#religious yandere

[llonelygoddess]

This is feeding into my dream fantasy of corrupting a Mormon. Continue on. 

† church boy

[ sfw | tw : religion (not named but heavily implied), sacrilege, potential religious trauma? as well as general yandere content but it’s v tame ]

male yandere x gender neutral reader! only pronoun used for reader is ‘you’. i havent written like this in a very long time so i apologize if this is bad ;_;

abraham lived a simple life for the majority of his 21 years on this planet. he was born and raised in a religious household, the only son of a wealthy pastor, surrounded by typical bible-thumping folk who taught him that *** was above everything, above him, above the things he loved, and putting anything (or anyone) above his faith would surely result in his damnation. and his whole life, he believed that.

that was… until you entered his life.

it happened at a fundraiser he was volunteering at. it was any other day for the boy, handing out advertisements and chatting with everyone that came and went. an average, mundane event for him where he’d talk about the same things he did every day, smile, wave, everything that was expected of him.

after the last person in his line had left, he looked down to begin organizing his things so he could join the rest of the party. when he was shadowed by someone stepping in front of him again, he expected to see a familiar face — maybe someone that might’ve forgotten something? but when he looked up…

abraham’s breath caught in his throat. he swore the earth had stopped spinning the second your eyes locked.

whether if you were there because you shared the same religion, was dragged there by a friend/family member, or simply because there was free food, he had no clue - but it didn't matter. your looks, the way you moved, the sound of your voice — why was it all so... enchanting?

he couldn’t help the slight stutter in his words as he hastily offered you a pamphlet, quickly introducing himself and inquiring about you. what was your name? were you new to the church? why haven’t you met before?

the soft laugh you emitted as you spoke and the feeling of your skin grazing his felt like fire. and your name... oh, the poor boy didn’t even realize it, but he couldn’t help it — within moments of knowing you, he had grown totally enamored!

abraham found himself hovering by your side for the rest of the event. he was awkward, you’d quickly realize, but it was in that sort of sweet, inexperienced way. he was desperate to know you, to get closer to you, hoping that maybe if he could understand you, he’d figure out how to quell these intense feelings that had built within him — but to you and everyone else, he was simply making sure a new face wasn’t alone during the event. he was just being a good little pastor’s boy! that’s what he told himself too, over and over again.

he was being good by making you laugh. he was being good by giving you his number. and it was good that he grew elated by the idea of getting to see you again after this. he was a good person, so what if he was neglecting his duties to be around you? he did what he was supposed to all the time, surely he could be forgiven just this once.

right?

his obsession with you didn’t take long to blossom after that first meeting. you started to infiltrate every part of his life in one way or another. his prayers became tangled up with thoughts of you. rather than reading the bible, he’d reread the texts between the two of you while he waited for you to respond to them. when he went to church, he found himself scanning the pews in hopes of spotting you among the congregation rather than finding a seat right away. when service began, he couldn’t focus on the preaching taking place because he was too busy thinking of ways to see you again.

despite the utter adoration abraham had grown to feel for you.. at some point, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t help but wonder — was he becoming sinful? was he growing gluttonous for your attention? he couldn’t have been, he had been so devout his entire life! it was fine for him to miss a few services to see you as long as he made up for it later…

he couldn’t tell if you were an angel, as heaven-sent as he felt you to be, or if you were the embodiment of temptation, pulling him away from his faith and beckoning him to sin. were you both? could you be both? with the progression of his obsession with you, his conflicted feelings about his relationship with his faith grew alongside it.

maybe you just weren’t any good for him.

but your name and god seemed to always come up at the same time…

so maybe, it was a sign that he had someone new to worship.

[ozzgin]

I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…

Devil x Reader

You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.

Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster

Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.

What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.

You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.

The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?

Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.

You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.

You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?

You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.

Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.

The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.

Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.

Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.

You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.

[yearninflowers]

Imagine...

Sunday loving you so much.

Rumours will always surround every renowned person in the world, whether that someone is the nicest person ever or even the opposite of that. But somehow, for your friend, Sunday, whom almost everyone in Penacony City knows, the rumours surrounding him didn't always make a lot of sense. Shouldn't one or two be true, or at least close to a truth, though?

You eventually began to ask him frequently if something stirred in his community.

It was mostly just for fun, however.

“Sunny, is this true?”

And as always, he would smile, reassuring you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true.

Sunday would first laugh at the absurdity of the rumours before patting your head and telling you to always confirm where the rumours even started. If not most, then all of them were always coming from some unknown source and were just following to create even more nonsense, said him. That would shut you up real quick, not that you would start to distrust him if a rumour popped up.

However, one particular rumour shook you off quite a bit.

A rumour about him having relations with a cult. An anonymous sender had thrown out a couple of blurred pictures as ‘evidence’ and uploaded them to a fairly well-known account used to share anonymous messages.

It was absurd, but you still asked.

“Sunny,” you called out his name, your phone hovering open to the account that shared the rumour. Once your friend notices your call, you let him take a look at your phone. “There's a rumour saying you have relations with a cult; is it… uh, true?”

This time, Sunday didn't immediately smile. He didn't reassure you right away. His face looked unlike what you knew of him.

He... he looks scary—

It took at least a few seconds before he did his usual smile and reassured you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true. He began to laugh like always, patting your head like always, telling you to check the source like always.

And like always too, you believed him. After all, it's the usual absurd rumour, right?

Before you eventually swallow the whole rumour as wrong information, Sunday had a hard time keeping up his facade. His smile twitched unusually more, and his hands trembled unknowingly. It felt weird, the feelings inside his heart, but he wasn't too bothered by it. In fact, he even welcomed it.

Truth be told, it wasn't fear that was holding him restricted.

It was excitement.

Sunday is dying to let you know that you are his sole Providence, the only being in the whole world he would pray to. He could go days without stopping—not even a short rest—to bask in his devotion for you. He will gladly do anything to make you happy.

Unfortunately for him, you've yet to know of his faith; you're still so clueless about his blatant favouritism. It's alright, though; Sunday is quite keen on teaching his deity how to receive his love one day.

“It's quite a slander to accuse me of being in a cult," He let out a small laugh. "But I assure you, (Y/n), I would never be a part of something as eerie as that.”

After all, the only being he would ever worship is you.

But for now, he'll play the part of being your very perfect friend, slowly wrapping you into the warm embrace of divinity. You'll know soon enough that you are worth more than just being his 'friend'. You, yourself, are already surrounded by the evidence of his devotion in its truest form:

His love.

[zennadores]

[threepandas]

Bad End: In Bad Faith

Summoning spells hurt.

Reality? It doesn't want to let you go. Whether you see it or not, you are attached. Part of the very fabric of the universe. Your atoms blending into the mess that is creation, on a level so small, that the human eye can not possibly catch it. Where you begin and end? Doesn't. Not really.

We are part of a tapestry, incomprehensible in scope. Mere designs. Details. Parts of it's ever sprawling beauty and horror. And? Woven in as we are? Part of it, as we are?

It does not want to let go.

Will, in fact, FIGHT not to let go. To Summon? Is an unnatural act. Many, foolishly, believe it's not. But... that is because they mistake Transportation magics with Summoning. With swapping a design's location upon the weave... with ripping it OUT.

In one? You take what is not yours. In the other? You're just rearranging what's there.

Nature (and indeed, the very Gods themselves) abhor Summonings, along with the vacuums they create. So, one must ask; How could they be called "Holy"? Such a painful, unnatural, divinely detested thing? Who in their right mind, would EVER do such a thing? Would cross the very Gods, as Summon in Their Name?

King's of course.

High Priests of the Holiest of Temples. Rich in gold and jewels, power and influence. Full of decadence and the surety of their own pure, pure souls. So much BETTER then the masses. So much HIGHER then the rabble. Poisoned on their own twisted faith. When given the choice between their God and Power? Faith and Fortune?

They would not be able to hear their God screaming, were he to stand right in front of them. But of course, they act in HIS Name.

I can feel it. Day in and day out. He looks upon his so called "Chosen" and is SICK.

Summoning hurts. My body, my soul, torn and stretch between to places. Until something gave. Were it not for the mercy of My God? I would have arrive at this end in chunks. A paste! Shredded beyond comprehension, killed beyond even mortal flesh. My very SOUL would have-!

