#kinda yandere? sorta?

[heyheydidjaknow]

Do you think Near is the type to get jealous? I don’t remember if you already answered a question like this. If so, my apologies, just ignore.

Near does not get jealous. Jealousy implies that he feels in any way insecure about the arrangement the two of you have. He doesn’t. He does not enjoy watching other people take up time you should be spending with him, though. You should be spending time with him. He’s more than enough for you. Why would you want to spend time with other people? He pays you more than enough for your time; he should have some sort of right to you, shouldn’t he? Aren’t you his? This mindset is reinforced if the two of you have gone past the “I’m paying you to spend time with me” phase because then it’s a lot more confusing why you would want to spend time with someone you aren’t romantically or physically involved with. So jealousy isn’t a big issue, but possessiveness is.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Clown Without Pity [Pennywise x Reader]

Title: Clown Without Pity [Pennywise x Reader]

Synopsis: You used to be scared of clowns, but that was a long time ago.

For Horrorfest request:

Horrorfest request for random person being followed at a carnival by the lovely clown IT. They think he's just a normal clown at first. Until they see him later outside of the carnival. And then at a Halloween party.

Word count: 1400ish

notes: reader is scared of clowns, implications of death & general horror things, speeding down small town roads and other things you Should Not Do Because It's Irresponsible

The first time you see the clown, you smile. Not because he was particularly delightful–he looked like any other clown at any other carnival–but because he brought back memories. Distant, foggy, something you could see now with rose-tinted glasses:

When you were a child, you were scared of clowns. 

No, not just scared–terrified. There are memories, seen through the sweeter lens of adulthood that takes away the sharp edge of terror you once felt, of you clinging to your father’s leg; begging to leave a carnival, a work event, a birthday party, because there was that all-too-familiar terror looming just ahead—

A clown. 

Like the one at this carnival, handing out balloons to children who pass by. He looks like any clown you’ve ever seen, like the ones that used to have you squeezing your eyes shut until your parents sighed and carried you, sobbing, back to the car. 

White face. Red hair. An outfit with frills and puff-balls. A smile, a laugh (haw-haw-haw) and oh, my, he’s seen you staring.

He waves, cheerily.

You wave back, smile tight. 

Not because you’re scared–you are not a little kid anymore, for heaven’s sake–but because it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?

Clowns are meant for children.

–

The clown should not be standing across the street from the local liquor store, and yet, there he is, in all his costumed glory. 

He stands out like a sore thumb, and it’s a wonder no one else has pointed him out. Or that no cars honk at him as they whizz by, speeding but uncaring on Halloween night. The police force would be hanging out downtown, keeping an eye on the kids, not lurking by a party store tucked on a back road. 

He doesn’t move from his spot on the side of the road. He only stares straight ahead, eyes almost bulging, and even if he isn’t staring at you–is he?--you can’t help but tear your gaze away.

Because…

Something awfully nostalgic creeps into the back of your skull. A familiar feeling, itching along your scalp until it crawls across your jaw and down your chest; until you clench the paper bag in your arms, hearing it crinkle around the bottles of vodka you spent too much of your paycheck on.

An unwelcome sensation that makes you want to find your father and hide behind him even now, decades later—

Fear.

–

By the time you make it to the party, you’ve chided yourself ten times over for being silly. The clown was probably headed in to buy some booze of his own after a day working a children’s carnival. Handing out all those balloons and smiling at kids all day. He was probably waiting until it was safe to cross the road, and you caught him standing awkwardly.

Halloween night was making you stupid, that’s all. Well. That and the pre-gaming shot you did before you went to the carnival. Sure, sure, you were good to drive–that didn’t mean your thoughts weren’t a little loopy. A little silly.

Now? Now it was time to forget about clowns and childhood fears and get your Halloween party game on. 

Your costume wasn’t anything spectacular. A black dress and a slapped-on witch hat, a smear of green eyeshadow across your eyes and hastily applied eyeliner that you’d only remembered after pulling your car into the cul-de-sac.

Maybe next year you would put more thought into it, but on this night? You just wanted to get drunk, maybe dance, maybe meet someone cute and take them home.

Getting drunk and dancing was on the table for sure, at least. The vodka you brought is a favorite, and you turn to it again and again as the night goes on, until your head is fuzzy enough to make dancing to “Monster Mash” genuinely fun.

You don’t even mind that you haven’t found anyone to hook up with; there’s enough mingling going on that the crowd stuffed into the living room is a mix of couples and singles, groups of friends, groups of strangers, everyone sporting costumes of varying quality and care. 

Sexy nurses and Frankensteins and Harley Quinns; Marios and Hot Dogs and Draculas. Everyone drinking and dancing and having loud conversations that didn’t matter all that much. 

The costumes bleed together with every drink, until you’re not sure if you already talked to that sexy cat or maybe it was the handsome tiger that chatted you up, or maybe it wasn’t a cat at all, maybe your brain got confused with the guy dressed as Roger from 101 Dalmations (he carried a dalmatian plushie) and you’re starting to wonder if you should have someone call you an Uber when there’s a clown standing in the middle of the living room.

Oh but it’s not a clown, it’s the clown. The clown from the carnival, the clown from the street, the clown that is now standing perfectly still amidst a crowd of dancing, drunken strangers. His face looks sallow now, his eyes bigger, but his grin, his grin is the same. Wide and red and were his teeth always so sharp?

A trick of the light, you think, a trick of the booze; but you blink, and think, and blink again, but it remains the same no matter what. 

He’s just standing there. Staring and smiling. And he’s got a balloon–it hadn’t been there before–but no one else so much as stops and stares at this strange clown in a rotting gray suit (oh, oh it had been fine before, all cream and bright red) holding a balloon in the middle of the party.

No one else sees him.

But you do.

And he sees you, too.

Now, now, you feel fear. Not just any fear. That old fear, that childish fear, that starts from your toes and doesn’t stop until it’s prickling at your scalp. The fear that keeps you rooted to the spot. The fear that demands a mom or dad or older sibling with a few years on you, someone who knows enough about the world to keep all the awful things at bay.

“Mommy and daddy aren’t here to help you,” a voice says, and it’s with an awful sinking feeling that you see the clown's mouth move. It’s the clown. The clown is talking. But no one turns. No one else hears. Everyone else is dancing, laughing, carrying on like none of this is happening at all.

The tingling fear is cradled by a heavy dread that settles into your stomach, a dread that tells you the cold hard facts of life as you know it: 

You are alone with the clown in a crowded room and no one is going to help you. No one is going to help you, and you were right to be scared of clowns as a child, and maybe if you hadn’t talked yourself out of it, you wouldn’t be here.

You wouldn’t be standing frozen to the spot, watching as he takes a step forward–big and silly, he laughs as he does it, like he’s tiptoeing quietly to some secret place. As if he needs to be quiet, despite the fact that no one else can hear him or see him.

"I'm coming for you," he says, voice low, awful, despite the silliness of his exaggerated gestures.

He weaves around the party guests like they are hedges in some terrible human maze. And you, you can do nothing but watch as he spins, his mouth making exaggerated “Os” each time he almost rams into someone. 

"I'm getting closer," he says, and you want to run. But you can't. You're too scared. Scared like you used to be; scared in a way you haven't been in decades.

Maybe--

If you hadn’t stopped being afraid, maybe you wouldn’t have come to the party at all. His second sighting on the road would have sent you home, for the safety of the space underneath your bed covers, a night light protecting you all the way up those dark stairs. 

Your jaw wouldn’t be open in a silent cry for help that will not come. Tears would not be streaming down your cheeks, even as the clown does a little spin–”Ta da!”--on his journey across the room. The tears sting with smeared green eyeshadow.

But you are here. Stuck and trapped and damp urine runs down your leg. No one notices, no one sees. No one cares.

And the clown is getting closer. He could be here in two strides, you realize dimly, but he doesn’t want to hurry it along. He wants to take it slow. He wants you to stew–stew in your fear and anguish and the realization that you are a small, stupid insignificant thing and this clown (but It is not a clown) is stronger and older and–

Right in front of you now.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I read that "he holds the credit card above Engels head and tells her to only buy the necessities"... but what if she doesn't???

What if Engel just goes on a huge shopping spree and only uses his card. She's like, "You said you wanted to be the beard winner of the household anyway😇". And like she calls him her "sugar daddy" as a joke sometimes.

Ok this is from ages ago and got buried in my drafts, sorry!

König does not want to be called daddy :(( Or does he...?

CW: Smut 18+ only, daddy kink (?), flustered König

The shopping spree wouldn't make him angry. He wouldn't even be surprised: after all, that's what women do sooner or later if you give them your credit card. But rules are rules, and he has to take the card away for a bit now. He'll give it back when has to leave you again, don't worry, but it's on ice for now. He ends up scolding you softly, in the middle of the piles of all the new stuff you just showed him.

"I'll let it go this once, Engel. These are nice things you bought. But remember what I said: too much sugar is bad for you."

You look up at him like the most innocent being on this earth, clasp your hands together, and blink.

"But I thought you're my sugar daddy...?"

"Was... Was–What did you call me?" König almost chokes on his words.

"It's... It's just a joke," you try, not expecting a reaction like this at all. König simply scoffs and marches out of the room, credit card safely tucked away in one of his pockets. You can only look at his departing form, baffled and confused: König has never left you like this, like you just one-upped him.

He's on edge the rest of the evening and the better part of the night, too, tense and frustrated after his latest work patch and especially after you called him your sugar daddy. But that doesn't mean König doesn't seek comfort from you come nightfall.

And he always says you're lovely and cute when he makes love to you, even now when he's sweaty and slightly bothered, turning you around from position to position as if he's been away for too long and wants to feel all of you in one go.

"Am I your good girl...?" You whimper while looking up, doting and adoring while König is working you both into a frustrated release.

But the thing you can never get past is that he says you're cute.

He says it while his balls slap against you, while they get slick and slippery with your wet, he says you're cute when your cheeks pang with heat and your lips part, swollen and breathless, he says you're cute when he sees how your eyes can't even focus anymore because he's giving it to you so good.

"Of course you are," he coos back, "you're my good girl. My silly, sweet angel... Always so sweet for me."

He says you're good and sweet and cute, you're warm and make him so happy, how you're such an angel. And he holds your hand while he does it, kissing you while he destroys you with his cock, while you're breathless and brainless and about to cry and then, well... It just slips.

"Please, I'm gonna cum," you moan in his mouth, needy and about to break. "Please, please, please, daddy…"

He fucks up the rhythm of his thrusts, stopping only a few inches away from orgasm.

