and just like that, you can feel some of your aggression slip from you, deflate like a balloon.
Itâs involuntary, the energy and anger unspooling from your body in an instant. In the back of your mind, youâre alarmed; how easily it was for him to effect you. Itâs terrifying.
You swat his hand away, lurching from him, another little growl in your throat.
But you donât fight him or the look in his eyes, the way he tilts his chin up in the barest hint of dominance.
You storm off.
Instances as such continue to happen, though, where heâs able to sooth or quell your temperament with a touch. A word. A look.
It comes to a head while youâre eating dinner with him.
âYouâre so wound up,â Suguru comments lightly, âyour scent is so sharp with it. Whatâs bothering you?â
Reflexively, you snap, âyou are.â
And itâs meant to be some sort of insult but Suguruâs lips twist into this hitched little smile. âItâs my fault youâre wound up?â He asks lightly.
âDonât twist my words.â You respond, fixing him with a glare, âyou bother me.â
Heâs still deeply amused by this, you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. The smug way he holds himself.
âWould you like me to help you?â He asks.
âNo,â you say reflexively.
A beat of silence before he says, âcome here. Iâll help you.â
Thereâs a command in his voice, laced there, and doing something strange to your head.
You hesitate.
He pounces, âjust a massage.â He soothes, âI can tell your shoulders are knotted up and tense. I can see it.â
His voice has dropped into that soothing lull.
Warily, âaway from my glands?â
He smiles, âof course.â And then, âcome here.â
Your body moves easily now and he murmurs, âsit in front of me. Back to meâthere, thatâs it.â
It feels more vulnerable than it should to show your back to him, to sit in front of him like a child to their mother. You try to keep your posture straight and careful.
But then he sets large, warm hands to your shoulders. His fingers dig into the meat of them gently, pressing into your muscles which spasm and twitch in pain. You yelp, jerking away.
Suguru tsks, âsee how tense you are? Youâre in pain.â He scolds softly and you feel heat smart across your face, âsit still for me. Iâll be gentler.â
True to his word, he eases up, fingers careful as they run into your tense muscles.
He finds bundles of twisted up tension in your back and shoulders, pressing into them until a noise springs from youâa groan, a whimper, a little growl. He works the sounds out of you. You swear heâs doing it deliberately and you wouldnât be surprised if it was all just to humiliate you a little.
But you finally loosen and slacken for him.
When you finally sink into his hands, he murmurs, âI donât know why you fight this so badly.â
You let go of a heavy sigh, âyou do know why. Donât play dumb, it doesnât suit you.â
âBecause youâre stubborn?â Suguru asks lightly and you snort, despite yourself, âbecause you donât know whatâs good for you?â
âYouâre no good for me.â You respond.
Suguruâs turn to sigh and if he digs his fingers in to make you yip in pain, heâd never say it was purposeful.
âYouâve got it all wrong,â he murmurs, âbut what am I to expect from a stray like you? Youâve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you donât know what to do now that Iâve given you food and shelter.â Suguruâs fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, âa warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collarâso youâll never be lost again. No oneâs ever given you this before, hm?â
Reflexively, you jerk away from his touch, you turn to look at him over your shoulder with a sneer.
âIâm not a pet.â
Suguru does not heed your warning and instead gently pulls you back towards him by your waist.
âNo?â He asks lightly, fingers resuming their steady massage. You go completely still like prey, unsure, wary. Angry. Humiliated. âItâs not a bad thing to be a pet. Youâre thinking about it all wrong.â
His fingers ease up towards your neck and you stiffen again.
âSuguru,â you say in warning as he nears your scent glands. Perhaps to what heâs said.
âYouâre my pet now,â he continues, âthough you donât like to admit it. Itâs not so bad, is it?â
Stubbornly, you donât answer him.
But after a moment, you say, âif Iâm already yours, why do you need this last bit of me? If you already see me as your pet, why do you want me so terribly, in this wayââ
Suguru suddenly pulls you back deeper, into his lap, against his chest.
You squirm, but he holds you tight, hooks his chin over your shoulder.
Alarm bells ring frantically in your head now that heâs so close to the glands in your throat.
âDonât play dumb,â Suguru muses, half-mocking, âit doesnât suit you.â
âLet me go,â you snarl low and hot.
âWhat are you scared of?â Suguru responds, âthat Iâd trap you? If youâd take my Bite, Iâd let you roam further than I do now. Youâd be safe.â
âLiar,â you hiss, âIâm not dumb.â
âIâm not trying to stifle you, Iâm trying to set you free.â Suguru almost purrs and his voice is warm and low and creeping up over your spine and trying to find its way inside you.
You begin to squirm this time, thrashing in his hold until you manage to wriggle free, falling forward onto your hands and knees.
Instinctively, you turn to keep your back protected, scrambling away from him. You bare your teeth at him.
âI donât believe you.â
He watches this show of aggression with amusement, tilting his head slightly. And then he sighs, âI donât think anything I say will convince you at this point.â
You narrow your eyes at the tone. Your hackles rise.
In an instant, he has grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him.
Underneath him.
You shove hard at him, twisting and fighting as he settles himself over you.
You realize how solid he is, how strong, and large. He doesnât budge. He doesnât even flinch.
âSuguru,â you hiss at him, pushing as hard as you can on his chest.
âSee how easy it was for me to subdue you?â He says then, voice smooth and low. âIf I wanted to take you, I simply wouldâve already. Youâre no challenge to me; if I wanted to trap you, I wouldâve.â
âGet off me!â
You thrash hard beneath him and in an instant, he has your hands uselessly pinned above your head, stretching you out beneath him.
His nose dips, near the scent gland at your throat. You squirm.
He squeezes your wrists, âstop squirming.â He murmurs low, âor my instinct will be to bite.â
Your stomach does a horrible flip, a flutter ofâfear, excitement.
âJustâget offâleave me alone!â You get out, voice high and tight. You try not to arch away from the way he lets his face fall to the crook of your neck.
âHush,â Suguru hisses, nudging his nose beneath your ear.
Heâs scenting you.
Heâs done this before and despite everything in you, you finally go slack. You force yourself not to tilt your head or offer up more, rather let him urge you into the way that he prefers.
He nudges his cheek and nose against your jaw. He lets out a relieved breath, fitting more of his body to you and you feel the push of chest into yours, his hips.
You squirm a little and a growl erupts from his throat.
You fight back the sound that almost works its way out of you now, swallow around it.
When heâs finished, he asks, âwould you like to scent me?â And instinctively, you want to say yes, but you temper yourself. Then he adds, âIâm sending you away on a mission alone. Iâll be scenting you until the day you leave now.â
You catch his eyes, glinting.
âSo, I thought it only fair if youâd like to scent me, too.â
You donât know why, but something squirms inside of you, something a little hurt.
âYouâre sending me away?â
Suguru hums softly, âI need you to take care of something for me. I only trust you to do it.â
You flex your hands a little in his hold, but he doesnât budge.