The Universe SCREAMED as I was torn out of it. Like a fist full of fabric, made of person, of living flesh and bone, was gored out of a living thing. It was a disembowling. A calculated mauling. All burning light and tearing void. Chanting voices that dragged like hooking chains.

I... I can't even remember what I was doing that day. The sheer pain of it all? Overwhelms everything else in my memories. Left me delirious and weak. A puppet to be hoisted up and declared holy. A success. Stripped of my old clothes and anointed in oils and silks, finery and holy things.

A Holy Maiden.

In response, of course, to the King's Holy Maiden. Which was supposedly delivered by the God of Shining Light. She is very... perky, I am told. A plucky and endearing child. For all she is treated as some woman grown. She... she means well, even as she blunders through messes of her own creation. It is easy to tell. But all told? Anyone can tell you. She sounds... young. So very young.

Gods, what is she even DOING here? What are either of us? Every day, I can only pray the girl is safe. Because? I know. I know, I can not help her.

I am trapped.

She is trapped.

Whether she realizes it or not. Can see past the pretty smiles and fancy set dressing, to the unrelenting iron bars she can't escape. Though her chains are gilded and far longer then my own. She is a prop, a tool, in the hands of power. We both are. And neither of us asked to be, were given a choice. No... no we were simply taken from our homes.

Sometimes...? I catch the edges of something familiar. Beyond the Temple that is my cage. Hints of news or bits of gossip. When Worshipers or servants don't notice me nearby. I think? Possibly. We may have landed in an Otome game, her and I. But I can not be certain. It may simply be the only framework I have, for situations like this.

I wonder what my role is, in all this. If I even have one. Since I am kept like a trinket and holy trophy. Adored but not obeyed. No purpose beyond my supposed Holiness. Worshipped AT in the place of the God they know damn well they have angered. Though, through out all this? And, out of all of them? Worst, of all of them? Is the man who... who covets me.

There really is no other word for it, with the way he behaves. What else could it one call it? As he haunts the gilded cage he has created. The way his eyes track me, obsessive and cataloging, predatory and hunting. Picking apart my every action for meaning, for preference.

Trying to pry from me, my every thought and desire. As if to crack open my mind and read it's secrets. As though observing some sweet little creature, in it's natural habitat; And not his prisoner, in the pretty little cage he had made.

Forcing me to choose, again and again, between pretending not to notice? And engaging once again with my captor. Knowing all the while, if I so much as smile? Dared to so much as soften my expression?

I would be flooded, by whatever had caught me eye.

A lovely flower? Every room would be choked by them. Buried by them. The gardens filled and filled, until I begged for change. A good meal? I would get nothing else. Over and over, until all joy was stripped of it. Until I was sick of it. Could no longer stand the sight of it. Clothing, books, or paintings? Piles fit to beggar nations.

But the gods forbid, I EVER smile at people. Oh no. They were unworthy, you see.

The Grand Priest? Did not like when the filthy, unworthy, sacrilegious masses, dared to touch HIS Most Holy Maiden Of The God's. Or when I noticed them. Looked at any of them too long. Was "forced" to acknowledge they even existed. Gods forbid speaking to them! A sermon to the faithful was one thing! That could be allowed, if they purified themselves throughly, but the unwashed masses?

Gods, No.

Absolutely no such sacrilege would take part on HIS watch! By his word, his decree from on high, it was verboten.

It was...

Unquestionably, I knew, it was the antithesis of the Gentle Dark. That very God that had held my soul together. Through his unnatural summoning; That Very God, he SUPPOSEDLY swore too? Worshipped? Everything I prayed too. Reached my soul out too, in His kindness? For just a moment's escape? That very God.

From my God, to whom I prayed. Who anchored me, in these uncertain waters. All I could feel was His concern. For me, whom he could do little to aid. And His disgust. At what was being done in His name. As though rot had been smeared upon His flesh, vile and abhorrent. He recoiled, sickened, reaching for the safety of distant, faithful halls.

"Praying again, most Holy?" Came from the shadows, cool and soft. A pleasant voice to match a pleasant appearance. As though that was all that held meaning. "Even in your diligence and purity, you can not live on prayer alone, most Holy. I am afraid we will have to end you prayers for the day. So that you may eat. This humble servant has brought you offerings to choice from..."

He trailed off meaningfully. Wanted me to ask. A favorite game of his, this little trick. A verbal set up. Prompting you to ask this or that, engage him just a bit more, here or there. Get dragged into talking to him, dispite not wanting anything to do with him. He dangles bait. Shiny and enticing, just within reach. Hoping you'll take it.

Like a fishing lure.

No, actually, I don't want to know what dinner is. I, in fact, SHALL ignore why you call them "offerings". Yes, I DO plan to refuse to engage. Grey wall. Nonresponse, just all the way down. Boring, really.

You may be able to keep me here? But by the Gentle Dark, I CAN make this as miserable for you as possible. There shall be no Happy Little Family charades. No "content within my cage." No playing along to appease you.

(Quitely, but with FEELING, I say onto you! Get FUCKED.)

"A night of contemplations, I see. Understandable. Heavy are the shoulders that hold the heavens." That's Blasphemy, you heretical BASTARD. With a capital "B". To BOTH! No. NO. Do not engage. It's what he wan-! "You will be relieved, then, to know we are one step closer to disposing of that heretical whore."

I twitched. Hands squeezing each other until they were a white knuckled grip, to keep me from lashing out. Breathing in deep and slow, to try and fill my lungs with patience. The strength needed, not to not lash out. My jaw clenching hard as it battled the words snarling to escape.

(You leave that CHILD THE FUCK ALONE, YOU CREEP. She is sixteen! Seventeen AT BEST! She SHOULDN'T BE HERE! Should be safe. Meeting up with friends or chatting about interests. As she lounges, safe, at HOME. Going to school! Not getting dragged into politics! Tarted up and told to play soilder! Made a FUCKING RELIGIOUS LEADER!!!)

(Inside me, the Gentle Dark seethes and howls. Who is this man? To try and kill a Protected Child of The God's own Brother? What is Dark without Light? Light without Dark? Who are THEY to suggest the gods want anything but Balance?!)

Rising to my feet, I can not stay here. If I do, I may try and bludgeon my captor with an alter bowl. Desperately careful not to take my rage out on the alter before me, I run through the steps to finish my prayers. Gently. Gently. My God does NOT deserve misdirected wrath. Through gritted teeth, I force my breathe to be even. With tense muscles, I refuse to so much as look at him.

I DESPISE.

"How beautiful."

Like vile spiders and the sweeping prick of claws, his foul admiration sweeps over me. Disgusting. Hateful. Abhorrent and unholy. It is as though, the colder I become? The angrier and more disdainful? The more captivated, he becomes.

Twisting and twisting me, into some sort of disdainful god for him to worship. Abusing this soft house of benevolence, to make his self-harm somehow Holy. Coveting the Divine even as he refuses Them. It is... horrifying. A soul deep wrong.

A kinder woman would seek to understand "WHY?"...

I am not that kinder woman, I think.

"You are angry that I failed you, when all you ask of me is worship. Unity." He declares to my back. Once again projecting what he wants to believe, regardless of what I do or do not say. I have already given up trying. He lives in his own delusion, prefers it really. "Forgive me."

Ignoring him, I begin to walk away. Let him monolog in peace. Talk to the Idea of me, if he's so desperate! He can paint my face upon a wall, for all he needs my ACTUAL input. Sadly, however, I do not get far. With a swish of silks, knees hitting marble, my skirt train is caught in covetous hands. Jerking me to a stop. I turn.

"Ah..." He is kneeling, as though praying at my feet, my skirt's edge pressed to his face. His voice is... almost a sigh. Monotone, yet dancing the edge of obscene. "Oh, Most Holy, forgive your most loyal dog. Look only at me, I serve only thee, does my worship not please you?"

"Do you want more?"

He looked up, eyes meeting mine. There was fire and death there. Madness and burning. Religious zealotry churned and twisted into obsession, with his self made God. What did he even see? When he looked at me? It was almost... ironic. That the Grand Priest of the Gentle Dark, would BURN with such Scorching.

The Priests of the Shining Light would have noticed. Would have warned him. Helped him. No doubt why he avoided them. The monsters of their Gods, clouded his mind... and yet? And YET?