"Don't...call me that…!" He stutters through clenched teeth, all his tender cooings forgotten. Then he picks up the pace and loves you until you squirm on the bed, until you arch your back as you cum, helpless and wet and mewling around his cock. It's one of those orgasms that make you forget your name and his name too, your long moans and cries surely reaching even the neighboring houses where people are trying to sleep.

"You little–" he rumbles in your neck, still catching his breath. "What has gotten into you...?"

You don't know if König is pleased or furious when cums only seconds after you, balls pressed flush against you and weeks worth of longing shot inside you with a series of desperate grunts. He goes slack after that and collapses on top of you, sweaty and spent and powerful heart slamming against your ribs.

Poor man's world has gone off its axis twice this day, and you giggle a little, hugging him while he's there, still deep inside of you. You really shouldn't push it with your jokes, but you just can't help it. König is so easy to tease.

[icedmetaltea]

@laymedowntorest now that I know I have the power to draw shippy stuff with ur OCs I knew I had to use it for evil (Also I'm using a new drawing tablet + clip paint studio for the first time so sorry if everything looks wonky, I'm just beginning to figure everything out)

[iguessigotta]

Eddie gluskin with a pregnant darling maybe

you know what's funny about Eddie Gluskin being one of my faves? i am terrified of pregnancy just headcanons for now - this ended up being more an exploration of the inherent horror of this situation than anything shippy, whoops. also kind of an au where Waylon does not survive his encounter with Eddie 18+ just in case CW: injuries, noncon, hostage, pregnancy, suicide mention cannibalism(?) probably more i missed. (no r*** - it is alluded to tho) i mean it's Eddie. the man is a walking billboard for "dead dove do not eat" ok lmao

being Eddie’s darling wife was a living nightmare

you’d been one of the few employees allowed near Eddie, and he’d developed a….thing…for you. well, not you, really, more the idea of you

and when the Mount Massive asylum fell into chaos, you were one of the unlucky people trapped inside

when Eddie found you he was quick to make his image of you your new reality

whether you wanted it or not

you’d initially fought him at every turn. unfortunately, Eddie had a temper, and was prone to snapping with no warning

you’d learned that lesson the hard way - your forearm was still in a makeshift splint, a dull ache where he’d fractured the bone in a fit of anger. or had he broken it? you weren’t sure. all you knew is it hurt like hell and made it nearly impossible for you to fight back

after that incident, you thought keeping your head down and quietly obeying him was the smart choice. that you’d be safe enough to ride out this mess until someone arrived to help

you had to believe that someone was coming. you told yourself you’d be rescued within the week, that there was no way a facility as large as Mount Massive could go down in flames like this without someone noticing

days turned into weeks, weeks into months (how many had it been? 3? 4?)

every night you sat, ankles bound to your chair at the end of some wobbly, bloodstained table, Eddie at the opposite end, a makeshift dinner spread between the two of you

occasionally there would be some sort of meat among the sawdust-flavored rations - Eddie was always vague when you asked him what kind of meat it was 

you resisted for the first month, but your resolve broke a week into the second, the hunger pains driving you to tears and forcing you to make a choice

so you ate. and you tried not to think about where he got it from

it was like the two of you playing some sick game of house

Eddie kept a close eye on you when he was around, restraining you when he wasn’t

you’d be tied to a chair. strapped down on your back atop some bloodstained hospital mattress. arms bound behind you, tied to a support beam and forced to sit on the cold concrete floor

all of it was miserable

Eddie said it was for your safety, but you knew better. especially after he’d found you with a knife you’d managed to get your hands on. he’d stopped you from trying to slash your own throat, spewing some bullshit about his darling preferring death over a blissful life as the proud mother of his many, many children 

 he wasn’t going to let you leave him in any way

some part of you thought about pleading with Eddie to “think of the baby” and untie you - but that only reminded you that you were, in fact, pregnant

and it was starting to show

whatever mental energy you could spare went to trying (and failing) to block that fact out of your mind

you felt like you were trapped in two horror stories simultaneously - one, enduring whatever Eddie decided to do to you on a daily basis, and two, the unwanted life growing inside you against your will

not to mention the mental anguish of what to do after the…birth. would you even survive that? would you want to? 

should  you try to raise and protect it? or would it be more merciful if you…

it was a horrifying decision to make, one that you flinched away from whenever you found yourself thinking about it

every day you wondered if it would be better to piss him off, have him kill you in a fit of rage. it wouldn't be hard to do, but for some reason the knowledge that you were pregnant stopped you

well, you told yourself, at least you got to skip Eddie’s “operation table”. all the men who came before you weren’t so lucky, if the video on that camera you found was to be believed….

[aphroditelovesu]

You can make a love letter from yandere Elijah Mikaelson where he expresses his jealousy towards his brother Klaus, because he has a relationship with the woman he loves and they are starting a family since his beloved has just given birth to his niece Hope and Elijah is jealous of the family that Klaus formed with his beloved and Elijah wishes he were in his brother's place.

author's note: this is very specific... And I love it ❤️

Dear (Y/N),

I don't even know why I'm writing this letter because I know I won't send it, but I need to get rid of these bad feelings somehow and writing was the way that attracted me the most. I write this letter with a heavy heart, a tormented soul, and an anguish that can no longer be contained.

My destiny is linked to yours in a way that transcends all barriers. I love you with an intensity that cannot be ignored, a love that burns more fiercely with each passing day.

My heart is torn to witness the happiness you share with my brother, Klaus. He, who always knew how to get hold of everything he desired, now possesses not only your heart but also the precious gift of the family that you brought into the world. Little Hope is a constant reminder of the life you've built together, and it's impossible for me not to feel envy, not to feel the bitter taste of jealousy.

I can't help but imagine how different it would be if I were in Klaus' shoes. If I were the man with whom you shared your life, your dreams, and your children. Believe me, I would do anything to be that child's father, to wake up every morning by your side, to be the one to warm your heart.

Forgive me for expressing my feelings in such an intense and obsessive way. You deserve only joy and love, and I owe you the truth. I promise to keep this pain stored in the deepest corner of my soul, and I will continue to be the loyal and protective uncle and friend I have always been.

With eyes filled with tears that I will never dare to shed in front of you, I wish you, Klaus, and Hope all the peace and joy you deserve.

With deepest love and regret,

Elijah Mikaelson.

[morguemaw]

Wait, so about the romance movie you mentioned in Lusttale Alphys’ headcanons (Mew Mew Kissy Cuties), is the role of Mad Mew Mew now those two girls? Or is it just one of them?

Mew Mew is still the main character! Though the second girl is her love interest :3 The plot goes that Mew Mew is a girl trying to find her true love/whilst understanding her own emotions centered around love/admiration (her "mad" part is when her love interest is brought up, she gets so flustered she gets angry abt it)

The girl in question is a dove! Who Mew Mew (and Alphys) think is a form of cupid, Mew Mew (or Kissy) goes on countless adventures centered around this, such as ice cream dates, which are her favorite!

sorta thinking Lovey does fuel these ideas of her being a cupid, because it makes her happy to see Mew Mew happy! They both are in a non-confirmed yet obvious relationship, if its brought up they get sorta flustered like "HRRM HRRM I MEAN HRRM I MEAN HRRRRRMM"

[killemwithkawaii]

I’m about to try and draw my own version of Sal so I’m pulling together a bunch of drawings of what people think his face looks like, instead I accidentally made a photo collage of Sal (I own none of this art but also don’t know who all they belong to aside from yours in the top left corner, but credit to everyone who drew these-)

>Guys please admire this Yan!wall of our favorite darling blue boy with me for a minute... 🥺📸💙💙💙

>Off the top of my head, I know the very bottom left drawing of Sal in a beanie/skirt is by verymerryart (link to her insta bc she's not very active here), but if anybody else wants to help identify the artists, please chime in!

>Hope you've been having tons of fun drawing your own version of Sal! Since his face is mostly up to interpretation, it's always a lot of fun to see the variety of designs that different artists come up with for it c: (My only request is that you make it nice and fucked up, but otherwise PLEASE take whatever self-indulgent liberties your little heart desires...~ 🎨💖)

[cannibalistic-suggestions]

You don't understand. I am so in love with you. I need you.

I've cried until my eyes burned and my throat was raw, at the thought of you not being mine, and at the reality that you have no idea how far my infatuation goes. Not even an acknowledgement of the fact. You're just that oblivious, which rides between the lines of being sweetly endearing and frustratingly maddening.

I know society wouldn't approve of it. I know the others would be horrified if they knew, if they found any evidence that pointed to what happened. They'd worry for you. Ridiculous. Only I can worry for you. And I already know, this was the only way. This had to happen. I would've cried harder if it hadn't, I can't imagine it having ended any other way. You don't understand how much I needed it.

We HAD to be together! We were made to be! Why couldn't you notice that sooner?!

I didn't just want to be by your side like a delicate accessory. I didn't just want to spend time with you in the way lovers do on a warm summer night. My love goes deeper, so much deeper, I needed more. You wouldn't have understood.

It was fun, the weeks I had you confined to our own private paradise. Locked away for safekeeping, so you wouldn't escape. But it was torturous to myself, even: keeping myself on edge, denying myself what I truly wanted to do to you. I won't forget how lovely your scared-yet-sensual screams were, the marks I made on your skin; gentle bruises and bloody scars that, I'm sure must've hurt, but nowhere near how much my heart had been hurting for your love.

My heart was racing, my vision blurry, my tongue ached, and I could never not drool from thinking about it. I dreamed of it since Day One, as wrong as most people would presume it was. I've always known my love wasn't content at staying harmless, I knew my love would grow to be more violent. And I knew what I had to do: I had to eat you. Not just in the sexual way, the literal way. I wouldn't—couldn't—be happy until I was chewing on chunks of your soft flesh. Until I spilled your warm blood on my bare body, exciting me and stirring something within. Until I was stripping the skin, peeling it away from tendons and bones, touching your interior as gently as I had your exterior.

So I did, on one particular evening. You poor thing, you had no idea what was coming. I took my time, because it's rude to wildly gobble everything up in one sitting like a starving animal. It took several days, but I did it. I ate every last trace of you left, cutting up your body carefully. Measuring the serving sizes of your corpse, though I did treat myself to a bit more than usual on some days—I just couldn't help myself. The taste, the flavor...

Now there's people wondering where you've gone. It's unusual, it's unlike you, they say. I can only smile innocently and say I know nothing when they ask. They're the ones who don't need to know anything. Why does it matter to them? You're fully mine now, I've made sure of it. You'll never be anyone else's. Ever.