He nudges at your jaw again, gentle, and murmurs, âthis would be easier if youâd take my mark.â
You turn your head then to shield your throat, and face him. His nose nearly brushes yours and you look up at him through your lashes. You bite your tongue from any further complaints, dipping down to the crux of his throat now.
Easily, perhaps eagerly, he bares his throat for you.
Satisfaction erupts beneath your skin as his scent washes over you, dark fig and oud, sandalwood and musk. Carefully, your nose runs along the column of his throat.
âIâm not evenââ you huff, retry, âI havenât had a Heat inâit wouldnât take, anyways.â
âAh,â Suguru says and you wish you hadnât told him at all. Realization dawns over his features the way a cat might realize itâs caught its mouse beneath its paws. âIs this what youâre so scared of?â
âNoâI prefer it this way. Itâs another reason that you canât. It wouldnât work.â You say stubbornly and perhaps in your irritation, you burrow further down into the crook of his neck, tuck your cheek to his skin to nudge.
âI could give you a temporary one,â he murmurs, âIâd let you do the same in return, of course.â
You go quiet, brushing your lips against his skin, hesitating.
âI donât need it.â You finally decide, even as you let the blunt side of a tooth nick gently against his neck. âI can protect myself.â You pull away to look at him again, âam I not one of your strongest?â
âYou are my strongest.â He agrees, he praises. âBut am I not also strong?â He asks, âand yet you still insist on protecting me.â
You open your mouth to protest, but he takes your chin in hand suddenly, words dying before they can escape.
âYou are my strongest.â He says, âI would like the world to be aware of it.â
âI told you, I donât want to be yoursââ
âThen stop protecting me. Flee. Run away and never return.â Suddenly, his touch, his body, all of him is gone. He rolls off of you and onto his back beside you. Cold air sweeps in. You can feel his touch like burning imprints on your skin.
You turn your head to the side to look at him.
âYou would hunt me down if I ran.â
A flicker of a smile ghosts his face.
âAnd if I ran from you?â He asks, âif I discarded you?â
Something twists so viciously and sharply in your chest that your eyes sting with it. You lock your jaw tight. You stare up at the ceiling.
âYou refuse to speak but your scent is spiced with distress, sour with despair.â He turns to look at you, ânot so easy to hear, is it?â
âI canât stand you or your games.â You get out.
âThere are no games.â He says evenly, âonly the one youâre playing with yourself.â
You scoff, âwhich is?â
He sits up slightly, over you, looking down at you, the inky silk of his dark hair sliding over one shoulder.
âSeeing how long you can outrun what you want.â
You exhale roughly, in exasperation, and then you ask dryly, âand what do I want, Suguru?â
âTo be taken care of.â
âI donât needââ
He cuts off your growl before it can start, taking your chin in hand to turn your head towards him once more. âYou never have, but it doesnât mean you canât want it.â
âI donât want it either.â You snap. âYou have some grand delusion of me in your mind that I am some weak, submissive creature in need of your care.â
âIâve said none of that, have I?â He hums. âNow youâre twisting my words, being purposefully churlishâin hopes of, what? To scare me off?â
His palm opens up against your jaw, your cheek. His thumb touches your bottom lip.
âYou snap and you snarl and posture as some ferocious, independent creature to scare everyone off. I donât blame youâI am certain you protected yourself many times this way from lesser people.â His voice is soft, almost a lull, you allow his palm to open against your lips, to turn your face into the cup of his hands. âYou donât believe anyone can handle you and you hope if you bite hard enough, tear into them, theyâll run off. And then youâll feel vindicated; you were right, you are too much to handle. You were right, you are a monster. Youâre unworthy of care or companionship or protection.â
His hand moves upward, baring his wrist to your mouth now, âgo on,â he encourages, âbite me. As hard as you like. Scream and cry and tear into me. Loathe me and scorn me.â He leans closer, over you, as he hushes like a mother to their child, âIâll still be here, with the rings of your teeth marks littered in my skin. Iâll be the only one, bruised and bloody, still taking care of youâno matter how badly you fight me.â
Out of anger or frustration or something else entirely, tears prick your eyes. As if to hide them, you open your mouth against his wrist, gentle firstâwarm and soft lips and tongue. He looks enraptured. He looks starving.
You sink your teeth into his skin viciously.
He hisses in pain, sharp, but doesnât pull away. âThere,â he coos, leaning over you, sinking into the pain, âis that what you wanted?â
Blood bursts into your mouth in a way that is almost startling, sharp and metallic. It should be gross and horrible andâyou whine a little, somewhere in the back of your throat and bear down harder.
If thatâs what he promises, youâll make him prove it.
If he wants to be the one beside you, youâll make him pay.
He leans down to kiss at your cheeks, gentle, humming. You realize there are tears. Your jaw aches.
But you donât let go and he doesnât even flinch.
âDoes that feel better? To get your teeth into someone who isnât scared of you?â He murmurs, nudging at your tense jaw, kissing there. âShall I do the same to you?â
You release his wrist and shove him off, hard enough that he gives and he goes.
You stand up and storm out of his chambers, slamming the door on its hinges as hard as you can. You hope it knocks over every painting on his walls. You hope the entire compound somehow hears it. You hope it breaks something in the same way that something has been broken open inside of you.
You wipe his blood from your mouth with the back of your hand.
Suguru doesnât even bandage the wound. And he wears his sleeves high, so that all the world might see it.
#suguru getou x reader#suguru geto x reader#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru getou x you#getou suguru x you#suguru geto x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#cw: omegaverse#cw: yandere#cielo writes!#cielo's writing!
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Cw: yandere, suggestive (for Kaiser)
I found out these wonderful yan bllck drawings and felt compelled to translate them (to the best of my abilities) and share them. The original artist is zunko_2225 on Twitter, they have a lovely artstyle and I recommend checking them out!
P.S: Kaiser's "get ready for fucking" likely meant "fucking prepare yourself" but my thirst for this man was happier with the first version, even if the second one is enough to make me weak on my knees
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Can I request a yandre Nanook and yaoshi and god /aeon reader the reader is like that unknown god in genshin impact that can control time and destiny
What if Nanook had a fascination about this aeon and slowly developing an obsession with them and yaoshi being the same and would bless their devoting followers
to chase destiny.
characters: nanook, yaoshi
contains: YANDERE CHARAS, obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, brainwashing(?), unhealthy relationships, power dynamics(?), vaguely religious language (nothing heavy, it comes with the aeons stuff lol)
a/n: mmmmm yandere aeons <333 love that for them. ngl i kinda forgot about the time part so this is primarily focused on the destiny part so yahoo!
...follows you like an incessant plague. Wherever you go, wherever you may run, they and their Antimatter Legion follow, bringing destruction and devastation with them.
Nanook first met you in the early days of their existence as an Aeon. Back then, they were but a young one, still weak in the eyes of the others. Back then, they saw you as another obstacle in their Path, another nuisance.
But then, in a clash between you two, Nanook witnessed your abilities for the first time. In the midst of a Legion invasion, a battle that was sure to end in the destruction of another planet, you managed to turn the tide. Your hands weaved a different path, a path that destroyed Nanook's forces and forced them to retreat.