He was a Grand Priest.

No beast could take his soul, that HE did not ALLOW.

He was a monster of his own becoming. I wondered... in this moment... was THIS how he gained the power to Summon me? What damned DEALS did he MAKE? Does he seek to corrupt me? Turn me from the Gentle Dark to the Endless Dark? Something crueler? Colder still?

Disgust. Refusal. Rage.

"Oh." His voice wavered, obscene as he sucked in air, even as his eyes widened up at me. Hands reflexively clenching at my skirts. A jagged grin, of too many teeth, slowly carved its way across his face. Transfixed. Unhinged. As he shuddered.

"Magnificent, my Goddess. So Pure. So Clean. Mine and mine alone. I alone, am Worthy. Your most loyal soldier. Your most DEVOUT worshiper. I will give you the World. Everything, my queen. My lady. My Master of the heavens. Ha ha ha! Mine."

"All mine!"

"Amen."

[elfarons]

You're My Religion

cw: nsfw mentions but nothing explicit, religious themes, power dynamic, (tell me if i missed any O_O)

priest!Ren who has devoted his entire life to the town's temple since birth, committed to preaching the holy gospel

he noticed how his faith started wavering, jaded after being in this lifestyle for so long, missing something...

passion.

when was the last time they felt strongly about.. anything?

this will surely past, he tells himself as he pushes through, seeing the churchgoers smile after their prayers make them feel closer to heaven, but he's never felt farther.

ren prepares for what could potentially be his last sermon, telling everyone to bow their heads in silent prayer.

he will determine whether or not he'll give up this lifestyle after this last day-

when you walk in for the first time.

as soon as you see each other, it feels like time stopped. it feels like heaven's gates opening, it feels like their heart beats for the first time in years.

it was like you were the only two people on earth as you held each others gaze.

he couldn't believe god had sent down an angel.

you smiled and broke the stare, sitting down a couple rows behind the next person.

the priest of the town's church, who is used to having eyes on him, feels hyperaware of your stare. after he finished preaching, ren beelines straight towards you, introducing themself and inviting you to one-on-one appointments to acquaint yourself with the religion.

you came to the first meeting. then the next, and the next, eventually becoming a near daily routine. after a couple weeks, the appointments started to feel more like hanging out with a best friend, conversations evolving from church topics to the more personal details.

your life recently fell apart out of nowhere. you lost your job, you're backed up on bills, then your friends have all left you. he would never leave you. every time, ren would reassure you this is a test of faith and comfort you with warm hugs that smelled of clean linen and myrrh.

his hugs always made your heartbeat faster. you hoped he never noticed.

he proposed you move into the church as a temporary solution. of course, you accepted. what choice did u have?

although he insisted it was fine, you wanted to pay him back somehow, so you started helping out around the temple.

ren was absolutely ecstatic. everyday you would see each other, if only for just a quick smile from across the room. you'd have to leave soon after, but ren would pinch his wrist and hold his pendant, cursing himself for wanting you so bad.

you were eager to help out everyday. the holy water was running out? you would assist ren in making holy water. the garden looked a little too sad? you'd tend to the plants, maybe surprise ren with a lotus from a nearby pond. the living quarters needed cleaning? ren told you to clean his room last because the others must be tired and he'd stay up late anyways.

you noticed ren had little to no decorations around his room. that's odd, considering he's lived here basically his entire life, but you didn't push the matter.

as the holidays neared the church was busy with preparations, with ren being the busiest. god he missed you. the way you'd always smile at him, show genuine interest in what he had to say, look longingly at his lips...

after entering his room, he laid down, exhausted. his bedsheets smelled so nicely of you. how did they smell of you so perfectly? whatever he's not complaining. mind wandering, he barely registered his hand trailing down into his pants, thinking about their perfect angel.

he could almost imagine that you stayed behind and you were the one touching him. or maybe he would tell you to sit back and let him worship you instead, letting his lips and hands perform a prayer so full of devotion even god would be jealous.

in the following days, they couldn't even bother to feel ashamed, even when it looked like the statues on the walls stared into his soul. their only regret was that they couldn't work up the courage to confess everything they felt to you... until tonight.

when you both finally had a chance to talk it felt like home again. you both talked well into the night about anything and everything. from how you wanted to restore the garden, to how stressed ren was about all this pressure on him and how he just needed someone, anyone.

he's done so much for you, you can practically feel your heart shatter when tears start streaming down his cheeks. he doesn't deserve this.

he shakes when you hug him, not just because he's genuinely about to break down in his angel's arms, but he's also so terribly happy.

he's got you now.

...

...

but you were never completely innocent were you?

you knew what you were doing the first day you walked in. the rumors said the priest was good-looking, so naturally you styled yourself to perfection.

the rumors weren't even close because holy shit. tall stature, flawless pale skin, broad shoulders, dark hair in a loose, low ponytail resting on their shoulder.

angels are real, and one is looking right at you.

the meetings excited you as much as they did him, feeling a guilty pleasure at how he would sometimes ignore his duties to stay with you a little longer. but eventually you would always leave for your job, hoping he'd miss you like you missed him.

you let them into your life. you knew that fire at your job was to get you laid off and spend more time with them. you knew your friends left you because you saw a figure in all black leave threatening notes on their doorsteps. you knew all the small things you purposefully forgot went somewhere for his own safekeeping.

and every time, you ran back into his arms. but what about everything he's done? why is the man who ruined your life the one you run to for comfort? aren't you scared?

ren was your guardian angel! they had always said your friends and job were toxic anyways and they'd end up hurting you in the long run, but rest assured ren would never hurt you.

after moving into the temple, you saw him everyday and it made you want him even more. even while being worked to the bone, the fleeting glances you shared across the room was enough for you to stop and collect yourself in a hidden corner, holding your heart in fear it might jump out.

eventually, small smiles across the room didn't cut it. when you headed up to ren's room to do nightly cleaning, you noticed the room just smelled so much of them. you missed ren deeply.

well... something small would be fine as long as you didn't get caught right? you laid on their bed and smelled the sheets. it was almost as if he was here, enveloping you in arms, whispering those sweet, reassuring words in your ear...

what started as innocently imagining him holding you ended with swearing to never tell him how just being in his bed had brought you to euphoric bliss.

~ ~ ~

after the festivites. you were sitting with him on that same bed, letting him cry into your shoulder. you rubbed their back up and down, soothing them until their sobs died down and they fell asleep in your arms, exhausted.

when you gently laid them down on their back, they tightly held onto you, afraid to lose you even in his sleep. as much as you wanted to stay in their arms, you didn't want to be presumptuous, so you very softly untangled yourself from their hold.

brushing a strand of hair away from their face. you fondly cupped their face and looked at ren's face while they slept. so peaceful and free from worry. but seeing them so peaceful was just what made you snap.

you wanted to keep them safe, but you had to know more. you want to see his baby pictures, you want to find his middle school diary, you want to know everything about him.

determined, you searched through everything around the room until the bookshelf was left. it consisted of mainly books relating to his studies throughout the years, but there was one book that captured your eye. Angels and their offerings.

there was a click! as you grabbed it and you whipped to ren. still asleep facing you. you felt something was loose, but the book wouldn't come out any more..?

oh. oh. a secret door. you should have guessed as much. being perfect to the public just meant being more careful with secrets.

opening the shelf-door revealed a staircase that led down to a hidden area with light emanating somewhere to the side. you tiptoed down the stairs, silently cursing and tensing whenever a step creaked. finally, you made it down and peeked around the corner to find a door with light dancing under the gap, like it's reaching out. you took its hand and opened the door.

ren has consumed your being. he's your everything.

clearly you were his too.

floors and walls covered with pictures of you, both drawn and photographed. the drawn ones depicted you in a variety of poses and situations. one was you kissing ren while sitting on his lap, another was you, as an angel, holding him while he bled out, presumably bringing him to heaven. the photographs were of your daily life doing chores and talking to the other members, but everyone else's face was crossed out to only leave you in.

starting to get flushed, you examine the back wall that displays a shrine dedicated to you. three tiers of all the belongings he's taken from you, adorned with candles.

the bottom tier was your trash, like the paper you doodled on earlier, a fork that you used at lunch last week, or your empty shampoo bottle from 3 months ago. the middle tier was stuff you purposefully left out for him, like your underwear, your necklace, or the pen you chewed on during bible study. the highest tier seemed to hold his favorites, like the, now dead lotus, the holy water jars he made with you, the sheets that smelled exactly like you.