I still sigh happily when I think of it. You have no idea how happy this has made me. You wouldn't have understood. ♥

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Still establishing some more lore and feelings. Currently, the Batfamily has two yanderes. With more yandere’s being revealed outside of Gotham and some in Gotham about to start falling into obsession. Also, my favorite Reader is one who is manipulated into thinking the collar around their neck is a necklace. Will be working on Part Three, but it might take longer because we have obsessions starting and Reader starting to get to a breaking point.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Poor Reader has it rough. Not too rough, but still life kinda sucks and they wanna go home now, please and thank you.

But, as always, things start to brighten up a notch or two.

Reader is thriving at school, sure they can’t hang out with their friends, but their friends understand (which honestly kinda odd, but they’ll roll with it)

There is a small issue.

Reader is a metahuman. (I know, shocking. So unique.)

Reader controls the weather, at will or with extreme emotions (oooooo interesting)

Back in their hometown, Reader didn’t have to hide said abilities that much. (Hell, more than a few people knew about it. Such an understanding community.)

Here in Gotham, in a practical stranger’s house, they’re not gonna to that.

Which is fine. Fine fine fine

Okay, so Reader is tense. Doesn’t have a healthy outlet, and is bottling things up. So that storms brewing. Gonna be fun when that comes back to bite Reader in the ass.

But, things are looking up. (I swear this time!)

Duke and Cass are hanging out with Reader more. They’re sorta becoming a trio of amigos.

Though, they do disappear often. For long periods of time.

Reader is pretty sure Bruce is Batman, at this point.

They’re not stupid, it’s in their damn genetics to be somewhat intelligent, so to speak.

But, no one actually tells reader. It’s lead to some awkward situations of them going silent when Reader enters the room, or the manor being unusually empty after everyone went to the ‘library’.

(Smalltown doesn’t mean stupid, bunch of jerks.)

It just makes reader feel even less like they’re part of the family. Even Alfred disappears for a time, leaving Reader completely alone with nothing, but portraits and old wood furniture.

No one says anything. No one mentions a single thing. (Am I not worthy of the secret? Why did you drag me here only to ignore me?)

Bruce continue to bounce between ignoring and coddling. Yet gets upset if Reader does the same. (Making them anxious.)

Dick pops back in, immediately showering Reader and excessive amounts of affection before shooing them off cause he’s gotta take care of somethings. (It makes reader feel like a pet in a degrading way.)

Jason gets caught harassing Reader by Alfred. Which leads to a screaming match between Jason and Bruce. It’s a violent one, but Alfred drags Reader out of the room before they can see. (But they hear things breaking and It’s terrifying.)

After that, Reader is extremely cautious around Jason. Which for some reason makes him angry and more violent. (Why does he hate me? This is scary.)

Stephanie starts to come around. Slowly. They’re getting there. (Stephanie still prefers to hangout with Tim and Tim…)

Tim ignores Reader the most. Will not talk to Reader at all. Which sucks because Teader thinks they would total get along. (But, nope. All they get is the cold shoulder.)

Reader just avoids Damian like the plague.

Reader talks more often to her other half-brother living miles away than the one she’s currently living with. (That’s gonna piss Damian off later)

While Barbara remains cordial.

Life is moving on. We’re good. Everything’s good.

Wait? Gotham Academy is having its own student Gala? That sounds amazing! Getting dolled up, having a night with friends. Maybe…. Having a date escort them….

And the best part is, Bruce says Reader can go.

Now, Cass and Duke and Damian won’t be going. Which is a bummer, but Reader understands.

Bruce even buys reader something to wear.

An obnoxious designer outfit. (A couture ruffle monstrosity that’s all the rage on the runway.)

It’s so terrible you have to laugh. (Just to hide how upsetting it is that no one actually knows what you like here or bothers to ask.)

Reader even shows Stephanie and they share a laugh. (It’s great. Reader needed that laugh.)

But, there’s no way Reader is going to wear this. So, Reader calls their childhood friend and favorite fashion designer.

Commissioning a more mature outfit. (Reader is almost grown, time to take a break from the ruffles and embrace the sexy.)

BFF comes through and then a week later someone shows up at Wayne Manor. (Damn that was fast.)

Someone from Reader’s hometown, and this starts to set things in motion.

BFF’s older brother, Reader’s childhood crush, shows up holding a dress and driving Daddy’s old truck. Which he hands Reader the keys too.

Nana and Grand Daddy, the Step Grandparents, wanted to surprise reader with a gift from home. (Remind Reader how much better living in a smalltown is compared to somewhere like Gotham. How much their town adores them and misses them.)

Poor oblivious Reader. Not realizing their smalltown is so desperate to have them back. (Reader was their’s first, they know Reader best.)

Nor how desperate Gotham is going to be to make force reader to stay.

[banj0possum]

Sweet Hero Of Mine

Yandere! Antihero x GN! Hero! Reader

im back little stinkers <333

Edit!! Nsfw mentions removed! Replaced with..Elias being a dork ?

CW: Stalking, Creep behavior, Suggestive talk about reader, slight masochism

🪲 Elias was never into the whole Superhero thing.

🪲 He hated the constant swarming of reporters and fans screaming for his attention. He didn't want to be treated like a celebrity; he just wants to fight crime where people refuse to help.

🪲 That's why he avoided ever displaying himself like that. He preferred to stay in the shadows and kept his deeds out of the picture, but there are always rats scurrying around ready for another big scoop.

🪲 He could only scoff amusingly as he sees his little escapade last night being reported on tv with a blurry photo of him on the rooftops with the words "Mysterious Vigilante Strikes Again!"

🪲 He can admit, seeing them being so absorbed in what he does is pretty entertaining, he can feel his ego go up a bit.

🪲 Soon enough he gets tired of the incessant yap of interviewees talking about him and reaches for the remote.

🪲 His body freezes though when the reporter mentions some 'new hero' and he turns back to the TV.

🪲 His eyes are blessed with the cutest sight of a person dressed in a hero outfit with a logo on their chest. Their warm smile seems to radiate happiness as they talk to the reporter. Is this the new hero they've been talking about recently?

🪲 They ask for their opinion on the vigilante situation and he almost melts over their soft voice.

🪲 "I believe this guy has good intentions. Which is great and all but if it's endangering people and their properties, I think it's time they think about how running around and punching people in a suit isn't being heroic, it's being obnoxious!"

🪲 There goes his ego..

🪲 And perhaps his clean pants..

🪲 He starts researching all about this new hero. Who do they think they are?! This little brat has to be taught a lesson!

🪲 He stalks your social media, every fan account, every news atricl about your deeds, everything.

🪲 For for blackmail of course! Maybe he can find some dirt on you..in this fan account that makes thirst edits of you..

🪲 Soon enough he starts tracking you and your appearances. Every fight with a villain or any burning building with people that need saving, he's there with a high-grade camera that can snap all the rips and tears in your suit...for blackmail!

🪲 He's real happy that he wore a trench coat to your most recent battle or else everyone would have probably seen his growing boner whenever you throw a punch that connected to your opponent.

🪲 He's combing through the photos he took of you and shivers over your sweaty form and aggressive face.

🪲 He imagines meeting you, perhaps having a battle of his own, being pinned down by you, having your arms grappling and squeezing on his body. Perhaps you'd even say something degrading to him with that sweet voice of yours..

🪲 So that's what he does.

🪲 You were doing some last-minute night patrols after a long day of crime fighting and interviews when you hear a deep gravelly voice behind you.

🪲 "Hey there hero~"

🪲 You look back and see a large muscular man in a suit that looked like the armor of some insect.

🪲 "Huh, didn't expect to meet you here vigilante!" I joke.

🪲 "Oh please, call me Beetle~" He smirks as he walks closer to you. God you're even cuter in person..

🪲 "Well, Beetle, you are aware that you're kinda sorta wanted for a lotta stuff right?"

🪲 "Is it worse than the shit those pieces of scum done? Unlike youre pretty little ass I'm actually gettin bad guys off the streets.~" He teases, putting a hand on the wall and leaning close to your face. He's trying not to swoon over your stern face.

🪲 "Unlike you, I'm keeping people safe! Although I do commend your...unique sense of justice.."

🪲 *internal squealing*

🪲 He's a little surprised that you're so nice, unlike some other douchey heroes he knows.

🪲 He lets out a chuckle "That's new..Thanks goody-two-shoes.."

🪲 You give him a teasing face "Hey I'm not that much of an angel!"

🪲 "Oh~? Well o me you are, sweet hero of mine~"

🪲 You two become quick friends, even having missions together.

🪲 His obsession got worse from there.

🪲 Riding in your superhero vehicle, he rarely looks anywhere but at you driving, explaining to him the mission that he barely cares about other than the fact that it's an excuse to be with you.

🪲 Every time you take his hand to lead him somewhere, he makes sure to burn the feeling into his mind. Oftentimes he's the one doing whatever it takes to have physical contact with you, but it's way better whenever you initiate it.

🪲 You love taking pictures together. Of course he never smiles when you take one but when he's back at home, he's staring at it with the biggest, goofiest grin.

🪲 He loves taking pictures too, only he prefers ones with you and you alone. Sometimes it would be things you like so he wouldn't forget.

🪲 You blush, flattered over him remembering your favorite drink.

🪲 He'd memorize anything you say and put it in a top secret file named "My Love"

🪲 Oh my god please degrade him jokingly.

🪲 Bully him, push him around, be playfully rough with him!! Sure it's all in good fun but he's feeding his guilty pleasure whenever you treat him like shit while also being so sweet to him.

🪲 Pull him down suddenly by his suit's collar whenever you want to whisper something to him or show him something, he loves it. Although be warned, he might moan a little..

🪲 He's crazy for you, insane even, bonkers almost!!

🪲 He comes home seeing you in a superhero gala at one of the fanciest buildings in the city.

🪲 The bone-breaking grip on his beer bottle almost cracks the bottle when he sees you being accompanied by some other hero.

🪲 They're being all close with you and making you laugh, he can feel his jealousy rise within his body at the sight of your adorable smile, one that wasn't because of his jokes, his company!

🪲 Maybe it's about time he gives this superhero thing a try..

[mosaickiwi]

MC/Angel relaxing with Fox Ren giving him all the smooches and cuddles~!!! Or daily life with Redacted with MC/Angel as a house spouse teehee~!!!

Kinda sorta combined them oopsies teehee <3 <3 da best fluffy boi

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Literal Domestic Fluff~

You’d been busy since Ren left to patrol the territory early that morning. With him out of the way, cleaning up was admittedly easier. The kitchen was spotless, paw prints in the hallways scrubbed away, and the laundry almost finished. A scant few linens fresh from the dryer lay in the basket at your feet, one being carefully folded as you lounged in your favorite window seat to bask in the setting sun.