Just one word from you, and fate was reversed. Just one sweep of your pen, and a losing battle was won.
The image of you that day is forever etched into Nanook's mind, burned into their memory. You, powerful, beautiful, and the cold glare of your eyes as you met their gaze. You, the weaver of fate itself.
You were the key to purifying the world of the cancer of civilization. You were the missing piece they never knew they needed. With your power, Nanook could create a perfect, clean world.
They would like nothing more other than to take you away for themself, to lock you away in a separate realm from the rest. But alas, you are older, stronger than they were.
But Nanook wasn't one to give up. As the Aeon of Destruction, they have many other Aeons as enemies, such as Xipe or Yaoshi. They knew how to get their way, even if they would have to fight tooth and claw for it.
And so they follow you. They stalk you throughout the galaxies, chasing you much like the Hunt would. Any planet that has the misfortune to garner even the slightest glance from you is reduced to rubble, for Nanook despises the mere idea of your attention being on anything other than them.
The person they hate the most is Elio, the seer that you've seemingly blessed with your favor. If it weren't for your protection, Nanook would've killed him - blessing him with a long, torturous, drawn-out death with you as their audience.
But it's fine in the end. In the end, Nanook will have their way. They will take you, no matter what it takes. And when they finally do, only then can an untainted world be made.
You may claim to change destiny, but Nanook knows that the future can be changed by those with enough ambition, enough drive.
They isolate you, crushing both the people and the worlds you love. They whisper in your mind of how the greed and hubris of civilization weren't worth saving, and show you only the ugliest parts of humanity. Their words cloud and befuddle your mind with distrust, fear, and abhorrence towards the sentient species.
Soon, your loom of fate becomes tangled in their hands, and Nanook is the one who pulls the strings. They are the only one you can trust, clean from ugliness and impurity. They are all you need. And in return for your power, they offer a faux love.
You watch from within their embrace as the universe crumbles into nothing, watch as countries and planets collapse.
This is how things should be, they whisper, feeling nothing in their heart as they hold you. This is the right way of the world.
And you believe them.
...is an insufferable thorn in your side. Yaoshi yearns for a paradise free from suffering and despair, a paradise that wouldn't be complete without you.
Ever since the day they saw you, they've known. Their heart that loved each and every being in the universe, bloomed for you, longed for you.
They weren't sure just what had attracted them to you so badly, but Yaoshi didn't think they needed to. There was never a need for a reason to love, was there?
Every day, every hour, without fail, Yaoshi clings to your side. You could try to foresee their movements, forcing them away from you, but even you were not free from the cruelty of fate. Yaoshi would always find you, arms open for an embrace as they fill your space with promises and sweet words.
Let us make a paradise together, they'd propose, taking you into their arms as they coo into your ear, caressing your arms with their fingers. Think of what we could do, what we could bring to the galaxies.
Yaoshi is convinced that you were meant to be theirs, the gateway to a world ridden of death and disease. With your power alongside theirs, no one would have to suffer any longer.
The only problem was that you were a little stubborn. No matter, for Yaoshi was patient. They knew you wanted to bring salvation to the universe alongside them, you were just a bit scared of venturing outside your script.
Yaoshi wears you down bit by bit. First, they guilt trip you. They lament over the pitiful mortals, succumbing to disease and war. Perhaps if you had taken them up on their offer, those mortals would be alive and happy right now. They remind you about the lives you could've saved. Yaoshi never outright says it, but you know that subtly, they call you selfish for ignoring the plight of the weak.
Then, they gain the favor of your followers. They bless your devotees with immortality, curing them of any disease or injury they may come across. They coddle and care for them, so that even when Yaoshi isn't physically by your side, your followers who sing them praises constantly remind you of them.
It's even worse when Yaoshi is present. As your followers gush about your so-called love, a love you don't ever recall partaking in, Yaoshi preens at your side, holding onto your arm as a noble lady would her lover.
And as they do, they whisper into your ears, crooning like a venomous snake.
Play along, they murmur, playing with your hair as they kiss your temple. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?
And so you do. You play the role of lover to Yaoshi, forced to give up your pen and your being to the Abundance.
Even though you know of the despair that would eventually come of immortality, you are powerless to stop it, lest you face the scorn of your people.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr#hsr x reader#honkai star rail nanook x reader#honkai star rail yaoshi x reader#honkai star rail nanook#honkai star rail yaoshi#yaoshi#nanook#yandere#yandere x reader#cw: yandere#tw: yandere#reader#y/n#yandere nanook#yandere yaoshi#yandere honkai star rail#yandere hsr#yandere hsr x reader#tw: manipulation#archives đ”ïž
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Fragile Apologies (Yandere! Miguel OâHara x Gn! Reader)
Content notes: minor spoilers for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, unhealthy/abusive relationships, verbal & emotional abuse, physical intimidation & violence, minor injuries, implied future imprisonment
Word count: around 4k
Short summary: You thought it would be easy to leave your dying relationship with Miguel. This turned out to be not true.
The sun was setting. It cast a long, orange beam on the wall, and you slowly followed it with your eyes as it advanced, gradually fading.
You purposely didn't look at the clock on the wall, you didn't want to know how much time had passed since Miguel decided to pull you onto his lap, not caring that you were right in the middle of preparing dinner. You were relieved you had not boiled the water in advance. You were not sure if the kitchen would burst into flames by the time your boyfriend lets you go.
Miguel's arms wrapped around you like iron bands. He didn't squeeze tightly enough to cause pain, but even so, you wouldn't have been able to move an inch, no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do for your own comfort was to wrap your legs around his hips and let your hands hang by your sides.
From experience, you knew it wasn't worth begging to be let go, no matter how stiff you were or how important a task you had somewhere else. The easiest way was always to simply wait for him to finish.
Your stomach growled loudly. Maybe⊠Just this once, he might let you go.
Miguel buried his face in your neck, you felt his hot lips and closed eyes on your skin. Softly, you patted his back with one hand, while attempting to slide the other in the gap between your bodies, hoping he would let you push him away.
He didn't move at all, so you let out a frustrated sigh.
âMiguelâ you whispered âMiguel, please, let me go. I'm very hungry.â
Despite trying to move and signal that you wanted to break free, you were ignored. Panic started to set in, but you were trying to overcome it. You grabbed his shoulder to try to push yourself away with full force.
It felt like you were trying to move a concrete wall. He showed no reaction, not even his face moved on the skin of your neck.
"Miguel," you hated how whiny, how sharp your voice was. It sounded annoying even to your own ears. "Please, please, let me go!"
âEnough.â
You immediately stiffened. There was something in his voice that made your throat tighten. You waited for him to say something else, anything, as you lowered your hand to its previous place, but in vain. It seemed like it was enough for him that you didn't protest anymore.
The sun set behind the skyscrapers of Nueva York, and the room plunged into darkness. With a defeated sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder.