hanging in the center was a framed photo of the day you moved in, just you and ren smiling at the camera. hearts drawn on the glass in front of your face.

before you know it, you feel two hands on your shoulders quickly spinning you around to look right into powdery blue eyes. you freeze, caught like a deer in headlights, anticipating the worst.

instead, you gasp when ren gets down on one knee, then both, kissing your hand and looking up at you like you've given him all the answers. to them, you truly looked like the most benevolent god.

ren didn't have to say anything for you to get the message.

you were who he will devote the rest of his life to, who he will make offerings for, who they will preach the gospel for.

kneeling down with him, you bestowed him the blessing of a kiss, then let him prove his faith by taking care of you in all the ways you wanted from ren. all the ways you needed from ren. their sinful fantasy of being able to worship you with hands and lips no longer a fantasy.

he will live and die for you. you will live and die for him.

you were his religion. he was yours.

author's note: MIC DROP, HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNNN MUAHAHA !!! i decided to get a lil smutty in there because i watched secretary and i was like wait,, angel and priest ren with that yearning... a little insecure because i felt like i wrote too much while literally trying to do no dialogue orz i hope you still enjoyed tho!!

literally posting this while getting ready to go out :3 i hope you all stay safe if you celebrate or just have a good day!

ren is from @14dayswithyou , dividers by @/enchanthings !!

[taintedbenevolence]

Self Aware! AU [MONDSTADT EDITION]

warnings! yandere content, obsessive, possessive and unhealthy behavior, implied / mentioned kidnapping, drugging, stalking, gaslighting, manipulation, non-consensual touch, toxic relationships, slightly religious themes/practices (?). Please do not interact/read if said themes bother you!

✦ series! genshin impact ✦ characters! Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Venti ✦ pairings! Separate per character ✦ category! yandere

✦ ALBEDO KREIDEPRINZ ✦

self-aware! albedo, who realizes quickly that he's in a game, finding it curious as to how he was created within such a vast game without his initial knowledge/awareness. self-aware! albedo, who finds it more intriguing when he hears your voice for the first time, realizing that there is another, external being watching him, observing what he does. self-aware! albedo, who finally realizes who controls the traveler, understanding now more what is going on the world in Tevyat. self-aware! albedo, who believes that you are the rightful god, the only one watching everything, the one whom he should worship and adore. self-aware! albedo, who becomes more and more enraptured by the concept of your existence, not caring if you are human or not in your physical constitution. self-aware! albedo, who slowly begins to fall for you, despite not having ever met you, praying to you the archons and heavens that one day he may be able to catch a glimpse of you. self-aware! albedo, who is convinced and determined that you are the only true perfection that must be pursued in this hopeless world destined to rot. self-aware! albedo, who slowly breaks his way out of the game, absolutely enamored at the sight of the real world - the only world he should've ever cared for - the one he was forbidden from entering. self-aware! albedo, who is determined to find you, you whom possessed that lovely voice that soothed and eased his mind. He will not rest until he finds you. self-aware! albedo, who when he finally finds you, only then believes that he's truly ever seen an angel. He won't allow you to leave, no matter how hard you try, for you are his beloved, his god. You are an enigmatic existence to him, and he must study you further. Surely, you understand?

✦ DILUC RAGNVINDR ✦

self-aware! diluc, who takes time before he finally grasps the concept and truth that he's merely a character encoded within a game. self-aware! diluc, who starts to hear your voice on occasion, now curious as to who you are, and why he can hear but not see you. self-aware! diluc, who becomes determined to find out who you are, and why he hears you so often yet can't find you. It irritates him. self-aware! diluc, who figures out that you must be an external presence, one outside of the game. He becomes obsessed in trying to get out. self-aware! diluc, who succeeds in escaping the game, even feeling unnerved at his own feelings that grow rapidly for every day that passes by. self-aware! diluc, who manages to find you, rather angry that you've concealed yourself from him, but satisfied that he's found you. self-aware! diluc, who ties you down to your own bed, arguing that you're safer where he can keep an eye on you, but also pondering if he should take you away to somewhere else where you won't be found. self-aware! diluc, who decides to act on such thoughts, one day bringing you to an unfamiliar place where he believes you'll be safe, tying you to the mattress located inside, trusting you'll be fine. self-aware! diluc, who holds you when he's tired, whispering sweet nothings to you, acting as if everything is just perfect, a fantasy, except that this time, it's real. This isn't a fanfiction scenario you read online somewhere - this time it's real, and the horror is sinking in. self-aware! diluc, who swears and vows to protect you with his life, regardless of what costs it may bring to him. You are his one and only, his newfound purpose, and he won't let you go so easily.

✦ KAEYA ALBERICH ✦

self-aware! kaeya, who is genuinely surprised when he finds out that he's just a set of codes, and well... he starts to find it almost funny how everything around him is really just not real. self-aware! kaeya, who realizes and accepts this reality. His joy, his life, what he felt, all that pain it was all just a sad joke, eh? To him, it almost feels like the world's been mocking him, yet he laughs at it, willing to entertain this sick reality. self-aware! kaeya, who makes indirect comments that insinuate the breaking of the fourth wall, to which grasp your attention, and quick. No characters had done this before, this is certainly something ... new. self-aware! kaeya, who comes home a bit more often than you thought he would, just showering you in some good luck and fortune that others won't be granted. You're happy, right? You should be. self-aware! kaeya, who doesn't let you take him off your party. Seriously? Who do you need other than him? Allow him to show you just what he can do - there's no reason for him to leave. self-aware! kaeya, who finds his way to the real world with ease, and (un)surprisingly enough, his first stop is the bar. Ah ... the money? Don't stress about that, sweetheart. self-aware! kaeya, who one day finds you at a bar, and offers you a drugged glass of wine. Oh, feeling a little tipsy, darling? Dizzy? Lightheaded? Nauseous? You look a little pale, what's with that look of shock on your face? Oh, worry not, Kaeya's here to help you out, so don't go making that face. self-aware! kaeya, who takes the liberty of kidnapping taking you to where he resides, bringing you to his basement as he ties you up to a chair. You'll be up and going right by his side soon enough, won't you? self-aware! kaeya, who will tease and make playful remarks of how unfortunate and terrible it is that you're all locked up with no one to help you. But oh! Don't worry! He'll be right by your side. Every. Waking. Moment. self-aware! kaeya, who delights as you plead him to let you go. He laughs. Free you? I'm afraid that request is out of the question. He wipes your tears with an eldritch smile, promising you that you'll learn to love this in time too.

✦ VENTI, BARBATOS ✦

self-aware! venti, who finds it amusing as he realizes that he's in a game. If anything, he thinks it's a new opportunity to mess with everything for his own entertainment. self-aware! venti, who'll send random letters to you, varying from good morning messages all the way to comments relating to what're your thoughts on your travels in Mondstadt, or if you like other nations more. self-aware! venti, who deliberately makes eye contact with you. Not the traveler. You. He knows that you're the one controlling the traveler. He wants to make you aware of that. self-aware! venti, who makes you aware that he's aware of the fact he's in a game. He'll tell you that he wants to see the outside world, craving to be free. self-aware! venti, who one day appears in your room, playing the lyre, and you're not sure if you're hallucinating or not. You exit, and come back, and he's gone. Are you seeing things? self-aware! venti, who sings to you lullabies while you sleep, the tune a sweet one with words even sweeter, just like the poison that is his love for you. self-aware! venti, who makes appearances every now and then in your life. Not too many, but sufficient to question what you're seeing. No one believes you when you tell them it's him. What're you talking about? Venti doesn't exist. Wake up. self-aware! venti, who makes anyone who bothers you vanish with ease. Did someone hurt you? Are they pissing you off? Do you not want them around? He hears a word and he's off already. self-aware! venti, who starts leaving you gifts with short letters, each written note more disturbing than the last. self-aware! venti, who at last kidnaps you, dragging you far and far away, stripping you of the very thing he symbolizes: freedom. He claims and sings to you how free and liberated your presence makes him feel, yet you cannot help but ponder as you silently weep: what does freedom truly mean, if demanded of you by a god?