You paused to bring the warm fabric up to your face. The pleasant floral scent of the detergent was nice, but nothing compared to the fresh mountain air you’d finally gotten used to over the months. You opened the window all the way to let in a breeze.

Something immediately felt different, almost relaxing about the faintly cool air flowing past. It took a moment to realize the real source of the calm that washed over you.

A familiar presence was running through the sparse trees that lined the farthest edge of the garden. Before you could even call their name, he was making leaps and bounds on pink-toed paws to cross the short expanse of greenery between you. In a matter of seconds the ethereal fox morphed into a shape closer to human as they approached, though the tails and ears stayed in place. He came to a skittering halt outside the window.

“Angel!” Ren excitedly spoke as he reached up to you, a sparkle to his pale blue eyes. 

You dropped the blanket and leaned over the window sill to take hold of his outstretched hand, placing a quick kiss to his forehead for good measure. For once, you were the one towering over him—if only by a few centimeters. “Hi, Ren,” you said with a smile.

His excitement only seemed to intensify at your affections. Nine fluffy tails began to wag in delight while you carded your other hand through his hair. “I missed you.”

“Really? I couldn't tell,” you teased, waving away a couple stray leaves and flower petals from his pointed ears. “I missed you, too.”

Your bonded partner immediately flushed pink at your response, then something caught his attention that made his nose wrinkle. “Are you okay? Was it too cold while I was gone?” 

You weren't sure what he meant until you followed his gaze to the disheveled blanket next to you on the cushioned seat. You shook your head to calm him down. “Just doing laundry.”

He was hesitant to accept your answer, but the second kiss you pressed to his lips seemed to distract him well enough. Ren stood up straighter, determined to make it last as long as possible. Shivers ran up your spine when his fingers carefully settled along the base of your neck to keep you steady. 

Though you weren't quite finished, you were forced to pull away and breathe. “Hmm, maybe I am a little cold. We should—hey!” you suddenly laughed, gently pushing them back. He was practically crawling through the window to reach you at the mere suggestion of cuddling. “Let me finish up, okay? Just a few minutes. And use the front door.”

His ears fell flat in embarrassment as he nodded and settled down. No longer crowding the window, but still on his toes to better see what you were doing.

You took your time folding the blanket and what was left in the basket. It was hard to ignore the focused gaze of the man, nor the way he noticeably perked up once you finished folding something, only to pout at the next piece of fabric you grabbed. With a little less willpower you would've abandoned the laundry far sooner to give them all of your focus.

Eventually, you had a neat and tidy pile of sheets to put away. A quick peek from the corner of your eye in their direction was enough to alert him. He bolted from the window in an instant, just for you to hear him loudly sprinting through the villa’s many hallways seconds later. There was barely any time to stand up before you were scooped up in their arms.

He nuzzled into your neck with an almost desperate sigh as he mumbled, “I’m sorry I was away for so long, beloved.” You could faintly feel his teeth nipping at the skin above your collarbone. “Y’smell different.”

“Huh? Oh.” You made a mental note to find a scentless laundry detergent on your next outing into town. Maybe it would bother him less.

The warmth of his silky tails enveloped you, barely tickling you when they brushed back and forth over your form. As he carried you from the room, tucked safely close to their chest, you happily gave them the attention they’d been waiting for.

[merakiui]

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”  

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle. 

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you. 

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer. 

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

[twstowo]

Oyo, um I read one of your fics and it was rlly good. I'm pretty sure it was one of the 'they end up another universe twst' fics. They're rlly juicy BTW

I was thinking like...what happened if otherverse bois met normalverse yuu and they actually start liking them? Sorta yandere-ish type stuff to the point where they don't wanna leave normalverse yuu? (Yes, I've been calling normal yuu 'normalverse' yuu bc it makes a bit of sense lmao)

Understandable if you're a bit uncomfy with this :)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

♡︎This is quite an interesting idea! I had though about it once but since you asked now I'm really going to write it! Also I'm not the best with yandere themes so I hope this is good enough!

♡︎Includes: OB! Characters

♡︎Warning: Malleus's part made me kinda sad, IM SO SORRY MALLEUS LOVERS. Also all of them need therapy.

[AU Masterlist]

NV - Normalverse (Thank you for the idea Anon!)

First things first, in general, I believe that they would understand that you aren’t the same person from their Universe, however, this wouldn’t excuse the fact that every time they see your face they are thrown back to your relationship back in their world, which to say the least is not the best.

⋆⋅☆Riddle

There would be no doubt that he would dislike you intensely. Moreover, the fact that this Riddle would be even worse than the pre-overblot Riddle in the NV would put you in a difficult position.

The first time he spots you, he would be blinded by rage and probably try to behead you. Fortunately, Trey and Cater quickly save you, taking you as far away as possible from Tyrant Riddle.

He will do anything to find you, and he will have no tolerance for your actions. At the slightest inconvenience you cause, he will be right behind you, ready to tell you how much of an annoyance you are.

But you catch on to his game pretty quickly, so you counter him by being the very definition of perfection. You make sure not to break a single rule and set an example for everyone around you, and by the Sevens, that only makes him even angrier.

But is he really angry? He can’t deny that he feels slightly impressed. Among everyone else at this strange college, you are the only one who comes close to reaching the level of perfection he demands.

Slowly, he finds himself growing fonder of you. He starts thinking about bringing you back with him once he finds a way to return to his universe. You’d fit perfectly in the castle with him, and he’s certain his mother would have approved of you.

⋆⋅☆Leona

When it comes to Leona, he is more annoyed with the NV version of you than anything else. After all, you were always pestering him about being lazy and irresponsible. He had been plotting to have you exiled once he took the throne by killing his brother.

So, the first time he spots you, he's ready to turn around and leave, not wanting to hear your nagging. But that doesn’t happen. You speak to him as if he were a normal person, with no harsh words, and even smile at him when you finish talking.

Is he seeing things? Why are you so different in this universe? And why is he enjoying this new kind of attention so much?

Yet, he remains rude, constantly sending glares your way. He firmly believes you're trying to trick him into something malicious.

Still, you bring him lunch and talk about your day. You are strangely kind, something he never thought he would experience, especially from you. You are the first person ever to treat him like this.

Slowly, something starts to shift inside him. Your attention becomes something he craves, and he starts becoming obsessed, to the point where he checks if you give the same treatment to others.

And if you do, he makes sure they are out of the picture the next time you look for them. He will ensure that you have only him to turn to, to talk about your day, and to give your full attention.

⋆⋅☆Azul

OH NO! He’s had enough of your antics ruining his business! Azul puts up a sign with your face and a red cross over it in front of the Monster Lounge. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED IN!

Floyd and Jade find this absolutely hilarious and watch as you stroll into the Monster Lounge without a care in the world. (You’re literally that meme: "This sign won’t stop me, because I can’t read.") They don’t even try to stop you, they’re far too entertained by the thought of seeing how this new Azul will react to the chaos.

Let’s just say that Azul quickly learns the hard way that you aren’t here to ruin his business. Instead, you seem determined to ruin his reputation by being overly affectionate and making him squirm with your sweet words in front of all his clients, no less.

He tries to distance himself, avoiding your gaze and setting boundaries, but you keep coming back. In that, you remind him of the version of you from his own universe.

And for some reason, he finds that persistence very attractive. He can’t deny that, before you decided to ruin his business, he used to have a slight crush on you back then.

But now, you aren’t trying to ruin his business. Quite the contrary, you’re a magnet for attention, constantly drawing more customers to the Mostro Lounge.

Slowly, Azul starts losing himself in this fantasy: you and him, together, expanding his business. But at a certain point, he realizes he’s thinking more about you than the money the two of you could make.

He becomes determined to keep you by his side, even if his business suffers because of it. If all it takes to have you is tarnishing a bit of his reputation, then he’s willing to do it.

⋆⋅☆Jamil

By the Seven, he was already annoyed that Kalim was here, but you too? This was about to be the worst day of his life, two incredibly annoying people threatening to ruin his plans.

He keeps his distance, but when you spot him, he’s about to tell you to go find someone else to bother. Then, you say something completely unexpected: you’re actually annoyed by Kalim’s antics.

You? Annoyed? At Kalim?

He’s taken aback. In his universe, you and Kalim were inseparable friends, always together. But the you from this place is actually bothered by him? He doesn’t even need to know why you’re annoyed. Just the fact that someone finally agrees with him about Kalim makes him incredibly happy.

He enjoys it when you come to him with your frustrations. Whether you’re irritated by Kalim’s constant gifts or his endless parties in your honor, because you feel overwhelmed, Jamil is always there to listen. He savors your complaints, and he’s quick to add his own criticisms about Kalim, which only deepens your dislike for him.

As time goes on, you start finding comfort in Jamil’s presence. His understanding and validation make him seem like a refuge from the chaos that Kalim brings. You begin to rely on him more, and Jamil can’t help but enjoy how your dislike for Kalim boosts his own ego.

Jamil starts subtly shaping your view of Kalim. By reinforcing your negative feelings and positioning himself as your only true ally, he ensures that you depend on him more. He carefully creates situations where he appears better compared to Kalim, making himself seem like the perfect match for you.

Jamil feeds off your growing dislike for Kalim. Your negative feelings towards Kalim seem to boost his ego, and he finds himself loving your voice even more.

You deserve someone who truly understands you, and Jamil believes he’s that person. He’s confident that he’d be the perfect match for you.

⋆⋅☆Vil

There you are, Neige’s number one fan. He doesn’t even look in your direction, you aren’t worth it. Shouldn’t you be with him, guarding him like the lapdog you are?

Vil has to admit that at least you seem more elegant here. You look more relaxed and gentle, but maybe you were always like that back then. Perhaps he was just too focused on Neige to notice you.

Or maybe this version of you from this universe is simply sweeter and kinder. Perhaps here, you don’t make Neige your whole identity and actually treat Vil like a person rather than just competition for Neige.

Vil is intrigued, he finds you interesting, even. There’s a charm to you that brings him comfort. When he learns that you’re not that close to Neige here, he finds himself feeling pleased. And when you tell him that you find him “oh so much more beautiful,” he realizes that you might not be so bad after all.

Then he becomes attentive to your habits, your likes and dislikes, he memorizes every time you express any small detail about yourself only to use these as a way to create more opportunities to be closer to you. He brings up things you’ve mentioned in passing, showing how attentive he is to your likes and dislikes. His compliments become more personal, always tied to something he knows you value.