Miguel began tracing playful circles on your back with his thumb, pressing slow, deliberate kisses onto your neck. As if your protest woke him up to the fact that he was holding a living being in his arms. The touch of his skin ignited a flare across yours, and your chest tightened with pain.
If only it had always been like this with him. Or at least sometimes, when you would have been open to him too. He was completely unpredictable, never knowing when he'd acknowledge your existence. From the very start, you knew he wasn't an easy personality, but this was something different. You felt both completely abandoned and overwhelmed at the same time.
You raised a hand to ran your fingers through his hair and felt his hands relax around you. You gently kissed his temple.
Suddenly he tensed, and you stifled a quiet scream. You know he would never hurt you, you told yourself, but you weren't convincing enough. You saw with your own eyes how the iron rods bend under his fingers as if they were made of clay.
You watched every news report on TV and every video that Lyla showed about him. You were well aware of what he was capable of. Even in this moment, he could have snapped your spine at any time, a slightly stronger squeeze would have been enough.
âOkay, that's enough," said Miguel, as if you were the one who didn't want to let him go, not the other way around.
"Hey!"
He pushed you off his lap. You would have fallen if he hadn't caught your arm to hold you. You grabbed onto him to regain your balance while he turned his attention towards his watch.
âLyla, is there anything new?â
âYes there is, but I didnt want to disturb you lovebirds. It seems like thereâs some new info about Vulture, but nothing imminent. Still no info about his whereabouts.â
Miguel hissed in frustration and then turned his back to you. He started heading towards his own room.
"Didn't you want to make dinner?" he threw back before the door closed behind him.
You just stared after him for a few moments, standing alone in the dark room.
"Asshole," you said to the door. You sounded more tired than angry.
You went back to the kitchen and continued preparing dinner. Your home appliances could have made anything you wanted, probably cheaper (and tastier) than you, but there was a certain comfort in this simple routine that you couldn't let go of. Right now, you needed your hands to be busy as you thought through your situation, likely for the hundredth time in the past few weeks.
You didn't want to live like this. That was the simple truth.
When you first got together, Miguel was different. Not by much, but different. He was still willing to put energy into your relationship. However, since then, there have been more and more threats, work and problems, not to mention the number of Spider-Men he kept track of.
He doesn't have the time or energy for those little things that made you fall in love in the first place. You knew what had happened to him before you met, what happened to his daughter and that other universe. You tried to be understanding, genuinely.
Honestly, if it were only you suffering, maybe you could let go of all this, but it seemed like that Miguel also didn't want this relationship that much. Those tender moments that used to be so common between you, the hugs, the kisses, the intimate touches were increasingly scarce.
No, scarcity is not the right word for it. These moments between you slowly condensed into a single point, first daily, then weekly, lately almost monthly, when you often could do nothing but endure whatever he put you through.
You didn't want to think this way about the person you loved more than anything, but when you looked deep inside yourself, you knew you were starting to fear him. It didn't help much that when he wasn't being controlling, he often just plain ignored you, like he was doing right now.
When it first occurred to you that you should move out, you dismissed the thought. Then again. And again.
And then you didnât.
It was much easier to find a rental apartment than you thought. Even Lyla helped when you asked her to. She hesitated, but not much, she just said you definitely have to talk to Miguel about it, and you agreed with her. You didn't understand why you haven't brought up the matter to him since then.
Maybe because you knew trying to reason with him wouldn't accomplish anything, as you had asked him many times before to consider your feelings. Maybe because you felt this was a much bigger step than anything you've brought up before. Or maybe it was the guilt you felt over the fact that you were increasingly looking forward to the date when you could finally move out.
This date was tomorrow.
You finished dinner. Two plates of boiled egg sandwiches with salad and a soft drink. Nothing special, you just tried to drag out the preparation as long as possible. You laid everything out on the table and then leaned against the counter. It's been so long since you've eaten together like this. Lately, Miguel ate everything in his own room or wherever he happened to be on a mission.
You took a deep breath, then pushed yourself off the counter. You started walking towards Miguel's room to knock. You thought you'd have to beg again, so you were surprised when the door slid open in front of you.
You entered the dimly lit, cold room filled with humming and blinking computers. You didn't like being here. You never knew when you'd see something on one of the screens that you couldn't get out of your head for weeks.
"What is it?" Miguel sounded annoyed, but at least he turned in his chair to look at you. You saw his eyes searching your hand for the plate of dinner you usually set outside his door, as if he were a teenage kid and you a resigned parent. When he realized you were empty-handed, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"
You cleared your throat. You felt your heart racing, making you feel like an idiot. You had prepared for this moment for so long, yet now you wanted to turn around and flee. But why am I still so scared?
âNo, I just want to talk to you. Can you come out a bit? I've set the table outside.â
Miguel looked like he would rather say he was too busy, but when he looked at your face, it was clear that he knew something was wrong. After a brief silence, he spoke up in a surprisingly gentle tone.
"Just give me a minute to finish this. Lyla!"
You didn't wait to hear all his instructions. You went back to the kitchen and waited for him there.
"If this matter is so important, you can tell me now," Miguel said.
"Let's eat first, please. We can talk after. I promise, this will be the only time.â
It was clear that this did not decrease his suspicion, but rather fuelled it. Nevertheless, he sat down and without any further talk picked up his sandwich. This compelled you to do the same.
As you ate, you tried to formulate in your mind what you would eventually say to him from the myriad of possibilities you had gathered. It proved to be surprisingly difficult, and you didn't feel ready to speak when you finally finished eating.
Miguel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
âWell? I'm all ears.â
There was something so condescending in his voice that your jaw tightened. You closed your eyes for a moment before you spoke. You tried to keep your voice calm.
âI've been thinking a lot lately. About you, about us⊠You know this isn't working. I don't know if Lyla told you, butâŠ"
Miguel slammed the table so hard that the cutlery clinked. Your breath hitched. You didn't even see him move.
âAgain, seriously? Look, I don't have time for this. I understand that you're not happy with the current situation, and believe me, neither am I. But stillâŠâ
âI want to leave you, Miguel.â
He immediately stopped talking. You just stared at each other. The sound of the impact was still ringing in your ears.
Eventually, you broke the silence again.
"I'm sorry. Believe me, I really am sorry. I know we've tried a lotâŠ" I tried, you told yourself, âbut I don't want to continue this. It will be better for both of us if we can move on."
âValeâ he said dryly.âAnd what are you going to do after this? Do you have any idea what's out there in the city?â
"Yes. I've already found an apartment, well, we've found one with Lyla."
Another silence followed. You stood up from the table.
âI'm sorryâ you said again. You didn't even know what got into you when you reached out to stroke his hair.
"Don't," he hissed, causing your hand to stop in the air. He turned away from you.
âWhat are you waiting for? Pack your stuff and get out of here.â
This time you didn't hesitate. You turned around and left to gather your things.
***
Unbelievable. Just fucking unbelievable, really.