[zennotixs]

My darling, you must be the closest thing to divine that a sinner like me will ever be blessed with. I will never let you go, never let you leave my arms. Even if it means cutting off your wings and chaining you down to this pitiful world. I must have you with me.

[priesttremblay]

i think of you like a believer does with God. I clutch a rosary and think of you.

[5051704xoxo]

[ozzgin]

content: gender neutral reader, religious themes, blasphemy, NSFW, horror

Something is wrong with your beloved Angel, yet you cannot place the dreadful feeling in the depths of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't made to comprehend such divine truths.

5. Honour thy father and thy mother

It was birthed from the void of the Heavens. No parent governs over its will. No being controls its resolve.

Father...? The word rings and echoes across ancient times, forgotten eons. It does not remember its meaning. All it knows is you, and you are enough.

4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy

"Six days you shall labor, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God." Of course. The law is clear, or at least it should be. Its mind navigates the meaning, suddenly engulfed by a mysterious haze.

Six days it labors, it serves, it worships. It exists for you, to please you and fulfill your desires. Your wish is its command.

Six days of creation. It has been molded just for you, to fit all the nooks and corners of your body and soul. You have taught it how to love, how to crave, how to need. It starves for your touch.

3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain

"Oh, God", you cry, clinging to the holy beast. It shivers in raw bliss, its many hands embracing your lewd body, drooling and panting in unquenchable desire. Its mind is possessed by one singular thought: to breed you, to own you, to fuck more profanities out of your pretty, little mouth.

The word swirls inside its head, baptized to a new sense: God is when you reach your peak, when you're within its voracious hold. Your trembling hands reach for the horns.

2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image

It yearns to create, to be the architect for once. Your home is littered in unfinished pieces: bizarre, geometrical paintings, abstract statues chiseled in most refined detail, music sheets of notes foreign to your human ears. All of them have something in common - it's how the Angel perceives you.

You fill up its senses, and the essence drips onto its works of art. It gathers the objects of worship together, like the outline of an altar, like an inviting chamber of prayer.

1 Thou shalt have no other gods before me

The abyssal creature bows before you, its many eyes devouring your form. The long, black claws reach out, like a beggar scraping its way out of the depths of ennui.

You're a blessing from the Heavens.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [First Half]

[grxndprix]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰 & 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘦����𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯 (𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩), 𝘴/𝘢, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘥𝘬, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭

A fresh new start always felt like bull.

It was like fate itself holding her life on puppet strings. Moving her like a numb pawn in a chess game. Everything felt calculated for everything except her. She just had to wait for things to go her way every once in a while, before it fell apart again.

Right now, it was going fairly mundanely. Nothing interesting or even mildly negative had happened in a while, though nothing had either. She had already been living alone for quite some time. Moved out of her parents’ house as soon as possible and invested in a house of her own for the sole reason of hating apartments. Too rickety, and she would feel safer in a smaller, single house than with broken windows or whatever else.

[name] ran a ringed hand through her hair, huffing out a breath as she hauled her cross-body bag over her shoulder. The job down at the local cafe awaited straight ahead, and despite her fears, she wasn’t a child anymore, she could do this. 

Morning pink and white skies, highlighted with gold clouds had her taking in the fresh air. In fact, it wasn’t until she picked her walking pace up again, stepping toward the cafe doors, that the slightest bit of dread began to pool in her stomach.

A sigh, and [name] reached for the handle as she made her way inside. Her eyes wandered, trailing along the gold embellishments among the otherwise green, brown, and orange-ish tints around her. She lumbered on her way to the back of the building, swiftly tugging her uniform on and starting to take orders from her position as cashier.

Customers piling in couldn’t deny the coziness, some of them staying for quite some time. [name] herself enjoyed every second spent on the job and could never imagine quitting. Or— At least… Those were her premonitions for now. It was a steady source of income while living alone, the atmosphere was nice, the people were nice, it wasn’t—

The doors opened just as the clock chimed at 3 o’clock. 

Not even a divine mercy could save such a tragedy. In waltzed two figures, tall in stature and a bit intimidating with their builds. [name] gulped for a second, feeling the cozy air around her start to dissipate. Despite recognizing them as regulars, the girl was unsettled. They always came in and just… observed her every move. She averted her gaze for the sake of her own well-being, lips pursing and unpursing. The feeling of her lip gloss brought back some sense, and she snapped out of her stupor.

In the short time she’d looked at them, she noticed they looked pretty identical to the last time. Cold white hair, blue eyes that held the world in their irises, black uniform — He was the one whose gaze raked along her entire figure, always whispering obscene things to his friend. Of course, said friend had raven hair, long locks that swayed with each step. They were tied up into a bun, and his matching eyes always remained locked on her face, barely wavering. His irises held nothing but sorrow, the weight of the universe—

‘Don’t judge people by their looks,’ She reminded herself. It’s rude to do so, even in this case… Her eyes flicked back to the pair, and she physically had to hold herself back from flinching. Both of their gazes were locked right onto her, one sporting a small smirk, and the other smiling softly. 

The man smirking ran a hand through his snowy white hair, whistling lowly and leaning over to whisper something in his presumed friend’s ear. The smiling man whispered something as well, raven locks swaying in the small breeze. She wouldn’t have cared about any of this had their stares not been piercing into her. Something felt off, something really felt off— What was once just invasive had turned predatory. At least before, it didn’t feel like this.

The first time the pair had come into the cafe, they took a seat and seemed to talk casually for a bit. They weren’t ordering anything, but just to be sure, [name] had made her way over and asked them if they wanted to try anything off the menu. She tried and failed to conceal her wince when their eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

That was the first time she’d experienced true intimidation. Satan regarded the two of them with a shiver, and she felt her hand tremble at her side. As if they had gotten what they wanted, the pair smiled, but the notion didn’t reach their eyes. 

Neither one of them spoke a word for a moment, until—

“Just coffee, thanks.” The ravenette had a gentle voice, countering his intimidating stature. She nodded, a strained ‘Of course!’ falling from her lips before she walked back to her place at the counter. Still, she felt their burning stares pierce through her back. 

Fate held a scissor to the string.

She tried to mind her own business. She really did. Returning to brewing some coffee for the person in line, sliding it across the table, and giving them a smile. Her lips could barely form the words, “Have a good day,” before she cut herself off, eyes widening. The coffee she had handed them knocked out of their grasp, laying spilled on the floor. 

[name] gasped quietly, eyes darting back up to meet black and blue hues. She froze a second, suddenly realizing that while she’d been on autopilot, spacing out— The rest of the cafe had gone empty. Beginning to yell at the pair, the customer the coffee had been for looked beyond pissed. They opened their mouth to continue screaming at the white-haired man, but—

A swift flick of his fingers, and the customer went flying across the room, seemingly gaining momentum as they crashed against the wall and hit their head hard enough to knock out. A sickening crack echoed throughout the room, allowing [name] to freeze completely. Her face paled in horror at the sight, a horrifying entity forming right behind the customer. They didn’t get the chance to fight, head effectively bitten clean off their body. 

Blood poured forth from the stump like that of the Lord, body falling limp. The crimson color had splattered all over the walls and floor, a horrifying canvas of the spiral to hell, to purgatory— 

Muted noiret hair cascaded over his shoulder as the man knelt on one knee in front of the body. He seemed to observe the way a few ants had already begun crawling out of the small hole in the wall, breaths quiet. Then, he cracked a smile. “‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’… May your god have mercy on your soul, low-life.”

With that, the entity swallowed the rest of the customer up whole.

It was quiet for a second. A clock ticked in the background, but she swore it almost felt like the seconds had slowed down. [name]’s mind was running wild with the visual and implied information dumped onto her. ‘What was that entity? Why did they kill the customer? What were they gonna do to her? Was this it? Were they going to kill her too?’

Despite the icy look he sent the corpse, the white-haired man huffed out a snicker. “C’mon, Suguru, don’t be like that.” He dragged the last word out, cracking his knuckles in front of him. His sapphire eyes took their time in studying every reaction [name] had to offer. From her shivers to her darting eyes — He consumed it all.

The ravenette chuckled too, lightheartedly smacking the other on the back. “How else should I be, Satoru?”

That seemed to snap her out of her state. The girl tried to scream, all blood leaving her face, but all she could form was a weak whimper. Her hands clutched at her uniform in an effort to ground herself, trying to sprint for the back. There were about 15 steps between herself and the door. She only made 3. 

