#yandere dark souls 3
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yanderes-galore · 2 months ago
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Can you please do a romantic concept *or* alphabet for Sister Friede (Dark Souls 3)?
🕊️ anon
Always found Alphabets easier for Souls characters... So I hope you enjoy.
Yandere Alphabet - Sister Friede
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Isolation, Controlling behavior, Smothering behavior, Manipulation, Murder implied, Forced relationship.
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Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Imagine if you are a forlorn who resides in the Painted World of Ariandel. You would be under the protection of Sister Friede. This is your new home, just as it is for her...
Except it appears she likes you more than you thought.
Sister Friede, in her obsession, claims she hasn't truly loved someone until she met you. The feelings you create within her are new. As a leader in this world... She has chosen you as her partner, like it or not.
Sister Friede gives off the illusion of being gentle. She's quite trusted among the inhabitants of the painting. However... She can be quite manipulative.
Her affection, if you behave and listen to her words, is soft and comforting. She touches you gently and presses soft kisses to your skin. Her adoration appears curious yet also soft.
Yet when angered, her touch carries a hint of a threat. As though if you make one wrong move... you could easily be cut. But she'd never hurt you....
In terms of her intensity, she is mostly tame, until her beloved tries to leave this painted world...
Then she becomes desperate.
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
Sister Friede values her new home to the point of trapping a painter to prevent this one from ending... and slaughtering the Ashen One over and over again to prevent flame from occurring.
I'd say, if she feels it's needed, she would use the scythe she wields to slaughter anyone who not only threatens her home... but the one she claims to love within it.
You will never see flame... She will be the only warmth you feel in this freezing painting.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
You will be treated well and protected with her life. She would never mock you. You are one of the only companions she has left...
Or at least the only one she's completely infatuated with.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Aside from trap you in the painting? She'd probably suggest keeping you in the cathedral. After all, it's cold outside, isn't it?
You could argue her affection towards you is against your will, too. Yet she tries to give you freedom as much as she can.
As long as you come back to her arms.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
While she mostly seems cold like the painting she calls home, she would care about the one she loves. She may not be the most vulnerable person, but she does show care.
As the one she loves in this freezing landscape... She is yours to love and she'll care for you no matter how she shows it.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Disappointed yet is quick to push such thoughts from your mind. Why do you fight? Are you scared of the rot here? You shouldn't be...
Isn't being without a home... without her... worse than that?
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
No and she would feel offended and betrayed that you'd try to escape.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
The Isolation of the painting is bad enough... but the moment she locks you in the cathedral to protect you from the cold and rot might be it. Others have done worse, sure... and it doesn't sound bad.
Yet it reinforces the fact that escape from her is useless...
The only escape is fire... she'll never let her love see a flame.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
It's most likely to keep you in the painting forever, to make you her lover and for you both to accept the rot of this world together.
You'll live with her...
You'll die with her.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Who is there to be jealous of? She has no need to worry about such a silly thing. You'll always be hers. If you aren't...
Her scythe may just taste blood once again.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Isolating and overprotective. She's smothering in her care, treating you like you're something precious. In reality, while you came here looking for a home, this painting is now your rotting prison.
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
As said near the beginning bit, you came here feeling you had nowhere else to go. Upon entering the painting, you meet Sister Friede in the cathedral. She's welcoming, despite her cold exterior.
Over time, she'd gain your trust and guide you through your new home. While you see her as a guide, a guardian of this world...
She sees you as her one and only love...
Whom she'll never allow to leave this painting, and by extension her, ever again.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
She's more affectionate with you... with lingering touches and words of comfort. Other than that, she's mostly cold to anyone else.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
Isolation, I assume. Although if you made countless escape attempts... She may have to restrain you.
Her scythe is not reserved for you...
It's for any who threaten her home... or her love.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
Considering your situation... I imagine many in exchange for a home... and her love.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
Very patient. She's learned it in her time staying here. Hopefully you will too.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
She probably wouldn't for a very long time... If at all, honestly. When you're not here...
The cold really does begin to set in...
She'd do anything to bring you back... yet it's probably futile unless you're Unkindled.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
No and most likely not. This painting is your home now. Where you'll be right beside her.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
I assume isolation. Yet I feel it's hard to tell.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
She'd allow you to have some distance... but once your tantrum ends, she scoops you into her arms and kisses your forehead.
Why must you fight the one protecting you?
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
SKIPPED
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
You alone? Nothing much. If you're the Ashen One or meet the Ashen One?
There's always lighting a fire within this freezing world so it can burn away....
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Not intentionally.
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
She isn't quite a worship yandere. Although, sometimes she worships you for finding her and blessing her with love. Other times she may like to feel worshiped herself.
She'd obviously go to extreme lengths for you... like locking you away similarly to Father Ariandel and the flickering flame.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
She does not pine.
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Unintentionally.
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marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago
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Pt.3 SILLLY LITTLE BAT.
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pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.
sinopsis ⸺ There are only memories, fragments of a past that, like shadows, will haunt you until your last breath, whispers of what was and will never be. Gotham cries out for a guardian, a soul to face the darkness, to challenge fate in its shadowy alleys.
But tell me, who will rise to protect you, traveler of scars and broken dreams? Who will watch over your light when the world swallows your hopes?
In the eternal night, amidst the echo of fear and longing, there is only one path: to confront the monsters and become the hero this city needs, even if the price is the forgetting of oneself.
warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.
Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt2. Pt.4
A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Here is the continuation of the other parts. There will be a few more parts but you should know that we will soon reach the end, but there are still things to clarify and so on. I don't know if you would like me to do another Batfam yandere series in the future or similar. Send me your ideas if you want :3
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They are upset because I left
Where they never included me.
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The car moved slowly under the gray sky of Gotham, as if the universe itself understood the weight of the pain you carried in your small figure. Commissioner Gordon, with his firm hands on the wheel, cast furtive glances at the rearview mirror, where he saw you curled up in the back seat. Wrapped in an old blanket, the same one you had hugged for days, your face was hidden among the folds, but the silent tears that fell could not be disguised. There were no words that Gordon could offer to heal the recent wound of losing your mother, but his empathy, though silent, was there, wrapping around you like the coat that couldn't quite warm you.
In your lap, a small Batman doll rested, pressed against your chest, as if that fabric toy could protect you from the world that had just destroyed your innocence. Your eyes, still swollen and red, looked out the window without seeing, watching the city that seemed so distant, so foreign.
"You will be loved and cherished," Gordon whispered, breaking the silence that had weighed like fog in the car. "Bruce Wayne... he will take care of you, I promise."
But you didn't respond immediately. The name Wayne felt strange, distant, as if he spoke of someone living in a story, not in your reality. You looked up, your eyes meeting Gordon’s for a second in the rearview mirror.
"And if they don't want me...?" you murmured, insecurity clouding your childish voice. "I don't know them, Commissioner... and they don't know me. What if they leave me in an orphanage? Mama always told me those places aren't nice."
Gordon swallowed hard, understanding the depth of your fear. "You were just a child, but you had already learned that love was not a guarantee." The world had taught you that cruel lesson too soon.
"The Waynes..." he began, searching for the right words, "are good people. You might not understand it at first, but I assure you they have suffered too. Bruce..." he paused, recalling the losses that man had faced. "He understands what it is to lose someone. He will do everything he can to make you feel safe, to help you find a home again."
But you kept looking at the doll in your hands, your fingers squeezing it tightly, as if it were the only stable thing in a world crumbling around you.
The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable, as if the words wanted to come out but didn’t know how. Again, Gordon spoke, his voice low, almost afraid to break the stillness.
"And/y/n... what was your mom like?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the road, as if by doing so, he could give you space to be honest, to not feel pressured.
You fell silent for a long moment, your small fingers nervously playing with the edges of the blanket. The world outside the car seemed a reflection of what you felt inside: cloudy, cold, distant.
Finally, you exhaled, as if gathering the courage to speak. Your voice came out shaky at first, filled with a mix of sadness and a hard-to-accept truth.
"My mom..." you murmured, not taking your eyes off the window. "She wasn't a good person, but... she wasn't a villain either."
Gordon nodded slowly, without interrupting you. He knew things were rarely black or white, that life had that cruel ability to mix the two.
"She... told me she grew up in an orphanage. She never had anything that was really hers." You paused, your eyes glassy as you recalled details that now seemed more painful than ever. "Well, except for me."
"Gordon felt a knot form in his throat." He knew that loss was a terrible burden to bear, but there was something more in your words, something suggesting that, amidst it all, there had also been love. An imperfect love, but real.
"She always dreamed of having a little house..." you continued, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on your face, though it was tinged with melancholy. "A house with a garden, lots of Barbie dolls, and a little dog. She didn't need more. She just wanted something that was hers."
You stopped for a moment, as if the simple act of recalling those dreams your mother had hurt you. You knew she would never have them. That the world had been cruel to her, denying her even the small things she wished for so fervently.
"But... she never got it. We were always moving around, fleeing, searching for something better. And now... she doesn’t even have that."
The car seemed to shrink, the air denser. Gordon felt a wave of compassion for that woman who, though perhaps not perfect, had dreamed of something so simple, so human, and yet had not achieved it.
"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he murmured.
"Commissioner, what if... what if I can't forget her?" you asked, almost in a whisper. "What if I can't stop thinking about Mom?"
The silence in the car became heavy, almost tangible. Gordon wanted to tell you that you didn't have to forget, that it was natural to carry that pain. But the words didn't come, and instead, only a long sigh escaped his lips.
"It's not about forgetting, Y/n," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "It's about moving forward, even though it hurts. Your mother would want you to find happiness again, even though it may not seem possible now. And I’m sure Bruce will do everything in his power to help you."
The car turned onto the long, dark road leading to Wayne Manor. The trees formed a tunnel of shadows, as if the road were wrapped in the same mourning you carried within. The mansion, with its imposing grandeur, appeared in the distance, its walls as high as the secrets it held. "You were so small in the face of the immensity of this new life that awaited you."
"We're almost there," Gordon said softly, as he slowed down. "The wind outside whispered through the trees, like an echo of everything you had lost."
You didn’t know it at that moment, but that house would be full of stories, some broken, others in the process of healing. And although you felt like a stranger in a strange land now, Gordon hoped that, one day, that place would become your refuge.
The car stopped in front of the enormous gates. Gordon looked at you one last time before getting out. In his eyes, you could see a mix of sadness and hope, an empathy that went beyond words.
"You are not alone, Y/n," he said, his voice now firmer. "You will never be alone again."
You remained silent, gazing at the mansion as you clung to the blanket and the Batman doll. The weight of the world still rested on your small shoulders, but for the first time, there might have been a glimmer of relief in knowing that someone, even if he was a strange and distant man, was waiting for you inside."
And in that moment, although you still felt the burning pain of your loss, a ray of hope began to break through the shadows of your heart.
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Y/n was sitting in the BatCafé, that corner of the city where the tables wobbled and conversations were woven into murmurs, as if the place knew how to keep secrets that even you wouldn’t dare to share aloud. The walls, a mossy green, were filled with stories that no one had asked for. She looked at her lukewarm latte as one looks at a future that hasn’t quite arrived, a liquid mockery evaporating before it could warm her hands. It had barely been a month since she left her family home, but she already felt that independence was more of a myth than a fulfilled dream. At first, the heroism of having thrown herself into the world had filled her with pride, but now reality lurked like a treacherous chill seeping through the cracks, and the fact that she was waiting for her potential roommate didn’t help matters.
“Well, at least the rent will be cheaper,” she told herself, or rather to the coffee, as if the dark liquid could reply with something sensible.
Sharing an apartment was, for Y/n, the only way out. Her salary barely covered survival, but only if she fed on fresh air and broken dreams. And there she was, waiting for someone named Pamela Isley, who, according to the ad, didn’t even seem to be from this planet. "I hope she’s not one of those people with invisible cats," she thought. Of course, the alternatives weren’t very promising: people who collected Batman figurines or guys who made friends with cockroaches in the kitchen. She had seen it all; after all, her apartment was in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham, and she knew it all too well.
You were born in that area. One could say the neighborhood chose you before you had a chance to choose it. You didn’t remember exactly which apartment; in that hive of broken windows and half-painted bricks, all the floors seemed like a blurry copy of the previous one, each with the same square footage and an air of silent resignation. In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a way, everything was the same. Dust in the corners, worn tiles, cracks in the walls that seemed to form a map of some invisible and secret city, a place that only you could decipher if you stopped to observe long enough.
It was an unpretentious place, where people rarely smiled, but neither did they let themselves be trampled. There was something in the air, a kind of poorly disguised pride, as if every neighbor, every stray dog, knew that surviving there wasn’t a matter of luck but of will. Heroes didn’t exist in that corner of the world, but villains didn’t dare impose their law without facing some gaze that, without saying anything, said it all. It was rough terrain, where kindness camouflaged behind growls and complaints, and malice grew tired before it could fully settle.
And yet, you loved it. It was absurd, but you loved it with that devotion reserved for things you don’t choose, for roots that sink into your chest without asking for permission. The place was filled with memories you didn’t ask for, stories you never wanted to hear but that seeped into your skin. Tales of people who vanished in alleyways, of broken promises around the corner, of loves that drowned in factory smoke. And yet, those same tales were like echoes that held you, reminding you that you were born there, in that half-hell where life was always a fight but never a complete defeat.
The clock in the BatCafé struck six ten when the door opened. What happened next was hard to explain, like when you dream and you don’t know if it’s the pillow or the universe holding you. Pamela Isley walked in, and it was as if the wind, that autumn wind that brings memories, had gently pushed her in. Y/n looked up, and the first thing she noticed was her hair, a red that was out of this world, more fire than pigment, more nature than dye. The roots tangled as if they were living branches, and for a moment, Y/n wondered if the sun had made a mistake and was shining only on her.
Pamela walked as if she had a pact with the earth. Her steps were slow but firm, as if her feet waited for the ground to respond before settling. She wore a jacket that was impossible to describe without sounding crazy: green vines and small buds peeking out, as if at any moment the plants would grow over her. "Where does this woman come from?" Y/n thought, feeling something beyond mere curiosity. There was something she couldn’t deny, an attraction that felt unsettling, like those waves that, without warning, sweep you away when you think you can still touch the bottom.
Pamela approached the table with a calculated calm, a calm only nature or time can sculpt. And then she smiled. In that smile, Y/n felt something familiar yet strange, as if she were facing a younger version of her mother, but instead of being terrifying, it was comforting. What was happening?
“Y/n L/n?” Pamela said, her voice reminiscent of the whisper of dry leaves underfoot.
“Yes, that’s me,” Y/n answered, trying to make her voice sound normal, even though everything inside her felt out of place.
Pamela sat down across from her, crossing her legs with an almost feline elegance. The BatCafé seemed to conspire around them; the air smelled of wet earth and freshly brewed coffee, a strange mix, like the combination of what was about to be born and what had already died.
“I didn’t expect you to be…” Y/n began, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting.
“Strange?” Pamela completed, with a playful smile that left Y/n with a sense of defeat and fascination in equal parts.
“Something like that,” Y/n replied, looking at Pamela’s hands. Her long, slender fingers were covered in small green spots, as if she had just planted a forest with her own hands. There was something almost magical about her, as if every part of her being was connected to the earth in a way that Y/n couldn’t quite understand. And there, amid that confusion, was the fine thread of attraction.
Pamela let her gaze fall on her own latte, turning it between her hands as if it were about to reveal some hidden secret in the foam.
“So, what do you do? I mean… aside from, you know… looking like you walked out of a Tim Burton movie,” Y/n said, attempting a bit of humor to ease the tension she felt in her stomach.
Pamela glanced at her and laughed softly, a laugh that felt like an unexpected breeze on a hot day.
“I’m… a caretaker. Of plants.” She paused, gauging Y/n’s reaction. “And other things.”
“Other things?” Y/n asked, intrigued but also amused by the way Pamela toyed with the mystery.
“Yes, like people who don’t know how to water a plant without drowning it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow mischievously.
The response made Y/n laugh, a laugh she hadn’t expected, as if Pamela had found a way to touch something deep within her, something that hadn’t bloomed in a long time. And without being able to help it, she felt drawn, not just by the way Pamela moved, spoke, or even by the air of mystery surrounding her, but because there was something more, something familiar, something that reminded her of her mother, but without the shadows of authority and judgment. It was like a wild, free version of what had once been security.
“So… are you going to save my cactus or criticize it?” Y/n said, trying to sound casual while feeling that her heart had started playing a game of chess with her emotions.
Pamela smiled again, and this time it was a different smile, one that seemed to carry a promise.
“It depends. Would you let me stay to try?” Pamela said, with a playful seriousness that left Y/n unsure whether the question was about the cactus or something much larger.
Y/n blinked, trying to process the phrase, but deep down she knew that any answer would sound awkward. Pamela’s question hung in the air between them like a leaf falling slowly, right at the perfect point where it was neither entirely a joke nor completely serious. And there she was, caught in that space, wondering whether she should laugh or just blush.
“Well… you can try,” she finally said, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her face. “But I can’t promise the cactus will survive. I’m something like… a serial plant killer... When I was younger, I had time to care for them as they deserved, with help from… from my father. But now work consumes me a lot, and the truth is I’ve neglected them too much… they must feel the same way I felt when… sorry, I talk too much about myself, don’t I?”
Pamela raised an eyebrow, with a smile that seemed to say more than either of them dared to voice at that moment.
“Oh, no, keep talking about yourself; I’m used to it. I have very… eccentric friends, to be honest.” She leaned a bit closer, as if about to share a secret. “Though I prefer not to work under threats, so don’t look at me like I’m going to be your next plant murder victim. But I doubt a little scared bat can kill even a fly.”
Y/n laughed nervously, surprised at how easy Pamela made everything. She, who had always been clumsy with conversations and glances, felt like the words flowed with Pamela in a way she didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question either.
“...Little Bat?” Y/n asked, with a clumsy and blushing smile as her fingers nervously toyed with the edge of her cup.
Pamela let out a low giggle, that laugh that always seemed to carry the sound of dry leaves being trampled in autumn. With a gentle gesture, she pointed to her clothes.
“Is it that obvious?” she said with a half-smile, raising a playful eyebrow as she leaned a little forward.
She wore a dark fur coat, enormous, with a wide fall that, under the dim light of the BatCafé, seemed to have the precise shape of bat wings extending. The high, well-fitted black boots completed the image of a figure that seemed to have emerged from the very shadows. And for a moment, Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or get lost in that air of mystery that Pamela seemed to wear like a second coat.
“Well…” Y/n diverted her gaze with a shy smile, “it’s not like you’re hiding it much.”
Pamela smiled with that touch of mischief that characterized her.
“Does it bother you? I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve been fascinated by bats since I was little.” she asked, her voice low and slow, as if measuring every word, as if the world were a delicate plant that required to be touched with the tips of her fingers.
Y/n let out a small nervous laugh, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again.
“No, not at all. I think it’s…” she hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, unsure how to avoid the obvious, “I think it suits you well.”
Pamela watched her for a moment, and then, with that look that always seemed to go beyond what words said, added:
“You’re turning red, you know?”
Y/n’s eyes widened a bit more, surprised by Pamela’s directness, but all she could do was laugh at herself.
“Well, it’s just that, I’m not really used to… this.”
“This?” Pamela repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sharing coffee with someone or bats?”
“Both,” Y/n admitted, shrugging, which provoked another smile from Pamela. “I always wanted one as a pet… but I have a vegan little brother who’s very… spooky… so I’ve always been afraid he’d steal it from me or accuse me of having exotic pets.”
Pamela settled into the chair, not taking her eyes off Y/n.
“But you’ll get used to it,” she paused, letting her words float calmly.
Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of nerves and a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Pamela’s dark coat and relaxed smile were a disconcerting yet strangely familiar contrast, as if they had always been there, waiting for her. And suddenly, all she could do was wonder how soon that would happen… getting used to it.
“Although I can’t promise my apartment isn’t… a battlefield,” Y/n said, trying to sound confident, but noticing the slight tremor in her voice.
Pamela looked at her intently for a moment, with that mix of flirtation and something deeper, something that seemed impossible to decipher completely. Then she relaxed in the chair, as if the game had just begun.
“A battlefield, huh?” she said, playing with the spoon of her coffee. “Well, I like challenges. And chaotic places have their own charm if you know where to look.” Pamela let the phrase slide smoothly, like someone throwing a stone into a lake and waiting for the ripples.
Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that every word Pamela spoke carried a double meaning, but far from making her feel uncomfortable, it sparked something akin to contained laughter, as if they were sharing a private joke that she was just beginning to access.
“Don’t you have plants at home?” Pamela suddenly asked, as if the question had sprung from the foam of her coffee.
“Well, there are a couple of cacti… and a fern that I think hates me,” Y/n replied. “But I always forget to water them. Or I overwater them. Seriously, it’s like plants come to me already doomed.”
Pamela smiled, one of those slow smiles that seem to grow little by little, like a sprout deciding when the perfect moment to emerge into the light is.
“It’s not just about water, Y/n,” she said, with that voice that seemed to carry the calm of the wind and the weight of centuries of nature. “Plants need attention. Patience. Sometimes they just want to know you’re there, even if you don’t say anything.” She paused, letting Y/n’s gaze get lost in her eyes. “Sometimes, like people.”
Y/n felt a little shiver. It wasn’t what Pamela was saying, but how she was saying it. There was something in her voice that disarmed her, as if every word had been calculated to penetrate a defense that Y/n hadn’t even realized she had up. And then, almost without thinking, she let slip a truth she rarely shared.
“I’m not very good with people.” The confession came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She said it without drama, almost as if she were talking about the weather. But something in Pamela changed, barely perceptible, like a leaf moving without the wind touching it.
“Really?” Pamela asked softly, but without an ounce of pity. Just curiosity.
Y/n looked down for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her cup, before daring to continue.
“I grew up in a huge house, but… empty. My father… well, he was busy with his things. Business, parties, the usual. Shrugging it off, wanting to downplay it, even though inside she knew it wasn’t something that could easily fade away. Alfred, the butler, raised me. And yes, he was amazing. But it was always just him and no one else. It’s not the same as having… friends.”
Pamela listened in silence, but not in that awkward way where people listen just to see how you respond afterward. No, there was something in her attention that enveloped Y/n, as if she were giving her space to bare herself without fear of being judged.
“You never had friends,” Pamela asserted more than asked.
Y/n shook her head.
“Until now,” Pamela said, with that same softness that seemed to have become her trademark, and something in Y/n’s chest stirred, as if she had just heard the most important thing in the world.
There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence that somehow connected them. And then Pamela broke the spell, with a mischievous smile that lit everything up again.
“So… are you going to let me be your first friend, or would you rather keep killing plants?”
Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a sincere and liberating laugh, as if something inside her had broken an invisible chain. After all, it was clear that Pamela wasn’t just another person passing through her life. There was something different about her, something that made the air feel lighter, that made the future seem less uncertain.