A week had passed since you moved out. Miguel refused to use the word âpermanentlyâ. At first, he didn't even want to believe that you were really capable of going so far as to bring up the breakup, and he never dreamed that you would actually go through with it.
As you packed, he waited for the moment when you'd break down and apologize, when you'd take everything back to let things return to how they used to be.
As it turned out, he waited in vain. Somehow, you had enough backbone not to waver as you always did before. This was his mistake, he should have noticed the signs that this time you are not just planning, but also acting.
His fist clenched at the thought that Lyla helped you without telling him. This could never happen again. When you told him this, he was so furious that he was on the verge of smashing the table between you. He was so angry that he feared he might actually harm you. This is partly why he didn't stand in your way when you started pulling your suitcase out.
But now? Now he was left alone, and he knew he would never be able to truly let you go.
He lay alone in his bed. He managed to fall asleep on the first night, perhaps he didn't even dream, but then he woke up in the middle of the night. He was so used to you being next to him when he slept, regardless of the time of day, that when he didn't hear your breathing in his sleep, panic immediately set in.
He woke up to his heart almost bursting out of his chest, while clutching the spot on the sheet where you usually lay. He hated himself for being so predictable, and he hated you for eliciting this from him even when you weren't near.
Since then, he hardly slept at all. He was so tense that even the slightest slight could push him to the brink of a rage fit. For a while, Lyla didn't even try to reason with him.
He immediately got your address from her, of course, then checked it out for himself. He deliberately didn't go when he knew you would be home, but he couldn't help it, he had to cling to the walls of the surrounding buildings to watch when your figure, shrouded in shadows, got home.
Villains came to his mind. They were the ones who thought like him in this moment. Obsessively focusing on a single target as if his life depended on it⊠In a way, it was a very petty mindset. Not suited for someone responsible for the safety of others. But that's exactly what he was doing â watching over you and ensuring no threat reached you. Of course, he continued to track Vulture and the others as well, not to mention the other Spider-People, but it was true that they all took a backseat when it came to you.
No, he wasnât like the villains. He did this because you were important to him. If you had a little sense, you could have seen this too. That's why he waited through this week to calm down enough to speak to you in a normal tone. If possible, it would have been best if you came back to him of your own free will, but if he scares you, he might achieve the opposite.
Actually, what he wanted most was for you to come back on your own with your stupid suitcase, but so far you've held firm. It seemed you were doing just fine without him. Sometimes he even caught you humming to yourself on the way home. You haven't done that in months at his place. Miguel didn't even want to admit to himself that this made a small part of his heart ache.
The problem was that as time went on, he didn't become calmer, quite the opposite. If he wasn't thinking about you, then he was thinking about the things that could harm you while you weren't with him. If something were to happen to you when he wasn't thereâŠ
He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't.
A soft beep came from his watch. A reported robbery. Since it seemed the local patrol had already dealt with the matter, he almost settled back down, but then he glanced at the holographic map.
He immediately jumped to his feet. His blood thudded in his ears so loudly that he could barely hear Lyla's responses to the instructions he barked at her as he headed out.
The robbery had occurred near your block. Right next to you.
***
You stood with your arms crossed in front your chest in the window of your third-floor living room. The sirens had long since gone silent and the police had left. The case did not seem serious, and you were not overly worried. These things were not unusual in this city. Before you got together with Miguel, you often saw similar crimes.
Miguel. You thought you would miss him more, but from the very first days you felt the invisible weight lifting off your shoulders. You unpacked the few belongings you brought with you and started creating a new life for yourself.
It was good to occupy yourself with something other than ruminating about your ex. It was strange that you no longer had to think about when you would push him away or make him angry with some insignificant detail.
At first, you didn't even notice the dull thud that sounded like a heavy object had hit the wall of your panel apartment.
Then your bedroom window burst.
You slapped your hand over your mouth before you could scream. You looked around the room, then crouched behind the couch in the corner, using the clatter of the glass shards to cover the sound of your movement. You didn't turn on the light in the living room because you didn't want anyone to notice you watching the police cars, but the light was on in your bedroom. The intruder must have seen this.
Who was currently out in the city? Vulture? Venture? And who else? They shouldn't have known who you are. While you were with Miguel, you barely left the apartment. No one has seen you two in the same place for months.
You covered your face with your palm as a massive thud shook the wall behind you. That might have been the door that led to the hallway.
âWhere are you?â
Your breath hitched. This can't be happening.
You almost answered him, but changed your mind at the last minute. You flinched when another blow shook the house. It was the wall mirror.
You pulled your knees to your chest, using one hand to stifle the sob rising in your throat, and the other to pull your phone out of your pocket. Who should you call? You can't send normal cops after Miguel. Plus, you've never heard him like this.
A superhero wouldn't harm innocents⊠But a superhero wouldn't break into his ex's home like this either. If he just wants to save you from something, then why did he smash everything in his path? No, you felt that you shouldn't come out, but with his senses, it shouldn't have taken much time for him to find you.
As if he heard your thoughts.
âI know you're here. I can smell you.â
His voice was slightly calmer than it was a few moments ago. You heard him take a deep breath. This meant that it was quiet enough that if you started crying now, he would find you instantly.
You didn't dare to move. Tears freely flowed down your face, but you didn't feel it. Suddenly, you became very aware that you really had no idea how good his hearing was.
He stopped in the hallway. What was he doing? Fiddling with something, but whatâŠ
Your phone rang in your hand.
The next moment, the couch disappeared in front of you. You didn't have time to end the call before Miguel grabbed your shirt to pull you up. Your back hit the wall, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Your phone fell to the ground, but you didn't even try to catch it. Sharp claws tore up the fabric of your clothes where he held you.
You cried out in pain and terror.
For a moment, you locked eyes with each other before Miguel's red gaze slid down to scan your body. It took a little time for you to realize he was looking for injuries.
When he was convinced that you were unharmed, he slightly loosened his grip, but not enough for you to break free. You desperately clung to his wrist, despite knowing that if he wanted to kill you, nothing would stop him, especially not your weak human hands.
"Please, don't hurt me," you whimpered from the depths of your throat.
He growled. You had never heard this sound from him before.
âHurt you? Are you out of your mind? I'm here to take you home.â
You didn't dare shake your head, but he must have seen something in your eyes. Suddenly, you felt your feet on the floor again.
Miguel dragged you by the remnants of your shirt like a ragdoll. Your mind was foggy with panic, yet you instinctively tried to dig your heel into the carpet. As you passed by the doorway, you reached out to grasp it, but it didn't slow him down. You felt something crack in your shoulder, then the burning pain flooded you. You had to let go.
You needed all your willpower not to scream when you saw what he had done to your apartment. It was as if someone had let loose a small hurricane. Your knee was scraped raw on the few feets leading to your front door, not to mention the shards of glass Miguel dragged you over. You were so terrified that you barely felt the pain.
You thought he would drag you straight out of the apartment, so you squeaked in surprise when he stopped in front of the door and let go of your shirt. As you collapsed unceremoniously onto the floor, he stood in front of you.
"I want you to pay very close attention to me, because I won't say this again. What do you see?"