A hand clasped around her wrist, tugging her backward and into a chest. “Trying to leave so soon? Oh c’mon now, princess,” Satoru’s hand trailed down to her waist, lips brushing against her earlobe and greedily drinking up the shivers he got in return. “We haven’t even started yet.”

Suguru made his way to her front, one hand in his pocket while the other grabbed her cheeks to make sure she looked right into those pools of tar. He smiled softly, a stark contrast to Satoru’s smug grin as his lips nipped at her neck. Suguru took in every little detail of her face, including the blood from the customer’s splatter. The pores, the imperfections, the perfections— He couldn’t get enough. 

“You’re a beautiful thing, y’know that?” He muttered, as if it was a secret only between the two of them. Something that no one else should ever know about. She tried to form a remark, anything to tell them off— But all it sounded like to them was a puppy’s whines.

His lips came crashing onto hers with a passion that rivaled Hades as he pursued Persephone. [name] tried desperately to push them off, using every bit of the strength she had— Yet as they backed her into the backroom, she knew it was all in vain. The realization didn’t stop her though, lips finally pushing past their rest and yelling for them to stop, almost sure it might draw the attention of someone outside. Before they closed the door, she saw that it had begun to pour rain, loud enough to completely mask any and all of her noises.

Satoru was the one that pushed her down onto the counter, Suguru immediately beginning to pull her oversized shirt off. The white haired man ran a hand through his strands at the sight, a hissed “Fuck,…” pulling through his throat. The ravenette saw how [name] tried to cover herself again, face pink, and immediately pinned her wrists above her head.

“Shh… It’s— It’s okay, we’ll take care of you, right, ‘Toru?” His voice was tight, like he was refraining from saying something, doing something— She tried to tug her wrists away from his hold, yelling for help, telling them to stop, just about anything that could just end the moment here and now. 

A chuckle, and Satoru leaned over her body, face mere centimeters from hers. His lips practically brushed hers as those damned jewel-like orbs devoured her own. 

“Yeah, we’ll treat ya real good, princess.”

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳-𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 ☆

[melodicmelancholia]

[threepandas]

Bad End: Eve

You know how most Otome games are vaguely historical? Usually some non-specific mishmash of European countries? But fluffier and with more bows? It had once "gotten" to me, I think. I remember looking for outliers. Non-joke ones. Something that wasn't just "but this time with hats!"

I found one.

And now? Now I'm not sure if I curse that day or thank whatever force of nature lead me there. I guess... I guess it depends. Would I still have ended up HERE? If I had not found it? If so, then I genuinely and actually fucking rue it. Like... like actual "you'll rue the day! Bwahaha!" Type rue it. That's me. Ruing.

But? If it was always going to happen?

Then I guess...

I guess I'm weirdly glad. Because at least I have some fucking idea of what's going ON. Terrible, as it all is. Fucked, as the situation is. At least I'm not... not confused. Blind and at the mercy of those around me. Ignorance truely isn't bliss. All it does is leave you to try an fill in the blanks yourself. Usually with something far worse.

Not that the situation could GET much worse, by much.

I was in an Otome game. NOT a flower, high society, and dragons kind either. No. I? Was in a Dark Sci-Fi otome game. "Fate of man" was thrown around a lot. Power of luuuuv~ and such. Also, you know, HORRIFIC ethical violations. Human experimentation. Cataclysmic events and humanity "starting over".

All the high drama sci-fi concepts you could expect. It was a romp. Had good art. I'd had fun! Which is why I remember it so clearly.

Less fun when you're IN IT.

When you AREN'T one of the characters you KNOW will survive.

In fact, are one of the characters you know WON'T fucking survive. And will probably die MESSY. Horribly. Cause see, our BELOVED Harem collecting Protagonist? She? Was AN Eve. "AN".

Take a wild fucking guess what THAT project is about.

Did you say "breeding a better race of humans"? Ding ding ding! With humanity currently fucked, they want to FIX the problem by FIXING humanity. And of course, fuck ethics! Volunteers? Why use those?! Let's horrifically mad scientist our way to atrocity-ville! Make it all the more "God rightfully punishing us for our unforgivable sins" when we get wiped out!

Fffffffuck YOU, plot! I have to live here too!

You may, in fact, be picking up a slight note of stir crazy. A "wow, this lady rambles like a mother fucker" vibe. You would TOO, if you were stuck in a FUCKING TUBE. All I can do, day in and day out? Is wake, think, observe, then go right back to sleep. I can't even eat! I got a TUBE for that!

I... I miss showers.

Everything is GOO.

I'm an Eve. And if it weren't for the air tube controlng my breathing? I'd laughing hysterically until I died. And no, not in the "oh how funny" way. God. Oh... oh god. What a way to die. NONE of the Eves survive "the program".

Those IDIOTS are so OBSESSED with making bigger and bigger, better and better, FUCKING JUGGERNAUTS? That the Adams? Have long since reached the point of "mindless killing machine". UNSTABLE is putting it lightly. There is sexual dimorphism and then there's literal incompatibility.

But GOD FORBID the scientists admit that THEY are the ones with the inferior product.

It... it was even part of the game's plot. The scientist who made "Eve" HID her while HE made an Adam. I do not have that luxury. Somewhere, there is an unstable BESERKER being told I'm his "wife". That we're going to be HAPPY together. That he'll get to put his bruising, blood soaked hands anywhere he WANTS... just after he WINS me from the other Adam's.

Got to prove HE'S the best specimen, after all.

It makes my skin crawl. All I can hope, is that I can either provoke the bastard enough to kill me before they have a chance to stop him, or? I use my own enhanced strength to snap my neck. Maybe bite my tounge. Like HELL am I letting an Adam get near me.

The hiss of laboratory doors.

"Perfection at last..." Comes a relieved sigh. "All those HIDEOUS specimens. Why they make me suffer them, I'll never understand. We should have terminated them months ago. My poor project, they really think they're WORTHY of you..."

There's a derisive laugh. The scientist strolling into the lab I've been developing in, familiar. I watch him casually shrug off his lab coat and dump is bag. Hang his coat over the back of his chair. Turn, as he does each day, to STARE up at me. His eyes are a pale, pale purple the likes of which I've never seen before.

They're HAUNTING.

There is almost a red tint to them, though maybe that's the lights. The goo. I can never tell. He always looks ENTRANCED by me. Floating, visored, connected to far too many tubes an' wires. I'd think it was the fact that I was naked if it weren't for the way his gaze doesn't seem to drift lower then my shoulders. Seems more entranced by the way my hair moves, as though under water.

I've never once heard him talk about me lustfully.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't SCARE me.

"Let's begin, shall we? Time for your daily doses, mmm?" He says, voice dangerously affectionate. As though i had CHOSEN to do this to myself. As though he were merely reminding me of my morning medicine and not the hell ahout to come. "Going to be good for me? I know you shall, you always are."

He turned back to his desk, his computer. A few keystrokes... and I could feel the pod above me begin to hum, as it awoke. Oh god. Oh god it never got easier. From the corner of my eyes, bright chemicals slide down thind lines and into my veins. Like lines of lava. Bolts of electricity and pain. It was... AGONY.

My muscles seized. Brain screeched, first to the screaming I wish I could make... then static. With the long practice of daily pain, it took me far away. The click, click, click of keys. The sound of his voice, so terribly PLEASED, as I hung there and just TOOK it. No restraints, no strugging, no damaging myself. Just unbearable fire in my veins and a brain far, far away.

"Good girl~"

Distantly a phone rang. He made an annoyed sound, but picked up regardless.

"What. I'm in the middle of- ...Excuse me? I'm quite sure I did not hear you correctly. I said 'NO'. She's not-....I will NOT BE-...What. Are you out of your god damned MIND? That pile of scraps you call a project is coming NOWHERE near my-! ....you think you're clever, don't you?"

"Fine. You want to TALK? Let's TALK, Anderson. I'll be there in five."

From far away, past the pain, I watched him chance down at something at the screen. Back up to me. He hung up the phone but did not pause the program. Instead, calmly rising from his desk. Shrugging on his lab coat. Rounding the desk and striding towards my bio-tube.