He loves especially when you talk so sweetly about him, or when he overhears you telling others how beautiful you think he is.

So whenever you mention Neige in a good way he becomes jealous, you should be exclusively devoted to him, he should be the only thing that crosses your mind and he was to make sure you only see him as your number one option.

He’s determined to make you see him as your everything, and he’ll stop at nothing to ensure that you’re his, completely and utterly.

⋆⋅☆Idia

(In here both Idia and Ortho from the AU get sent to the NV.)

Ah yes, the ruiner of fun, you.

Back in his world, he used to send his followers to pester you, hoping you'd leave him alone. But no matter what, you always managed to bounce back and ruin his mischievous plans. What was with you, always messing with the fun? If a person or two died, who would even care?

But this version of you seems so much more into the chaos. He watches as you join in Ace's dumb ideas or get excited when Ortho prepares to blast off half the school.

You actually seem like someone who would join in his schemes now, and he'd love to have some help.

Howver the idea of you laughing, scheming, or enjoying yourself with anyone else starts to eat away at him. He starts sabotaging your interactions with others, asking for Ortho’s help to keep Ace busy with other things, making sure you spend more time with him.

He starts sending Ortho on missions to monitor your every move, always keeping tabs on who you’re with and what you’re doing. If anyone tries to get too close to you, they mysteriously vanish from the scene, often without you even noticing.

Everything feels so perfect when the two of you are together, you don’t need anyone else just like he doesn’t need anyone else.

⋆⋅☆Malleus

Poor Malleus had been treated badly by his crush back in his universe. You never answered the letters he sent, and he had heard that all the little trinkets and flowers were returned because you didn’t want any of them.

So when this version of you from this strange new place treats him with such devotion, such kindness, and accepts his small gifts, even inviting him to spend time with you, he can hardly believe what’s happening.

This was essentially a dream come true for him. He wonders if it had been you he sent all those letters to, whether you would have written him back with the same excitement.

Why, then, hadn’t this lovely and perfect version of you been the one in his universe? Why was he the one left unloved in his world?

He wants to take you with him. Surely, you love him, you wouldn’t be angry if he took you back to his castle. The two of you could finally do all the things he had dreamed about while gazing lovingly at the flowers he once sent you.

After all, why else would you shower him with such kindness? Why else would you invite him to spend time with you? You must love him too.

[jinkicake]

YOUR ARRANGED/FORCED MARRIAGE IS SO GOOD OMG. if you’re up to it, i was wondering if you could write one for childe? ofc only if you want to <3

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope 

Childe, Scaramouche x Reader

A/N: Hi, Anon, you're so sweet!!! Thank you!! I had to add Scaramouche too bc... I simply had to (it fits so well w him) so I hope that is okay~ I kinda got carried away and made Childe sorta yandere, im sorry I love him being unhinged and it scares me in the best way like somehow scara is soft but I made childe not…. Hmmm i love childe!!!!!!

fem!reader bc I like the use of ‘wife’