You looked at him in shock. You followed his gaze with your eyes as he pointed to the lock.
"The door handle?â
He growled so loudly that your chest trembled. He reached down to roughly grab the back of your neck. His claws left shallow scratches on your skin as he forced you to stare at the lock above the door handle.
"This is a damn biometric identifier. Do you know how long it takes for someone to get a few samples from you? For God's sake, do you know how hard it would be to break in here?â
You were afraid that a stronger jerk and he might just tear your head off. You whimpered like a cornered animal.
"Answer me!"
"Very easy?" you muttered.
âExactly! And do you know what's the deal with your windows? Anyone can see in, from anywhere, not to mention breaking in.â
Yes, you demonstrated that very well, you thought numbly, but you had the sense not to say it out loud. He let go again, and you took the opportunity to slide against the wall. You huddled up just like you did in the living room only a few minutes ago.
Miguel said something in Spanish, but he spoke too quickly for you to understand. He paced back and forth in front of you.
"I simply don't understand what was going through your head. It's a miracle you're still alive. What if those on the streets decide to break in? What if they follow you to your apartment?"
He roughly ran his hand through his hair.
"I know foresight isn't your strong suit, that's for sure, but even you have to see this. You need to come back with me. It's obvious you can't keep yourself safe."
You were about to shake your head, but you stopped yourself. Instead, you covered your face, and agonizing sobbing broke out of you again.
A little time passed, which seemed like hours to you, but could only have been a few minutes. Miguel stayed silent, and you had no idea what he might be doing. You didn't hear him move among the shards of glass, but that didn't mean much. If he wanted to, he could remain completely silent.
Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to wail.
You flinched when you felt his hand on your arm. His claws were no longer out. You didn't answer him when he called you by your name. You were still crying.
âDamn itâ he said quietly. âPlease, calm down.â
You tried to hold yourself back, you didn't want to anger him again, but you couldn't. Even though every part of you protested when you felt him gently pull your hand away from your face, you didn't resist. Now you could see that he had squatted down in front of you. He wiped a tear off your face with his thumb.
It was evident that he wanted to say something more, but then he changed his mind. This time, much more gently, he reached out to pull you into his arms. As he drew you close to his chest, you responded by clinging to him and burying your face in his shoulder.
You could feel the movement of his muscles beneath his skin as he let out a sigh.
"God, I missed you so much."
You had no idea what expression he might be wearing. Tears were still streaming from your eyes, soaking his superhero suit, but it no longer seemed to bother him.
"I'll never let you go again."
#yandere#yandere miguel#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere across the spiderverse#yandere miguel x reader#yandere x reader#yandere spiderman#yandere atsv#yandere spiderverse#cw: abuse#cw: yandere#cw: violence#cw: injury#cw: imprisonment#gn reader#possum writes
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Thinking about...kind people.
They aren't good, they're just nice.
cw: yandere/possessive behavior, explicit violence
GN reader!
A/N: I had no specific character in mind but lemme tell ya, my brain...oh it's churning
They're polite and soft-spoken as they etch their name into your skin - so patient as they shush your pained whimpers with soothing touches, completely ignoring your lover's protests. They're so sweet as they gut your lover in front of you - laughing gently at your screams of horror because of how delectably cute your terrified face is. They're so understanding as they wipe entrails from your face - promising to never subject you to such a display ever again.
Of course you'd be scared, this is a lot of blood. You probably never seen organs spilling out like a grotesque waterfall before, have you?
Let them pat your head and help you onto your feet with misleading strength. Let them guide you into your bathroom and scrub you clean, resulting in rivers of blood to flow past your feet. Let them dress you in a clean set of pajamas and guide you to your bed as if they'd done this a thousand times. Let them snuggle with you and hum you to sleep, shamelessly inhaling your intoxicating scent and peppering you with kisses.
Let them pretend to be your one and only.
#yandere#yandere concept#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#cw: yandere#cw: possessive#cw: violence#this is so vague im sorry (â ïœĄâ ïŸâ Ïâ â ïœĄâ )#so many characters can fit this idea!!!#im thinking of doing a full himeko drabble with this concept#a nice terrible person is infinitely worse than a rude terrible person#a nice vile individual would truly have you believing that you can appeal to their humanity#but nope they're actually the lowest of the low#it's just sometimes they say 'please' and 'thank you'
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I would like more dark/mirror noir like, how does he interact with other dark/mirror characters?
...I KNEW it. I just KNEW IT!! /lh What have I done?!
:does it again:
Anyway, they say having confidence in yourself is a good way to make friends, so unlike his main-verse counterpart, Mirror Noir gets along great with the other mirror residents! </biased perspective>
I'll draw him with Shadow Dedede later. Mirror Noir also LO~VES penguins!
#cw: yandere#Apologies AU#Noir Fontaine#Noir's Field Trip#Dess is still never beating the allegations#(Don't take Mirror Noir too seriously btw!)#(Dess is just having a bit of silly fun!)#Mirror Noir#Dark Meta Knight#Shadow Kirby#I feel bad tagging other characters in this but XD
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dan heng (IL) x reader (devour)
content warning: references to cannibalism (no real cannibalism takes place), yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, kinda suggestive
notes: i been listening to loveit? and love cat for the past few hours. loveit? and love cat are good songs. yâall should listen to them. also this is more on the horror side
letâs start this with a few questions. how long can an animal survive without eating, or letting instincts take over their mind? are they aware that theyâre making the conscious decision to not do that? dan heng surely would love to know. he would love to know that heâs not the only âanimalâ that does this. of course heâs been eating normally but thereâs one thing that normal food cannot satisfy.
he shouldnât.
but he wants too. the urge to dig his teeth into flesh and taste his loveâs oh so delicious blood made it all the more difficult. their scent drove him mad. dan heng couldnât understand why heâs having thoughts such as this, itâs wrong. itâs inhumane. brutal even, but he wants too. of course the more human side is stopping him, if he did devour them- then who will be there to keep his humanity?
they somehow bring out the worse and the best out of him.
the way he looks at them with love, though his eyes showed them- it also showed desire. as if he wants to claim them here and now. he wants to hear their moans and pleads for more, but he had to restrain himself.
âi love youâŠâ he whispered
he wants their love, attention and heart more ways than one. he wants to taste their blood- take in their scent, have their soul. he wants their love that can satisfy his hunger. his hands gripping their face as he stared intently at their eyes. their eyes showed fear yet hint of love- dan heng finds it intriguing. he leaned in and placed a kiss on their lips.