“Well, if you can survive the cactus…” Y/n said, leaving the sentence unfinished, but knowing Pamela would understand.
And then, for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt that everything might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, Pamela Isley wasn’t just a roommate, but the first person in a long time with whom she could imagine a less lonely future. She was already caught in that web, and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that she didn’t care at all.
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Bruce Wayne was sitting in the mansion's garden on a gray afternoon that seemed to drag memories along like the wind drags fallen leaves. In his hands, a cup of black coffee, still steaming, its strong and bitter aroma mingling with the scent of damp earth after the rain. In front of him, on a small wrought-iron table, rested a piece of dark chocolate cake topped with melting strawberry ice cream, forming a pink puddle around it. But he found no pleasure in the view. It was more of a bitter symbol of a routine he once believed unbreakable.
In the garden, where the wilted flowers swayed gently, a little girl flitted about with contagious energy, as if the chill of the afternoon did not exist for her. Her laughter, so innocent and pure, filled the air, breaking the sepulchral silence that seemed to reign in that old home for a moment. She wore a pink dress with small white dots, an 80s style that would have been charming in another time but now seemed out of place with the scene. Her patent leather shoes shone as she ran back and forth, chasing her dolls.
In her small hands, she held action figures, one of the Batman her father portrayed and another of the Joker, his eternal rival. The girl, no older than six, organized her battles with adorable seriousness. In a high-pitched, mischievous voice, she brought the characters to life, staging an epic duel between hero and villain.
“You won’t defeat me this time, Batman!” she exclaimed, raising the Joker figure with a malevolent laugh.
“I will stop you! I always do...” she replied with her other hand, giving voice to Batman, but with a childlike touch that contrasted with the darkness of the character.
Bruce watched the scene with a mix of tenderness and pain. He knew she wasn’t really there, that this vision was nothing more than a distant echo of what never was. Y/n, his little Y/n, had vanished months ago. And he… he had never given her the love she deserved, always wrapped in his own shadows, in his endless struggle to protect a city that never rested.
The air felt thick, heavy with nostalgia and regret. The girl continued to play, laughing, talking to her dolls, oblivious to the weight of the years, to the loss. And Bruce, although he knew it was an illusion, couldn’t look away; he couldn’t stop imagining what it would have been like to give her what he never knew how to offer. What it would have been like to see her grow, to laugh more, to run through those gardens with the carefree spirit only childhood allows.
Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted the daydream. Alfred appeared at the garden entrance, always elegant, always with that air of discretion and understanding that only he possessed. He approached slowly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as if he understood the pain that kept him trapped in that scene.
“Mr. Wayne” he said in a low voice, filled with compassion, “it’s time to come back.”
Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, letting Alfred’s words seep into his consciousness. He knew what they meant. He knew that girl, in her 80s dress and her dolls, was nothing but an idealized memory, a distorted reflection of what never was. Because Y/n wasn’t like that. She didn’t like those old dresses; she had always preferred the fashion of the 2000s, with its vibrant colors and comfortable clothes. And she never enjoyed the chocolate cake now sitting in front of him. She liked carrot cake, simple and sweet, but he had never paid attention to those details when he still could.
How did he know those little details about his daughter? Bruce often wondered. It wasn’t because he had learned them by being close, because proximity had been a luxury he never allowed himself. No, those small fragments of her life he had discovered in the album that Alfred kept with an almost reverential discretion. That album was more than just an object; it was a silent refuge where Alfred had archived what the big house, always filled with shadows and echoes of footsteps that never came, had refused to hold.
The day the children learned of the album’s existence marked the beginning of a chaos he still remembered with a mix of exasperation and a contained smile. They had decided, like little conspirators, that treasure belonged to them. A kind of all-out battle had ensued in the mansion, something that over time acquired the quality of family legends.
Bruce, standing in the study, could still see the sparkle in Damian’s eyes, the intensity, the almost playful fury with which he had taken that assault as a personal mission. Damian, with his perpetual impatience, had been the fiercest of all. He vividly remembered how his youngest son had burst into the room wielding two katanas, with the cold precision of a millennia-old warrior, even though his hands were still too small to fully grasp the handles.
“It’s mine!” Damian shouted, with that mix of stubbornness and vulnerability that only the youngest possess, as if he could cut not only the air but the very uncomfortable silence that always floated between them.
“It belongs to all of us, Damian” Bruce had tried to intervene, with that authoritative voice that, curiously, never managed to control his own children as he did with the chaos of the city.
But Damian wasn’t listening. For him, the album was not just an object; it was a relic, a bridge to something he felt but couldn’t name. His sister Y/n, so distant in daily life, was closer in those pages than in any superficial conversation they had ever had. She was his sister, but not enough. He wanted those photos, those notes that Alfred had kept, he wanted to understand what it was about her that slipped away from him daily.
Bruce watched from the threshold, not really intervening. He let the chaos unfold, as if it were necessary. The children fought, but it wasn’t just for the album. They fought for something deeper, a kind of silent reclamation of what they had never been able to have: time, connection, perhaps even love. Alfred, from a corner, merely smiled with that quiet wisdom, knowing that those battles of childish katanas, of shouts and disputes over photos and notes, were actually the way they tried to find each other in a house full of absences.
Bruce sighed, remembering. Alfred had always known more than he did, always understood those invisible things that Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to, could never quite grasp. And so it was that he himself, at the end of it all, also ended up snooping in that album, with a silent curiosity he would never admit. There, in those carefully tended pages, he found his daughter. Or at least, he found the idea of her, the pieces of a life he hadn’t shared but that, somehow, had always been present in those photos, in those little notes that Alfred, more of a father than he was, had kept with such love.
“She won’t come back, Alfred... I lost her... maybe forever... ” Bruce murmured, his voice barely audible, as if admitting it aloud would make her absence more real—“and I… I was never there for her as I should have been.”
The old butler sighed, his tired eyes filled with infinite patience.
“It’s never too late to remember, sir. It’s never too late to honor her memory in the right way.”
Bruce opened his eyes, looking again at the scene, but this time more clearly. The girl had disappeared.
The wind blew gently through the Wayne mansion's garden, carrying away the murmur of the dry leaves. Bruce remained motionless, as if the weight of the years, of the mistakes, had turned him into another statue in that landscape. The aroma of coffee had dissipated, and the cake before him remained untouched. Y/n’s figure still floated in his mind, her laughter like a distant echo that wouldn’t fade but also wouldn’t console him.
Alfred, with the patience only a father at heart could have, stood by his side, his firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, as if in that gesture he could transmit strength to face the pain that gnawed at him.
“Mr. Wayne” Alfred began, his voice soft but laden with meaning, “the kids have gone looking for Y/n again.”
Bruce closed his eyes, allowing those words to sink into his consciousness. He knew all the Robins and Batgirls had been following leads, searching for answers in the darkest corners of Gotham, but the emptiness he felt remained overwhelming. They had failed so many times… what did another attempt matter? The city, always hungry for its heroes, seemed more a trap than a cause.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alfred” Bruce replied, his voice rough, worn down by years of struggle. “None of this will change what happened. Y/n… is gone.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred interjected, this time with a firmer tone, “Y/n is still out there. And as long as there’s a single chance to find her, you cannot allow yourself to give up.”
Silence stretched between them. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the garden, lost in thought. But Alfred, with his usual insight, knew he needed more than empty words to awaken him.
“There’s something else,” Alfred added, taking a breath, “a new figure appeared last night during a robbery in the East District. They call her Kerosene. The White Bat. She was seen taking out a group of assailants in seconds.”
Bruce didn’t react. Kerosene. The city had always generated figures willing to fill the void he had left every time he stepped away, every time Gotham lost the light of its vigilante. But this time, he didn’t feel the urgency to learn more. What did it matter? He repeated to himself. Gotham already had its heroes.
“I don’t care” he murmured, his voice empty, as cold as the air surrounding the garden—“Let others deal with Gotham. Kerosene, the Joker, or whoever… the city doesn’t need me anymore.”
Alfred tightened his grip on Bruce’s shoulder, almost like a father refusing to see his son give up. He stepped forward, and this time his voice was lower but more incisive.
“This isn’t about Gotham, sir,” he said with an intensity Bruce hadn’t expected—“It’s about Y/n.”
Bruce lifted his gaze, his eyes finally meeting Alfred’s, as if those words had ignited a spark within him.
“If you don’t want to protect this city, do it for her ” Alfred continued—“Because you will find her, sir. I’m sure of it. And when you do… how would you want her to find you? Destroyed? Defeated? No. You need to be ready, you need to be strong, for her. Wherever she is, Y/n is still waiting for her father.”
Bruce felt the pain in his chest intensify, a constant reminder of his failure, but Alfred was right. Y/n was somewhere out there. Alive or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that as long as he didn’t find her, he couldn’t give up.
“The kids have done everything they can to find her,” Alfred said, softening his tone—“They’re still at it. Every day they search for new leads, explore new corners of Gotham… but there’s only one man who can put everything in order. There’s only one father who can bring her back.”
The air tensed between them, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a slight tremor inside. He remembered the moment he decided to become Batman, driven by the guilt and pain of losing his parents. Now, that same guilt, that same pain, called to him again, but this time, it wasn’t for Gotham. It was for Y/n. His daughter.
“Tell me, Alfred, who is this Kerosene?” Bruce murmured, finally reacting to the information Alfred had given him.
“Yes, sir. Her abilities are astonishing, according to reports. Agile, fast… but her true identity remains a mystery. Some say she’s just another vigilante trying to fill the void you left. But the important thing is that she is acting with lethal precision.”
Bruce stood slowly, leaving the cup of coffee on the table, already cold and forgotten. He looked at the empty garden, but this time, with a new determination blooming in his chest.
“If this Kerosene is connected… if there’s any link to Y/n, I will find out,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to the one Alfred had known for so many years—“And if not… then I’ll find her myself.”
Alfred nodded, a mix of relief and satisfaction reflected on his face. He had managed to awaken the man Gotham needed, but more than that, he had awakened the father Y/n deserved.
“ Very well, sir,he replied with a slight smile, always the unwavering servant—“The Batcave is ready for your return.”
Bruce turned toward the mansion, but not before glancing once more at the garden, where Y/n’s figure, so real in his mind, faded like morning mist.
Wherever you are, I will find you.
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Richard “Dick” Grayson knocked forcefully on the old apartment door, the echo resonating in the narrow hallway of the building, where dust gathered in the corners like forgotten memories and the lights flickered as if trying to perform one last dance before going out. Beside him, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter, crossed her arms, staring at the door with an intensity that could have splintered the wood.
Jason Todd, restless to his left, kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob, his body tense, as if each passing second brought him one step closer to breaking through that wooden barrier. Above, on the roof, Red Robin, The Spoiler, and Batgirl waited, shadows in a world that seemed to ignore their pounding hearts, ready to act.
“I don’t know why we always have to deal with the worst specimens of humanity,” Barbara murmured, adjusting her coat as she shot a sidelong glance at Dick, who seemed to have a plan in mind.
“Because we’re lucky,” Jason replied, sarcasm lacing his words, a crooked smile on his lips that didn’t quite fit the situation. “And when I say ‘lucky,’ I mean we’re carrying someone else's karma because we… are screwed.”
Dick knocked on the door again, this time with more force. The echo reverberated through the hallways, a declaration of intent.
“We should break it down. You know it’s not going to open just from a gentle knock,” Jason said, stepping forward, his intention clear and palpable.
“Calm down, Jason. Not all problems are solved with violence,” Barbara retorted, though a part of her knew that idea faded every time they found themselves in a situation like this.
“Sure, as if we have another option. Do you want me to schedule a tea date instead of kicking down the door?” Jason frowned, the tension palpable.
Finally, a sound came from behind the door. Chains, the metallic echo of locks being unlatched with a maddening slowness, as if someone on the other side knew that every second of wait was boiling the blood of the three standing before the door. At last, the door opened just enough to reveal a face: the landlord. A short man with small eyes and a slimy smile that seemed to ooze like dirty oil through his yellowed teeth.
“What do you want?” he asked in a thick voice, looking at Dick with suspicion, but his gaze soon dropped to Barbara, lingering unpleasantly on her figure, and then to Jason, who had already tensed the muscles in his jaw.
“We’re looking for Y/n Wayne L/n,” Dick said, trying to maintain his composure, the heat of anger threatening to overflow. “We know she lives here. And we know you know where she is.”
The man let out a laugh under his breath, a rusty squeak that resonated like a heavy joke.
“Ah, the pretty girl… yeah, yeah. And who are you all, huh?” he asked, his slimy tone sending chills that seemed to crawl over Dick's skin.
“It’s none of your concern. We just want to know where she is,” Barbara said, her voice firm and resolute, although the tension in her body betrayed her impatience.
The landlord tilted his head, like a cat playing with its prey, and smiled with a disturbing mischief.
“Well, if you haven’t found her in five months, maybe you don’t want to know,” he said, letting the words drop like stones in a pond, creating ripples of discomfort.
“I warn you, this isn’t a game,” Jason interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what can happen when a man plays with fire.”
The man shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, although the glint in his eyes betrayed him.
Jason's hand rested near his belt, right where he kept his gun, and although he hadn’t drawn the weapon yet, the threat was clear.
The landlord noticed but instead of being scared, he wore a repugnant smile, like a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey. His gaze shifted back to Barbara, and then, without the slightest respect, murmured something that made Dick’s fists clench.
“Ah, Y/n... yeah, I remember her. She came around when she had just turned eighteen. Good material, if you catch my drift. She looked innocent, but... those are the most interesting ones, right?” The man's gaze darkened, scanning Barbara again, as if evaluating merchandise.
“Say that again,” Jason growled, drawing his gun in a motion so quick that the landlord barely had time to blink before feeling the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. “And I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.”
The words hung in the air, sharp, loaded with contempt and a lust that twisted like a snake inside him.
The man let out a cynical chuckle, relishing the moment.
“The last time I saw pretty Y/n was a while back. I don’t know what she’s up to now, but I kept some pictures of her and her friend.” His tone was defiant, almost mocking.
Rage was bubbling in Jason. His fists were clenched, a deadly spark in his eyes.
“What did you say?” His voice trembled between anger and control, like a string about to snap.
The landlord, feeling invincible, continued. “I don’t know if they’re lesbians, but seeing them together was quite the spectacle. Both of them were hot, you know?”
Jason could no longer hold back. The anger erupted like a volcano.
“Shut up!” he shouted, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence that had invaded the room.
Before the landlord could react, Jason pulled his gun, aiming with precision.
“I’m going to give you one chance. Tell me where Y/n is. Now.”
The man’s laughter faded, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait, wait, there’s no need to…”
“WHERE?!” Jason's voice thundered, firm and filled with rage, like a storm rumbling in the atmosphere.
The tension became palpable, the air thick with promises of violence.
“Alright, alright!” the landlord stammered, but Jason’s voice turned even colder.
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“She just left for work at night and that’s it…” he started to say, but Jason could no longer hear. The man had photos of Y/n. Compromising, crude, and that simple mention ignited hell in his chest.
In an instant, the sound of an explosion resonated in the hallway, and the man fell to the ground, his silly smile erased by the terror that had overtaken his face. Blood gushed forth in a dark torrent, staining the floor and nearby walls.
Barbara covered her mouth in shock, while Dick stood frozen, stunned.
“Jason!” she exclaimed, but the image of the landlord lying on the ground with his vacant stare was etched in her mind.
Jason holstered the weapon, his breath rapid and uncontrolled. He had crossed a line, and in that moment, he realized there was no turning back. Anger had found a way to break free, but at a terrible cost.
“I won’t let anyone hurt Y/n again,” he murmured, his eyes filled with determination. No one else would stand in his way to find her, no matter the price he had to pay.
The room was saturated with the echo of the gunshot, and the silence grew heavy, almost palpable. Barbara took a deep breath, the anger sparking in her eyes as she looked at Jason, who still seemed dazed by the act he had committed.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she said, her voice contained but sharp as a blade. “That’s why we didn’t bring Damian along, because he would have gone off just the same, but in a much more reckless way.” Her gaze fixed on the corpse, lying in a pool of blood, a scene that could have come from the mind of a disturbed artist.
Jason, with his chest heaving and jaw clenched, simply shrugged.
“I couldn’t just stand by. He knew something, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.” The fervor in his voice didn’t hide the confusion that was beginning to seep in, like the cold of the night creeping through the windows.
Barbara didn’t respond, but the silence that filled the room grew even denser when the others entered, alarmed by the gunshot. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass arrived, their expressions filled with concern that quickly transformed into indignation.
“What happened here?” Tim asked, his eyes widening at the scene. Blood slid across the floor like a dark river, and the landlord’s body faded beneath the flickering light.
“Are you crazy, Jason?!” Steph exclaimed, disbelief palpable in her voice.
Cass crouched down, her expression grave as she looked at the fallen man. She didn’t need to speak to convey her disapproval; every glance said more than a thousand words.
“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Dick intervened, his authoritative tone trying to restore order. “We need answers. Let’s investigate.”
With a determined movement, Barbara approached the body, while Jason still breathed irregularly, as if the weight of his actions began to settle on him. Barbara looked around; the apartment was a dusty and sad place, filled with shadows that seemed to whisper secrets.
As the others searched, Tim found a series of photos pinned to the walls, each one showing Y/n and other women from the area, frozen laughter in time, trapped between moments that should have been happy. However, there was something unsettling about the way they were arranged, a disorder that seemed a declaration of possession.
“Look at this,” Tim said, pointing to the images. There was Y/n, always smiling, but next to her was a figure that couldn’t be ignored. The silhouette of Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy, stood beside her, her red hair like a fire that seemed to consume the sadness of the place.
“Pamela…” Cass murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s been in Arkham for three months.”
Barbara moved closer, examining the photos more closely. “This is more complicated than we thought. Ivy has been involved, and that changes everything.”
Jason, still trying to comprehend the chaos he had unleashed, ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Y/n. I don’t care what I have to do.”
Barbara looked at him, her expression one of challenge but also understanding. “We can’t do this recklessly. We have to be smart. Silent.”
The group nodded, realizing that the road ahead would be filled with dangers, but also promises of redemption. They were all willing to kill for Y/n, but they had to do it quietly, like shadows slipping through the streets at night.
“Listen, we’re going to find her,” Dick said, his voice resonating like a mantra. “No matter how many doors we have to break down, how many truths we have to drag into the light.”
And so, in the echo of the silence that followed the violence, the five united in a tacit pact, intertwining their destinies in the search for Y/n. Each lost in their thoughts, each remembering that shadows sometimes have the power to conceal not only secrets but also the light that clings to hope.
The shadows stretched as they moved away from the apartment, leaving behind the vestige of a dead man and the echo of trapped laughter. The search had begun, and Y/n’s fate hung in the balance, a thread of light in the darkness that promised to bloom amid the ruins of despair.
The city lights flickered in the distance, like lost stars in the asphalt.
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The tears of Y/n fell onto the slippery ground, forming puddles that blended with the blood, a dark ruby staining every part of her thin body, as if sins were being tattooed onto her skin. The humidity of the place smelled of iron and fear, of broken promises and a destiny she had chosen but didn’t quite know how to accept.
“It doesn’t feel good, little one?” said the Doctor, his voice a bitter whisper echoing off the damp walls of the room. He, with his dirty blonde hair falling messily over his forehead, wore a white coat that looked more like a rag than a symbol of authority. A cynical smile spread across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than the fate he had designed for her. “Bathing in the blood of enemies, isn’t it an exquisite pleasure?”
Y/n, her gaze lost at a point on the floor, nodded slowly, as if each movement cost her an eternity. The blood, warm and sticky, slid between her fingers, a sensory experience that drowned her in contradictions. On one hand, there was a dark delight in the power that image conferred upon her, a power she had learned to wield. But on the other hand, there was an abyss of pain threatening to consume her.
“It’s…” she whispered, barely able to form words. Her voice trembled like a leaf in autumn, indecision etched in her features. Guilt suffocated her, and each tear that fell was a reminder of what she had lost, of what she had left behind.
“What is it?” asked the Doctor, leaning toward her, his eyes lit by a glow that was not exactly compassion, but rather a cruel satisfaction. His gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, scrutinizing the dark corners of her soul. “Is it pleasure you feel, or is it fear?”
Y/n recoiled, feeling her skin burn under his gaze. The Doctor’s words tangled in her mind, forming a knot that seemed impossible to untie. Her voice, almost a cry for help, resonated in the air.
“I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.” The words shot out like arrows, but only managed to embed their tips in the empty air, finding no destination. She trembled, caught between repulsion and the desire to free herself from the invisible chains that kept her anchored in that place.
The Doctor let out a cold laugh, as if he were enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. With a careless gesture, he threw another bucket of blood onto the floor, creating a small puddle that slid toward Y/n.
“That is the beauty of your situation, my dear. You have been chosen to cleanse Gotham of the scum, and along the way, you will discover that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.”
“Chosen?” replied Y/n, her voice shaking with the fierce mix of disbelief and rage. “Chosen for what? To be your puppet?”
The Doctor stepped closer, letting the distance between them fade. His presence was oppressive, like a shadow that swallowed light.
“You are not a puppet, Kerosene” he said, pronouncing her name as if caressing it. “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution. The tears that fall now are the ashes of the old you, and it’s time you embrace what awaits you.”
Y/n felt the air grow dense, as if the Doctor’s words were trying to envelop her, to convince her. But there was a truth in his voice, an echo of what she had longed for deep within her being. Hadn’t she been searching for purpose, a place to belong?
“No… I don’t want to be what you’ve made me.” she said, though her voice sounded more hesitant than determined. It was as if reality slipped around her, like the slippery ground she stood on.
“Of course you do, Y/n.” He smiled, and there was something unsettling in that smile, something that made her feel she was on the brink of a revelation. “Your pain is the echo of the city, and you, little one, can be its savior.”
The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, and Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, the possibility of becoming Kerosene, the force of vengeance and power. She fought against the idea, but there was a part of her that was beginning to awaken, to open like a flower in the desert.
“So, what do I have to do?” she asked, finally facing the reality that surrounded her. The tears, instead of being a sign of weakness, now seemed a recognition of her new identity.
The Doctor looked at her with a mix of satisfaction and complicity, like a teacher who sees the spark of greatness in his student.
“First, you must accept that the past does not define your future. The blood that surrounds you is only the first step toward freedom. Become what you have always been. Your destiny is to burn, and in doing so, illuminate others.”
Y/n felt the weight of her decision slowly fading away. By accepting her destiny, she had found a new way to free herself, a purpose that shone like fire.
“Then I will do it.” she said, her voice now firm and resonant, as if she were finally embracing the darkness that had always dwelled within her. “I will be Kerosene.”