"Hmmm, honestly, it should have been spaced out over a few more days... but you can take it. Endure a bit longer for me, would you, darling? Daddy's going to go deal with something for just a moment, he'll be right back, my perfect girl. Be good."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to my tank. One hand splayed next to it like he badly wished he could touch. Could stroke skin. Hold his creation close. It was not the first time he had done this. Small, covetous, little actions like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and STAY there. Like he cursed the glass that separated us.

He pulled back. Shifted to the side and kneeled. He... had hidden something behind my bio-pod? When? Apparently before I had become aware. Because I had not known about it. A black shoe box. I watched him open i-GUN. Thaaaat was a gun! Fuck. Well at least? By the time anyone thinks to look in on me? The overdose will probably have killed me?

There is a cold, terrible smile on his face as he rolls to his face. Tucking the gun into an inner pocket. It has a silencer. He leans forward one last time. Lightly kissing the glass of my pod, as though heading off to work and not to very obviously kill somebody. The pain continues. Builds. I watch him leave.

With nothing to anchor myself on... time blurs.

I think? There are alarms? Red lights flash. Then they stop. There is shouting at one point. But then silence. An explosion? Or am I hallucinating? Pain. My nerves are on fire. I don't want to have SKIN. Please... please make it STOP! Calm foot steps? Come to kill me? Please come to kill me. Make it STOP.

The lights died a... time? Ago? Emergency lights on now. Generators in the room are loud. Why can I still hear the feet? Footses? Words. H..hurts. please.

Click.

The pain eases to a stop. Aching but nothing new. Over? Oh, thank god. I can sleep now, right? But... sound? New. At my feet. Gurgling. Wha-? The very top of my head feels cold. Then my forehead. Then my temple's and ears, cheeks, jaw... wait. Is? Is the tube...DRAINING? I open my eyes.

When did I close them?

He's back.

Standing right in front of the tube. Blood staining the hem of his coat, lingering marks of his massacre cleaned but not quite scrubbed from his body. There are little off red stains on his cheek, from what must be blood splatter. They look like tiny freckles.

I'm... I can't...

I reach as the tube down my throat is pulled almost carelessly away by the machine. Choke, suffocate, as the same is done for my air tube. But then it's done... and I can BREATHE under my own power. Gasp and splutter, as the goo sloshes around my knees. Then it's gone. And the tube I've been leaning my weight against is roughly pulled away.

I collapse forward, my muscles having never actually supported me in this life.

Arms catch me. Wrapping me in a possessive hug. A hand immediately burying itself in long uncut hair, even as the other wraps itself around my torso to lean me against his body in a cradle. My face is pressed to his neck by the hand in my hair, cradling my head and neck. I can feel breath against the goo wet crown of my head.

"Finally~" he breaths out, whispering it against me like a sigh. "My beautiful, perfect girl. My darling creation. It took so LONG. Those retrobates interfering at every turn, lusting after you like ANIMALS, trying to keep you from me. Then, worst of all, trying to toss you to some pack of savages? Oh, darling~ Daddy's been so worried for you."

"But we'll be okay now, won't we? I finally have you. All fresh and finally finished. My perfect Eve. You can pick any name you want, of course. You and I will be leaving this ugly little place. Daddy has PLANS. A fresh new world, just for you, sweetheart."

He laughed, his hug tightening in a way that would have left bruises had I been a normal human. Kisses were pressed to my temple. A cheek, rubbed against my hair. He seemed... seemed GIDDY with it. That nothing could stop him now. There was no glass in his way. I could not move yet. My muscles twitched when I tried, but that was it. I wasn't even sure I could talk yet, if I tried.

"Aaah~♡ Welcome to the World, Darling. My Perfection. My Eve. This time no snakes or Adams to tarnish you. To get in your way. Just you and your Father~"

"FOREVER~♡"

Next: ->

[yanderemommabean]

Obey me Simeon feeling so sinful and awful for accidentally raising his voice at Mammon (who deserved it but thats beside the point). The only way he can feel better and properly repent is if he ties you down and has you cum multiple times on his clothed dick. Think of it as divine scolding, like he is at a confessional or worshipping a shrine. By enduring hours of your writhing, overstimulated pleas while his cock slowly gets drenched but never freed. It will make Simeon sincerely reflect on his actions- he needs you to do it for him. Ignore the way he smiles so widely and cums in his pants so fast, this is very serious punishment for him. He will remember this (as he recorded it) and wont ever raise his voice again<3. Simeon keeps his promises. Although he never promised that he would return your panties

"I truly am repenting, I hope you see that" he pants, breathless but still holding on tightly as he rocked his hips upwards, his cock twitching and coated in not just your essence, but also his own. He's wrung about three orgasms from you so far just like this, your body being the holy grail he cannot drink from if he chooses to continue his sinful ways. This is to show him what he'll miss out on if he cannot obey and be the guiding light he was made to be. He doesn't even allow himself to bend down and lick a stripe up your throat, as much as it pains him to see that sweat go to waste and your soft pliant skin not be marked. But He isn't worthy. He has to repent. Your body is the altar he prays to and your whimpers are the hymns that heal his lost soul, and with every arch and whimper he can pull from you and himself like this, it's one step closer to erasing the dark pit that has seemed to form in his soul. A slow roll of his hips, just right, the perfect pressure and once again you're spewing that delicious essence he wont be able to drink down and swallow like he so desperately wants to. His cock twitches in need, soaked and sticky from the mix of the mess you two are making, but he cannot give in. No. He can't slide every inch inside of you while you blubber and cry and beg for the angel. For, He fears, he hasn't been very angelic. Only a holy being should be able to touch you and he has to remind himself about that thin line he's been walking. "Bless me with your symphonies, cure me with your essence, remind me of all I have to lose my dear. My soul has wandered too far and has forgotten what it was placed in this world for. I beg of you for your forgiveness, and for your discipline. I repent. I repent, I repent, I repent!" He yells, eyes wide and crazed as he presses his cloth-covered cock against your own privates over and over again, your body feeling just how hard his own was pulsing and twitching, practically begging.

As if he truly was being tortured to do better.

His body hunches forward, sweat covering both your skin and his as he allowed the two of you to catch your breath, his eyes peering up at you through long eyelashes as he gives a wicked, almost deranged smirk and steals a soft peck from your lips. "I promise...I swear on my soul I'll be the angel you need me to be. I'll be the one you can turn to when hell takes a toll and I'll be the one to soothe those aches. I'll do my best to stay worthy of you, my love. I do remember saying I needed to do ten of these rituals, didn't I? It seems we have about six more to go".

-Mommabean (I hope you liked! Comment if you want beans! I LOVED this prompt / idea! )

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sin and Holy

Summary: Lorgar wants revenge on Guilliman, but ends up becoming obsessed with his lover, deifying her.

Lorgar Aurelian/fem!Reader (Roboute Guilliman/fem!Reader background)

Warnings: yandere, obsession, possessive behavior, kidnapping, religious kink, foot fetish, voyeurism

Author's note: Blame our mind worms of "lorgar foot worship plotline".

Word count: 2017

Song: Pet Shop Boys - It's a Sin

Everything I've ever done Everything I ever do Every place I've ever been Everywhere I'm going to It's a sin

The end of the perfect city marked the beginning of a new and better world. But not one world, city or even house is built in a short time. Everything requires time and human will. Lorgar Aurelian understood this while he was looking for answers to his questions.

And even with the acquisition of true faith in Chaos, he knew that victory would only come with time. He wouldn't be able to defeat the Emperor right away. Bring the gifts of the four gods to the Galaxy. Just like he won’t be able to get you right away.

You immediately caught his attention. Roboute Guilliman's personal remembrancer, whom he took with him everywhere. The sightless would say that the mortal girl is too talented. Envious people would laugh at the fact that the primarch of the Ultramarines turned arrogant. But Lorgar knew who you were. Chaos told him.

Lover of Roboute Guilliman. A secret that his brother kept from everyone. Even from the Emperor. If Lorgar had been quick to anger, he would have told the primarchs about you. Would separate two lonely souls. But he did not dare to do this. It wasn't time yet. But soon he would make his brother grieve and suffer. He would have destroyed what was dearest to his heart, as he did with the Monarchy.