âi love youâŠâ
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#yandere hsr x reader#hsr dan heng#yandere dan heng#yandere dan heng x reader#dan heng x reader#dan heng#cw: cannibalism#cw: yandere
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Hello. Yandere husband Jaehaerys i Targaryen and wife reader (she not Alysanne) and yandere platonic children.(Jaeh and reader's children. Daenaerys/ Aemon/ Baelon/ Alyssa/ Maegelle/ Vaegon/ Daella/Saera/Viserra/ Gael)
cw's: yandere content, unhealthy relationships, romantic and platonic relationships, abuse and death, maegor's wives are mentioned, arranged marriage, mention of alysanne, non-incestuous marriage hooray, infant death, mentally unstable reader, jaehaerys lowk having a breeding kink lol
Jaehaerys is a gentle husband, and for good reason. He grew up watching his uncle mistreat several women, even kill them, for no good reason. Watching the Black Brides be killed and abused for no reason at all, Jaehaerys wants to be a good husband to his future wife, nor matter the situation.
So, when Jaehaerys is initially married to his wife, he tries his best to be accommodating towards her. Jaehaerys becomes king at a very young age, and therefore, he gets married at a young age. He had initially wanted to marry his sister, Alysanne, but his wife was chosen for him by his mother, Alyssa Velaryon. Despite his initial disappointment, Jaehaerys becomes very fond of his lady wife. He grows more than fond as their marriage progresses, and by the end of the first year together, he's completely hooked.
The courting process happens after they're married. Jaehaerys realizes that arranged marriages are harder for women than men, so he tries to be very kind and accommodating. At first, his lady wife takes advantage of this and keeps her distance from Jaehaerys, most likely knowing of his past affection for his sister. Alysanne was married to Alaric Stark and thus lived in the Riverlands. Still, the thought of her husband harboring affection for another woman is likely discouraging for his new wife.
This bothers Jaehaerys quite a bit because he's become infatuated with his wife. He wants her to adore him just as much as he adores her. Things change once their first child, Aegon, is born. Jaehaerys' new wife changes with motherhood. She loves her son and covets him like a star, so when Aegon dies as an infant, she's absolutely destroyed. The only person who truly understands her pain is Jaehaerys, so she seeks comfort in her husband for the first time since she was forced to marry him.
When they go on to lose their second child, Daenerys, Jaehaerys becomes very protective over his wife. Mentally, she isn't doing well, so he keeps her distanced away from anyone who mentions the death of Daenerys. Their other children are very close with their mother, Baelon, and Aemon take after Jaehaerys in being protective over their mother, as does Alyssa and Saera. Alyssa, Gael, and Maegelle are very close with her, and Jaehaerys becomes relaxed, knowing that they have plenty of children to keep his wife content.
Viserra, ever the diva, likes to bring her mother out into the city to shop. I imagine her as a mama's girl, and she's absolutely spoiled by her mother. The silk and velvet dresses, diamond encrusted tiaras, and fluffy pillows are all things Viserra has commissioned for her momma. They even have matching dresses!
Gael and Maegelle would cling to their mother, as would Daella. Daella is terrified of dragons, and I imagine so would Jaehaerys' wife, so they're content to read in the garden together. Maegelle and Gael are similar, always following their mother around the Keep like little ducklings.
Vaegon, much like his older brothers, is protective over his mother. I feel like the boys have that Targaryen supremacy ideology, so they believe that since their mother isn't a Targaryen, she's weak. They all believe she needs to be protected, much like how Jaehaerys feels.
All in all, their children love their mama, and Jaehaerys has a horrid breeding mentality. The loss of their children, especially those who died in infancy, left his wife depressed and desolate. Jaehaerys believed that producing more children would fix her sadness.
haha, I hope this was good enough đ
I love thinking about how it would have been if jaehaerys and alysanne hadn't married each other, but it's so sad that she lost so many children :(
masterlist ᥣđ©
#cw: yandere content#cw: yandere#yandere jaehaerys targaryen#yandere daenerys targaryen#yandere aemon targaryen#yandere baelon targaryen#yandere alyssa targaryen#yandere maegelle targaryen#yandere vaegon targaryen#yandere daella targaryen#yandere saera targaryen#yandere viserra targaryen#yandere gael targaryen#yandere house of the dragon#yandere game of thrones#yandere asoiaf#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#house of the dragon#yandere#pumpkin writes â
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Yandere! Diluc x Reader
Summary: Kidnapped Reader begins to feel touch starved after being trapped for so long and finally reciprocates Dilucâs need for physical affection. Cue a steamy make-out session.
MDNI.
Warning(s): YANDERE content (do not read if you are not comfortable), kidnapping, imprisonment, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied Stockholm syndrome, dubious consent (concerning touch), forced affection, forced kissing, steamy, !! heavily suggestive ending (smut implied)!!, slight hair pulling, slight isolation, forced marriage, they make out and both of them get somewhat turned on *gasp*
âââââââââ
âJust one kiss. Please, darling.â
âNo-â
Your protests were silenced by Diluc pushing his plush lips onto yours. The kiss was soft, delicate, and loving, something filled with longing after not seeing you for hours. However, the romance of it all didnât mean much to you when you had been backed into the corner of your shared canopy bed with no way to escape.
You tightly fisted your hands into the sheets as his lips pressed insistently against yours, a discarded book next lying open on the silken bedding. You had been entertaining yourself pretty well before Diluc, your husband, had gotten home from a long day of work and business, deciding that he wanted to relish in your company after being deprived of it for so many hours. Your husband was a working man, and unfortunately for you, he only became more desperate to hold you after being separated most days.
Dilucâs arms caged you in while his thigh pressed against yours, heat seeping through the thin fabric. His winter clothes had been switched out for lighter ones with the coming spring, and you could feel every tensing muscle in his body as it shifted against your shamefully thin loungewear. You could feel the twitching of his body, the stiff movements that came with him resisting the urge to run his hands all over you. He knew you didnât like him touching you. He knew that he was pushing it by kissing you with such intensity.
Today though, today was different. You didnât mind the way his lips were bruising yours with each practiced tilt of his head. An all too human part of you was so tired of resisting every day, and it craved the warmth that you felt in those moments after he was done kissing you; those moments when he brought his gloved hands up to caress your face as you avoided his painfully adoring expression.
Hesitantly, you brought your tense arm up to graze the hair near the back of his head, each movement feeling slow and forced. But god, you were so desperate for the thought of being touched, and could no longer keep up the act of repulsion to the little physical touch Diluc gave you; you were tired of being careful to avoid every brush of skin, every silent show of affection.
Diluc knew it made you uncomfortable, and for the first few months of your âstayâ you would have rather gagged yourself before you ever kissed him willingly. But loneliness was a powerful thing, and besides the maids who would barely look you in the eye, he was the only one you could reach out and hold.
Your hand landed on the back of his ponytail and you did you best to ignore how quickly Diluc stiffened under the shift in weight. His lips froze against yours in shock, but you pushed your hand further into his hair before anxiety made you pull it back. Your fingers curled into his locks, slightly tugging at the base where a ribbon held it back, and the first thing you thought was how absolutely soft it was.
You heard Diluc shakily breathe in, his eyes wide as he stared at you in disbelief. His hands landed firmly on your hips in an awkward attempt to put them somewhere. You could feel his fingertips digging into your skin, hands tense as he felt the new sensation of your fingers running through his hair.
âŠClearly your touch was not unwelcome.