The Doctor smiled, and in that smile lay a world of possibilities. Together, they could shake the foundations of Gotham.
“That’s right, my dear Kerosene.” He stepped back, allowing his figure to fade into the shadows..“And remember, every decision you make will be a step toward glory or toward downfall. The line is thin, and you are destined to cross it.”
“What about them?” Y/n asked, pointing to the shadows surrounding her, referring to the Waynes who remained silent in their luxurious prison of silence. “Where is Batman?”
The Doctor paused, his gaze turning serious and contemplative.
“Since your appearance, the Waynes have become shadows of what they once were. Batman has vanished, as if fear has locked him in his own game. They don’t want you to know the truth, and I wonder if, deep down, he fears what you are capable of.”
“Fears?” repeated Y/n, incredulity splattering her voice like a rain of dead stars. “Why?”
“Because the truth is that there is no longer space for the good in this city.” The Doctor stepped closer, his tone low but filled with fervor. “Soon you will go after the Court of Owls. We will expose those monsters in the streets, as they deserve, and they will have no one to defend them. Not even their beloved bat.”
A chill ran down Y/n's spine. The idea of stepping out into the night, of facing the villains who had ravaged her city, filled her with a strange power. She remembered Pamela, laughing amidst the shadows, her voice like an echo urging her to fight.
“I will not be their puppet. I do not want to be a pawn in a bigger game.” The words erupted from her with the force of an approaching storm, and the vision of Pamela dancing among the flowers filled her with a sudden sweetness.
“You will not be a pawn, Kerosene.” The Doctor smiled, and in his eyes was an air of admiration. “You are the queen in this game. Your vengeance will not only bring down those villains, but it will also seek the man behind the mask of Batman. We need to end him.”
“End him?” The question hung in the air like a trembling whisper. Her heart stopped for an instant, remembering the nights spent with Batman, the unspoken words, the caresses of an absent father.
“Yes. Because he, like them, has become a legend that needs to fall.”
Y/n felt the darkness looming over her, a shadow whispering promises of power and pain. But there was something more, a spark igniting within her, a fire burning with the strength of a new dawn.
“Then I will do it.” said Y/n, her voice resonating with a clarity that surprised her. “I will expose the Court of Owls and make my father see.”
The Doctor watched Y/n with palpable satisfaction, as if he had finally ignited a spark deep within her being. With a gesture of his hand, he made the invisible shackles that kept her trapped fade away. In that moment, a strange freedom slipped over her skin, a freedom laden with dark responsibility.
“Come, Kerosene.” he said, his voice now a hypnotic chant rising among the shadows. “There is something you need to see.”
He led her through a labyrinth of damp hallways, each step resonating like an echo of past decisions. The walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, tales of those who had fallen into the abyss before her. As they advanced, the light of day faded, and the gloom became an accomplice to their thoughts.
Finally, they reached the balcony of the building, a place where time had stopped its march. The Doctor gently pushed Y/n toward the railing, forcing her to look out over the vast expanse of Gotham that stretched before them. The city was a canvas of flickering lights and deep shadows, a portrait of intertwined chaos and order.
“Look, little one.” the Doctor whispered, his voice wrapping around her like a veil of mystery. “This is your city, a monster that feeds on the secrets you hold in your chest. The blood that stains your skin is a symbol of the struggle that lies ahead.”
Y/n leaned over the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind caress her bare skin. The city glimmered like a sea of dying stars, each light a story, each shadow a whisper of betrayal. The vision enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt like a spectator of her own destiny.
Her bare skin, still stained with blood, prickled at the chill of Gotham, a freezing breeze sneaking through the cracks of crumbling buildings, as if the city itself reminded her that she was alive, that darkness embraced her with its mantle of forgetfulness and despair. Each small contact of the air made her more aware of her vulnerability, and at the same time, of the power that blossomed from within her. It was a reminder that, amidst chaos, she was the spark of a new flame.
The puddles of blood that had stained her skin, silent witnesses to her transformation, shone like a dark ruby under the dim light of the moon. In that moment, each drop was an echo of past decisions, a symbol of the life she had left behind. And yet, in her mind, the Doctor's words echoed: “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution.” The irony of her state wrapped her in a sweet and bitter confusion; deep down, her nakedness felt like a release.
The city stretched before her, a vast ocean of twinkling lights and lurking shadows. Gotham, in its complexity, seemed to breathe, a living being pulsing with stories of pain and longing. The streetlights flickered as if about to go out, and Y/n felt that each flicker was a whisper calling her, a reminder that she was destined to be part of something much larger than herself.
As she gazed at the horizon, her mind filled with images: the faces of those she had lost, those she had loved, and those she had to confront. Her heart wrestled between the desire for vengeance and the longing for redemption.
“What do you see?” asked the Doctor, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.
“I see…” Y/n began, but the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The city was a labyrinth of emotions, a stage where pain and pleasure intertwined in a macabre dance. It was a reflection of her own internal struggle, her desire for vengeance and her yearning for redemption.
“I see a sea of shadows, a stage where illusions collapse like houses of cards.” she finally replied, her voice echoing. “Each light, a hope; each shadow, a whisper of unhappiness.”
“Perfect.” The Doctor smiled, his face illuminated by an almost fraternal satisfaction. “Gotham is a mirror, and you are the light that can break the darkness. You must be able to see beyond what shines.”
The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, tearing through the veil of confusion that enveloped her. In that instant, Y/n understood that every tear shed had fed the city, that every drop of blood on her hands was an echo of what she had lost. And yet, vengeance offered her a new purpose, a path into the unknown.
“The city cries for change, for a fire to purify it” she whispered, her voice gaining strength in the night breeze. “And I… I am that fire.”
“That’s right, dear.” The Doctor nodded, a mix of pride and malice in his expression. “The fire that will purify Gotham and, in its wake, consume everything that stands in your way.”
Y/n felt the air fill with electricity, a palpable current connecting her to the city, to its pain and desire. Deep within her, something began to change. She was no longer just a puppet; she was no longer merely the shadow of her past. She was Kerosene, the spark that would ignite the flame of change.
“But, Doctor, what about those who love the darkness?” she asked, her voice now an echo of what she had learned. “What if they cling to their shadow?”
The Doctor stepped closer to her, his penetrating gaze filled with complicity.
“Darkness is a possessive lover, but there is always a price to pay. The truth is that they cannot hold onto it forever. And when the fire burns, only those ready to be reborn will be saved.”
Y/n felt a mixture of anguish and determination. The city before her became a symbol of her internal struggle, a stage where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal game. Every street, every building, every corner whispered her name in a song of warning and challenge.
“And when the fire consumes everything in its path, will there be anything left of me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fragility of a leaf in the wind.
The Doctor smiled, a smile that seemed to mock the questions still dancing in her mind.
“Perhaps, dear Kerosene, you will find yourself in the act of burning. Or maybe, you will fade into the ash. That is the enigma of transformation: in the fire, death is merely the prelude to a new beginning.”
As she gazed at the city, Y/n felt her identity fragment and fuse, in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The image of Gotham before her became a metaphor for the human soul, a reflection of the struggles everyone faced in the darkness. The city, with its chaos and its heartbreaking beauty, enveloped her like a hug.
With one last look at the flickering lights and lurking shadows, Y/n stepped back, a firm decision rising within her.
“There’s no turning back now” she murmured, her voice an echo of her new reality. “I will be the fire that illuminates this eternal night.”
The Doctor, with a gesture of approval, retreated into the shadows, leaving her alone in her revelation. As the city spread before her, a mantle of mystery and power, Y/n knew that the true journey was just beginning. The line between fire and ash was thin, and in her chest burned the certainty that by crossing it, nothing would ever be the same.
“So be it, Kerosene” she said to herself as the wind enveloped her in secret whispers. “Let the fire speak in your name and let the night receive your lament.”
And looking at Gotham, she understood that, in the end, her destiny was not merely to be a spectator, but an unstoppable force, a storm that would unleash chaos. And so, with her heart beating to the rhythm of the city, she prepared to embrace her truth, her fire.
A/N — Here is the long-awaited third part of this series. Thank you for all the support and love you have given me. I decided to make this part longer (at the cost of not being able to include the last image :( ) so that you can enjoy it more.
I was reading your comments where you were asking if Y/n and the Doctor would have a romance (which horrifies me a bit :d, but it gave me an idea) or if he performed a lobotomy on her. Well, that will be answered in the next part or in a headcanon, whatever you ask me.
By the way, in the tag list, there are some users I couldn't add, sorry about that 😔. I really appreciate your understanding and patience. Your enthusiasm keeps me motivated to keep creating and sharing these stories. I hope you find this installment engaging and that it brings you the excitement and emotions you’ve come to expect from the series. Enjoy!
Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.
take a bath!
Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @imnotdumbimstupif @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii
@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @sheepintherain @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @kiarst @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith
Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!
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darkstaria · 7 months ago
Text
Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.
Chapter 1:
----
Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.
Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.
An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.
However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.
“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.
You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.
The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.
The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.
You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.
The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.
Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.
Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.
Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.
Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.
You sigh.
“Robin. Get off me, please.”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.
A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.
“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.
“Fine. You two already know the drill.”
You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”
The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.
In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.
A bat was much harder to hide.
“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.
The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.
Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.
Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.
Just another day, with your soulmates.
~ ~ ~ ~
Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.
Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.
But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.
The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.
They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.
They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.
Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.
There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.
The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.
The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.
You decided to call it Robin.
The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.
The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.
That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.
As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.
Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.
You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.
Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.
And then you watched your Robin die.
The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.
You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.
You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.
When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.
The little Robin died, crying in your lap.
You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.
There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.
You took a week off school.
~ ~ ~ ~
“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.
You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.
Time to get this over with.
You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.
Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.
It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.
Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.
Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.
You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.
You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.
Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?
You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?
Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.
Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.
You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.
You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.
Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.
Were you paranoid?
Mayhaps a little.
You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.
____
Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.
If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D
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yorsgirl · 8 months ago
Note
Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?
Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.
He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.
He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.
Oh my, I love love love this idea!!
I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late
Playing God
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Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.
Tropes: Dark Romance, horror, angst
Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.
General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.
Word Count: 9.7k
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You were digging your own grave.
So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.
Playing with fire only gets you burnt.
For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.
Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.
Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.
You expected calamity, but you were calm.
Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.
Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.
The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again.
In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - the eyes tinted with crimson.
.
"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."
You had seen it all.
You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.
"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."
You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing as you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too.
You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."
Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.
"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare, considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him. You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, you stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.
Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.
A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your husband's lineage.
Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.
Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.
You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.
Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down. No, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.
Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To be born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood and combining with his – a living proof of your plight. Disgusting.
Never. You'd never let that happen.
You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.
You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.
You were affirmed. An heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.
Speak of the devil, he appears.
An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.
"Sit." He commanded.
You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.
"I heard from the midwife."
You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.
With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"
"Not another word."
You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?
He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.
They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.
"The one at fault bore consequences."
That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.
"You aren't at fault, wife."
Oh, but you were.
Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."
The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."
"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"
He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.
But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."
His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).
After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"
You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"
Silence.
You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.
You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.
"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"
"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"
If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.
You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.
"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."
Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.
Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."
It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"
"I will accompany you."
.
"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."
Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.
"Bring him."
As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.
The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.
Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.
What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?
—》《—
"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."
"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."
"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"
"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."
"Or so, she's simply incapable."
—》《—
Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.
Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.
At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.
He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.
Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.
You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.
Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.
Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.
It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.
You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found–
Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.
The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.
"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.
"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."
The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.
"Rise," He declared.
The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"
—》《—
"May I make a request, my lord?"
Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meeting his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.
"Speak."
He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing. 
"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"
—》《—
"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"
"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant he could see the sun for another day then he'll just give whatever he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"
"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"
"In pregnancy."
The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"
Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.
"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.
"It-Its a... your highness, I d-don't think you-"
"Insolent bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."
The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to  misc-"
"Miscarriage?"
"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."
A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.
The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"
The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.
He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.
It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.
The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.
Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.
Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.
"Not edible, dispose of it."
.
You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.
He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.
No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.
Silence was never uneventful.
Insinuating the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."
Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (That extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books Sukuna had bought you).
On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.
"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"
The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present–shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.
"Pardon, my lord?"
Sukuna snorted, walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words herbs."
Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. Yet he knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?
Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...
The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.
Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."
He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.
"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."
Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.
"Come, let me entertain you."
.
You were walking to the gallows.
Not literally, but you were sure your end was near.
The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.
Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home – never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.
Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.
He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.
You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.
What happened to him?
"My lord," You called. "What are you-"
"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.
Dark.
It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.
"One bite."
Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.
Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.
You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.
Don't speak a word.
Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."
He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.
He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.
Something was wrong.
You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.
Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific—that'd be your excuse.
He won't die. Not from your hands.
You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.
Miscalculation.
The boy's body instantly stiffened, a gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.
You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.
Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.
You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.
The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.
The boy was dead.
.
"Enjoyed the show, wife?"
You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.
"Wh-what did you-"
No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.
"What... did you do?"
Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.
And he was watching you.
It reminded you of the time, you first saw him -  covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?
"What did you do?" You repeated again.
Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."
You needed to run.
The kanzashi– which was till then clasped in your hand firmly– fell down. A clank, you heard.
One step.
One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.
"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."
Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.
Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he yanked with any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.
"Dare to shut your eyes."
Compliance had become second nature.
The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.
The sight caused you to gag.
Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.
"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.
You shook your head violently, nails dug into his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.
"You did that."
No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.
"You killed him."
No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.
"Take a good look. See what you've done."
You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.
"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."
Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."
No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.
It was... him.
"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."
"Really? How so?"
Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.
"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."
"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."
Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.
"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"
"Sure of it?"
You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."
His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.
"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"
Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.
"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."
Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let him know he has the upper hand.
"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"
"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."
"There was no venom on my pin."
"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.
"His fear turned into poison."
You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"
"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."
His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.
He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"
"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"
"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."
"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.
Disgust arose in you yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never. 
He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."
"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"
Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.
Fear, poison, belief, killing...
He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.
Why won't he much rather just end your life?
Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.
"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."
"And?"
His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.
You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. The roll of his eyes while speaking floated before your eyes even though you couldn't see him; the expression must had turned to a smirk later. "However, the taste of taking a life– isn't it delicious, wife?"
Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooded boards – bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You didn't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.
A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"
"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.
"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."
Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.
But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.
"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."
His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."
"I am nothing-"
"You are. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line. 
Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.
"You kill children in your womb, I kill them after they're born. How is it so different?"
"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "You kill for your own sake, I do not."
"Then who do you kill for?"
"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.
"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.
"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."
From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.
You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.
.
"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."
He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.
"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."
He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete. 
But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."
What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?
Oh, he knew.
Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.
Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.
He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:
"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"
Worth everything.
Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).
Oh, how good he has you memorized.
Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.
"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."
Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.
Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.
You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)
Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.
"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"
Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."
Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.
So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.
"Let me just show it to you then, wife."
It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.
.
You were home.
One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.
Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.
"Mother…"
She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.
"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."
Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"
The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.
"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."
"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.
You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"
You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"
Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.
"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"
"No more."
As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.
"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"
"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.
"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.
"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.
"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"
"Don't you dare call me that."
The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.
"You are no daughter of mine."
You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.
"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.
The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.
"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."
.
This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?
You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.
Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.
Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.
You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.
You were truly pathetic.
But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.
"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."
"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."
Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"
"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."
You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.
You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"
"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."
"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"
"Save it for someone who would care, whore."
The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.
"You are just as twisted as him."
"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."
"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."
The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.
I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?
Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.
For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.
The next moment, everything made sense.
These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.
Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.
Did they truly try to lay down your life?
Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)
Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.
He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.
For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.
However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.
Provoking him was never the right move.
You were digging your own grave.
So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.
Playing with fire only gets you burnt.
For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.
Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.
No one touches what's mine.
The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.
Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.
You expected calamity, but you were calm.
The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.
Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.
The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.
All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.
Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.
Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.
Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?
Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.
Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?
Traitors don't get to talk.
Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.
With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.
"Saw it for yourself wife?"
Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.
Their predicament was your solace.
Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?
You were always like me, wife.
You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.
"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.
"A pact?"
"A pact."
A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."
The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it back. One with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:
"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."
.
A year later
Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.
"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."
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A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept chickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.
However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3
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lavandulawrites · 3 months ago
Note
I heard you wanted asks… ._.
Dan Heng being weird and stalkery and such… maybe even grabbing darling with his tail if they were to get too close to learning about his habits…
Coiling Love
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Yandere Dan Heng x reader
Yandere Dan Heng is such a interesting concept I wish to dive into further<3 (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).
Masterlist
Warnings: obsession, stalking, Dan Heng takes pictures of reader without reader knowing, stealing of personal belongings, manipulation, possessiveness, Dan Heng lets his draconic instincts take control, Dan Heng is creepy (he is only in love your honour)
Word count: 884
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You were a fascinating human being. You were kind and beautiful and always put others first. Dan Heng had never been one for relationships, he never had the time nor had he found the right person. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t fantasies about his weeding.
You made him think that maybe love was possible for him too.
His feelings was so foreign. He decided he should follow you so he could keep a close eye on you. Your innocent nature reminded him of a helpless bunny and that triggered something deep within his very soul. His blue eyes bored into your form as you went about your daily life. When it was time for the Nameless to depart from your planet he managed to persuade you to join them. Dan Heng promised you a life of adventure and experience you would never forget. You were easy to convince.
Your bedroom was right besides the Archive which was to Dan Heng’s joy. He often found himself resting his head against the cool wall that separated your rooms. He wondered what you were doing and if maybe, just maybe you were thinking about him too. His dreams consisted of you and only you. His good dreams were filled with you and your beautiful laughter and his nightmares were filled of your pained screams and your petrified eyes.
He longed for your touch and every time your hands brushed against each others when you were preparing breakfast in the eating car, he found his heart bursting out of his chest. His face however remained as stoic as ever before, except for the little smile that tugged on his lips. When he returned to his room after your hand has brushed against him in an attempt at reaching the butter, he kissed the skin on the back of his hand with closed hands. Oh, how he wished it was your hand instead.
The dark haired man asked March if she could teach him how to take good pictures with a camera which she happy agreed to. With his camera in his hand he snapped pictures of you without your knowledge. He had bought a camera with smith buttons aka it didn’t make any sound when taking pictures.
He hid the many pictures he had taken underneath his bed and other places he knew no one would ever find them.
He always accompanied you on outings and always remained close by. If he noticed someone who was too close to you, he would step in. Who would dare defy the man who had just saved their planet?
It was when you had returned to the Express after a mission that you stumbled upon the open door to his room. You normally didn’t stick your nose in others business, but something urged you to go inside.
When you stepped inside the room littered with various screens and blue screened floors your eye caught a book sticking out from underneath the brown haired man’s bed. It was as if someone had tried to hide it, but were in a hurry.
You crutched beside the bed as you lifted the book up carefully. The cover was rather plain and sea green in colour. It had a ringed spine of silver. You opened it carefully, curious of its contents.
What met you were pages filled with entries of your daily routines, ranging from what you eat to how many times you blinked when you watched a movie with March and Stelle.
Your heart hammered against your ribs as you flipped through the pages. He had taken multiple photos of both you and your belongings. He had even gotten his hands on pictures of your university graduation. Your eyes feel to his pillow where you could see the sleeve of the purple shirt that you had been looking for. “What…”
A pair of arms wrapped around your form as hot breath canned against your neck. “You weren’t supposed to see that…” his voice gentle.
“Dan Heng what is this…?” your voice shaking as your eyes raked between the shirt and the book that were still in your hand.
“Just my archive of you. Nothing to worry about” he chuckled slightly as if trying to lighten the situation.
Something strong and chilly wrapped around your midriff in a tight embrace. You looked down and was met with the sight of a scaly tail.
“It’s normal for us Vidyadhara to keep track of our beloved. I suppose it’s time I finally make my feelings for you known” he used his hand to gently turn your head so you could see his face. His handsome features soft as he looked at you with love you only thought existed in fairytales.
“I love you [Name] and I have for a long time” he smiled. Long fingers stroked your cheek gently.
“And I intend to spend the eternity with you. Us Vidyadhara have a strong sense of protection, so I promise you that I will never let you go. I know this is sudden, but I promise I will protect you and make you happy” his cerulean eyes glittered with love and devotion.
Dan Heng had never been the one to lie, and you knew for certain he meant every word he said. You were his for eternity.
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yandere-daze · 7 months ago
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I thought it was high time that I finally wrote something for this man and this idea was stuck in my head for days. I hope you enjoy! <3
gn reader
2.3k words
cw yandere, obsessive behaviour, hypnotizing siren song, manipulation
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Yandere! Siren! Sunday x Sailor! Reader
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You weren´t supposed to be anything more than an easy prey. A human led astray by his enchanting tunes like any other, only to be torn apart once within reach.
You were a simple sailor sailing the deep waters of the ocean with your small crew. For what purpose? Sunday wasn´t quite sure and he didn´t really care to know. All he yearned for was sinking his claws into your vulnerable flesh as he dragged you to the bottom of the ocean.
You see, Sunday was a siren, a hunter in the image of a beautiful young man with grey hair and enchanting golden eyes. Were it not for his singing voice, a deep gaze into his radiant eyes would be enough to tempt any poor fool into his waiting arms. Yet his voice, oh his voice, its heavenly sound masking his dark intentions.
Within his lifetime, Sunday has lured many unfortunate sailors to their demise though, in recent times, fewer and fewer boats have delved through the waters he called his home. From what he had witnessed being whispered onboard, tales of cunning and vicious sirens roaming these waters have reached the mainland, causing many to steer clear and avoid this place.
This naturally annoyed Sunday, for the flesh of humans was what he sustained himself with. This fact only increased his determination when after quite a long while of waiting for a sign of life, a boat had finally lost its way into his domain again. Sunday had been hungry for way too long now, he couldn´t let this stroke of luck go to waste.
So certain that he would finally claim his prey again, he decided to first spy on the passengers of the boat before making his move. It was important for him to know the routines and habits of the sailors if he wanted to catch them alone to entice them to run into their doom.
As a siren, Sunday was more powerful than an average human but even he wouldn´t be able to fight off several sailors if he were to try and hypnotize someone in broad daylight. He couldn´t risk the crew becoming aware of his presence and leaving, he couldn´t go on without another meal again.
And so, he secretly started spying on the passengers of the small boat, staring at them from behind a rock and making sure to keep his tail concealed within the water. He watched everyone go along with their days on board the ship when something unexpected happened.
He saw you, stepping away from the rest of the crew to stand near the edge of the boat, a smile on your face as you let the sun shine on your face. Without even realizing it, you had stepped close to where Sunday had gone to hide. You were so close, almost within arm´s reach. For a moment, Sunday deliberated if this was his chance to strike.
With you separated from the rest of the crew like this, it would be a simple thing indeed to lure you into the waters where you would disappear forever.
But just as he thought this, he stopped in his tracks as he watched your carefree smile, suddenly becoming enchanted by the way the light of the sun rained upon your skin. For lack of a better word, your presence at that very moment was mesmerizing and Sunday felt warm inside as if the rays of the sun were descending on him instead.