WC - 1.5k

TW // SLIGHT YANDERE!CHILDE (NOT REALLY)

~~~

Childe

“If you’re thinking about going back to that kitten outside I will tie you down to our bed.” Childe’s rather calm voice strikes you down on the spot, almost as if you’ve been struck with a flash of lightning. The original plan that you had was to make a stealthy exit through the front door, you should have known better. You try to keep your frantic heart sane as you slowly turn on the tips of your toes to face him. 

Your husband is sitting in one of the couches of your front room as he thumbs through a book gifted by a friend of his in Liyue. It’s incredibly hard to not roll your eyes as he practically sits in the dark like some villain, tucked away and hoping to catch you lacking. 

“Come here.” Despite his soft voice, you can tell that he is not in the mood to play with you. You clench your teeth painfully tight and wordlessly head to stand by his side. The harbinger doesn’t look up from his book as he blindly grabs your wrist, tightly wrapping his fingers around the two bones. He presses his touch, imprinting his fingers, into your skin as his thumb rubs comforting strokes against you. “Be more careful wife, it’s too dangerous to go out late at night.” Through your leveled breathing, you can’t help but gasp as he tugs you closer toward him. “I would hate for anything to happen to you.”

You don’t have it in yourself to tell him that the dangers inside this house put any of those outside of it to shame. 

“I know,” You settle for something that will please him, a kind phrase that will acknowledge his worries and provide him with a sense of understanding. By the narrowing of his dull eyes, you seemingly said something completely wrong.

“I don’t think you do.” Childe finally looks at you and the blank expression on his face causes a sense of fear to find root in your heart. He looks at you calculatingly as if he is planning his every move and the one that follows in his head. “How can I possibly make it clear to you?”

The vision that lights up on his hip makes your entire body freeze.

“No- I believe you, I won’t go out anymore,” In your panic, all you manage to sound is desperate. Childe ignores you.

“I really just want to protect you, don’t you understand how much you mean to me?” It’s so terribly difficult for you to focus on him as his voice is overcome with heavy emotion. Almost like a flip of a switch, the thought of losing you breaks his sanity and pushes him to a dark edge. “Oh, ангел (angel), you must listen to me,”

You’ll do anything if it means you’ll never have to see him in his foul legacy form again. 

“I will, I will, I promise.” Despite all your troubles, you dryly swallow any anxious nerves down. You place your free hand over his own, slowly closing the book that Childe is reading. “жизнь  моя (my life), let’s go to bed, please.” His native language sounds heavy on your tongue and you nearly twist the muscle trying to spit the pet name out. For once, you applaud your memory and mentally thank Childe for always calling you something other than your own name. 

“Right,” Childe puts the book on the coffee table before rising to his towering height, he stands above you with a sweet smile on his face. Despite the warm expression, you nearly start to break into a sweat at the lack of feeling seen in his eyes. “I am rather tired. We can finish this in the morning.”

“Of course,” You struggle to give him a smile back and choose to instead place a kiss on the back of his knuckles. Childe greedily bathes in your affections as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. 

“You know that I love you, жена (wife),” His voice now sounds uncharacteristically vulnerable, it quickly smothers over any of your fear and hostility and causes your heartstrings to twinge with adoration. “I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you.” 

Perhaps you are just as far gone off the deep end as he is because, above all else, you feel safest in his arms and sheer terror in his presence. 

“I will always protect you with my life. If I must, I will kill for you, Родна́я (dear).”

Scaramouche 

“You can’t be serious.” In all the years you’ve been married to Scaramouche, there have been multiple times when you thought him to be ridiculous. This situation is by far the most ridiculous of them all. Above everything else, the Harbinger is a drama king.

“I will not have my wife being accompanied by another man.” His anger is laughable, you’ve seen the true extent of it but, it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s glaring at you from under his too-large-of-a-hat.

“I wouldn’t have to be accompanied at all if you just let me go by myself,” Your reasoning does not get through to him.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He snaps and the bite isn’t even strong, you already expected this from him. “As if I could let you out of my sight for a minute,”

In the worst way possible, your husband is attached to you with no desire to let you go. Although he tries with his affections and will lovingly pet your hair with an awkward hand, he still stumbles over his own two feet when around you. 

“I want to visit Mondstadt for their Windblume festival, you promised me that we would go.” You’re stubborn in your ways and are unwilling to let Scaramouche forget his first and foremost obligations to you. “I am going with or without you.” 

Your husband glares at you, eyes narrowed in frustration as he clenches and unclenches his fists. All you do is stand patiently and wait for his fit to end. 

“Fine.” He grunts and quickly writes a note on his desk, you excitedly wait for him as he hands the note to one of the guards outside his door. It’s only when he closes his office door again and it’s the two of you alone inside that you run to him with open arms. 

“I’m so excited!” You gush and gush while squeezing your arms around his waist. Scaramouche pats you back as he tips his hat to cover more of his face, he quietly scoffs through your cheers. 

If he had an ounce of courage to stand up to you the way he does the other Harbingers, the way he just told Dottore to fuck off through a simple note, then perhaps the puppet would have some control in his marriage. 

Much to your delight, he does not.

“What is the point of all this?” The grumpiness that Scaramouche is exuding does not go over your head. All it takes is a simple squeeze of your hand, which is tightly held within his own, to make his grumbling melt away under the Mondstadt sun. Being tucked away in the forest, away from the cozy town and any of its people is something you’ve already become accustomed to.

Whenever you travel with your husband, the two of you can’t get too close to others because of his status as a Harbinger and everything else.

“We are supposed to strengthen our relationships!” You place your basket onto the soft green grass before pulling out a blanket with one hand. Somehow you manage to spread it out and sit before ushering your husband to do the same. “Don’t you want to improve your relationship with me?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

“What is there to improve?” He turns to glare at anything but you, his hard eyes rest on the trees and then the blue sky all while you sweetly tuck his hair behind his ear. The soft action internally makes him flinch but, on the outside, all the Harbinger manages to do is blush. “You’re already perfect,” 

“Aren’t you sweet?” You tease and lean over to place a kiss on his cheek. Scaramouche pushes you away, hand resting on your shoulder before he throws the idea away and tightens his grip. The gentle smile on your face, radiating more warmth than the spring sun could ever provide him, makes the Harbinger feel a little nervous. 

You are everything to him. 

Just as he goes to kiss you, a lone dandelion flows through the air. He watches it carefully as it sneaks over your head and fades away into the distance. The entire time he is distracted, you lean over again and place a kiss on his lips. 

“Happy Windblume, my love,”

Scaramouche can’t even fight the ridiculous smile off of his face as he makes a promise about your future together. 

“We will have to do this again next year. We’ll return every year.”

[thelovelyruin]

𝖘𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : yandere choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : choso fell in love with you freshman year and it was finally time to make you his.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, love, manipulation, murder (not you!)

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 7.1K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from saccharine by jazmin bean.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! this was a request i’ve been working on for a while lol; i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Everything you do, I'm obsessed with you.

“Exciting, isn’t it?”

“Huh? I mean, yeah it’s cool.”

“Are you rushing too? I really wanna go Kappa!”

“That’s, uh, aren’t they kinda…”

“What, cunts? Yeah, I’d fit in nicely.”

When Choso first met you during rush week a couple years ago, you were an aspiring freshman looking for a sorority to pledge to, and he was a normal guy. Sorta. You’d spoken to him once and he became absolutely in love with you. Not like he hadn’t been with other girls in the past, a few relationships here or there. But you were different. Not like any other girl he’d seen. You hadn’t shared too much with him that day, but he was determined to figure out, well, everything about you.

I don't mean to scare, but you're just so cute.

It started with your name, which he’d simply just asked someone in your class. But then, Choso needed to know more, when was your birthday, were your zodiac signs compatible? He’d gotten that information from stealing your campus ID out of your purse while you two were in class together. Choso was paying really good attention to other things too though. He’d paid attention to your screen while he sat behind you, online shopping when you were supposed to be paying attention to the lecture. That’s how he found out what size you were and the brands you liked, but other things got a little trickier. He noticed the way you did your makeup, it was always so pretty, but it’s not like he knew what any of it was, so he’d slowly started stealing things out of your makeup bag. It was harder to get your perfume, though, until you reapplied it on the campus lawn one day. Pink sugar, huh? Sweet just like you. Choso wanted to be even better, he’d send you flowers with no receipt of who sent them, an array until he found your favorites. He’d pay for your food when you went out to eat, then leave to remain anonymous. He just loved seeing that smile on your face whenever he surprised you with something, always grateful, looking around to see if you could catch your secret admirer, but blushing when you realized you wouldn’t. God, you were perfect.

Lucky for you, you had actually gotten into Kappa. You walked around on this high horse though, one of those kiss-my-ass kind of attitudes. Not like anyone was gonna check you for it, well, ‘cause you were hot. Always well dressed, always groomed, always punctual. There was nothing anyone could really say about you other than you being a bitch, at least never to your face. Little did you know, Choso was your bitch. If you ever even glanced at him, he’d almost faint, and as the sophomore and junior years came and you’d gotten classes with him, he’d go back to his dorm and fuck his fist at the thought of you every day. But now, it was Senior year, and he was running out of time to make you his.

Every move you make, you're fucking sweeter than a cake.

Choso originally planned to just ask you directly, but he had to make sure it was gonna be perfect. He couldn’t leave room for error in the possibility that you weren’t interested at all. So, he’d gotten as close as possible to you. It wasn’t stalking, it was just studying an interest. He was pretty good at photography, so he got hired as a photographer for school events, such as parties or games. He’d walk around and take pictures of everyone like usual to not raise suspicion, but whenever he could, he’d snap as many pictures as he could of you, slipping them into his pocket. When there was too much going on at the party downstairs, he’d sneak upstairs to find which room was yours, for research purposes of course.

Well, that research went directly to Choso knowing which window to take pictures outside of. You were so oblivious, often leaving your curtains wide open as you just got out of the shower, dressed in nothing but a towel. Now, Choso never got a snapshot of you naked or anything like that, but the hopes of the day he could got him pretty damn hard. He’d take pictures of you walking around campus, doing fundraisers with your sorority sisters, running for the pageants that you always won, with the exception of Miss Junior, who you exposed for cheating on her boyfriend so she’d be out of the running. So, you’d won that too. You were practically perfect, Choso felt you were made for him, there was a true possibility he could nurture and care for you, allow you to let your guard down a bit and let him someone in. He imagined himself taking you out to all your favorite restaurants, he had all of them written down along with your favorite menu items. Nights in his room cuddled up watching all of the movies you liked, you’d be so excited to see all of your favorite snacks already waiting for you. You’d wear that glitter lipgloss you loved, he’d make sure you had more than enough, considering he’d already bought two tubes for whenever he made you his. He imagined making love to you, hearing you moan for him as he pleasured you, then put you on his chest as you fell asleep, resting his eyes as he held you. You two could truly be in love. 

I'd love to wipe these other bitches out, so it's just you and me.

But, you had a fucking boyfriend. It’s not like he didn’t like seeing you with other guys. He fucking hated it. Choso thought the guy was pretty scummy, he had that douchebag personality and always looked at guys like Choso like he was a piece of shit. But that asshole was truly a piece of shit. Megumi, or something like that. Choso didn’t bother doing too much digging up on him because it wasn’t gonna matter very soon. You guys had been dating since the beginning of the school year, not very long, but that didn’t stop him from talking to other girls when you weren't around. He’d forget your dates, and make you cry. Wouldn’t post you on his socials, almost pretended he was single. Choso had half a mind to stab him to death, mostly because he didn’t like the way he treated you, but also because then he wouldn’t be in the way anymore.

Then, there were your damn sorority sisters. Those bitches were definitely in the way. They took up too much of your time, making you busy every day with planning and meetings, to do what? Party and maybe, fundraise? He’d see them sometimes talking shit about you, saying you were weird or a bitch, or something else that wasn’t true about you. Choso would never say those things about you or treat you like that. You deserved someone who actually loved you and cared about you, none of these other distractions. He would give you the world, but that meant getting rid of the world you had first.

Oh, oh, this shit is scaring me…

Now, when Choso originally thought of doing this, he thought it was a little nuts. It was a little extreme, sure, but it was just an obstacle in the way to get to you. Sometimes, we do bad things for the people we love. It doesn't mean it's right, it means love is more important. 

