#reminder that as soft as he is he's still a yandere

[rush-the-stars]

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART I

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || Part II -> coming soon! || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader if you squint, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: this is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab!! i have been working on this for awhile now and i am excited to share it! this should be about 3 parts...i am very close to finishing the whole thing so i should be releasing a part a week for the next two weeks!

thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <333

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“I think you’d be perfect.” 

Suguru’s voice is a caress, low and soft, as he sits across from you. 

Somehow, he always makes you feel like he is just beneath the surface of your skin, even if there is a respectable distance between you. He always makes you feel as if he is lurking somewhere in the lowest parts of you, pulling at strings you once thought hidden to yourself. 

You’ve kept your distance for this reason.

You swallow hard. 

And then you manage to get your voice to unstick, to find it somewhere inside of you and bring it to life. It’s firmer than you’re anticipating and you’re proud;

“I don’t think I would be.” 

Suguru looks at you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s seeing through you, pulling you open slowly to gaze at all the inner workings of you. His dark eyes are keen, so sharp, even if they’re shaded by half-lidded lashes. 

He smiles pleasantly and indulges you, but you know he believes very firmly that he is, in fact, right, “why not?” 

“I told you when I agreed to join you—all I wanted in exchange for helping you, was to be an unbound Omega.” You force yourself to meet his eyes and to not get sucked into the dark tide of them. 

“You asked for my protection.” He reminds you. 

Your eyes flash this time, heated, a little spark that skitters to life inside of you.

“I didn’t—“ 

“Is that not what you’d call it?” Suguru asks, “when I interfered, every time, to be sure no other Alpha got to you? Or when I scented you to keep them away?”

Prickling warmth dots your cheeks, can feel at the back of your neck, too, the tips of your ears. You try a different tactic. 

“I’m not a homemaker.” 

His smile is soft, “I don’t want a homemaker.” 

“I’m not obedient.” You counter again, as if you could dissuade Suguru Getou once he’s made up his mind.

“You’ve been quite good for me.” Suguru says smugly and this time, a little noise of embarrassment or frustration eeks out of you. A short, sharp little growl from your throat, almost a groan of irritation.  

“I—I’m doing your dirty work. That’s our agreement! You give me assignments that I complete and in return, I get my freedom.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so opposed to this. Is it not similar already to what we have now?” He asks simply, “I’d still let you roam, if that’s what you’re so scared of.” 

“No it’s that—that power and mentality that I don’t want you to have over me.” You snap. 

“I already have it,” he says and it isn’t intended to be cruel, but certainly is, “how long do you think you’d last, without the protection of an Alpha?” 

“I didn’t have any before you.” 

“You were starving, injured, and constantly on the run before me.” You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “it would still give you what you want.” 

“I don’t want to be yours.” You say frankly, perhaps to be cruel yourself. And then you show teeth a little, flash them in warning, “I don’t want your mark.”

Suguru looks amused, if anything, by your display. 

His smile is knowing and insufferable. It makes your anger ratchet up inside of you, hackles rising. You feel a little growl working its way out of your throat. It tears out of you in annoyance, when he says, “I don’t believe you.” 

You slam the door so hard on its hinges that it rattles the entire wall. You wish it would rattle all the world. 

***

Your cursed technique rips to life like a star exploding outwards. 

Beast that you are, it overtakes you, transforms you until you are all claws and dripping, little fangs. Your body elongates, elegant, and built for speed, viciousness. The horns atop your head are sharp, too, curled the slightest into a crescent shape. The beast in you stretches and pulls at your bones, fits your skin to it in a way that you have come to know well. 

(“Cursed technique: Cursed Creature,” Suguru hums, “allows you to turn into a cursed version of yourself, a sort of,” he pauses, looking you over, “monster?” 

“That’s right.” You tell him, body trembling all over, in dire need of food. Care. Sleep. 

He places a large hand on top of your head, strokes gently, until his hand nudges your cheek, beneath your chin so you are forced to look up into his eyes. Depthless violet. 