And then, for a moment, Sunday almost felt his heart stop for then you opened your mouth and started, he almost couldn´t believe it, singing.
There you were, practically within the jaws of a predator, and letting your soul rejoice in song so carelessly. And yet, within your naivety, Sunday couldn´t help but feel at peace. Your song rang out across the lonely waters, unaware that your secret audience was becoming more and more enchanted by you by the second.
Your singing, Sunday couldn´t quite describe it. It sounded nothing like his own singing, which was beautiful and yet felt intrinsically wrong somehow. Your song was nothing like that. It might have not been as pretty or practiced as his own singing, but yet it managed to ring true within his heart. Your song felt earnest and real, untainted and uncorrupted by malice. Within seconds, you had captured his attention and heart, yet you were completely unaware that he was even present.
In an ironic twist of fate, Sunday felt himself being pulled towards you as if touched by magic, an ardent longing for you deep within his chest. It was as if you were the siren calling out to him, beckoning him closer like a lovesick sailor lost at sea, yet Sunday was sure that instead of a sudden demise, he would find true salvation within your arms. With the way you were holding out your arms, he could almost imagine you wrapping them around his body in a lover´s embrace, pulling him so close as if you would never let go of him again.
Because he knows that´s what he would do if he finally had his beloved in his arms. For only a fool would ever let go of the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It filled him all at once, this desire to have you for his own, to make you his dearest mate.
You were radiant and joyful in a way he had never seen before and he couldn´t bear the thought of letting you slip away from him.
And from the desperate yearning he could so clearly hear in your song dedicated to just him, he knew that you must feel the same way. You were just waiting, begging to be taken away by him. Why else would you walk so close to him, all on your own and profess all of your feelings like this? Sunday now knew that this meeting was fated to happen and he would be sure not to waste it.
He had been watching you closely for the past few days along with the other sailors aboard the ship and he saw how the other crew members acted around you. He had thought nothing of it back then but now boiling jealousy filled his being as he remembered how chummy they had been acting with you. How they had laughed and joked around with you so easily, how they had thrown their arms around you and sang cheery tunes beneath the starry sky.
He especially detested that one scoundrel that had dared to kiss your cheek so invasively. How dare they treat you like this? How dare they lay their filthy hands on you when your beauty was meant for solely him to treasure? But not to worry, Sunday would finally bring you home and keep you safe.
He understood your surprise when he finally emerged from his hiding spot and started swimming towards you. You looked so pitiful with your body shaking and your eyes growing wide when you saw his shimmering white mermaid tail. You poor thing must be frightened out of your mind because of all these stories you were told about his kind but do not be afraid! Sunday would never hurt you like this.
You were special to him, you just needed to allow him to show you that. You backing away from the railing, backing away from him, just wouldn´t do.
"Darling, there is no reason to be afraid, I´m not here to hurt you, do not let their horrid tales corrupt your thoughts. I am here to finally take you home!" He reached out his hands to you, wishing for you to jump into them and accept his love willingly yet he could only click his tongue in disappointment when instead, you took another step back.
"D-don´t come any closer!", you shouted out, breaking the poor siren´s heart in the process. How it hurt him to see you so frightened that you would turn your soulmate away. But no matter, he was prepared to take matters into his own hands and nudge you towards your own happy ending. You just needed a little bit of convincing.
"My darling, please listen to me! You and me, I know we were meant to be! So please don´t resist this, alright?", he hummed gently, his voice almost pitiful while begging you to hear him out.
You would have even felt sympathy for him if you weren´t acutely aware that you were facing a dangerous predator. There was no doubt in your mind that this was a siren and you needed to get away from there fast.
But unfortunately for you, you weren´t quick enough for as soon as you had gathered your resolve, Sunday´s ethereal singing voice had swiftly broken it down.
Suddenly, all your previous thoughts about him being a danger to stay away from evaporated, leaving you confused as to why you ever wanted to run away from him. There was nothing dangerous about him, was there?
Instead, your mind was now being filled with pleasant images of you and the siren spending time together, of him holding you close protectively, of him swearing his eternal love and kissing you. All of a sudden, you felt warm all over as you gazed deep into Sunday´s eyes and you knew that he was the one that was meant for you.
Slowly, one step at a time, you walked closer to the edge of the boat again, where Sunday was happily holding out his hands for you to take, eagerly grasping at air as if to usher you even closer.
And you were all too eager to follow his demands as a sugary sweet melody droned on and on in your ears, overwhelming you with feelings of everlasting love and devotion.
"That´s it, darling. Come closer. It´s only a few more steps.", he urged you on, almost desperately as you almost came into touching range. It was only a few more moments until he could finally have you in his arms. And once he did, he would never allow you to leave him again. Not that you would be able to underwater.
Voices were picking up in the background, quickly getting closer and Sunday realized that your crew must have picked up on what was happening.
"Come here quickly, darling!", he shouted, his voice growing more urgent and desperate the closer the booming voices got.
And you did as he said, quickening your steps towards him with a lovesick smile on your face.
"I´m almost there, my love", you said and Sunday´s heart almost burst at the sweet tone you took with him. He knew you were currently under the influence of his siren song but he strongly wanted to believe that the love you felt for him was real. Why else would you too be looking at him so full of yearning?
"Someone, quick! Grab on to them! That siren is trying to lead them to their death!", a gruff voice yells from the back with several more footsteps scrambling quickly behind. They were advancing on you fast and Sunday knew he was almost out of time as one quickly ran up to you.
"No, no, no! Don´t touch them! They´re mine! Don´t ruin this for me!", he yelled out in anger, his eyes a furious storm as they glared at the person trying to get a hold of you. He couldn´t fail so close to the end. How dare they accuse him of trying to harm you?!
"Please, you need to come to your senses!", the sailors try to reason with you but it´s almost like you can´t even register what they say.
" I need to meet with my love, he´s waiting for me.", you say, still smiling as you step to the very edge of the boat, looking down at a Sunday growing more and more manic by the second.
"Jump into my arms, darling! Accept my love and be mine forever!", the siren calls out to you as a crew member grabs into your arms, trying to pull you back.
"Don´t listen to him! Please, don´t do as he says!"
You struggle violently against the hold, kicking and screaming, demanding to be let go.
"No, you can´t separate me from my love, let me go! I need to be by his side!", you scream and with an especially harsh kick, the sailor lets go of you for a moment, leaving you with enough time to take the final step and jump right into your demise.
Sunday gently catches you in his arms, a lovesick smile on his face as he finally gets to hold you like he wanted to. You´re finally all his and there´s nothing that can be done about it anymore.
"I´m so happy you chose me, darling. We´re going to be so happy together. I´ll take such good care of you. No one else is ever going to touch you again.", he whispers into your ear and you can´t help but giggle joyfully at the prospect, your mind singing with affection, drowning out the growing panic within you.
But what is there to be afraid of? You´re finally united with the love of your life and nothing will ever separate you again.
Sunday holds you firmly as he quickly swims away from the boat, leaving your panicked crewmates behind.
Now that he finally has you, he will make sure that you´ll grow to love him even without his song. He knows that deep down, you love him just as much as he does you, you´ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to your new life underwater. He knows of a very beautiful underwater cave that he can keep you in until you grow more accustomed to your new life with him. Down there, you´ll never be able to escape his grasp again.
You will be his forever, for that is the consequence of putting him under a spell like you has.
And then he takes you with him to the very depths of the sea, never to be seen again.
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shiny-jr · 8 months ago
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damnation (peek VI?)
Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.
Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.
Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.
Note: I was looking back at previous sneak-peeks and I realized I've been kinda spoiling y'all with these. But, don't ever let it be said that I don't cherish y'all, so here you go. While I'm currently about 2/3 of the way towards completing the result (if I don't have to rewrite it or change scenes or do anything major), the sneak-peek is only about eight or nine pages. Which is still a lot when you consider that the end result will be anywhere from 42 to 45 pages. Let's hope that I continue writing at this steady pace. I will not give a date for when this is fully completed, so please don't ask! It's done when it's done.
I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII
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THE LORD OF THE UNDERWORLD
Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a helmet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing? 
“Wh– Where am I…?”
As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you took note of your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone. 
Skull-crushing could still be on the list of possible ways to die. Or would your punishment be isolation? Complete solitude was known to drive people insane. It didn’t even seem like a single soul alive was here, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing in the otherwise unsettling silence. White flowers from large vases wilted, their petals suspended gray and limp like hanged bodies.
On the floors you nearly slip and hit your head, but you manage to grab a nearby column that was as thick and sturdy as an old oak tree. That’s when you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby huge vase coated with a reflective exterior. You were staring wide-eyed at an unfamiliar figure, so odd that it took a moment to register that it was truly you. 
A long black cloth with dark blue meander borders acted like a shirt or a robe, wrapping over one shoulder and extending in different directions to act like a small cloak and cover part of your legs. From your hips to your ankles covered by part of the top cloth, were a pair of black pants with more blue meander borders decorating it. They were like modern day sweatpants and an ancient palla all in one outfit, which you might’ve admired if you weren’t currently filled with confusion and dread. That metal object on your head was like a headpiece, with two long thin black protruding pieces slicked back that glowed a slight blue. Like a demon’s horns. Impossible to remove. 
You resembled a demon with these horns, a devilish little imp. When your eyes adjusted, the reflective surface of the vase was painted. Painted black and browns, like the famous Athenian ceramic styles with figures of black and brick red. Except, each vase depicted a different scene. A powerful muscled figure standing proudly and holding a bolt of lightning; a baby strangling two large snakes; a young scrawny man training beside a satyr and a pegasus. 
“Get– these off…!”
An imp… you were an imp! Horror spread across your features, and the constant tugging to remove the metallic horn-like objects from your skull served pain stronger than a slap, to let you know that this was no dream. The judges had cast the final verdict, and as soon as you arrived you were destined to live as a miserable little creature to serve a higher being. A god. 
A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic god had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented. 
Maiming, wringing their necks, burning them in blue fire, those were just some of the torture those imps faced at the hands of their master. You felt yourself fall to your knees in a heap, like a rag doll, by the overwhelming emotions weighing in your mind and the now new burden of survival on your shoulders. This was hell, literally. So caught up with this newfound revelation, that you didn’t even notice the vases become blank as if by magic, wiping the depicted scenes off their surface. Hallucinations! 
These must’ve been hallucinations formed by your unstable mind–– You were especially sure of it when it felt as if the ground vanished beneath your feet and were surrounded by dark mists. The dark and elegant place you had once stood in, was gone, and you plunged into a dark pit. A small plunge, then you fell on rocky uneven earth, leading you to fall flat on your face. There was hardly any light, and the ceiling was low. But, there was a blue flame, a small glow to which you opened your eyes to. 
In front of you was a young boy that looked more akin to an android. Surely, another illusion, but your certainty wavered when it blinked at you. It blinked with its wide bright yellow eyes. Its eyes were like a light, as was its hair made of what seemed like real blue flames that was like a torch in this small cave. Its body was dark and metallic, part of those metals extending over the mouth like a mask. “There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you chickened out. Are you ready to put on a show? Remember, we gotta make it believable, the hero won’t be the only one there! We gotta trick all the humans!” 
“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike. 
Whatever this thing was, its voice became monotone for a brief few seconds as its pointer finger landed on the image of a normal young boy. “Selecting… Loading… Finalizing appearance.” In an instant, a light flashed over him and he became that little boy in the hologram. “What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh? Now, your turn!”
If you squint, it was like peering through glass, because at some angles you could still see the android. However, you had absolutely no time to question it, or the situation at hand, or what he could’ve possibly meant, because the quiet was shattered by the squeal of what sounded like a horse. 
Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze through but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rock cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location. 
The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. When in actuality, the accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating–– 
“Help! Hurry! We can’t breathe!” The android boy cried for help, his little eyes peeking out of the same gap you were peering out of. Even his voice sounded different with whatever magic or technology he used to disguise himself. As the hero was running over and a crowd was forming a good distance away, your fellow imp looked at you and whispered in confusion, “Where’s your disguise? You can’t let her see––”
“Get me out…!! Please! Anyone! Someone!” You gasped, suddenly realizing just how small it was underneath this massive boulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t crashed down yet, killing you instantly like rock squishing an ant. But if the boulder didn’t kill you, then the hydra would. And that was what terrified you, causing you to scream for help. 
The young boy’s eyes brightened up, looking a bit taken aback at your volume before he grinned. At least, he must’ve been grinning, judging by the way his eyes lit up. Pausing his very loud pleas, he whispered in amazement, “Wow, you’re really good at this acting!” 
You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist. 
Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a regular little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved. 
Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her shoulders, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––” 
Running. You were running. There was no way you would waste even a second here, and become a victim to that three-headed beast. It sounded like the hero had shouted something as you fled, and were followed by the android boy still in disguise as he called for you to wait up. Climbing, climbing, you took what looked like a thin path on a narrow cliff’s edge until you reached a hollow cavity hidden by shadows and boulders. By then you were out of breath, heaving, the ache in the back of your legs screaming from all that climbing and your lungs burning. 
However, it seemed as if your torment were far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company. 
A figure who sat looking quite bored upon witnessing a mortal with inhuman strength. There were no words, but just by appearance alone you knew that this was the divine god that ruled the underworld. Fire, blue fire, ran from the top of his head down his spine and over thin shoulders. He was covered from neck to toe, completely in robes of dark blues and dull grays. Long sleeves with meander patterns extended to his wrist, and even his bony fingers were pitch black either due to the fabric of a glove or it was his actual skin, you couldn’t tell. The himation, the cloth that pooled on the floor at his feet, was pinned by a brooch resembling a skull. 
Chilling yellow eyes leered down at you, his blue lips pulled back slightly in a grimace to reveal unnaturally sharp teeth on his pale face. Under his judgemental gaze, you felt like a miserable little roach scuttering about underfoot. “This isn’t a theater, and you’re not Dionysus, tryhard. That was major overkill. You screamed so much I heard you loud and clear from all the way up here, pretty sure all those humans heard you.” 
In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Well certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!” 
Brother. But… that couldn’t be possible. Now that you were high up beside the god, Idia is what your partner in crime had called him, you were no longer so fearful of immediately becoming the hydra’s next meal. That wouldn’t happen, especially when according to the story, the lord of the underworld was the one who controlled the hydra. But now you were currently more concerned and fearful of the literal divine being sitting in front of you. The lord’s brothers were only supposed to be other gods from Mount Olympus, not a being that served him. What else was different about the story? More importantly, what would he do to you once he realized that you did not belong?
“Okay, fine. Stirring performance gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.” 
Startled slightly by the new presence, you glanced over, spotting a slightly familiar face looking over the cliff. It was that man who had been accompanying the protagonist. A fairly handsome looking man with brown wavy hair, in a purple chiton and baggy loose gray pants. Again, there was that modern style mixed with ancient, making you question what time this took place in. But that question was so insignificant compared to the rest of your worries, that it would be pushed to the very back of your mind.
Looking from Meg to Idia, you compare the two faces. The God of the Underworld certainly wasn’t ugly, per say. In fact, he was ethereal in his own unique way. It was more of an acquired taste to appreciate the slight cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the dim glow his fire blue hair provided in the dark space. He wasn’t exactly the beauty standard that could be compared to a warm summer day, but cold rainy nights could be just as beautiful. 
“What are you staring at? Can you not? Seriously, don’t you know that’s rude?” The god muttered in a near sneer, his gaze unable to meet yours. In fact, he appeared to be looking anywhere but at you. Like he was nervous. But what would a god have to be nervous about? “When I leave home, I’d rather not be gawked at like some freak. I don’t need another reminder.”
Embarrassment caused your heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.” 
Because you kept your head down, you failed to see all three of them, Ortho, Idia, and even Meg whipped his head around to stare with their own forms of shock as you snapped your mouth shut. There was no room to question what was said and done. 
“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.” 
“I don’t think any of you are pathetic or pitiful.” Ortho chimed in, throwing in his two cents on the matter. To which the god only glanced at. “Shall I search our records for the soul of a successful jester? I believe we may have a few that once served kings in past centuries?” 
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the motion while propping up his elbow on the armrest of the stone throne. “Nah, don’t bother, none of them are that funny anyways. It’s not worth the effort of fishing them out of the river of souls. Once we secure our win, then maybe I’ll consider it when Thalia runs out of jokes to tell.” 
Thalia? Wasn’t that the name of one of the muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus? 
“Uh, you can scram now? I know your soul is probably drawn to the company of other mortals like pretty-boy Meg over there and that schlemiel Heraclea.” Idia scoffed, looking a bit bitter. Although, maybe that was his natural expression along with the constant gloom that seemed to permanently linger around the divine being. He rolled his eyes, murmuring the word so it sounded like an insult, “Mortals.” 
“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.”
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myeagleexpert · 4 months ago
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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕘𝕠 𝕠𝕟
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Yan!Batfamily x Singer!YN (neglected) Inspired by @@gotham-daydreams's fic, your work is wonderful and makes me think about many things…. One of the things I think about is if they found Reader from her music….
Summary: Despite everything, the show must go on. Warnings: Mention of healing processes, Reader has a trigger in the middle of an important show Mention: Reader as YN, Dick Grayson, Friend!Reader Note: This fic takes place before the events of Not [ ], before they meet Reader and become yandere because of her. Check out and value the original author's work, it's a very complete and interesting fic! < 3 You can find more of this here
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“YN! YN! YN!” the crowd screamed her name, the fans excited to see their favorite idol, wanting more of her performance.
The makeup artist was applying the final touches to her vibrant makeup while the hair stylist was reshaping the curls of her wig. The final touches before going on stage again while they were backstage.
“Everyone loved your performance! They’re screaming for you out there!” says one of the dancers excitedly
“The last song was amazing, YN! We can feel the energy here!” praises the makeup artist while touching up the glitter in her eye
“Aaaah that’s great! I’m not nervous like last time so it’s good to see it’s working out!” Yn says while drinking water, her first times on stage had been shy and awkward, but after overcoming that initial barrier today she performs with confidence, dancing and interacting with the audience masterfully.
“1 minute to get back on stage guys!” one of the organizers warned, making everyone there, including YN, mentally prepare for yet another amazing choreography.
You can do it, YN! she started to motivate herself mentally while reviewing the next song.
“M ama ma i make my own mantra……”
Ow, the broccoli loved this song! My broccoli like the choreography!
“30 seconds!”
I should have run for my music career before, the broccolis supported me from the beginning, why did it take me so long to do this?
“20 seconds!”
Ow….. I remembered, because of them…… just thinking about everything that happened at Wayne Manor, YN's vibe and mood drop, the magazine cover smile is replaced by a blank look and under eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
“10 seconds!”
Why am I thinking about them now? They don't even deserve to be in my thoughts. It's showtime, Yn, focus!
“3….2….1”
“Time to go on stage! It’s showtime!” the crew starts cheering and clapping with YN, getting into the festive show mood as they enter the stage
“WHATS UPS BROCCOLISSS?!” YN excitedly greets them through the microphone, the audience goes wild, screaming and raising the show props.
The house is full, today the show is in one of the biggest concert venues in London, with all the floors packed and the VIP area swarming with important people, reporters, cameras, today is a success! YN’s costume shines and stands out in the dark house, with sparkles and sequins that reflect the light in shades of pink and blue, the wig sets her apart like an anime protagonist and the dancers dance with expression and boldness. It's at these times that YN feels on top of the world, not out of arrogance but out of belonging… this is her place, this is what she does best. Her heart is full of joy as she jumps choreographing with the dancers, she feels light even when she sings with all her body and soul. And it's exactly at these moments, when life likes to poke at the wound…
Amidst the lights of the place while YN was catching her breath, she saw out of the corner of her eye, among the many people in the stands, a person suspiciously similar to him… Dick Grayson. The breath she was trying to recover to get into the next part of the song gets stuck in her throat as she remains paralyzed while searching for that man in the crowd.
"It's not possible… it can't be him… not today!"
Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's eldest son, the first Robin, the boy prodigy… these are some of the names and titles he received throughout his life, but all YN wanted to call him was brother. His image was warm and kind, always hugging the other brothers and helping the new Robins adapt, transforming this time with them into something familiar and a memory to keep in the colorful albums of the mind… but why not me? Why does everyone have the right to his charming smile while I am left with the stiff back of ignorance? Why could everyone spend time with him while I was always the last option?
Why? Why? Why?
And unexpectedly, Yn was no longer a confident singer on the path to success, she was a defenseless and insecure girl who sought affection from her brother. She felt transported to the terrible mansion again in a state of agonizing nostalgia, where her small hands tried to intertwine with his with hope… only for him to let go of her hand with a not very disguised look of disgust.
“Oh YN, I can't stay with you now! I have to go to patrol!” With an unapologetic smile, Dick entered the movie theater where his friends from the Teen Titans were for one of their many hang outs.
Yn knew she didn't have the love of Bruce, her father, but was she so terrible that she didn't deserve her brother's affection?
“Can I really call you brother?”
No, you don't deserve it.
At that moment, little voices in her head conspired with YN. Imposter Syndrome? Who knows? She seemed to be slowly succumbing to the many memories of the mansion, the turned backs and the disgusted eyes, the neglect, the cruelty, the shadows in the corner of the smallest room in the house that seemed to be the only refuge besides Alfred himself, who, despite having done everything in his power, still did not fill the emptiness that the girl felt…
Walls full of gold, silver and bronze medals and trophies from various sports, records and photos with important people would be enough to make anyone feel proud of the honors and merits conquered with their own sweat. But for the innocent girl, they were just poor failed plans to get the family's attention. It is no wonder that, when she left the mansion, she left her belongings and the glories of her childhood in the same room without looking back, with the idea of ​​a new path to be taken.
"YN, you go in now." The manager said through the singer's earpiece, counting the seconds for her to enter the chorus……but she didn't enter "YN?"
She was thinking too much, lost in thought, thinking too much……
Why wasn't it enough? Why wasn't I enough? Why? Why?
"YN, are you okay?"
Why was I so lonely? Why didn't anyone want to play with me?
With great skill, the singer next to YN pulled a remix for the two's song when he realized that something was wrong while the stage management called YN backstage, she went there on robotic stages with her hand on the communicator, making the audience think it had just been a technical problem. They got her water and sat her in a chair.
ł ₮ⱤłɆĐ ₴Ø Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₮Ø ₲Ɇ₮ ₵ⱠØ₴Ɇ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ₥, ł ₮ⱤłɆĐ ₴Ø Ⱨ₳ⱤĐ ₣ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ₥… ₴Ø ₩ⱧɎ ₩₳₴₦'₮ ł₮ Ɇ₦ØɄ₲Ⱨ? ₩ⱧɎ ₵ØɄⱠĐ₦'₮ ₮ⱧɆɎ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₵Ø₥Ɇ?