Choso originally thought of actually stabbing Megumi like he wanted to. That fell quickly when he really considered the situation. Megumi was on the lankier side which meant it would be more tactical to get a hit in, plus he’d need to find a time he’d be alone in a discreet location to hurt him with no one noticing. Not that he’d really care if someone saw, it would just mean he wouldn’t be able to live the rest of his life with you; that was not an option. Shooting would be just as difficult, shell casings and the sound of gunfire could get him in deep. Could steal the brakes from his car, but then there was the possibility you were in it when it crashed, and for that, he’d never forgive himself. He’d need something that anyone could have done, an accident perhaps, something that wouldn’t kill Megumi, just get him out the fucking way. Then he got a little idea.

Don't wanna stick my fingers in this, or I'll start to bleed…

“Hey, Megumi!”

“Do I know you?”

“Well, we literally live on the same floor, but um, no. Anyways, wanted to talk to you about something…”

“Get on with it.”

“It’s her birthday today, your girlfriend that is.”

“Oh yeah. Well, why the fuck do you care?”

“We’re kinda close, wanted to get her something, but I’ll be too busy with classes to give it to her. Do you mind giving it to her for me?”

“You got my girlfriend a gift, bitch? What the hell’s in this box?”

“Well, that’s kind of a surprise for her…”

“Get the fuck out of my face before I beat your ass. Leave my girl alone, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

Megumi had slammed the door on him, just like that. Usually, Choso would’ve been really torn by his insult. He was pretty pissed Megumi forgot your birthday too, but how could he be pissed, truly? Not when a sweet resolution to Megumi’s shitty ways was on the horizon.

“Megumi’s like totally dead!”

“Omg, what do you mean he’s dead?”

“Well, he went to the hospital ‘cause he came down with like a fever or something? Todo said he couldn’t even talk when he found Megumi in the hallway and his eyes were all watery. The doctors said he died of, shit, what’s it called again? Whatever, like he couldn’t breathe! I don’t know what the fuck happened, but damn, really sucks, ya know?”

“Babe, I’m so sorry. To be fair, he was a dick.”

“Yeah, you’re right. He didn’t have a big one either TBH.”

Well, shit. Choso didn’t mean to kill him, not really. He knew Megumi was a fuckin’ asshole, though. Paired with someone crushin’ on his girlfriend and his ego, Choso knew Megumi was gonna open that box. And what was in it? Initially, Ricin covered the inside of the box, which when inhaled, caused damage to the respiratory system, which Megumi could technically recover from. Choso had extracted the Ricin from some castor beans. The same castor beans that were crushed inside of the cupcake sitting in the box. All 10 of them. Originally, Megumi would’ve lived, had he just thrown it away and not have been nosy, and if he did end up giving it to you, Choso would be there to intervene and he’d deal with that explanation later. But Megumi chose to be a nosy bastard, open it, AND EAT THE CUPCAKE! It was comical, really, considering Ricin can’t be found in an autopsy, so Choso got away with it. It’s okay. It had to be done. That greedy asshole got what was coming to him, and with him out of the way, Choso was cleared to enact Phase 2.

It's sweet like saccharine, what I’d do to have you sitting here next to me.

A couple of days after Megumi died, you pretty much got over it, walking about as if nothing happened. To be fair, he was cheating on you all the time, lied to you, and overall treated you like shit, so it wasn’t that hard. What Choso didn’t expect was for you to get kicked out of your sorority house.

“Listen, babe. Your dead boyfriend is really throwing off the vibe here. Plus, it’s bringing a lot of bad looks to the rest of us because it seems like you honestly don’t give a fuck that he died, and truthfully, neither do we, but damn bitch, try acting like it!”

“Please, Chapter President, I can act like I care, I just-”

“Sorry girlie. You’re still a sister, don’t worry. You do have to leave the house though.”

Choso felt a little bad. A little. They really were bitches, but this was perfect. He’d just saved himself from starting a gas leak at the Kappa house when you weren’t home. He didn’t like that your feelings were hurt though, and he beat himself up about it. Choso himself wasn’t really a good guy, killing your boyfriend on your birthday? Almost killing your sorority sisters before they pretty much kicked you to the curb? He was doing the exact opposite of being a good boyfriend. He’d be on his toes from now on, can’t risk ruining his chances with you. However, it was all in good light. You were becoming more and more ready to fall into his arms.

Apparently, you pretty much kept to yourself and stayed in your room. Your classwork was slacking a bit, and you couldn’t live at the house, but that didn’t stop you from still trying to be involved, participating in some campus events, and fundraising with your sisters despite your exile. You were a normal girl, humbled for sure, but Choso didn’t like that very much. He never intended to break you down like this, while you were still sweet in his eyes, he knew you loved the life you had before. He can’t unkill Megumi, which wouldn’t make sense anyway because Choso was your boyfriend now, but he’d give you a life even better than the first. One where you and he were together.

Like cherry pie, will you be mine?

Now, Choso was a real sweetheart, getting you so many gifts for when you came along, preparing how he’d approach you, compliment you, fuck you. But he was getting a little impatient. At this point, it was already the tail end of courses before winter break so he didn’t have much time to see you every day, even though he’d make that happen regardless. Plus, all of the shit that had happened to you would wear off in a couple of days, so he needed to act now. Choso knew he couldn’t make you fall in love with him overnight, and it would be too hasty to try to take it slow with you now. So, he had no choice. He was gonna kidnap you.

Now, “kidnapping” is a rather strong way to put it. In reality, Choso was gonna come to see you and talk a bit, but if that didn’t work, he’d hold you at knifepoint and make you come back to his dorm with him to enjoy all of the things he’d set up for you! He would never hurt you intentionally, so it’s not like he was gonna use it, but he had to make you think he would. He wished kidnapping you was legal, why wouldn't he want to be able to love you and take care of you all the time? It’s okay, you’d learn to love him back. After all, Choso wasn’t your ‘maybe’. Choso was your ‘one’.

Sweet to the core, I want some more.

Choso decided he’d make his move on you the night of the last Kappa party of the season, too many people for anyone to notice him running off with you, plus he knows you’d look so pretty in your party dress, hair all done up, heels making those legs of yours look so pretty. And you did! Except, you were crying. When Choso got to the party and spotted you, you were sniffling as you walked out the back door of the house. Now, he had to be strategic about this, so he exited out the front in time to catch you walking from the back. When he’d gotten outside, he saw you walking down the sidewalk, but it wasn’t very well, your heel had broken and you were having to walk barefoot. He felt terrible seeing you like that. You looked so sad, so scared, just broken. Choso had to make things right.

“Hey, you okay?”

I love you.

I can hear your words breaking down my core…

You looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes of yours, bloodshot and watery from crying, but still, you looked stunning.

“Oh, hey Choso. Honestly? No, I’m like not okay at all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, my ex died and everyone’s making a super big deal about it. Like, people kept coming up to me asking questions and stuff like I was there when he died or something.”

“Oh, um-”

“Sorry, I know I sound like a twat right now, but he cheated on me like all the time! It’s honestly a long shot to say we were even together, not be cocky or anything, but I think he dated me to make himself look better. Plus, he got me in hot water with my sisters, like he’s haunting me after death or whatever.”

“Sounds like he wasn’t really a good guy…”

“Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, now I have to walk back to my stupid dorm with no shoes because I fell over like a klutz and just embarrassed myself to the nines. I don’t even wanna go back there, just makes me sad, ya know? I came out to this stupid party to get my mind off things and it’s like things are just bleh. It doesn’t even feel like anyone likes me anymore. I wish someone just loved me for me, ya know?”

I think about you every day at least a hundred times or more.

Choso walked up and hugged you, bringing you into his embrace. It was a bold move for sure, especially with the knife sheathed on his waist, but he just hated seeing you cry like that. Soon, you’ll feel how nice it is to have someone care about you so much. To have someone who wants to revolve their entire life around you.

“It’s okay. Know you don’t know me very well, but I’m here for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna be too forward or anything, but you can come back to my dorm for a few, that is, if you don’t wanna go back to yours.”

“That’s so sweet, thanks!”

Fuck, this was perfect! He didn’t even have to threaten to kill you! Choso offered to pick you up, which you happily agreed to, holding your heels in your hand as he carried you back to his dorm. On the way, you talked about a bunch of stuff you liked, mostly things he already knew about you, but there were a couple of new things that enticed him. You’d stopped crying, that sweet smile back on your face as you found comfort in Choso’s arms. He’d gotten back to his dorm fairly fast, not wanting to waste much time to get things rolling. He figured he’d start with telling you about his love for you, really seeing if you-

“OMG, YOU HAVE THIS???”

You pointed at the movie poster on his wall, one of your favorite movie. He’d studied it a lot, trying to figure out why you liked it so much. He’d watched it over ten times by now, buying the poster as a touch when you finally came, which worked!

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good-”

“Pretty good? It’s like the best movie ever!”

“We can, uh, watch it if you want.”

“Yes, I’d love that!”

Choso was so lucky. Here you were, sitting with him on his bed as you watched the movie. You’d stop every few minutes and point out something about it you knew a fun fact about or laugh at the parts you’d seen so many times. You were so damn cute. You’d pretty much forgotten all of the stuff going on, able to just relax with him for once. Don’t you see how nice this is? How special things can be? 

“Oh wow, it’s getting late. Shit, I still have to walk back.”

Just like that, the movie was over. You looked tired, not just physically but mentally too. You couldn’t leave though, that’s not how this was gonna go.

“Are you sure you’re good to walk?”

“Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, your heels are broken and it’s too dark outside to be out there by yourself. Something could happen to you.”

Fuck, Choso was a little too bold with that last part. He was probably coming on too strong, he’d need to fix-

“You’re worried about little ‘ol me?”

“Something like that…”

YES. He was so fucking worried that sweat was about to drip from his face, red with anxiousness that the love of his life was about to leave him behind.

“Well, you could always walk with me. Or do you just wanna spend more time with me?”

You gave him a little smirk and wink, it went straight to his dick as he tried to think of a way to respond.

“I, um… yeah, I would.”

Your answer to his statement would be the deciding factor between you staying or him picking up that knife from his jacket on the chair. Fortunately for you, you smiled and put your things back down, sitting on the bed as you looked up at him.

“Fine, but we’re gonna watch another movie. Your pick this time.”

You make me afraid, come closer, wait no, go away…

Ten minutes into this movie and he felt like he was gonna fucking explode. This time around, you’d gotten closer to him. Instead of sitting at the end of the bed, you laid beside him, not quite touching you, but he could definitely smell you, and fuck, you smelled so good. It was becoming painful to not touch you, but he couldn’t risk fucking this up. You looked so nice like this, chest moving up and down as you laid comfortably, eyes low, obvious you were getting tired. 

“Hey, Choso?”

“What’s up?”

“Thanks for, ya know, being nice to me. I’m not anyone’s favorite these days…”

You looked so sad, but Choso couldn’t be happier. You were starting to recognize the only person who really cares about you is him!

“Yeah, but you’re my favorite.”

“Really? But, you barely know me.”

Choso actually knew you very well. Probably better than you know yourself.

“You’ve just got that type of personality that’s really easy to like, is all.”

You sat up now and looked Choso in the eyes, making him blush instantly.

“Oh yeah? So, you like me?”

Choso started stuttering and sweating, flustered beyond reason as you gave him one of those smirks. At this point, he didn’t even have to tell you. His body language was more than obvious.

“I was just kid-”

“Yes, I mean-”

You both looked at each other in shock. Why the fuck would he say that? You were fucking joking. Choso was stupid to think you were serious, not like he really had any chance with a girl like you. But that’s okay. He was gonna make one. Although, he didn’t know whether to love or hate you right now, most likely both. You looked up at him optimistically, like you were waiting on his response, but also blushing a bit as he nearly popped a blood vessel in front of you. He couldn’t even speak, choked up on his words as you brought your hand on top of the one he had leaning on the bed.

“Tell me, do you?”

“I do, for a while now.”

“So, why not ever talk to me?”

“Because you’re pretty hard to talk to.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re usually, um-”

“A bitch? Yeah, I am. But these past few weeks have humbled me.”

Choso wanted to laugh a little. Of course, it was because of him and the precautions he’s put in place for you two to end up together. You didn’t need to know that part though. You looked down, that same broken look you’d been putting off all night. Everything in him told him to stop, don’t be too hasty and he could probably get back to the plan, but it hurt him to see what he’d caused. It definitely didn’t help that you were crying again, bringing your knees to your chest as you fell into the realization of how messed up you felt. Choso pulled you into his arms, laying your face into his chest as he rubbed your back. You felt so warm, so soft, he didn’t want to let you go. Ever. 

“It’s not your fault. So, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Thanks, you’re right.”

It was hard to feel like the bad guy when you were smiling at him, finding comfort in his words. You two were dangerously close now, eye contact had him feeling like a deer in headlights, while you remained cool and collected, like usual. That’s one of the main things he loved about you, despite all of the crazy shit going on, you still try to appear fine, but that was far from the truth. He’d be a shoulder for you to cry on, someone you could depend on and pour your feelings into. Give your heart to someone who’s worthy of loving you back and spending their every breathing second devoted to keeping you happy.

Saccharine, what I’d do to have you sitting here next to me. 