Feeling emboldened, you went further. With one of your hands still nestled in his hair, you rested the other one on his chest. You curiously ran it up to his collar, distracted by the new feeling of the coarse clothing and the strong body that shuddered underneath your light touch. You felt his heart beat unimaginably fast against your palm, heat seeping into your skin already from the light contact.
You quickly glanced up at his eyes and immediately became aware of the intensity of the look he was giving you. His gaze roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips, searching fervently for something in your expression. You had never been the one to initiate anything before, much less encourage his behavior. You had always been quite cold to your captor ever since he had swept you away and locked you up in his mansion, too paranoid and in love to keep you anywhere but under his watchful eye.
You suddenly felt very nervous. Dilucâs blood red eyes reminded you of a predator, following every slight movement you made with rapt attention.
A primal part of you was scared of breaking eye contact with the dangerous man in front of you and you felt your heartbeat quicken for the first time in a while; whether it was fear or excitement, it made a fire light in your body.
Slowly, you leaned into him, ghosting your lips against his as he sharply inhaled, muscles tensing underneath your fingers as you focused on the rhythmic thrum of his heart. You moved the hand over his heart to join the other nestled in his hair. You pressed your chests together, practically melting into him as the lonely place in your heart sighed in relief at the warmth surrounding you.
You were the closest to him you had ever been, and you were returning the affection he had showered you with since the day he took you away. In the moment, you were unaware as to what exactly was going through Dilucâs mind. This was a sign of you willingly accepting his love. A thing you had only ever seemed to acknowledge reluctantly. His self restraint snapped, and then his hands were everywhere.
What had gone from a sensual kiss of longing was now a passionate fight for breath, with every harsh press of his lips to yours ending and beginning again at a dizzying pace. His exhales met yours in quick, desperate pants, as he seemed only able to pull away for a second before attaching himself to you again.
You soon lost your balance from the onslaught and fell back onto the bed. Diluc paused for a brief moment before following you and carefully placing himself over you, putting his weight on one forearm and using his other hand to impatiently tug open his collar.
âDiluc?â You said, dazed by the sudden change in his behavior.
âHot,â was the only thing he said, forgoing elaborating to instead nudge his face into the crook of your neck. You tensed as you felt his lips brush against the sensitive area, each exhale adding more heat to already damp skin.
You nearly screamed when you felt his lips settle onto your skin, his teeth latching onto your neck happily. He bit painful heat into your throat, marking each new spot he found with eagerness as he moved down your neck. He began pressing fleeting kisses up to your ear, which he then happily bit and abused. His tongue ran across the shell languidly, a teasing motion with a meaning more sensual behind it, and an unexpected bolt of electricity shot through you.
Diluc seemed to be caught between deciding to pin you underneath him or allowing your hands to be entwined in his hair. Eventually, he guided your hand up to where it had previously been, and you automatically pulled on the long strands just to ground yourself. He moaned at the feeling. You teased the ribbon away until it fell from his nape, watching bright red locks spill over the broad shoulders now caging you in.
Errant strands floated above you, teasing at your face and skin as Diluc ran his hands up and down the side of your waist. He panted in your ear and his hot breaths bounced against sensitive skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms.
You jumped as you felt his hand run to your thigh and squeeze, the firm grip making something light up in your stomach. You inhaled shakily, gasping as your realized that you were going to get what you wanted and more. Tonight was going to be a long night.
âââââââââ
#cw stockholm syndrome#cw: yandere#cw yandere#cw suggestive#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact x reader#male yandere#yandere#yandere genshin#romantic yandere#tw toxic behavior#tw yandere#yandere genshin impact x gn reader#soft yandere#gentle yandere#yandere x reader#yandere diluc ragnvindr#yandere diluc x reader#yandere diluc#steamy#make out#make out session#VERY SUGGESTIVE#PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE#cw kidnapping#cw imprisonment#cw forced marriage#forced marriage
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AFFECTION'S EDGE: MASTERLIST
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 18k || ao3 ||
minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
âYouâve got it all wrong,â he murmurs, âbut what am I to expect from a stray like you? Youâve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you donât know what to do now that Iâve given you food and shelter.â Suguruâs fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, âa warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collarâso youâll never be lost again. No oneâs ever given you this before, hm?â
***
Suguru tries to tame you.
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
⧠SPRING FEVER collab masterlist â§
cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?
a/n: this lil series is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab event!! i've been working on it for awhile now and i'm excited to share!! i have most of it done and you can find the posting schedule below!
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
PART I: Friday, April 26th
PART II: Friday, May 3rd
PART III: Friday, May 10th
âââââââàŒșàŒ»âââââââ
#suguru getou x reader#suguru geto x reader#getou suguru x you#getou x reader#getou suguru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#suguru getou x you#cw: omegaverse#cw: yandere
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Part 2 is here! You can see the name of the OG artist on the lower right corner of each artwork â
~!
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talking about deku and basement-gfing people, i do think that if u were dating katsuki and he died, izuku would literally become insane LOL. i think he would take it upon himself to protect u, but it would get very weird very fast and i reckon it wouldnât take much to push him into ok itâs time for the basement the outside is too dangerous mode LOL.
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So I think we're all in agreement that L would be the type of yandere that prefers subtle manipulation. But what I don't see enough is the fact that L is stupid rich (he has the ability to make 60 million a year on stocks alone when accounting for inflation, I did the math but I hate math so you're not seeing my work) and he would use that to his advantage. And I'm not talking about money he could use to keep his beloved trapped or make sure whatever crimes he commits are left unseen (though push comes to shove that might be the case).
I mean that L gets very generous to build a rapport with his sweetheart.
Imagine that they have a go fund me, a small business, they're a small streamer or they do independent sex work online. One day they're suddenly getting massive amounts of money. If it's a platform where interaction is encouraged he comments just a little paired with that money, just enough to make them wonder why or how. And he keeps at it until the interactions are normal, until the object of his affections can't help but drop their guard a little. That's his in and he has the patience to wait for it to all seem natural as he slowly guides them towards an online friendship. Until it gets to the point he's offering to buy them anything they could want and they start to feel a bit indebted to him. He starts to test the boundaries but only ever to keep them safe, comfortable, and to know every single thing about them. Though he knows he has to hide that last part.
And don't they want to go on a trip? To meet up? (So he can see them in person finally and keep love bombing them.) He knows he looks a bit odd in person but he's still being friendly in his way. He just wants them to grow attached to him and learn it's okay to be completely dependant on him. He's fully aware it's wrong, but what he'll have to do if it doesn't work is much more uncomfortable for them (he has to; he won't be satisfied with his life if he doesn't). So in the end he finds it hard to care. Especially if they enjoy it.
#I want to go on record and say I hate the one percent and that manipulation isn't cute#but I can have my weird little fantasies#l lawliet#yandere#yandere imagines#rich yandere#l death note#yandere l#yandere death note#yandere l lawliet#l x reader#l x y/n#l x s/i#tw: yandere#cw: yandere#tw: manipulation#cw: manipulation#yandere f/o
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