"YN, are you okay?" the manager asked, he had been with YN since she started taking her first baby steps in her music career, it was a worrying scene to see her cold and without answering a word, he frowned as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder “YN… we are here with you, what is going on?”
₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ ₩ⱧɎ
“Why?…” she murmured, frowning as she looked up, still lost in old memories and some random point on the ceiling. The confused manager turned his head slightly, confused about what she was talking about.
Friend!Reader, who was nearby and recognized what was happening, as he had been by her side several times when this happened, approached and told the manager that he would take care of her.
“Hey, Earth to YN, what happened there?” he said, hugging YN, she didn’t return the hug, she just stayed leaning against him like a corpse.
“Friend!Reader…?”
“Yes, YN?” he asked
“Why, Friend!Reader…… why not me?” and with whispered words she buried her face in Friend!Reader's shoulders, as she let herself be carried away by the contained emotions and he hugged her trembling form tighter.
The wound that was beginning to heal was opening again, like a bandage aggressively ripped off a skin that was being reconstructed. The wound in her mind pulsed with a constant pain, a memory of something that had never been completely healed. Like a poorly made scar on her skin, the pain was a constant reminder of something that no matter how much she tried to ignore it and start from scratch, it still hadn't been resolved.
Like medicines that have a set time until the end of their effect and at some point, the pain returns, that was Yn's focus while she convinced herself that everything was fine and that she had overcome the situation…. sooner or later the effect wears off, and the pain returns. But while she tried to heal, each emotional trigger seemed to rip the wound open again, causing uncomfortable and uneasy feelings…
“I saw one of them, Friend! Reader… I'm not sure, but… I know I saw him! In the corner of the show, my show….” she whispered to him, almost in tears
“Calm down, YN, let's talk about this…”
“He was there! I'm sure the others must be there too… laughing at me, saying I'm not good enough to be on stage… or maybe, maybe he doesn't even recognize me, you know?”
“That's enough, YN!” said the friend, shaking the singer by the shoulders. He hated seeing her like that, so insecure and fragile. “You can stop right there!”
“You're one of the best people I know, and my best friend! You're really good at what you do, you have an excellent voice and you dance really well! YOU'RE AMAZING!” He continued with a smile on his face “And if a family of rich kids didn’t know how to recognize that in you, that’s their problem! Screw them! If I ask anyone out there, they’ll give you a list of 100 reasons why you’re amazing!”
Then he points to the screen that showed the audience singing and having fun.
“Those people do like your music, but they didn’t come because your music sticks like chewing gum” he jokes and is relieved when he sees a smile on her sad face “They’re here because they admire you YN, whether it’s with a YouTube channel or on a social network all dressed up.”
He then puts a finger on her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“So no insecurity here, no self-sabotage, no sad memories… not here! You’re my best friend, and you’re at the peak of your career. So go out there and ROCK!” With that, Friend!Reader gives YN a big hug and gets excited when he sees that her friend is starting to get back to normal.
“What did you write in those diaries?”
“So many things, I don’t remember right now..” you laugh lightly “But now, the ones I hope like my music are my fans.”
“YES! AND WHAT WILL THEY REALIZE WHEN THEY READ YOUR DIARY?”
“THAT THEY DON’T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME!” The two cheer and joke around with each other, with the support of Friend!Reader, she starts to get excited and return to the stage, singing louder and stronger, entering the chorus of the remix.
She remembered the reserved and empty seats of her first shows, all reserved for family, and saw that years later, strangers occupied all the seats in the concert hall. She remembered when she was little, she would rehearse alone in her rooms for school auditions, and now she sings for a large auditorium in one of the biggest capitals in the world. She remembered lame excuses and looks of contempt, and realized that everyone there was looking at her with admiration and love.
Her family wasn't in a haunted mansion, they were backstage taking care of her, they were on stage dancing and singing with her. She knows who the real ones are, so why worry about the ones who aren't? They say that time heals, but in truth, it's the process that heals. It's painful. Agonizing. But when it's over, you look back and realize how much you've come from it.
She sang with every lyric and every syllabary, she intoned the words with truth and determination, she proclaimed from the bottom of her heart with strength to everyone at the concert and to herself:
“HAVE YOU SEEN, COME AND READ MY DIARY THEN YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU DONT MEAN S H I T TO ME”
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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥
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@imaginarydreams I hope you like this version of the good ending :D
If any of you want to be tagged, let me know in the comments <3
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bachibabe · 6 months ago
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📂 ‧ ₊ ˚ — Everything You
ren kaji x idol!reader
✰ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 1.8k
✰ ݁ ˖┊: content: obsessed!kaji, soft yandere!kaji, idol!reader, parasocial relationship, obsession, male masturbation, hand-job, dom!kaji, facial, cum eating, toxic behaviour, violence (not against reader), creepy behaviour, kaji scares you a little at the end :// but he means so well, he just wants to protect you <33 all chars are aged up
18+ → minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content
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Kaji who’s just so so so obsessed with his favourite pretty little idol.
He didn’t mean for it to happen, no. But they never really do, do they? Just get caught up so caught up that they don’t even know the path their heart has led them down. Don’t know what to do when they’ve fallen so deep into the trap of dazzling cameras and flashing lights.
For Kaji, it all starts out rather simple– too simple, almost. A friend leaning over his shoulder, phone screen propped up in his hand. A picture of your face, your blinding smile on full display as his friend prattles on about you. Everything you, really.
In the moment, he has no amount of care for you in his bones. Right then he simply rolls his eyes at the other man, pulls his headphones back in place. Effectively shuts out the rest of the world just as he always does. He’s never cared about idols before– especially not popular ones like yourself. So why should he this time? Just ‘cause his friend finds you cute?
Whatever.
Yeah, in that moment he pretends to forget all about you. Cussing at his friend, effectively telling him to ‘fuck off with his useless shit’-- his words, of course. Yet, your name. That pretty little smile, the one that makes him feel almost electric continues to run through his brain.
Continues to rattle around behind his eyes, continues to force its way inside of his conscious with no remorse. No matter how loud he turns up his headphones, how hard he swings his fists, your name continues to irk him like a stupid fucking shadow.
For a week it goes on. For a whole week it feels like you’re haunting him like a shadow.
Never before had he noticed all of your posters. The ones in convenience stores advertising drinks, the motivational ones in cafe’s telling him to cheer up with that little pout on your lips. Your arm held up in a gentle flex. Never before had he noticed your advertisements on tv. Staff making you all dolled up to promote something stupid like a fried chicken chain.
Turns out the entire world is utterly engulfed by everything you.
He finally gives in after seeing one of your CDs at a record store. Finally gives in after a week of hell– your presence leaking into his soul to the point he simply could no longer avoid it. Could no longer hold back from googling your name, listening to your music, watching your performances, watching your interviews, reading your articles, following your accounts, finding out who your staff are–
He doesn’t sleep that night. Doesn't think he can with how his heart is racing, his head is pounding. He feels like he’s dying. Is this a heart attack? Is he going to pass on? What the fuck is he feeling? What is making him feel like he’s falling into insanity?
And thus is the birth of your biggest fan, Ren Kaji. <3
Not that he tells anyone, anyway. Why the fuck should he tell anyone? It’s not light they have the right to know. They don’t have the right to know anything about him– much less what his headphones are playing.
It’s always you, of course. All of your albums play on loop through his headphones. Over and over again. Never stopping for even a second. The classic rock he used to listen to all but forgotten in the face of everything you.
Your voice just as sweet as the candy he eats religiously, your face just as pretty as the sunset over the horizon. Your very existence comes as close to the importance of the very oxygen he breathes.
No one can really blame him for falling so easily, honestly. No one can blame him for falling for a piece of safety, a piece of calmness in the world he normally enjoys being so rough. For so easily siding with your charms. Especially whenever he attends your concerts. When it feels like you’re singing just to him.
When your face lights up whenever it crosses his in the audience, when you shoot him a wink that almost caused him to die from the all-consuming heat that surrounded his very being. His face is hot, red. The lollipop in his mouth breaking as he clenches his jaw, hard shards of glittery candy falling uselessly against his tongue.
You noticed him. You know him. Maybe you could come to like him too?
The moment was perfect. Maybe a start to some sort of cheesy romantic-comedy in his head. The start to getting to know you, being your friend. Protecting you.
But of course the fucking guy standing next to him had to ruin it all. Whining so excitedly that the wink was sent at him instead. That you, a practical goddess, would ever give attention to some fucking low life like him? Some fucking perverse creep who didn’t truly understand your beauty. Understand you.
Fucking disgusting.
Unfortunately, the night didn’t end like a romantic movie would. You did not invite him backstage, nor did he leave with your number scribbled across his palm. It left with him being escorted off the premises. The pervert’s blood on his fist.
He doesn’t regret taking the swing. What? Was he just supposed to let that shit slide? Of fucking course not. He’s not about to let anyone else get delusional about you. No, and that wink was definitely meant for him. Not that creep.
He’s sure of it.
He’s sure of a lot of things he probably shouldn’t be, to be honest.
Especially when he wraps his hand around his cock at night. When he imagines it’s your cute little hand wrapped around him instead of his own. When he buries his face into a towel he caught at one of your shows– the gentle scent of your perfume still lingering across the surface. The same towel he sleeps with under his pillow every night.
Someday it’ll be you laying next to him. At least that’s what he hopes. His dreams during the day spilling into something else during the night. Hopes that one day his admiration for you can turn into something more. Hopes that one day he’ll get to have you on his bed, your cute little frame kneeling between his legs as he rests against the headboard.
Hopes to see your flushed little face, eyes half-lidded, already fucked out and submissive just for him. Hopes to coach you through touching his cock with his own hands. Showing you how to wrap your fingers around the base– how your hand wouldn’t even be able to make it all the way around his girth.
Imagines the way you would whine quickly, his hand guiding you up and down his length. Squeezing it just the way he likes you to. Watches the way your thumb would flick cutely over the tip, rubbing his precum around the head. Teasing him just like a brat would.
Seeing your cute little expression as you move your head close to his cock, following his directions so well as you open your mouth, tongue falling out as you prepare to taste his cum. White hot streams of it shooting from his cock, coating your face. Your tongue, lips, cheeks– hell maybe even a glob of it could land on your eye. Shit. That would be a sight.
The cute little giggle that would leave your lips as your messy hand would come up, the little “Oopsies~” That would leave your lips as you wipe it off, bringing it to your lips. Licking your hand clean as he comes down from his high. How you’d smile to yourself, proud little waves of excitement radiating from your form.
The way he’d give sugar-coated insults, pulling you back up his body for a rough kiss. One that told you that you can’t get too big a head or else he might have to do something about it. The way the fresh smell of your shampoo would run through the very air he breathes. That same gentle smell that reminds him of forest flowers in a delicate bloom.
It’s only then that reality returns to him. A mess in his hands, your towel pressed against his nose as he remembers that he still has to make all of that a reality. So he can protect you from those guys like at the concert. Hell, so he can protect you from the rest of the world.
It’s those feelings that drive him to do something rash. Something just a tad bit extreme. Well, it really is too bad that the sane part of him is long gone. The need to protect you driving him to buy more copies of your newest album than he can count. The part of him that scowers each copy for a ticket to your handshake event. The part of him that buys up any extra tickets that he can online.
The part of him that makes him stand back until the rest of your fans finish their turns. Holding place at the back of the line– kind enough to still let everyone else have their turns. Let the rest of your fans greet you, say their thanks. They are important to your career, afterall, and he isn’t dumb enough to keep the normal ones away from you. Even if just a little part of him wants to.
But as the clock ticks on and the line wains down, he can’t help but feel restless. Can’t stop his heels from rocking to his toes, his fingers fiddling with loose threads inside of his hoodie pockets. Can’t help but feel annoyed as he is kept from you longer and longer.
Ah, you have no clue the relief he feels when it’s finally his turn. When he takes all of the handshake tickets out of his pocket, places them on the table in front of you with force before reaching his hand out to hold yours.
The shock evident on your face is something he’s never seen before. The way your eyes slowly lift to him, take in his full face for the first time. He’ll never forget it. He could never forget anything to do with you.
Hundreds of handshake tickets sit between your bodies. Each one lasting for a duration of 10 seconds.
You gulp quietly, a shaky smile spreading to your lips as you slowly clasp his hand into your own, shaking it slowly. Eyes darting to your manager and your security for only a second before returning back to him. Silence hanging heavy, your voice bleeding ever-so-softly through the headphones around his neck.
The lollipop rolling in his mouth, waiting for you. Surrounded by everything you.
“Th-Thank you for your support!”
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© all rights reserved to bachibabe ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.
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yanderedrabbles · 23 days ago
Note
I’m 🐰 Anon >:3
How would the yandere boys act with a reader that has body dysphoria? A reader who starves herself (I’m going through a hard moment and really wanted to know how they wound react, I wanted, you know, some comfort maybe-)
Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I know exactly how much ana sucks when she comes to visit. But don't worry, the boys will try their best. Unfortunately, their best isn't always very smart.
Skin and Bones - yandere boys when you won't eat
Yandere! Cowboy is predictably mean about it. He'll tug at the hem of your sundress and say he doesn't give a damn how your clothes fit, as long as you keep taking them off for him. At night, he'll bury his face between your thighs and nip at the tender flesh. "You're mine - your pretty cunt, your pretty smile, your pretty body. You don't get to starve what's mine, got it?"
Safe to say, he watches you like a hawk after that. At every meal, he makes sure your plate is sparkling clean. And if you even think about throwing up, he'll have his belt off in a second to teach you a hard lesson about abusing his property.
Yandere! Soldier thinks you're doing it to piss him off. "What? You're worried about being heavy?" He'll grab your waist and toss you over his shoulder in one smooth move, like you weigh even less than his gear. Smack your ass and say that no matter what you weigh, nothing can stop him from throwing you around.
"Now stop insulting me. съесть что-нибудь."
And eat something.
Yandere! Boyfriend understands better than you'd think. He cooks you something incredibly healthy and low calorie, a safe food. He'll stand behind you as you push it around your plate, his chin resting on your head and his fingers kneading your thighs. "C'mon baby, just a little bite?" He'll promise that if you finish it, he'll eat up too. And he doesn't mean food.
Yandere! Incubus notices it when he comes to you at night. He's attuned to every part of you in a way only demons can be. You're hungry, you're ravenous and there's some dark ugliness festering at the heart of it. In the morning, the handsome young priest stops at your table and tells you that you've been looking ill lately, that you should definitely eat some more. He'll tug at his rosary and remind you, "When the flesh hungers, so does the soul."
Yandere! Desert Bandit doesn't understand it. Food is hard to come by, so why are you turning it down? When you explain it to him, he scoffs. "The desert sent you to me. Why would I want to change such a precious gift?"
If you insist on being stubborn, he'll lunge at you and wrestle you under him.
"I've dreamt of you, just as you are."
Maybe he can show you exactly how perfect you are to him and if not...He can always hold you down and feed you himself.
Yandere! Academic Rival will order a ton of expensive dishes and have them delivered right to his apartment. Everything you've ever mentioned wanting to try. He'll rest a fork at your lips and smirk at you. And be suffocatingly condescending when he says, "I thought you were smarter than this. Now open up and prove me right."
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jonathansthickthighs · 6 months ago
Text
My Sweetest Heart 5: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji 𝐱 Reader (Toji’s POV)
Description: You had a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.
Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, toxic behavior, DARK CONTENT, GORE (slight), murder, jealousy, possessive behavior, stalking, desperate toji, slight smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), mentions of baby trapping, breeding kink?, daddy kink, masturbation, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)
A/N: Greetings, reader. I wanna thank you for all the love you showed this mini series, I really really appreciate it <3. Without further ado, here is the final chapter! It’s a little different as it is written completely in Toji’s POV and it’s also slightly darker that the previous ones, so read at your own risk! Hope you enjoy :)
Italics = flashbacks
NOT EDITED!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Masterlist
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You’re mine.
The instant my eyes landed on you, I knew that was my destiny— the sole purpose for my existence in this floating sphere we call Earth. From that fateful night onward, I became aware. I became aware of what a man truly in love is capable of. All things suddenly made sense, and I felt everything. The gentle breeze caressing my skin was almost like an imitation of your soft hand running through my tough-to-the touch skin. The sun kissing my face with the same passion as your tender lips. Those romance movies and novels I once detested now played endlessly in my mind, imagining it was us, living our own life as a happy couple.
You make me vulnerable.
Vulnerability used to be such a foreign feeling to me, not even experiencing it as a child. It makes me feel weak— you make me weak. But I’ve learned to accept this newfound fragility because I love you. This vulnerability, it’s truly a disconcerting sensation, like exposing an unarmored heart to the world— to you. You’re my world. You’ve taught me more about life than I could have ever imagine, something I wouldn’t expect from someone so young. At your age, I was nothing more than an ignorant boy who didn’t understand or cared about anything. Yet, in your presence, I’ve come to see vulnerability as a strength. Loving you has taught me that this feeling is not about weakness, but about trust and intimacy. Allowing you to see the depths of my soul and getting the same in return from you has made me find solace in those moments. I now embrace the beautiful feeling of vulnerability because thanks to you, it makes me feel like the strongest man alive.
I know I have one or two… loose screws.
I can be an incredibly jealous and territorial man when it comes to you. Insecurity floods my mind at any minimum interaction you have with a man, in particular men your age. No matter how much you reassured me on your desire to only be with me and my age not being an issue to you, there was always a little voice in my head that made me erupt. I know you had lost count of how many times I had caused a scene in public, getting all up in the other man’s face with threats of violence. You’d barely manage to drag me with out of the place, apologizing profusely as you begged the owners to not call the police on your problematic boyfriend. Remember those times? I’m deeply sorry, sweetheart, I’m aware of how much I embarrassed you. It wasn’t my intention, but each occasion I would spot a man eyeing you up, I couldn’t control myself from going ballistic. You are every man’s dream, a vision of beauty too pure for this ugly world. That’s why I can’t let them have you— I’m just trying to protect you.
Even when you didn’t like situations I put you in, I am certain you loved the aftermath. Pistoling my thick cock in your heavenly hole, claiming what’s mine always made my jealousy and insecurities dissipate. Your scream and moans only confirmed how much you enjoyed giving yourself to me. Make up sex with you was so intense and passionate, it almost made me want to start fights with you constantly. Your slick juices coating my cock was evidence of your arousal. You loved make up sex as much as I did. I can’t help myself from remembering how many times you moaned into my ear that me you belonged only to me, making my heart leap in joy. I stay up night after night reminiscing in those precious moments, those are memories I will always hold close to my heart and continue to long for.
“F-fuck me! This pussy is yours, Toji! I belong to you, only you!” Your whines were muffled by my hand placed on the side of your face, pressing your head into the mattress, thrusting my cock into your dripping cunt from behind. The way you moaned my name, telling me you were mine making my cock throb from the overbearing arousal. You could never fully grasp how you make me feel because it transcends anything this world could offer. It’s something beyond words, beyond earthly experiences, as if it belongs to a place untouched by time and space.
“You better not be lying to me, sweetheart. No other man can have you like this, this pretty little hole was made for my cock only!” Delivering a harsh slap to your ass, I could feel myself getting riled up at the imagine of another man seeing you in this position. It wasn’t your fault men wouldn’t stop throwing themselves at you, but I just wish you weren’t so fucking nice about it. Your kindness only encourages them and it makes me sick. It makes me feel like you like the attention and I’m not here for it. All your attention should be on me!
I continued spanking your now sore globes, hearing you let out whimpers, not able to identify if they’re from pain, pleasure or a mixture of both. I was so angry at you I couldn’t bring myself to care. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. “Toji, I’m not lying. I’m only yours. P-please!” You sobbed and I felt my heart drop when I saw actual tears falling from your eyes. This is were I draw the line, if there was something I couldn’t stand was seeing you cry. Forcing myself to stop, I removed my hand from the side of your face to wipe your tears away gently, calling your name.
“No! Don’t stop! It feels s’good, Toji!” My eyes widened briefly, but I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped my lips. You were crying from pleasure. As much as I hate to see you cry, I can’t keep myself from thinking about how absolutely beautiful you look when you do. The way your skin glows, your eyes sparkle and your lips puff up is like a work of art. An art piece of incalculable value that nobody but me can admire.
“What a fucking slut. You like -hah- being punished don’t you, baby? You like being used by me.” I hissed as I started thrusting into your tight pussy fast and hard, loving the way your ass bounced with each rough stroke I gave you. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, your ass received another firm slap from my hand, making you cry out as your cunt clenched around me. Gods, your pussy is delicious. Nothing felt better than you. Our first night solidified our bond, the connection between us felt so strong I thought it to be impossible for you to not feel the same way.
I could tell by your constant clenching that you were going to release your delectable nectar all over my pulsing cock, which made a wave of relief wash over me as I’d been holding my own release from the moment I felt your slickness engulf me. I absolutely love coming inside you, but it’s a shame you’re on birth control. Those damn pills never cease to piss me off. My intention from the first time we had sex was to impregnate you. It mortifies me to admit that one of the main reasons I came inside you so many times that night was in hopes of baby trapping you so I’d be in your life one way or another, but now that you’re my woman I truly desire to become a father for reasons beyond tying you to me for life. I want to have a family with you.
“Are you gonna let me put a baby in you, huh, sweetheart?” I dare to ask you as I move my hand down to play with your swollen clit because I know how much you love it when I do.
“Yes, daddy! Please, fill me up.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back from the pleasure, you’re just so good to me. I knew your answer wouldn’t be as positive if my dick wasn’t inside you, but I enjoy the way you feed into my delusions when I’m fucking you, knowing you’d say yes to anything I ask as long as I’m rearranging your insides. Your little plea was all it took for me to paint your insides white, releasing rope after rope of semen hoping that this time you’d be part of that 0.1% of the cases where birth control fails. I felt you coming around me, milking me of all I had, squeezing me so tightly I felt as if I might be trapped inside you forever.
“I love you so much, Toji.”
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You broke up with me.
The way you told me you loved me replayed in my mind every hour of every day since that moment. For the first time in my life, I cried. I cried in front of you, raw and vulnerable, and I begged you not to leave me. Despite my tears and pleas, you still walked away, leaving me with a hole in my chest. It’s a cold world, but I’d be lying if I said didn’t drive you to this point.
You found out. About everything.
You hadn’t heard from your friends in months and you weren’t aware of their reasoning for ignoring you so cruelly. You noticed they had blocked you, noticing your messages weren’t going through, the same as your calls. I knew you were thinking to yourself if ditching them a few times good enough reason for them to kick you out of their lives like you meant nothing to them. Years of friendship and memories down the drain because something as insignificant as this. It made you ponder if only you had managed your time more wisely maybe you would’ve still had their friendship.