You’d kissed Choso softly, leaning in slowly enough to feel his breath hitch on his lips when he realized what you were doing. It was perfect. Your lips felt even softer than he thought they would, gentle and loving as you brought yourself closer, closing the distance between you. He had to get his head together, he’d practiced this part over and over again, and all he had to do was focus and execute it. First, cup your face with his hand. You smiled into his lips when he did this, allowing him to move to the second step, and bring his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. You softened into his touch as he laid your back on the bed, opening your legs to let him on top of you. You were so sweet, moaning softly into the air as he began sucking the skin of your neck. Choso wanted to claim you, he’d finally gotten to kiss you and he needed everyone to know you were his. He sucked a little harder and felt ecstatic when you didn’t stop him, instead groaning as bruises began to flower on your skin.

“Choso…”

Shit, you moaned his name. It felt exhilarating, something he’s been waiting for for so long finally coming true. It lit a fire under his ass, coming up to kiss your lips once before he brought his lips back down to your collarbones, moving lower as his hand massaged your side. Once he’d reached the skin of your breasts, he’d stopped, looking up to you for the green light to keep going. Even though you didn’t really have a choice in spending the rest of your life with him, consent was still pretty important to him, so when you gave him a nod, he took off. Choso brought his fingers to the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head as you brought your arms up to aid him. God, you were beautiful. Your tits were on full display to him now, nothing covering you but a lacy pink thong. He was gonna start hyperventilating, your tits lifted as you breathed, nipples calling out to him like they needed saving. He brought his lips down swiftly and wrapped his tongue around one of them, immediately putting the other between his fingers to pinch as the rest of his palm massaged your breast. You started whimpering for him now, touch-starved since your boyfriend died, but Choso hoped it was also because he was doing things better than anyone you’d been with before. He alternated his mouth, groping and sucking as much as he could, relishing in the feeling of your tits in his face for the first time. As much as he could stay there all day, he knew you needed more, so he kissed his way down your stomach, lips grazing your pantyline. Choso sucked the skin of your stomach as you bucked your hips against him, turned on as he took care of you.

“Choso, please…”

He looked up into your eyes as he brought his lips off your body, fingers hooking into the fabric of your thong as he pulled them off of you. Holy fuck. You were soaking wet, lips glistening with your juices as your hips shifted slightly to invite Choso in. Without hesitation, he brought his lips down to your pussy, beginning to devour you. You tasted amazing, drinking the nectar of a fruit long awaited and it almost made him regret not planning to kidnap you sooner. You smelled so fucking good too, your pussy engulfing all of his senses as he ate you like his last meal. Your fingers found their way into his hair, moaning his name into the air with every lick of your clit. Sideways, up and down, circles around your bud, anything he could to hear you moan for him, to make your pain go away. He’d brought your legs over his shoulders and rested his hands under the arch of your back, angling your hips so he could eat you exactly how he wanted. Messy and slow, he took his time spreading your juices all over his face as you panted and pulled at the sheets. He was self-indulgent, tongue pumping in and out of you as he lived out his fantasies of eating your pussy.

“Choso…I-I…”

Shit, you were close. Choso was about to make you cum! He doubled down immediately, bringing his arms over your thighs to keep you in place as you felt your orgasm approaching. He’d picked up his pace too, tongue moving at a hungry pace as he anticipated your cum in his mouth. The hand you had in his hair gripped tighter, Choso taking it as a cue to bring his lips up and suck your clit, suction bringing your bud against his tongue. You came fast and hard, grinding your pussy against his face as you came for him, his name slipping off your lips over and over as you rode out your high.

You’re sweet to the core. 

You looked so pretty for him, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Choso slowly kissed his way back up your body, lips finding themselves on yours. This kiss was different from before, more intense and confident. At that point, you’d already started unbuckling his jeans, kissing him feverishly as you helped him take his clothes off. Hovering over you, he looked at you in awe. Legs on either side of his, big doe eyes looking up at him, waiting for him to fuck you.

“Holy shit…”

Your hands found his hair, gripping and tugging at it as he slipped in at a slow pace. Choso took his time, exploring the walls he longed for the feeling of. Every stroke nearly sent him over, wet and warm, you were like heaven wrapped around his dick. You felt even better than he’d imagined, much better than his fist he fucked to the thought of you. Especially with how you were moaning for him, it was driving him crazy, all he could do was praise you.

“You’re perfect…so fuckin’ perfect…”

“I know…”

God, he’s never felt like this. You were sucking him in like you were made for him, holy shit, he was losing his mind. Touching him, feeling your warmth on his shaft as he fucked you faster. You were so beautiful, lips pursed as you breathed up and down, eyes fluttering as he fucked you.

“You feel so good, baby…”

“Choso…”

His name was killing him. He’d put in so much time to make sure he fucked you exactly the way you needed him, he had to make the first time perfect. A man that could care for you. Love you. Please you. Choso finally had you, and he was going to give you the fucking world.

I need to hate you before it's too late…

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby…”

Choso gripped your legs tight as he fucked into you fast, making you scream his name out into the room. You were doing this for him! Moaning for him! And you felt so fucking good wrapped around him, more than anyone ever before. There wasn’t anyone before you and there wasn’t anyone before him. Your world would revolve around him now like his revolved around you, every waking moment of being in love would be magical. 

“Choso, I-”

“Let me have it, baby. I’ve waited so long for it…”

He didn’t care what he was saying anymore, too high on you and your pleasure that he couldn’t think straight. If you were gonna cum for him, he needed it now, like his life depended on it. Something to signify the beginning of all of the pleasure he’d give you from this point forward.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this, baby? Fuck, I’m close…”

“That’s it, baby, let go, let me make you feel good…”

“So pretty, cumming on my dick like this…”

Choso was so fuckin obsessed with you. You came down like an angel, eyes fluttering as you murmured his name softly, body melting into the bed. He halted inside you as he came, losing his mind over the way your nails dug into his arms. You two lay there panting for a bit, Choso’s arm bringing you into his chest. So beautiful like this. He’d finally made it, you in his arms, right where you belonged.

Before I crave you…so please go away. 

“So, I’m not going back to my dorm tonight, am I?”

No, of course, you weren’t.

“Do you really want-”

“I don’t want to.”

Choso was shocked to hear your words. You actually wanted to stay here with him, he didn’t even have to scare you into doing it! 

“Do you have a T-shirt or something? It’s kinda cold in here.”

“Uh, yeah, let me grab-”

“No problem, I’ll get it!”

Stop it. FUCKING STOP. You were getting too comfortable, about to open Pandora’s box with your hand on his closet door. Choso should stop you, whatever it would take. By the time he’d gotten to the knife, you’d opened the closet, pictures of you all over the walls. Choso lingered behind you now, knife behind his back as he waited for your reaction. You just had to be so fuckin nosy, you’d ruined everything. 

“Choso…are these pictures of me?”

He gripped the knife tightly in his hand as he watched you look through them. He couldn’t even speak, heartbreak and murderous intent flowing out of him. Every picture put another pin in his heart. Photos of you around campus, through your dorm window, in class, all open for you to see. You brought your hand up to one, pulling it down as you looked over it. The picture he took of you on Valentine’s Day. You’d been sitting in class that day, sad because Megumi hadn’t gotten you anything, which Choso figured he wouldn’t. That’s why he had three dozen roses delivered to you on the lawn later that day, eyes brightening as you held them and read the card: “Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess. ~ your secret admirer.” You were so damn happy that day, so perfect. Now, you had to die.

“It was you, huh? All this-”

“Yes. It was always me.”

You pulled another one down, the one of you winning Miss Sophomore. Your face had the brightest smile, holding that crown on your head as you cried tears of joy. You smirked at it, cheeks blushing a bit.

“I look really good in this one, glad someone got a shot of it. So, you liked me this much?”

You’d turned to look at him now, giving him a confused face. Probably because Choso was sweating buckets. His hand shook behind him as he looked at you nervously, analyzing everything about you, any sign that you were scared or wanted to leave.

“I’d call it more than that.”

“So, why not-”

“Because I wanted things to be perfect. I wanted to be perfect for you.”

You gave him a nervous nod and turned back to the closet, pulling down a photo of you in your room back at the Kappa house.

“How’d you do it?”

“I…huh?”

“How’d you take this without getting caught?”

You looked back at him now, a serious look on your face that told him he better fuckin’ answer. What was he gonna do? There was no point in lying to you, everything was there for you to see.

“I learned you and the other girl’s schedules to make sure everyone was asleep.”

“So, what else ya got? Pictures can’t be the only thing.”

Choso pointed to the top shelf of the closet hesitantly. You brought down the bin carefully, sitting it down on his desk as you opened the lid.

“What the fuck, Choso? I was looking everywhere for this lipgloss!”

You’d begun rummaging through the bin, picking up things in remembrance of when you lost them. A couple of hair ties, eyeliner, lipstick napkins. You acted as if there was nothing wrong with this, and it was making it really hard for Choso to read you. His hand alternated between wanting to drop the knife or use it, heart pulsing frantically as you tried on old jewelry of yours. Satisfied with your findings, you moved back to the closet, pulling down the other box on the shelf. The one with his gifts for you.

“Wait! You’re not supposed to see that yet!”

“What is it?”

“It’s something really special... just please, you’re gonna ruin everything!”

You shot him a concerned look and rolled your eyes, walking back over to the bed to take a seat. 

“Answer a couple of questions for me, ‘kay?”

“I-I…”

“Question one, when did this start?”

“...Freshman year, rush week…the first time we met…”

You looked at him surprised. That meant he’d been stalking in love with you for almost four years now and never acted on it.

Just confiscate you, my teeth are in pain…

“Question two, what’s behind your back?”

“Nothing…important…”

Choso was shaking in fear, so much so, he dropped the fucking knife. You both watched it fall to the floor behind him, your mouth agape in shock as he frantically bent over to pick it up. He couldn’t tell what was more awkward, him dropping it on the floor or him picking it up and sitting it on his desk like nothing happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU GONNA DO WITH THAT?”

“DAMAGE CONTROL.”

“FOR WHAT?”

“FOR WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!”

“YOU WERE GONNA STAB ME?”

“NO, I WAS JUST GONNA MAKE SURE YOU DIDN’T LEAVE!”

“ARE YOU FUCKIN’ CRAZY?”

“I’M NOT CRAZY, I’M IN LOVE!”

You scoffed and chuckled, stunned at his statement. Choso was bright red, on the verge of a panic attack. So many thoughts, so many mistakes, you knew almost everything now. All of the things he wanted to do for you, show you, give you, it all meant nothing now. Still, you sat there completely calm, aside from the fact the guy who just fucked your brains out was possibly about to kill you.

“Question three, this is an important one. Did you kill Megumi?”

“It was ruled a death from natural causes.”

“Yeah, tell that shit to someone else, did you kill him?”

Choso didn’t really care to hide things now, too far gone. Especially not how he got rid of that asshole you called a boyfriend.

“Yes, I did; and I don’t regret it.”

“How’d you do it?”

“I poisoned him with Ricin.”

“RICIN? HOW THE FU-”

“I put it inside of a box I told him was supposed to be for you.”

“Why?”

“Because he was a terrible boyfriend to you and you didn’t deserve to be with a guy who couldn’t even remember your birthday. Not to mention, he would’ve never died if he didn’t open what was meant for you, nosy fucker.”

“So, you were jealous? Most people would just beat the guy’s ass, you definitely knocked it out the park with that one.”

“Yes, he didn’t deserve to have you! He took you for granted when there was somebody much more fit to make you happy!”

“And that’s you?”

“Yes, just…please…don’t leave. Not before I make things perfect for you!”

You sat back on your hands, thinking a bit and bouncing your leg. Choso had said too much. Not only did he admit to killing Megumi, but now if you really did hate him, you could get him arrested too. Which meant you two would have to live apart. That was no longer an option.

“Even If I wanted to leave, I don’t think you’d actually give me the choice. Plus, it’s kinda…sweet?”

“Sweet?...”

“Yeah, never had someone like me this much, let alone kill my boyfriend to get closer to me.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“No, not really. Well, maybe for planning to stab me. Not like I can make you untake the pics, but I’ll need some of my stuff back. I’m more impressed than anything. I’m not even gonna ask how you got the Ricin or half of this stuff.”

Choso didn’t know how to feel, or how to react. Why were you so calm about this? Why weren’t you scared? Why were you still here willingly? He couldn’t move at all, locked in place in fear as he watched you get into the bed and turn on another movie.

“You gonna come lay with me or just stand there?”

“I just…I-”

You sat straight up now, looking him dead in the eyes as his body quivered in reaction.

“What’s your deal, huh? Didn’t you kill a guy to be with me?”

“Yes, technically, I-”

“So, be with me, Choso! Unless you’re just like a murderer or whatever, that’s kinda fucked up.”

I'm gonna break you before I can say…

Choso was lost for fuckin’ words. You were laying on his chest now, holy shit, he was losing his mind. Touching him, feeling your warmth as you finally relaxed. Everything he had done to get you with him had paid off. You were so perfect, lips pursed while you breathed up and snuggled your face into him. Just his sweet, sweet girl.

“So, the whole, um, thing…”

“What, you being fucking insane?”

“I’m not insane, just very dedicated to the woman I love!”

“Well, the way I see it, all my other boyfriends couldn’t stop looking at other girls, but you? You’re perfect, you’re already obsessed with me! Just don’t kill anyone else, ‘kay?” 

“I’ll try.”

I love you.

♱ the song used in this story is saccharine by jazmin bean. 🖤

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𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.