“I read your poems,” you carefully strike up a conversation with the primarch, clasping your hands. Your look is innocent and full of sincere kindness. Not admiration or awe, no. You saw him. His soul. - “They are wonderful. In truth, your poems calmed me in hard times.”

You don't flatter or mock him. Lorgar doesn’t need to glance around the room to understand that you approached him yourself. Without Guilliman's knowledge. The bastard who dared to smile at Aurenlian when he was forced to kneel humiliatingly. Anger almost covers the man, but your embarrassed smile dispels the rage like wind blows away fog.

"Thank you." - The primarch smiles softly, fascinated by your gentle influence. “The next time we meet, I will bring you a new work that no one has seen yet. I'm sure it will change the entire Imperium."

Aurelian was above mortals, he was a primarch and the chosen one of Chaos. And yet he was wrong. He could never hurt you. Because he loved you. Stronger than Roboute. Tighter. More furious. Almost to the point of obsession, consuming his soul.

You were beautiful. Your smooth movements were like a soft wind, and your voice was like the whisper of leaves. A soft, gentle light emanated from your soul. Like a ray of sunshine on the water. Your kindness and sincerity of words were like music or scripture. How can he wish evil upon such a beautiful and divine being?

And how can someone not notice your beauty? Not to value and treat as if you are worth nothing? But his brother exceeded all expectations. Through the warp, Lorgar watched as Roboute spent time with you like ordinary mortals. You talked heart to heart, laughed and sometimes even argued. And on special evenings, the man would please you while you gave yourself to him without reserve.

Your body bent on the silk like a reed in the wind, your skin covered in hot sweat. You moaned muffledly, holding onto the headboard with force. Lorgar couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, absorbing your figure, desperately trying not to look at Guilliman’s head between your legs.

While you two indulged in sin, Aurelian, with the help of the forces of Chaos, watched over you. Insatiably and greedily, feeding the laughing Prince of Pleasure with his torments. It seemed to the man that he would make a sound as soon as you opened your mouth in a pre-orgasmic state... but the miracle ended when Guilliman decided to stop and looked at your irritated face with a smile.

“You did this again! I beg you, please, one day finish it!” - you giggle and throw a pillow at the primarch, unable to be angry with him for long. Roboute defends himself from the attack with his hand and shrugs. His eyes sparkle with merriment and his smile is self-confident.

“Can’t help it. I love teasing you too much.”

Roboute leans on you with his whole body, and you continue to laugh into his chest, hugging his warm body tightly. Not noticing Lorgar's bestial gaze, full of black rage. But he could do nothing but continue to watch as Guilliman began to enter your holy gates.

It wasn't enough! You deserved better. Real worship, not primitive sentimentality. And Lorgar was eager to show you this. Longed to touch. Inhale the smell of your hair, feel your sweat and tears on your tongue. Feel the warm skin under his palms. Hear quiet moans.

He wanted you to let him love you. Wanted you command him to praise you, deify you and worship you. And he wanted you to beg him for ascension until you both burned in the fire of desire.

But you don't. After all, you are a kind and beautiful girl, whose soul barely casts a shadow in the Immaterium. But bright as a ray of sunshine, which he want to touch. You are too innocent and pure to turn your attention to a primarch mired in the mud. And so he has to act on his own.

Horus's betrayal came like thunder from a clear sky. What a pity for Guilliman that it was at this time that you decided to visit your family and went to your home world on the ship of the Rogue Trader. Lorgar kindly provided you with protection, assuring you that you would be safe on Fidelitas Lex.

And it was true. You weren't in any danger. Lorgal had enough strength to protect and hide you from all the horrors of the Galaxy. And to his delight, he has enough time to spend time alone with you. This is still a relatively calm time for now. To know you. To feel. To open.

“I heard about what happened on Khur. - you stammer, your eyes turned to the floor, full of regret. - I'm sorry. It's horrible. What you went through and how the poor people suffered. Roba- Lord Guilliman did not want to do this, he was following orders.”

“Let what is past remain in the past. I hold no grudge against my father and brother. - the primarch whispered half-truths like an insidious snake. Still, he was grateful to the fall of the Monarchy for leading him to the real truth. - And I don’t want you to be sad. This is between me and Roboute. It has nothing to do with you.”

You look up at him and Lorgar can hardly contain a sigh of admiration. Surprisingly, you, unlike most mortals, were not amazed by his greatness. However, this had the opposite effect. It was Urizen who was amazed by you.

“You are very kind.” - you smile softly, like a mother, seeing the child’s face for the first time. - “Even in this dark time, I am grateful to meet you. I will never forget this moment.”

And although you may now shake with fear at the sight of the primarch and the Word Bearers, Lorgar knew that everything would change. He believed that you would rediscover your love for him. Unfortunately, he had to use... force after the Drop Site Massacre. You were not a prisoner, but you will still have to be kept locked up for some time. For your own good.

He can’t help but admire your beauty, your radiant soul. How you are in only a white nightgown (Lorgar got rid of all the clothes with Ultramarines colors) after walking around the room, run onto the red silk bed. How your pure image merges with sinful chambers.

The man smiles softly and approaches you, forcefully squeezing a basin of clean water in his hands. He has waited so long for this day when you can become his. When a primarch can touch the greatness of a mortal girl.

“Lorgar,” you say his name quietly, trying to calm him down. But the man just clenches his teeth, feeling like everything in his lower abdomen is filled with sinful lead. - “P-please, don’t do this. I’m sure Roboute will forgive you, you are brothers after all.”

You no longer call him Lord Guilliman. You're still in love with him. What a shame. It's making his teeth hurt. But Lorgar, with tenacity worthy of a primarch, continues to smile at you, kneeling. He doesn't want to scare you even more. You are tender and fragile, he must take care of your holiness.

“The floor is dirty, and you walk on it completely barefoot,” - he himself took the shoes from you. A sharp impulse that the primarch himself did not understand. - “Please, let me wash your beautiful feet with clean water.”

His voice gradually becomes lower from the dark secret desire and you, whining, sit down at the very edge, dangling your legs. And like a righteous soul, you try not to tremble or make sounds as the primarch lifts your skirt, all the way to your knees, which he kisses in turn.

Lorgar sighs heavily, fighting the temptation to lick your whole legs. But he still takes your foot and gently massages it in the water. Alas, this action only inflames the furious heat within him. Those little feet, dainty heels and tiny toes. An absolutely exquisite and elegant piece of art. He is so absorbed in what he is doing that he almost doesn’t hear your voice.

“Please let me go. F-For him, duty comes first. H-he will protect Terra.” - you sob from the way Lorgar squeezed your limb. - “Roboute will not look for me, Lorgar. He won’t.”

The world freezes and even the Immaterium trembles from the overabundance of the primarch’s feelings. How terrible agony and destructive rage gives way to peace. Calmness. By grace. And it's all because of you.

"Yes. He won't save you." - his gentle words, designed to calm you down, only make you more sad. And the primarch cannot help but admire your suffering as a righteous martyr. Which only plunges him deeper into sin. - “And this is his greatest mistake.”

Lorgar carefully brings your washed foot to his mouth and kisses the tip of your toe Before wrapping his mouth around it, sucking gently with moan. His mouth filled with saliva, and a shiver of excitement and awe ran through his body at the fact that he was able to touch you. To your wonderful feet that carried you through this mortal world. He was ready to kiss every piece of ground you walked on.

But instead, filled with your blessing, he gently kisses your foot, licking and biting. Every toe of yours, every vein line on your skin. Lorgar bites your ankle lightly and foreign blood seeps onto his tongue. Tastes like heaven.

The primarch looks up at you pleadingly, studying your face, wet with tears. Is this a vision of the future, a trick of the eye, or is your soul shining brighter than usual? He didn't know. But Lorgar was sure that he saw a halo above your head, which his brother stubbornly did not notice, treating you like an ordinary mortal woman. But Lorgar is different. He won't allow you to be treated like that.

He was and will be a sinner. He was always blamed for everything. But you gave him hope. And he will fully thank you for the healing that you brought to his soul. He will put you on a pedestal above the rest of the world. After all, this is exactly what you deserve. You just don't know yet.

The words fall from his bloodied lips so quietly that they are almost inaudible. But you hear. You can’t help but hear and you cry, choking with tears. Praying for help from all the saints from the books you have read, denying that you became one of them for the primarch who kidnapped you.

“Let me worship you.”