I listened to you vent about it, trying to understand what you did to deserve this treatment. I was your shoulder to cry on. I had been nothing more than supportive towards you. In a matter of a few months I became your unconditional companion, the greatest reason for your happiness. I could tell you were developing an emotional dependence on me and I knew it startled you, but I liked it. Having you depend on me gave you another reason to not leave me and I would rely on that for as long as I could.
In spite of your growing dependency on me, you felt our love was too good to be true and that’s when you started digging.
You ran into one of your former best friends at the store and despite her efforts to avoid you, your feet strode towards her with unyielding determination and you confronted her. You could tell she was nervous. She had all the reasons to be. After our phone call, I decided that wasn’t enough to keep her away, so I had one of my… “coworkers” pay her a little visit, but only to give her a scare. Nothing serious, only a threat to end her life if she did as much as look in your direction. She’s a bad influence to you, doll, and you know it. Always going out clubbing, encouraging you to talk to men and to let them put their dirty hands on you. Always telling you that there’s nothing wrong with wearing revealing clothes in public like you’re some common whore. You know I don’t like it when you show off what’s supposed to be preserved for my eyes only. I can’t allow that type of friendship. Don’t you understand that’s how relationships get ruined? I’m just trying to protect you.
With hesitation, your best friend spoke to you, her fists gripping the handle of the shopping cart tightly. Her face twisted with pain as she began to speak, her words seemingly causing her physical discomfort. She told you everything, and you stood there, a perplexed expression on your face, unable to believe a words she uttered. You yelled at her for even attempting to tarnish my image in such way, and you have no idea how happy that made me. Yet, despite your anger, the hairs in your skin stood on end, a silent signal from your intuition urging you to believe her.
Remember the shaken feeling you got when I grabbed you by the hair the morning after we first made love, sweetheart? That’s exactly how you felt this very moment. But to my benefit, you were in denial. I knew she’d be a problem from the start and after all my efforts, she keeps getting in the way of our love. That stupid bitch. She went as far as telling you, through tears, that she feared for your life. As if I would do anything to hurt you. She even suggested fleeing from Japan with her. The mere thought filled me with simmering rage. I would never allow such a thing, and you were ever to disappear from my life because of her fault, I would search every corner of the globe, every hidden crevice, until I found you.
You stormed out of the store feeling agitated, trying to control your breath. I could tell you wanted nothing more than to stomp into my place to yell and scream at me, but to my surprise, you were calm when you arrived. You were so serene it was almost frightening.
That night you let me have my way with you, but it was different. The usual sparkle in your eye had vanished, replaced by a lifeless, hollow stare— I could barely get a moan out of you.
“Sweetheart, you seem out of it tonight. Is everything all right?”
I inquired, stopping my thrusts, concerned about your lack of emotion. I had always been able to read you, but this time I couldn’t decipher your thoughts. The only thing that I could think of was that you believed your best friend’s words, but what were you thinking about doing about it? Your confrontational nature had fooled me into thinking you’d touch the topic with me right away, but the way you were so inside your thoughts made anxiety bubble up inside me.
“I’m fine, Toji. I’m just tired. Let’s keep going.” You answered offering me a smile, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes like it usually did.
I can’t explain why I kept going, but I did. You started moaning, but to me—someone who has made you moan like a bitch in heat innumerable times— it was obvious they were fake moans. I could feel my body trembling from a mixture of pleasure and apprehension and I came inside you the same way I did every night. You didn’t orgasm that night. All you did was wait for me to roll off you as I held you with my face buried in your neck. I held you like it’d be our last night together. As soon as I moved away from you warm body, you rushed to the bathroom to take a shower as if you were disgusted about giving yourself to me.
“I love you, sweetheart.” I hesitantly said as I got up to walk after you, but the only answer I got was a door slammed in my face.
That night, I should have held you longer.
Hours turned into days, days turned into a week without a single word from you. My phone became a repository of unanswered texts and calls, each one a silent plea for your return. I wandered past your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but it stood empty. Your absence was haunting me. No physical or mental torture I had endured compared to the pain I felt. Thoughts invaded my mind, did you actually go along with your friends’ plan and fled the country? Noticing all of your important belongings were still at your place, that couldn’t be a possibility.
I sighed deeply as I lay on your bed, the familiar scent of your shampoo enveloping me as the aroma clung to your pillows. I let my eyelids fall shut reminiscing in all the nights we spent together on this very bed, in particular our first. I couldn’t stop my cock from hardening at the combination of your scent and the memories. My eyes landed on your laundry basket, a black thong catching my attention. I recall the time you wore it for me, you looked absolutely immaculate in this little piece. I rose from the bed making my way towards it, gripping it tightly in my fist as I brought it up to my nose. My cock twitched as the ghost of your scent still lingered on it. This brought back old memories of the times I broke into your apartment before you even knew of my existence. All the countless times I sprawled myself on your bed, messing up your bedsheets as I masturbated to your scent. All those times I would orgasm merely from the feeling of your silky sheets on my bare cock as I would grind my hips against them.
I fell back on your bed as I continued to inhale what was left of your scent, feeling the tent in my sweatpants grow larger. Biting my lip, I pulled the waistband down, feeling relief as my erection sprung free from its retrains. I let out a shaky breath as I gripped the base of my cock. I missed you so much, going a week without seeing you, hearing your voice— a week without your touch, had been excruciating.
I stroked my cock slowly, trying to mimic the way you would tease me. “P-please, sweetheart. I n-need you.” I beseeched into the air, hoping that would make you somehow grace me with your presence. I proceeded to pump myself faster, using the precum that was accumulating on my swollen tip as lubricant, making my cock slick and shiny— only a mere imitation of how your juices coated it.
Running my tongue over the spot where your scent lingered, I squeezed the base of my cock to prevent myself from coming already. “I need to taste you, baby. Please, please, please.” I felt pathetic having to recur to these methods again, but the desperation you caused in me was mind-boggling. The stimulation was too much for me, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I removed your underwear from my face before I started stroking my cock with them, feeling it pulse, knowing those panties that were now touching my member, were once so close to your pretty cunt.
“Please, come back to me.” Wincing, I felt my cock throb painfully, my tone laced with exasperation. Salty tears welled my weary orbs, each drop a testament to the growing ache of your absence. The pain of not having you with me becoming unbearable with every passing moment. I can no longer endure not having you. It was in this moment that I saw clarity, I deemed taking drastic measures necessary if I wanted to hold you in my arms once more.
“F-fuck, baby. I’m gonna come! You gon’ take daddy’s cum?” I whimpered, feeling like my cock was about to burst from excitement. My movements were lacking coordination at this point and I rutted into my hand as my cum started tainting your panties, shivering as my toes curled at the delightful sensation something as simple as your underwear brought to me. Clinging to your sheets, I breathe as I attempt to control my breath, feeling my remaining tears subside.
As I continued to lay there I started getting flashbacks from our last day together. The day our relationship ended.
“We need to talk.” Your voice echoed through the room the moment you stepped into my place, and my heart leaped, its rhythm quickened with the weight of impending confrontation. You were finally ready to address what had happened at the store with your best friend. I had been dreading this moment, enduring all these agonizing days of anxiety. It was clear you had reached the end of your patience, unwilling to bear the mental turmoil any longer.
I cleared my throat, striving to make my voice sound firm as I feigning ignorance. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I asked, summoning the courage to meet your face. My heart burned at the sight of your distressed expression on your face. I was so accustomed to seeing you always smiling so prettily at me that the contrast was a reminder of how big of a mistake I made. Perhaps I should’ve found a more subtle way to drive you away from your friends without causing this heartache.
You glared at me as you took a seat at the dining table, and I swallowed hard, sitting across from you. “Never did it ever cross my mind that I would have a conversation like this with you Toji.” You began, a deep sigh escaping your lips as you laced your fingers together in front of you. The disappointment and anger in your tone cut deep, but remained quiet as I allowed you to continue.
“You saw me cry and complain day after day about my friends and you knew. You knew the reason they stayed away from me, yet you still let me suffer.” You let out, your voice trembling with emotion.
“Sweetheart—“
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. You’re not allowed to utter another word until I am done talking!” You demanded, raising your voice. My eyes widened in astonishment, for you had never spoken to me in that tone before. The look of betrayal on your face was unmistakable, and I knew it was all my fault.
“She told me everything you said to her that day on the phone, Toji. And you sent someone to threaten her too?! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You exclaimed, disbelief etched across your face. I couldn’t meet your gaze, my eyes falling to the floor. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt on your usually bright expression. “Gosh, you can’t even look at me. I didn’t want to believe it, but the way you look right now is proof enough for me.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head.
“And if that wasn’t enough, you already knew that I knew!” My mouth was agape. As those words left your lips, my heart plummeted to my stomach, and I was sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights.
What?
No, no, no.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that, sweetheart. You though you were so slick, didn’t you?” You spat, running a hand through your hair in frustration before continuing. “I saw you, Toji! You were following me and I know you heard our conversation. You knew I was aware of what you had done and fucked me right after I got home from the store like nothing even happened!” By now, you were full on sobbing and I felt a foreign tightness on my throat, as if it was closing up, making it hard to breathe.
It literally felt like a knot in my throat.
Wait, why does my face feel wet?
My eyes felt like they were burning. Salty tears were cascading down my cheeks as my chest tightened, each breath shallow and uneven. I could feel my face contorting with a mix of surprise and agony, muscles twitching involuntarily. After failed attempts to stifle the sob that rose from the deep within, it escaped. I felt a hollow ache in my throat and all I could see was a blurry image of you.
For the first time in my life I was crying.
“Really? You’re crying? This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me has it, Toji?” You inquired, a painful expression painted in your tear stained face. I couldn't keep lying to you any longer and I would most likely regret admitting to this, but I did. All I could manage to do was shake my head, making you burry your face in your hands as more sobs were released from deep within your chest.
“Fuck! How many times? How long?” You questioned, rising to your feet, slamming your hand against the table. I shook my head, refusing to answer as I bit my lips to prevent more cries to leave my lips. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I could only pray this was all a nightmare and that I would wake up from this torment in the morning with you cuddled up in my arms.
“Answer me! How. Long.”
I gulped hard, before mustering up the courage to say, “A while.”
You ran a hand over your face, before taking a deep breath. “W-what does that mean? How long exactly is “a while”?”
“A c-couple of months before we met—“
“Before we met?!” You jaw slacked, and you regarded me as though I hailed from another realm entirely. This entire ordeal forces me to entertain the notion that abducting you might have been a more merciful path to our togetherness. Initially challenging, yes, but eventually, Stockholm Syndrome would set in, and you would come to love me… wouldn’t you?
“Y-you’re t-telling me that night we met at the b-bar, wasn’t the our f-first time meeting?” You stuttered, nerves overtaking your body. Why did you look so scared of me? Hadn’t you realized by now I would never do anything to harm you? At least not intentionally.
All I did was shake my head before I standing from my seat, striding toward you. Your tear-filled eyes widened with fear as my towering figure loomed over you. You instinctively stepped back bumping into the kitchen counter, clutching the edges of it so tightly your knuckles paled.
“Sweetheart, there’s no need to be afraid of me.” I started gently, cupping your face in my large hand, eliciting a whimper from you. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done out of love.” And it was true. I knew I’d do anything to keep you by my side, feeling loved, cared for and protected.
“P-please, stop touching me, Toji.” You pleaded, your voice barely audible.
“Don’t ask me that, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart.” I responded, my voice heavy with emotion. “At one point of my life, I felt undeserving of your love. I thought such an angelic, beautiful creature would never notice a scum such as myself. But that night at the bar, you approached me! You actually came to me! Oh, baby, I was over the moon.” I confessed, a tearful smile gracing my face as I recalled that pivotal moment.
“I knew from that day on that we were meant to be. My feelings weren’t one-sided, sweetheart. You love me just deeply as I love you.” You regarded me with a look that might have seemed incredulous to others, but I didn’t mind. I would do anything to be grazed upon by those breathtaking eyes wether they held love, hate, fear, or disgust— it didn’t matter, as long as they were fixed on me.
“No. No! Let go of me, you fucking creep!” Your sobs echoed through the room as you pounded on my chest, but I refused to release you, even when my heart ached from your insult. Wrapping my arms around your trembling form tightly, I pulled you closer, my grip firm. With a desperate resolve, I sank to my knees, unwilling to let you slip without a fight. If I had to beg for you to stay I would as much as necessary. Every line in your face contorted with pain, your eyes filled with tears that mirrored my own desperation.
“Please, sweetheart. Don’t leave me.” I pleaded, lifting my gaze to meet your grimacing expression.
Without warning, you swung a bottle of Sake from the countertop, striking me across the head with a resounding crack. Stunned and reeling from the blow, I staggered back, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected violence in your part. You fled, sprinting towards the door in a blur of motion and fear, leaving me behind.
I sighed heavily, sitting up on your bed as I rubbed my tired eyes. The events of that day kept replaying relentlessly in my mind, each replay sharpening the ache of uncertainty. You still didn’t know the truth about my occupation, and that haunted me. If you reacted so vehemently to me stalking you, I shudder to imagine your response if you discovered the full extent of my actions. How would you react to me being an assassin? How would you confront the revelation that I was not only stalking you, but taking lives for you, eliminating obstacles in our path to being together?
For now, there’s no need for you to know that information.
I am going to fix this.
Fix us.
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I have to say, sweetheart, you really did a number on me with this one.
Who would’ve thought you’d be my most challenging bounty? Two whole weeks— that’s how long it took me to find you. Never in my life had I spent this long perusing a target, but it’s all right, I enjoyed the chase. I felt adrenaline I hadn’t felt in years, a blend of anticipation and thrill surged through me with each lead I followed. Each time I felt closer to you, my body vibrated in excitement. Even amidst my longing for you, the thought of even spotting you from afar felt invigorating.
Now that I found you there was no way I would allow anyone to separate us. Anyone including you.
You were currently passed out in the motel bed while I stood by the window smoking. The soft glow of your phone illuminated the room as I scrolled through your debit card statements, I noticed you had been hopping from one motel to another. Each entry told a story of desperation and fear, a relentless effort to escape from me. A pang of hurt pierced through me as I realized the extent of your actions. You were really spending all of your savings to get away from me? I had believe, perhaps naively, that you harbored genuine feelings for me. Yet, here was the undeniable proof of your running, of your desire to sever our bond.
It seems I was wrong. Love wasn’t something you felt for me, at least not yet. If you didn’t surrender your heart to me willingly, then I would have to take matters into my own hands.
Next to you, on the nightstand, I had bestowed a wonderful gift for you.
Your best friends’ severed little head.
In my desperation, I had gone to her apartment, to try to get information about you out of her. Yet that bitch kept refusing and refusing to cooperate. Each denial chipped away at my patience until there was none left. When it became clear that persuasion was futile, she left me no choice but to break into her apartment to get the information myself. Seething at the lengths I had to go to because of her obstinance, I rummaged through her belongings and electronic until I found a train booking to a town around two hours away when I looked through her laptop. It was definitely for you as it had been forwarded to your email. Dumb bitch.
That woman had an uncanny talent to get under my skin, so I got under hers. Literally.
Doll, if I told you I enjoyed making your friend scream in terror, it would be an understatement. I’m a man of my word. She knew what would go down if she ever came in contact with you again. I’m merely fulfilling my promise. I do have to admit that cleaning up the mess was a pain in the ass, but I withstood it— for you. I’m not even sorry for what you’re about to witness, it was time for you to see the real me. I tried to be better for you, sweetheart, I really did, but if m being honest, you bring out the worst in me. And I love it.
I wasn’t born to be good and you weren’t born to change that. Our fates were intertwined in a dance of contrast, but expecting you to turn me towards light was a fool’s errand. I am who I am and no one— no matter how pure— could change that. I can only wish for your acceptance and comprehension. No matter what you chose to feel for me, I would keep you by my side and show you the same love I always have. Because you’re the only thing I love in this wretched world.
I heard you begin to stir awake, small whimpers leaving your lips as the effects of the drug I had administered you started to fade away. A smirk crept across my face, flicking the remains of my cigarette out the window before striding to were you lay. You squeezed your eyes before slowly opening them, and I couldn’t stop my heart from surging with joy as our eyes met for the first time in weeks. Gods, I missed you.
Your eyes widened when they met mine, and you instinctively crawled back towards the headboard of the bed.
“Mornin’, sleepy head. Slept well?” I questioned as I watched you trying to writhe yourself out of the bed, bumping into the night stand making your friends’ head flop to the ground. Your eyes widened impossibly further and you let out a high pitched scream, covering your mouth with both your hands. “Sweetheart, you need to be more careful. I got this gift just for you and now it’s on the floor.” I tskd before lifting the head up by the hair, dangling it in front of you.
Harsh sobs started escaping your lips as you realized who it was.
“Why are you crying, doll? Don’t you like it?” I asked, feigning disappointment. You shut your eyes and I could tell you were praying this was all a nightmare, but I’m not a nightmare. I’m real and I’m here to stay with you. “Come one, settle down now, baby. You wouldn’t want anyone else to end up like her, do you?” You immediately shook your head. “Yeah that’s what’s I thought.” I said through a chuckle, before setting down the head on the nightstand once again. I sat down on the edge of the bed, itching closer to your trembling form. My hands reached out, cupping your tear stained cheeks. Your skin felt cold and damp beneath my touch.
“W-why a-are you d-doing this, Toji?” You stammered, your voice trembling with horror. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to create some semblance of a barrier between us, your eyes wide and pleading for an explanation.
“Sweetheart, everything I’ve done for you is because I love you.” I explained softly, my voice laced with the usual tenderness I always addressed you with. “In order to protect our love I’ve been forced to turnt to these measures. It’s the only way to keep us together, to ensure that nothing and no one can come between us!” You were shaking your head in disbelief and I could tell you were starting to feel nauseous. Guilt started washing over me as I realized what I had just made you go through, so I offered you a sincere smile before saying, “I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll get rid of it and she’ll be out of our sight forever.”
I planted a gentle kiss on your cheek, savoring the moment as I inhaled your intoxicating scent as I lingered there. I had never forgotten how addicting it was. A fragrance I had never forgotten, one that was engraved into my memory and haunted my dreams when you weren’t there. Every thing about you was intoxicating and if you were going to be the death of me, I would gladly allow you to kill me. If loving you meant risking everything, even my own demise, then I embraced that fate with no hesitation.
You are my addiction, my sweetest vice, my sweetest heart, and I willingly surrender to your enchantment. For in your arms, I found a love worth any sacrifice.
I grabbed you by the hair just like I did on our first night together, but this time with a firm grip. “Now, Reader, I’m gonna need you to make a decision.”
Are you going to choose to love me or am I gonna have to force you?
412 notes · View notes
yanderes-galore · 11 months ago
Note
Can I request dark soul with platonic yandere lothric and Lorian for the ashen one?
I'll try my best, sure!
BIG Thanks to Dark Souls/Gears Anon for providing me a direction to go in for this! It helps a lot :) 💜
Yandere! Platonic! Elder Prince Lorian + Younger Prince Lothric Concept
(Ashen One! Darling)
Pairing: Platonic - Sharing
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Unhealthy attachment, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Kidnapping, Isolation, Overprotective behavior, Angst, Soft yanderes, Forced companionship.
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Anon brings up a good point, you'd have to know these two beforehand in order for them to have a platonic obsession.
Fate likes to play sick games when it comes to these two.
In your past you served the Twin Princes.
The two have always been neglected and you were the only one to show any kind of care to them.
You could be a childhood friend, maybe they saw you as the parent they never had, somehow they have been attached to you.
Which may have been the reason you were killed.
Their father, Oceiros, was obsessed with making the perfect heirs to continue the Age of Fire.
Seeing you as a poor influence, you were sacrificed to the First Flame.
As you were weak you didn't change much.
Which is what made you an Unkindled, in fact you became The Ashen One.
The princes most likely did not forget about you.
You were close to them and they most likely resent their father for multiple reasons now.
Fate must've been what brought you back to them.
You were brought back because The Flame was not linked by the Twin Princes.
Your journey is what makes you stronger than you were.
Perhaps you were simply some servant before.
But death after death has encouraged you to become stronger.
You fight many foes by the time you see the Twin Princes.
You barely recall them by the time you get past their three guards.
Lothric and Lorian remember you, however.
At first he expects another Unkindled to try and force him into his role, to kill him and his brother.
Which is why he prepares his brother, Lorian, to kill you.
That is until Lorian recalls who you are, even in his changed state.
Lothric does too.
It's strange... you've changed so much.
You've become stronger since their father cast you into the fire.
Lorian says nothing, staring down at you as you remember who these people once were.
However... Lothric sobs.
Lorian quickly responds to his brother's sadness as the younger prince makes gestures to you.
"Drop your weapon and come here! Please, this is not your fate. We will not fight you, my Unkindled."
I imagine Lothric would be the one to quickly scoop you into his arms and embrace you.
Lorian embraces you both and they most likely don't let go for awhile.
For once, according to them, fate had decided to play nice.
After you were torn from them you were given to them again.
You may struggle at first but they refuse to kill or harm you.
Lorian is a defender of both of you in return for your affection, you are their beloved companions.
As the eldest brother he kills any foes who come to harm his brother or you.
Lothric, the sickly man, clings to you as if he's scared to lose you.
He's scared you'll be torn from him again, as a result he clings to you like a child to a toy.
You all may be changed... but they still remember and recognize you.
Many will die before they even think of letting you go.
If you tried to leave them then Lothric may order you caged.
Both princes cling to you as they've had no one else to cling to.
They yearn for some sort of compassion from you, be it a friend or parent.
You'll be treated well here... you'll even be well protected.
All they ask is for you to never leave them again...
For that they'll give you everything you wish as you watch the Era of Fire fizzle out.
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amomentsescape · 9 months ago
Note
hello! Are you ok?, I hope so ❤️ (by the way, your writing is wonderful)
I would like to make a request for Yandere Slashers with an S/O who is a mermaid, who usually kills people who dare to invade her lakes, and she kills these people by drowning.
(I'm sorry if there are any writing errors, English is not my first language, and I'm writing this using Google translate)
Slashers with Mermaid! Reader
Yandere! Slashers x Reader
Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo
A/N: I'm doing good, thank you <3 I hope you enjoy! (Also, I decided I'm going to remove Lester from the Slasher requests. I'm still very much open to writing for him when specified, but I feel like he doesn't quite fit in with all the other Slashers).
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Freddy Krueger
Meeting you was quite literally the best thing to ever happen in his undead life
He likes to team up with you, constantly coming up with different ways you both can contribute to someone's death
You pull them under, and they suddenly wake up in Freddy's world
Your dynamic is pretty ideal too
Whenever you sleep, you can visit him
And he has no issues with popping into your waters just to say hi
He does this quite often, in fact
He is very aware you can take care of yourself, but he still gets worried
You're his
He doesn't trust anyone being around you
Even if your only intention is to kill them immediately
He understands that where you are now is your home, but that won't stop him from doing whatever he can to have you live in his world
He can create the perfect environment for you
Miles and miles of nothing but water if your heart desires
Which hopefully it does
Since he isn't willing to wait much longer
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Michael Myers
He never thought creatures like you actually existed
But the moment he saw your strength and darkness, he was immediately drawn in against his better judgment
He visits more often then you think
He's always around, watching
You can feel eyes on you almost 90% of the day, but you never really know where it's coming from
He enjoys watching you swim and just relax
But he especially loves seeing you drag poor souls into the tide with you
There's something so twisted and yet magical about watching you kill
But this fascination is also paired with extreme jealousy
He hates seeing you touch other people
And he almost envies the way they get to be so close to you, even if it means their demise
He hopes to find a way to take you home with him for good one of these times
You told him you loved him, so you'd be happy as long as you're by his side
Right?
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Jason Voorhees
Out of all places to meet the love of your life, this one seemed especially unfortunate for Jason
But his feelings for you were strong enough to overrule his fear
He'll sit by the shore with you, hearing you talk and sing old tunes he's never heard before
He loves listening to your stories about the world underneath the current
But this always leaves him with such a deep feeling of sadness
He wants a life where you both can live together and share those memories
But he knows that's nearly impossible
He starts spending more time by the water side than the camp, finding that irresponsible teens like to be by the beach even more than the forest
You lure them in with your beauty and your words, and Jason finishes the job
He'll let you kill too if you really wish to, but he doesn't like the idea of those types of people being so close to you
He barely gets to touch you, so why should they get what he so desperately wants instead?
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Thomas Hewitt
In this desert like area of Texas, Thomas has to travel quite far to see you
But the one time he accidentally stumbled upon you, he was smitten
And you surprisingly didn't turn him into another victim like all the others
He was kind to you
And now, he brings you food and stops by as often as he possibly can
You've made him little necklaces out of bones and shells
He wears every single one of them
Your bond only gets stronger each time he comes to see you
But Thomas can only take so much
Why can't you be closer?
He knows the family would love you
And he could make you so happy
His bathtub is big enough for you, he's sure of it
He knows that you won't want to leave your own home for his, but he loves you and knows what will be best for you
He's just got to be patient
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Bubba Sawyer
His own family had to go on a search for him after he disappeared for a couple days
But he just couldn't help it
You make him so happy, and the more time he spent with you, the more difficult it became to leave your side
He's tried to jump in a few times to be with you, but you always persuade him out of it
He doesn't know how to swim, and you don't want him to end up like everyone else
That's when he decided that the best option would be to create your very own pond in his backyard!
That way, you could be with each other, and he would never have to say goodbye again
He hasn't told you this idea yet, but he's sure you'd be happy with it
This would also keep you from needing to kill anyone else
You're too beautiful to get your hands dirty
And it's unfair that they get to join you in the water when you won't let him do the same
He can make you super happy with his family, he's sure of it
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Brahms Heelshire
He hates this dynamic between you two
He wants you at home with him so you can take care of him, and he can keep you away from everyone else
No one should get to touch you or look at you besides him
He's actually tried to drag you out of the water before, but the prospect of accidentally killing you was enough to make him stop
He never knew he could envy a body of water as much as he does
It gets to hold you, touch you, and be with you at all times
He wants that too, so desperately
Because of you, he's gone from house dweller to nature enthusiast in just a matter of days
Even when you think he's at home, he's stalking around, watching you
He insists it's to keep you safe
In fact, you haven't had to drown anyone in quite a while
And you can thank Brahms for that
The moment he sees a single soul in the area, he drags them off and disposes of them before you even have a chance to see them
He wouldn't dare let you touch another being that isn't him
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Norman Bates
It honestly took him a really long time to believe that you were even real
He didn't think mermaids or sirens actually existed, so seeing you for the first time made him pinch himself to make sure this wasn't some weird dream
He also took a while to trust you since he didn't want to fall victim to your treacherous waters
But once he realized you were genuine, he dove straight in all at once
He visits you whenever he can for however long he can muster
Someone needs to run the motel, but God he wishes he could be with you 24/7
He's "jokingly" brought up the idea of you staying at the motel in a pool he could install for you
He just wants to keep an eye on you at all times
He constantly dreams of finding a way to make you human so you two can truly be together
Until you have two feet like him, it will never be enough
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Billy Loomis
Doesn't tell a single soul about you
Not even Stu
And it's not because he's embarrassed or wants to see other people
He's honestly just scared that others will either think he's insane or try to capture you
Visits you every day and makes sure to pack his swim trunks so he can join you in the water
Constantly admires you and wants to run his hands along your scales
He just thinks you're all around incredible
But he has this hidden level of anger towards the situation
He wants to walk around town with you, show you off
He wants you to join him on his sprees so you can see just how powerful he can be
And he hates the idea of not having eyes on you at all times
He knows you kill anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't want you getting that close to anyone in general
He spends his nights studying ways to get you to live with him
He'll find a way to have you all to himself, even if it ends up being the death of him
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Stu Macher
He actually first met you while you were seducing some poor soul to their death
And Stu was immediately enamored
He comes to see you whenever he can
He sometimes spends the weekend camping out along the shore just so he can spend more time with you
He thinks you're beautiful of course, but he can't help but fantasize what it would be like if you were human like him
You two come from very different worlds, but there's nothing that could keep you away from him
He likes to bring up the idea of mermaids and mythical creatures in casual conversations with people
How they react to it will determine whether they make his hit list
He likes to bring you jewelry and pretty objects from his victims, showing you items that you've never seen before
He talks about how one of these days, he's going to have a house built on the shore so he can be with you
And if you argue against it, he will shut down
The pent up frustration of not getting to sleep next to you every night makes his killings more brutal and his fantasies all the more darker
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Vincent Sinclair
Every time he comes to see you, he brings a new portrait or wax figure of you that he made
You flood his dreams and his mind 24/7
He honestly thinks he's under some sort of spell
He doesn't mind that you aren't human like him
He's always felt very different from everyone else, so it's nice for him to have someone he relates to
But his jealousy constantly gets the better of him
Anytime you tell him of some poor soul you drowned, he can't help but feel his blood boil
Even if it ends in their death, he hates the idea of you flirting or seducing these people
The only one who should be receiving that attention is him
Barely sleeps at night
He has snuck to the shore countless time without your knowledge, just watching you and making sure your stories line up with what he observes
Is overall obsessed even more than you know
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Bo Sinclair
If anyone saw you together, it would be enough to make them blush
The way you two can constantly flirt back and forth without any hesitation is otherworldly
You could have sworn he must have been a creature like you in a past life
He's so touchy when he's with you, not afraid to get his clothes wet in an effort to just be closer to you
He truly makes you feel accepted as you are and with where you live
But little do you know of his darker nature
He stalks the shore and kills off anyone that trespasses before you even have a chance to get to them
He doesn't need you looking at anyone but him
And he's already been renovating an old abandoned pool in Ambrose for you
You're going to finally be living with him like he's always wanted
You don't know this yet, but he's sure you'll be happy with the idea
It will be a great surprise
1K notes · View notes
vanilladove · 1 year ago
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❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (2/3)
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pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: smut w/ plot + some dark elements; 18+ only pls!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: smut/nsfw, slight mentions of torture + drugging, manipulation, violence/abuse, unhealthy relationships, infidelity (mutual😋), slightly yandere!delulu!mean! :( nikolai, dubious consent
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: your asylum patient has been taken in for questioning, and you learn a shocking fact. however, after an emergency call, you're left alone with nikolai again. dangerous? yes. but even more, tempting... ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 1 & pt 3 & bonus (bad ending) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 7.1k
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His heterochromatic eyes were boring into your soul.
Well, not really. It wasn't like he could see you through the one-way privacy glass of the interrogation room, even though you could still see every expression on your patient's face.
Still clutching his book, you sat next to the security guard on a bench outside the room. You could feel the pit in your stomach get deeper with each minute, anxiously waiting for the boss to arrive.
We were definitely caught. What's going to happen now? To me? To Niko--
"Sorry for the wait. I hope it wasn't too long, dear." You looked up shakily as you heard a familiar sigh from your husband.
You were just about to confess everything then and there until you looked up at his face, which was surprisingly calm and almost...concerned? Your husband reached down to hold your hand, "He didn't hurt you, did he? I can't believe you had to watch over a monster like that. Seriously, who would've known Gogol would put on a whole act. I--" You tuned out his words after that, completely confused. What was he rambling on about? Was Nikolai actually right about the camera blind spot?
Calm down. Just act oblivious.
"Wha-what are you talking about? What's going on?" You questioned, trying not to sound suspicious. Your partner stopped his rant, shooting a quick look at the guard, who raised his eyebrows and got up to leave the leather bench. Your husband took a seat next to you, clasping his hands together and looking down at the floor.
"For five weeks, we've been finding pills randomly in different trash cans throughout the facility. I thought it was an accident at first, but then I remembered that Gogol was admitted five weeks ago, and the pills that were thrown away were the same ones being administered to him."
"So? Was it really necessary to do all this? We've dealt with uncooperative patients before." You glanced back at the glass screen, jumping a bit when you saw Nikolai up against the glass, his hands pressed on the surface and gazing at you intensely. He had an unnerving smile on his face and was waving at you like a child. You shivered lightly, trying not to scream out in shock, causing your husband to look up in your direction.
"Tch. That wasn't all; there was this letter, too." He said, unfolding a piece of paper and handing it to you, roughly turning your head around--away from Nikolai--and hitting the glass with a glare.
You stared at the letter confusedly, looking at the mix of Russian, Ukrainian, and some sort of secret code. "What's this supposed to mean?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Translators couldn't decode it at all. All they made out was that it was addressed to a 'Dos' and mentioned the facility, someone named 'Dove', and 'escaping'". Your eyes widened at that. Nikolai wrote a letter to someone? But when? Who were "Dos" and "Dove"? Wait, was that supposed to be...
Your husband standing up interrupted your thoughts. "Anyways, I'm going to get him to fess up. He's clearly plotting something. Can't trust a global terrorist." He gripped your hand tightly, unlocking the door and dragging you into the interrogation room, several guards trailing in behind you.
Nikolai gazed up excitedly at you once you walked in, only to be held back by several guards and restrained by a strap harness. Upon noticing that, your husband stepped in front of you--a measly attempt at covering you from Nikolai's gaze--and spoke sternly. The jester frowned in response.
"Gogol, do you want to explain why you've been throwing away your prescriptions across the facility?" Nikolai only tilted his head cutely to the side, trying to move to see you.
"My meds? Well, it's quite obvious, actually," he smiled tauntingly, "I don't need them. I'm perfectly sane. Ask your wife if you don't believe me." The boss clenched his fists at that and signaled for the guards to point their guns at Nikolai's head, making him laugh mockingly.
"Fucking freak. You're far from it..." Your husband muttered under his breath, reaching for the letter in his lab coat and unrolling it in front of Nikolai, whose eyes lit up upon seeing it. "We found this in the mailing room. Care to translate it? Who're 'Dos' and 'Dove'? Two of your criminal accomplices? And you mentioned 'escaping'? Hah. You don't really think you could leave one of the world's most secured facilities, do you?"
You cringed at that. You could tell he was trying to intimidate Nikolai, but it clearly wasn't working; the jester only yawned boredly in response.
Sighing, Nikolai answered, "Dos is a dear friend of mine--no, maybe my only one--and Dove..." he paused to stare intensely into your fleeting eyes, "Dove is my lover. I want to escape with her." His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you.
You felt your heart skip a beat at his comment, putting together that "Dove" was you. Making you Kolya's...lover? You blushed at that, not hearing your husband's angry scream or seeing him stomp up to Nikolai and grab his shirt roughly, shaking him and demanding to know the content of the letter.
"Hmmmm....what my letter says? Who knows? I guess I must have wrote it in a frenzy, y'know, because I'm crazy and deranged." Nikolai said, the old dark, unreadable look in his eyes. "Say, can I have lunch first? I'm hungry and can't think straight."
Your husband lost it at that, winding up and punching Nikolai across the face, shocking the guards. Now back to the present, you ran to Nikolai, pulling your spouse back and yelling at him.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing? Losing your cool and punching a patient? Just let it g--"
CRASH!
A sharp pain hit your stomach and lower back as you felt a blow to your front, causing you to collide with a chair behind you. You wheezed from the impact, looking up to see your husband breathing raggedly, his hands coiled into fists, and Nikolai with widened eyes full of concern.
"Dove!" Nikolai yelled out, regretting it instantly when your husband glared at him; the pieces clicking in his head. The security guard from the library rushed to your side, helping you up and guiding you out of the room. You tried to resist, but it was hard with your head throbbing from banging against the chair. All you could hear faintly before being dragged out was your husband threatening Nikolai more for answers.
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You sat with an ice pack on the bench outside, head still spinning. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you peaked into the glass window. However, before you could look in, a bright, blinding light flashed, followed by a maniacal laugh from…Nikolai?
Electroshock treatment. Were they trying to get a confession out of him?
You could only cover your ears as the laughter got louder, mixed in with his occasional tortuous screams and angry shouts from your husband. Pressing yourself further into the bench and wall, the strong scent of artificial peony attacked your senses, forcing you to look up and meet Lacey's eyes. What was she doing here? Did she just come out of the interrogation room?
"Miss, I have some news for you," You peaked your head out of your arm enclosure, uncovering your ears and looking at her, "You're off for tomorrow. Gogol's been declared a dangerous threat, so he's going to be handed off to the boss and security. You'll be seeing your normal patients again, so please take the time in between off. I'm sure today was traumatizing for you." Lacey held your hand, stroking it like she was trying to console you. You could see the forced pity in her eyes; she was just one of your husband's loyal subordinates, after all. Knowing it was fake, you stood up and slapped her hand away, wobbling from your balance being thrown off.
"Thanks, Lacey. I'll try to relax a little." You turned away before pausing, feeling lightheaded, “You wouldn’t mind walking me to my office, would you? I need to grab my stuff first.” Lacey nodded, throwing your arm around her shoulder and helping you walk unsteadily towards your office. Even though the noises of torture and occasional bright flashes in the background made your stomach churn, and you really just wanted to run back and save Nikolai, you could barely stand up straight in your current state. You were going to process your thoughts, get an ice pack and some painkillers, and wait it out away from the scene.
You couldn’t leave yet. You had to see Nikolai one more time before you left.
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It had been eight hours since the interrogation room incident. Luckily the painkillers had knocked you out, so you'd just woken up from a peaceful nap on your office couch. Fixing up your hair and appearance, you picked up your phone and squinted from the lighting.
11:47 PM.
Everyone except for security had gone home for the night. You checked your notifications but saw nothing from your husband. No sort of apology, check-in, or questioning to ask you why you weren't home yet. What could you really expect, though? This was the man who'd just hit you at work in front of others. Feeling sick from remembering the day's events, you forced your phone back into your dress pocket and walked out of your office. Moving cautiously to not get caught, you headed towards the white ward.
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Scanning your key slowly, you walked into Nikolai's room. There weren't any guards present, likely since they assumed he'd been immobilized from the electroshock treatment--there was no doubt the boss had gone overboard with his torture.
After you quietly shut the door behind you, you made your way to the bed carefully, reaching around in the dark room. Your hand finally found the night lamp on the dresser, reaching around to find the switch. Chills ran down your spine as you felt cold fingers brush against your hand and lead you to it. The dim light turned on and illuminated the figure next to you.
"Dove? You came back for me?"
You almost jumped back after hearing Nikolai's hoarse voice. The warm light enveloped him, the shadows reflecting off the curves of his face and intensifying his gaze. He was sitting up properly, almost like he hadn't been tortured a few hours ago and this was some regular midnight visit. Like he'd been expecting you.
"N-Nikolai...Wha--I--I came to check on you." Nikolai's eyes widened at that, and he blushed with a small smile on his face.
"Ahhhh, that so? Well, I still feel like shit." Nikolai winced in pain as he slowly sank back down into the bed, laying down and turning to the side to face you. The light was fully on him now, and you could see some light bruises on his face from where he'd been punched and roughly handled. The sight made you frown. What a shame his pretty face had been wounded, by your coworkers nonetheless. You knew it wasn't your fault, but you felt like you had to apologize.
You pulled up a stool next to the bed and sat down awkwardly. Nikolai cut you off as you were about to open your mouth, reading your intentions. "Don't say sorry, myla. Besides, this was probably divine punishment for my past actions. Sadists get punished by sadists, I guess? Not that I care much about or regret what I've done". His green eye glowed after he said that, but he quickly perked up after seeing your semi-horrified, semi-concerned face. "It was fun though, really. Nothing I haven't gone through before..." He tried to laugh a bit but quickly cringed again from the soreness.
Instinctively, you reached out but quickly pulled your hand away after remembering why you came in the first place. Reaching into your coat pocket, you pulled out The Overcoat, "I brought your book. So you don't get too bored." You smiled sadly to yourself, "I don't know if we can be seen together much anymore. I though this would help."
Nikolai bitterly laughed at that, the situation sinking in. "You came all this way to give me my book...You're silly, ptashka. I can't even read it." One glance at him confirmed his statement: he could barely keep his eyes open.
"Read it to me," he said huskily, reaching one of his hands out and stroking your cheek, "Stay here and read to me until I fall asleep. Unless you'd rather sleep next to me, hehe~" Nikolai teased, outlining your lips with his thumb. The action caused you to blush.
"N-no--I'll read to you..." you stammered, bringing his hand down to your lap and opening the book. He giggled seeing your flustered reaction and with some of the little strength he had left, he laced his fingers with yours and gazed at you lovingly.
You smiled warmly at him, opening the book and starting, "In the department of -- but it is better not to mention the department. There is nothing more irritable than departs, regiments, courts of justice, and, in a world, every branch of public service. Each individual attached to them nowadays thinks all society insulted in his person..."
You'd gotten twenty pages in before Nikolai finally dozed off; you could tell by the way his grip on your hand slacked up. You closed the book and moved his hand back to the bed slowly, careful not to awaken him. The lamp rays cast a warm glow on Nikolai, softening up his tense features. His fluffy bangs fell across his face, almost making you laugh because of how perfect and prince-like he looked--just like the first time you saw him.
You pulled the covers over him, brushing away his bangs. You remembered the library suddenly and how you owed him a kiss. Now wouldn't be a bad time, would it? Leaning into him, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead, moving down to the bruises on his cheeks and lower jaw. He was still resting peacefully by the time you were close to his lips. You blushed suddenly, feeling nervous. All you could muster was a small, quick peck on his lips before pulling away.
"Goodnight, Kolya." You whispered before getting up from the stool, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest.
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It was almost 2:00 AM by the time you got home. The day had truly worn you out, both physically and mentally. You were surprised that you and your husband's shared car was still in the parking lot by the time you left. To be honest, you were too tired to be concerned with who he'd gotten a ride with or if he'd actually meant to leave; you were also secretly grateful to not spot his shoes or coat anywhere, meaning he wasn't home and you had the bedroom to yourself.
Groggily making your way to the bathroom, you took a warm shower to clean yourself off, changed into a satin pajama set, and tucked yourself into bed. Your head was still spinning and the pain in the lower half of your body had resumed, making you need painkillers again. You recalled your husband telling you that he kept some in the nightstand dressers. Opening the lower drawer and reaching in, you were hit with the familiar nauseating smell of peony perfume and felt something...thin and silky?
In a confused daze, you peaked over and found a neon green G-string along with a small envelope with red hearts drawn all over it. You dropped the underwear in disgust and felt a pit in your stomach. Already having a strong hunch of what was going on, you opened the note, cringing when you saw a lipstick mark on it:
Same time, same place next week? Never took you for the type of man who could be adventurous and cheat;) Can't blame you, though. Your wife is booooringggggg. ~L ♡
Tears fell down your face as you threw the note back into the drawer and slammed it shut, eliminating the scent of Lacey's perfume. Even though you couldn't be surprised about your husband cheating, it felt like the final blow to a series of disastrous events.
Fatigue creeping up on you, all you could do was pass out from the mix of emotions.
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You had just finished brunch in the morning when you'd received a call from the asylum. Wanting nothing more than to ignore it and try to enjoy your day off, you waited until the last ring to pick up. After all, it could be an---
"Miss? Please, I know it's your day off, but---I don't know what's going on--please, we need you now...this is the worst--" you recognized the security guard's voice on the other line frantically speaking among shuffling and siren noises in the background.
Concerned, you spoke, "Hello? What's going on over there? Explain it me calmly."
The guard on the line sighed deeply, probably as a way to steady himself, "R-Right. It's Gogol," your eyes perked up at that, "He--God--He's out of control. He's been injuring staff left and right." He paused again, "That psycho has taken out half the squad of armed guards and put ten attendants on stretchers in an hour. That blonde girl got it pretty bad...she's knocked out with a black eye and a concussion."
"What? No way" You said in complete disbelief, trying to process everything.
"Yeah. Anyways, we have him temporarily detained until we can get special forces to come in. If you could get here ASAP to calm him down, we'd need that. Of course, we'd pay you extra, and--" The guard was practically yelling at this point, rambling on as you heard the commotion in the back getting louder. Reality hit you again, forcing you to realize the gravity of the situation. Not to mention, what was up with Nikolai? You couldn't believe he'd dwindled down the asylum's forces right after being tortured, or that he'd suddenly gone on a rampage after being relatively well-behaved and compliant. Even though the last place you wanted to be was work, you obliged.
"I'll be in soon, give me fifteen minutes."
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"Where is he?" You asked, panting since you were out of breath from running alongside the security guard that called you.
"The bath house. Everything was normal until he was in for his scheduled bath and an attendant was helping him. It was the new girl with blonde hair," He looked back at you to make sure you were still behind him, "She tried to help him undress since he was injured, but he reacted badly and started full on beating her up. She already had a black eye and a concussion by the time the guards got to her."
That was definitely Lacey. You weren't sure how to feel about her situation with the new information that's just come to light, but you quickly shook off the smug grin that you could feel forming on your face and kept running behind the guard.
"After that, some other attendants rushed to help her out, but they weren't spared either. When the guards came in to detain him, he went on a total rampage, even stealing a baton and taser off of a guard and clearing the response team."
You were shocked at that. Of course he was a notoriously cruel and sly criminal, but to think he'd made light work of so many people that easily...
"What's the situation now?"
"Well, several ambulances later, we finally got him under control by tranquilizing him and restraining him with handcuffs, so he should be incapacitated for now. What a monster, doing all that like he wasn't electrocuted yesterday." The guard stopped suddenly, making you almost bump into him. He took his access card out and scanned it. "We're here, miss," he started to open the door before facing you, "I'll be in there with you in case anything bad happens, but just try to keep him under control until backup comes in. Apparently, they're experiencing delays, now of all times..."
You nodded and followed the guard in, looking around the bathing room. Rather than the usual communal showers, a special isolated bath house was reserved for high threat patients. The space itself wasn't too extravagant, with white and black tiled floors and a singular bath tub in the middle of the otherwise large, light-filled room. You walked towards the center and spotted Nikolai inside of the tub, his tall figure peaking out from the edge. His hands were cuffed to the faucet, and he appeared disheveled: hair messy, shirt unbuttoned and in boxers, and knuckles discolored, likely from fighting. His previous bruises did look like they'd lightened up a bit, though.
"Nikolai, it's me." You started, sitting down a few feet away from the tub. You heard a faint groan come from him in response, meaning he was still conscious. The guard stood ten feet away from you, trying to gauge the situation in case your ex-patient tried to attack you. You took a deep breath, "I heard about what you did. I can't--I don't understand it or the meaning of this at all. Why can't you just behave for once? Why do you always have to be so unpredictable and difficult?"
Squinting, he looked up at you sadly, nearly making you blurt out an apology. "Dove...can't hear...close--come closer..." Nikolai muttered weakly, resisting slightly against the cuffs to try and reach out to you. You looked at the guard who gave you a reassuring nod and stepped closer to the tub. You took off your lab coat, suddenly feeling conscious of what you were wearing underneath. You didn't have any time to change before rushing in, so you were just wearing a short pair of biker shorts and a matching tank top--the set you were planning to wear to the workout class you were going to attend on your day off. You felt exposed as you hesitantly made your way into the tub, sitting closer to Nikolai. "Bathe me." He teased, his eyes crinkling up a bit when he felt your presence next to him.
You opened your mouth to respond but got cut off by the beeping of the guard's radio followed by frantic noises. His eyes widened and he looked back at you, “Miss, I’m sorry but there’s been a situation,” you shot him a concerned look, “A mass fight has broken out in the cafeteria…Half of the patients are beating each other and staff up, and the other half are throwing their guts up. We think someone might’ve poisoned or drugged the food.” The guard exhaled frustratedly and was anxiously tapping his foot on the ground, “I hate to say it, but I need to go help suppress the whole commotion. Will you be alright?”
You looked down at Nikolai, who still appeared to be weak and under the tranquilizer’s effects. There was also another shot of tranquilizer on the floor next to the tub—in case of an emergency. You nodded affirmatively, and the guard slowly walked out, the pang of the closed door echoing off the walls. The bath house went silent as you two were left all alone.
The next thing you heard was the sound of breaking metal as a strong--too strong for just being tranquilized--pair of arms wrapped around you. You yelped as Nikolai pulled you into his lap, arms encasing your waist--effectively trapping you--and nuzzled into your chest, the handcuffs landing away on the tiled floor. He muttered something about how you smelled like coffee and vanilla.
"Kol!--" You protested, struggling against Nikolai's strong arms to break free. You couldn't though, slightly scaring you and adding to your overall confusion. Where was this sudden strength coming from? Should you even be surprised?
Nikolai only cruelly laughed at your attempts to escape his hold, pressing you harder against his body until you finally went limp and gave in. "What's wrong, dove? Aren't you happy to see me? You're wearing less clothes this time, too~" He cooed playfully, loosening his grip on you enough to get his face out of your breasts; all of his nuzzling had pulled down your tank top to expose your cleavage.
You blushed and put your hands on his shoulders to gain some distance. "That's not--I--" you couldn't speak straight, not sure where to start and how or if you should even explain the events of last night to Nikolai. "My husband--he--"
"Cheated on you? With the blonde bob girl? Yeah, I know. They always do it in the storage closet." The bluntness in Nikolai's voice shocked you. Had everyone literally known about this but you? Did he and Lacey have to be that obvious? Nikolai started playing with the ends of your tank top, "That's why I beat that annoying harlot up. She was faking nice all day and kept touching me all seductively," he ran his hands up and down your waist, using his fingers to slowly pull up your top and drag down your shorts like he was trying to reenact the scenario.
"H-Hey..." You stammered, blushing at his advances. Nikolai only giggled as he brought your hands up to his face and kissed them.
"I hate girls like that, you know? I only have eyes for you, myla." He stared into your eyes for a minute--unbeknownst to you, waiting for a reciprocated response--before letting go of your hands and sighing disappointedly.
"Quiz time!", Nikolai started, lightly slapping your hips and sitting up straight, startling you, "Will Dove entertain me or stay here while I beat up the boss then escape?"
"What?" You looked confusedly at Nikolai, "Entertain you? What are you talking about?" A pit formed in your stomach; you had a bad feeling about this.
A smirk appeared on Nikolai's face, "Well, you are just here to keep me occupied until backup arrives, aren't you?" He waved his hands at you, "I broke free from my handcuffs, so technically I can leave whenever I want. I know you won't stop me."
His taunt made you sneer, but you knew deep down he was right. It wasn't even about strength, you didn't want to stop him either. "I can't let you leave, though. What do you want?"
"You're really bad at quizzes, ptashka. You're supposed to guess, not ask me." Nikolai leaned back into your chest. "Hmmm...bathe me." He suggested, causing your face to heat up.
"But--" You objected, getting cut off by Nikolai looking towards the exit door and starting to get up. "Wait!" You pushed him back down and glared into his mocking eyes, "I'll do it. Just--just stay here...with me." The last part piqued Nikolai's interest as his attention went back to you and his smug look returned.
You shakily reached for the faucet to turn the water on before Nikolai pulled your hand back. "Not yet, dove. We can't bathe with clothes on. Remove them all first." His warned, dark eyes and an unreadable expression back on his face.
You gulped, "R-right..." His white button-up was already open, so sliding it off Nikolai's broad shoulders was easy. You couldn't peel your eyes off of his toned chest. You couldn't believe that loose uniform and his lanky frame were hiding a perfectly chiseled six pack all this time.
Nikolai laughed seeing you admire him, "Like what you see, pryntsesa? Keep going down, it gets better~" He teased, moving your hands down to the waistband of his boxers. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you pulled them down. Vision flashing, you grabbed a soap bar from the ledge of the tub and turned the faucet on, burying your face into Nikolai's neck and closing your eyes, eliciting a subtle whine from him.
"What's wrong, dove? Too embarrassed to look?" Embarrassed was an understatement. You hadn't been intimate in so long, and now you were getting naked with your ex-patient that you'd been in charge of detaining. You were blushing like it was your first time. Nikolai giggled at your reaction; he was annoyed at first that you'd stopped but was pleased by your flustered state. "Cute. Now look up." He brought your face up to his, but you put your hands on his chest to stop him, hesitating to continue.
"Come on, now. Where's the confidence from when you kissed me? Y'know, while I was sleeping." You froze in place from that, allowing Nikolai to move your hands away and bring you close again. You were still stunned, so he continued, "You didn't know I was awake, did you? If I wasn't under all those drugs, I would've--"
"I'll do it, Nikolai. So please, stop talking..." You whispered out, silencing him with a kiss. Nikolai obliged, kissing you back obsessively and pulling you deeper. You flinched a bit when you felt him tugging off your biker shorts, pressing you near his exposed length. He broke away from the kiss, cheeks lightly pink as he feverishly pulled your tank top off and you complied.
Intimate silence between you, you picked up the soap bar and slowly started lathering up his upper body, sensually gliding your hands over his firm abs. He panted lightly from your touch, still taken aback by your sudden forward gesture. You weren't unscathed either, eyes averted to the bubbly translucent water and a rose hue across your face. "Dove," he started needily, "Wash lower". He took a hold of your hand, letting the soap sink, and moved it down under the sudsy bathwater to his hardened member.
You looked away ashamedly as your fingers slid down and rested at the base. He was big. Were you really going to--
"Dove", his voice was slightly threatening as he grabbed your face with one hand, "Look at me and do it properly." He cupped his other hand over yours and starting lightly stroking up and down, making you even more aware of his length.
"I-I'm embarrassed..." You said, trailing off and struggling to look into his hazy eyes as your movements got weaker. Nikolai's smile turned down after that, and his glare burned into you.
"Why, you've never done this with your husband?" He sheepishly grinned as his hands crept down your sides before stopping, "The one who loves you so much and gave you these love marks?" His face went dark again before squeezing the bruises along your waist, hard enough to make you wince in pain. He only smiled happily from your reaction, kneading into your skin more as he continued, "I would never hurt you like that, dove...Not unless you wanted me to." He moved closer to you and whispered in your ear, "You don't want me to hurt you now, do you? That's why you'll listen to me, right?"
Your eyes burned a bit, tears almost forming as you realized how powerless you were in this situation; he could always kill you. "No..." You quickly shook your head as your hand went under the water again to pump his dick. Nikolai heaved upon feeling your fingers wrapped around him again and pulled you in again for a softer kiss, hands now affectionately caressing your body, trying to comfort you for being a bit too cruel.
He groaned into your mouth after you started stroking at a faster pace, bringing your fingers up to play with his tip as you squeezed tighter on the way down. Your kisses became weaker as you could feel his pre-cum making his shaft more slippery. Nikolai broke away from the kiss, breath hitching as you squeezed his sensitive parts tighter. "S-Shit, dove..." He muttered out, momentarily relaxing his head and shutting his eyes, making you could feel his cock get warmer as more of his arousal came out.
He didn't miss the way your nipples hardened from his desperate panting and was quick to trail kisses from your neck down to below your collarbone while undoing your bra. He got harder seeing your perfect, round tits and took one in his mouth, sucking sweetly while palming the other. His quick action drew a sudden moan from you, and you brought a hand up to run your fingers through his layered hair, latching on for support.
"A-Ahhh~" You were still focused on pleasuring Nikolai and kept massaging his dick as he lapped up your breast, digging his nose into your skin, getting drunk off of your vanilla scent. He opened his glossy eyes to see your rosy, lewd expression.
"So pretty, myla," He released your breast with a 'pop' and groaned under your touch, "Mmmm...there...K-keep stroking there, dove. I'll make you feel good, too." His face was flushed now, light pink dusting his cheeks. He didn't expect his pristine dove to be so...forward and lascivious. Certainly not so skilled with your delicate fingers, either. He felt like rewarding you and used his free hand to bring your body down, so your cunt was aligned with his thigh. He grunted feeling your wetness immediately against his skin.
You hissed after feeling the back and forth friction on your slit, insides clenching around nothing. The heat in your core was only getting more intense, making you only want Nikolai and ignoring all morality. You could tell he was feeling it too by the way he started breathing heavily and leaving hickeys on your neck, panting out your name. The kisses trailed down your collarbone to your tits again as Nikolai drew circles around your nipple with his hot tongue.
Needing more, he pushed you down further onto his thigh and suddenly bit your sensitive bud, causing you to jerk up and tug his hair roughly "K-Kolya! Mmmmm...t-too rough!" His name leaving your pretty lips was enough to send him over the edge as he came into your hand and whimpered loudly.
"F-fuck, fuck, fuck..." He hugged you tightly and kissed your skin as he came down from his high, hot breath on your chest. His eyes were shut tightly. You blushed seeing him all vulnerable like this and kissed them softly, gently brushing the hair sticking to his forehead to the side. When he finally opened them again, you were reminded of your own unfinished arousal.
"A-another round, please, Kolya," You begged him with lust-filled eyes, grinding yourself into his thigh more, "Want you to make me--"
Your needy pleas were cut off by Nikolai's amused giggles as he gazed at you mockingly, "Hmmmm...so my dove needs me now, does she?" He tilted his head innocently, his signature twisted smile gracing his face, "I don't know, though, ptashka. I'm a bit tired and injured, so I can't move much."
You hated it--how he was getting off seeing your pathetic expressions. Even if he was telling the truth, it felt like he was degrading you, like he wasn't the one utterly obsessed with and love-sick over you in the first place. You were still just playing his little game, but it didn't matter. All you needed was him now--inside of you.
You exhaled shakily and moved up again, reluctantly holding onto his shoulders and starting to lower yourself, "You're the worst...teasing me like this..."
"Only because you tempt me too much, myla." Nikolai's hands caressed your face and traced over your pouting lips. His eyes remained dark and daunting; he was testing your limits, testing you. You both gasped as you felt him directly on your pussy, brushing past your clit and threatening to slip in between your folds.
Low moans left your mouth as you took him inside of you. His cock was stretching you out, forcing you to close your eyes to avoid looking down. Inch by inch, you went lower--moving at an agonizingly slow pace, whimpering from the uncomfortable feeling of being slowly filled. You stopped after the stretch started to borderline sting. It was too big--He was definitely way too--
His laughs interrupted you again, "Come on, dove. You're only half way down. Try a little harder, won't you?" Only half way? He had to be jokin--
You choked on your moans as Nikolai forcibly grabbed your hips and pulled you down to the base of his cock, submerging your lower half into the milky warm water. He smirked shamelessly upon feeling your perfectly manicured nails dig into his shoulder blades and kissed along your neck to soothe some of the pain.
"A-Ahh...you're tight, love. I'm bigger than your husband, aren't I?" You mumbled something quietly, too focused on trying to adjust. Nikolai kept going, though, "Yeahhhh, I definitely am. I can tell by how--fuck--good you're s-squeezing me~" His facade started disappearing when he felt the sensation of your pussy's contractions mixed with the scratches on his back . He held his breath as you unclasped the gold necklace--now no more than a satirical collar--and let it fall into the bathwater below you.
"S-Stop talking about him. I don't want to think about that cheater anymore. Just focus on me, p-please, Kolya." Your weak yet assertive pleas made his heart melt a bit as you rode him slowly. The unfamiliar stretch each time you rowed your hips back and forth made you bite your lip slightly. Nikolai only threw his head back and placed his hands lightly on your sides--still insistent on not doing any of the work--greedily enjoying the ride and moaning praise out of his mouth. He looked so pretty like this--like he did in the library: flushed face, disheveled hair, and lust-blown eyes.
Both of your moans got louder and you sped up your pace, grinding your pussy down on his cock harder each time and leaving passionate hickeys on his neck and chest. He ran his fingers through your hair and groaned into your ear, the sight of your plush ass and tits bouncing up and down turning him on even more.
"So perfect for me, angel..." Nikolai pulled your neck in and crashed his lips messily onto yours, muffling your moans with his tongue. You were so cute, thighs trembling from trying to take all of him with no help but desperate to chase your own release. He brought his fingers down to your puffy clit and rubbed small circles around it, occasionally pinching and making you buck your hips momentarily. His satisfied groan quickly turned into another whimper as you squeezed harder around him in response to his teasing. Your movements and kisses got sloppier as the two of you got closer to finishing, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap once you felt every vein on his cock throb inside of you.
Your thoughts were becoming clouded as you chased your own pleasure--something you hadn't prioritized in years. You didn't care anymore about your husband, who was just a good-for-nothing adulterer and abuser, your coworkers who'd stayed silent about his cheating, or your parents who only cared about what they could get out of you. All of them kept you in a cage, their cage that separated you from love, truth, and happiness. But Nikolai was different: he lived his life freely and wanted the same for you; he cared for you like no other--actually desiring you and staying loyal, making you laugh, and knowing how to touch you. Even if he hurt you, the pain always went away shortly. After all, even though he'd caused the commotion at the asylum, he'd protected you by keeping you in the bath house with him. He was doing all of this because he cared about you, right?
Nikolai pulled away from the kiss, leaving a string of saliva between you. He was panting hard and out of breath but gazed adoringly into your eyes again. The circles on your clit got faster, drawing broken moans from you as you started to become numb to all the previous pain. Now that you'd adjusted fully and angled yourself better, you could feel Nikolai in the depths of your pussy hitting your sensitive spot. "Mmmmm--Kolya...you feel...'s good--Ahhh~"
"Y-yeah, pryntsesa? You're close, right?" You nodded vaguely, drunk off of the hedonism you'd been denied for so long. "I love you, dove. So much." Your hazy eyes widened after hearing that, tears of ecstasy prickling your vision. "Come for me, please, pretty girl. Let's do it together."
You came undone from that, your orgasm washing over you and putting you in a state of pure bliss. Nikolai groaned as he felt your warm pussy clench around him, following you and releasing his cum inside. You shuddered from the warmth that contrasted the now cold water you were half-submersed in. Feeling tired and cold, you hugged Nikolai's firm body.
"Love you too, Kolya. I wanna be free with you, forever. Let's run away." You looked up into his eyes, almost shocked to see the dark, unreadable expression and a wicked smile on his face.
"Yeah? That's good to hear~" He captured your lips again, a bit more harshly this time, and kissed you hungrily. You gasped into the kiss as you felt him grab and squeeze your ass and thrust up into your overstimulated sore cunt, going at an unrelenting pace you couldn't handle.
You tried to push him away, but you were too weak and fucked-out, only crying out as you felt him balls-deep inside of you. "Sorry, dove, I want to finish one more time. Will you help me?" He was laughing in between as you moaned incoherently, too spent to keep your eyes open or respond properly.
"I love you...I love you, Kolya..." You could only repeat that as you started to feel the sensation building in your core again, feeling Nikolai's rough thrusts more intensely. You felt some shifting and were about to open your eyes when you felt a sharp prick at the left side of your waist.
"Ah--Ow!" Your eyes flew open from the pain, and you gasped in shock as you saw Nikolai's hand closed around your side, holding the rest of your body still as he injected the spare shot of tranquilizer into you.
Nikolai only looked down regrettably at you as he stroked your hair and kissed your face gently. Your head was spinning and your vision slowly faded to black as the effects kicked in, unable to even process what was going on. The last thing you heard was Nikolai's distorted voice.
"Don't worry, dove, we'll be in a better place soon. Somewhere we'll be free..." You made out a warped giggle, "Dos and Sigma are going to be so jealous of me."
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₊‧꒰ა read part 3 here ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
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back2bluesidex · 7 days ago
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One Last Contract - MYG, JHS, KNJ [Masterlist]
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Pairing: Contract husband!Yoongi X contract wife!Reader, ft. Keeper!Namjoon and Ex-fiancé!Hoseok  
Theme: Mystery, angst, smut, dark, morally grey characters, soft yandere (no non-con or dub-con)
Type: Drabble Series
Summary: 
As a professional wife, you have no choice but to say yes to marry Min Yoongi - a mysterious yet intriguing man. But as you start living with him you discover things that meant be secrets, and it may end up being your ruin. Will your keeper aka bodyguard Namjoon and your ex-fiancé Hoseok, who abandoned you without any explanation, be able to pull you out of grasp of the man who you are falling for?
Warnings: extreme angst, contract marriages, fake pretend relationship, drug addiction, minor character death, unhealthy obsession (soft yandere), broken relationships, depression, mental health related issues. NSFW!!
Inspired from The Trunk (K-drama)
Banner designed by the utterly talented, the kindest, the nicest soul on earth, the one and only @kingofbodyrolls, Lissa. 😘😘😘💜💜💜
Minors do not interact!!
Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)
A/N: This is gonna be very fragmented. but very thrilling👀
Comment down to be tagged (if you are commenting, make sure to have your age added to your bio so that I can check quickly. or else, I can not add you to the taglist)
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1. The Undisclosed Reason - Murder
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Summary: Min Yoongi is mysterious, beautiful and scary. Min Yoongi is also the primary suspect of instigating his ex-wife's suicide.
2. Curiosity Killed: None Yet - MYG ft. KNJ (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
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Summary: If you are being honest, you feel more at ease with Yoongi than you have ever felt with Namjoon in your close proximity.
3. Chapter 3: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
4. Chapter 4: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
5. Chapter 5: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
6. Chapter 6: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
7. Chapter 7: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
8. Chapter 8: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
9. Chapter 9: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
10. Chapter 10: ? (TBA) [Read on Patreon now]
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Permanent Taglist:
@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms
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fangdokja · 13 days ago
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🔞Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
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Step into a world where love is a weapon, devotion is madness, and desire knows no boundaries. Forbidden Fruits is a collection of intensely dark and unapologetically explicit stories that plunge you into the arms of your most dangerous obsessions.
Each tale invites you to surrender to the irresistible pull of yanderes from across your favorite anime, manga, manhwa, and games. They’ll devour you whole—body, mind, and soul—with a love that is as passionate as it is possessive. From bloodstained confessions to twisted vows whispered in the dark, this anthology explores every forbidden craving, every unspoken taboo, and every edge of desire.
There’s no escape. They’ll have you, ruin you, and cherish every shattered piece of you. Because in their world, you are theirs—and they will destroy anyone, even you, to keep it that way.
Forbidden Fruits is a feast for the bold, where no sin is too dark, no boundary is sacred, and the sweetest pleasures are found in the shadows.
Trigger Warnings (Dead Dove): Contains extremely dark themes, explicit non-consensual content, and depictions of taboo scenarios. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
A yandere x reader insert collection filled with anime, manga, manhwa, games, etc. characters.
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Table of Contents
COMING SOON on December 24, 2024 on Tumblr and Archive of Our Own (Ao3), links will be displayed here.
⭐ : Author's Personal Favorites
🔞: NSFW / extremely explicit themes (non-con, sexual torture, dangerous edge play, degradation, humiliation, BDSM, etc.)
The following stories are released or scheduled for release:
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General Stories
Yandere! Fan/s & Playgirl
Release Date: pending
Novelette #1 : ???
🔞??? 1
🔞??? 2
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Yandere! Older Brother & Little Sister
Release Date: December 24-25, 2024
Word Count: 14,676 words
Novelette #1 : Sins of the Silent Heart
⭐You’re his sister, but to him, you’re everything he’ll never let go of.
⭐🔞He says it’s love, but the scars on your skin tell a different story.
Yandere! Serial Killer/s & Detective (?)
Release Date: pending
Novella #1 : Hybristophilia
🔞Hybristophilia 1
🔞Hybristophilia 2
🔞Hybristophilia 3
🔞Hybristophilia 4
Hybristophilia 5
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Yandere! Stepfather & Stepdaughter
Release Date: December 26-31, 2024
Word Count: 34,511 words
Novella #1 : Paternal Privilege
He’s your family, but he doesn’t act like it.
🔞Pleasure in every strike, pain in every kiss.
🔞In the end, love is both their salvation and their damnation.
🔞His love is suffocating, but she’s forgotten how to breathe without it.
🔞Love shouldn’t feel like drowning, but he’s the only one who can save her.
She fell, but not by accident. He made sure of it.
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Specific Stories
Multiverse / Crossovers
Oneshots
WuWa! Scar, HXH! Hisoka!, BL! Shido
Genshin Impact
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Imagine Series #1 : Heart’s Chains (Jealousy Headcanons)
Alhaitham, Diluc, Zhongli, Dainsleif
Ayato, Childe, Wanderer, Kaeya
Baizhu, Itto, Kazuha, Lyney
Pantalone, Heizou, Venti, Xiao
Imagine Series #2 : Heart's Locks (Jealous NSFW Scenarios)
Alhaitham, Diluc, Zhongli, Dainsleif
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If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on this post. Thank you.
General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk-blog1
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