“You have a deal.”)

The sorcerer is cast backward with the force of your transformation. In this form, everything heightens, sharpening into brilliance. So much brighter, clearer. So much more overwhelming. 

You are a flash of darkness when you move, a mass of lethality. 

The sorcerer doesn’t stand a chance, the moment you dash past him with a deep swipe of your claws, you know this will be an easy match. You chitter in this form, excited, warbly little sound erupting from you before you careen towards him again. 

This time, he is warped away. 

But you are fast, changing your trajectory mid-step to catch up to where he was warped. 

Except, this time, a white haired sorcerer takes his place. 

Your claws meet air. 

A growling hiss erupts from your throat. 

Satoru Gojo. 

Suguru told you to stay away from him. At all costs.

And speak of the devil, your name is called, whistled almost. Your head turns to find Suguru appearing, too. 

Faintly, the more human part of you wonders what the occasion is. 

For a moment, all you can see is threat. Your hackles rise as your growling gets lower, more sinister, your form moving behind Gojo as if you might circle him, unable to let down your guard. 

“Call off your pet,” Gojo says. 

Suguru calls your name again and there’s something else in his tone now, a little sharper. 

(Fear, you wonder faintly, in some far away part of your mind. Is he worried Gojo would hurt you?)

You come to heel at Suguru’s side, remaining in this form, making a low, threatening sound still. Warning. Your claws still drip with the blood of that sorcerer. 

“Go,” Suguru says to you. 

Your head snaps to look at him, eyes narrowing. “I’m not leaving,” you snap and the words have a bite to it, around the curves of your fangs. You look back at Gojo. If this comes to blows, you don’t want Suguru facing Gojo alone–you don’t want to leave his back suddenly unguarded. 

It’s counterintuitive to you, goes against all of your instincts. You don’t leave him, you don’t leave his side, his back. 

“Go,” Suguru says, harsher this time and the command seeps into you. You waver. And then, “I won’t tell you again.” 

When you hiss at him in that warbling way of curses, he smiles faintly, almost fondly, as your teeth drip with venom. But you do listen to him this time.

And with your heightened hearing, you hear Gojo underneath his breath as you slink away;

“How interesting.” 

***

When Suguru returns to you, he is unharmed. 

You’d paced the length of the hallway outside of his room in the compound until you could have worn a hole into it. 

Few would be brave enough to wait for Suguru outside his door. 

When he arrives, he is mildly surprised to see you, before his expression melts into a sort of—smugness. A knowing glint to his eyes. 

“Why would you send me away?” You snap.

“You could’ve gone in, you know, if it would’ve soothed you.” Suguru says instead, head nodding towards the door to his suite. “Would you like a key?” 

You blanche, taking a half step back, “I don’t—“

It allows him to get to his door and open it. You’ve been here before, in the privacy of his suite, but now it feels strange. A little different. He holds the door open for you. 

You glance at the threshold and feel as if you’re making an important decision. 

“Come on,” he says smoothly and before you can think twice about it, you are being led inside, his hand drifting somewhere near your lower back. He never touches you, the feeling is a phantom one, the impression of it. You shiver a little. 

But you round on him again, “why would you send me away?”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he goes rifling in a drawer, digging around a little. 

His suite is larger than others. The living room is open and attached is the kitchen. It’s all light wood, with tall windows that overlook the courtyard. You know, despite never being inside, that his bedroom is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is across from it. You’ve sat many times on the floor of his living room with him, going over assignments, plans that he has, and what he’d like you to do. 

When he finds what he’s looking for, he makes a soft noise, before turning to you with a small, gold key. 

“I don’t want a key!” You snap. 

“It’s a spare, take it just in case.” He replies and when you don’t move to grab it from him, he takes your hand in his much larger one, and opens your palm to him. 

He places the key in your hand. 

And then his eyes catch yours, “you were worried.” 

“No-!” you get out, “I don’t like being—I’m supposed to protect you.” 

Suguru smiles, hand still swallowing yours, “isn’t that sweet?” he remarks, “an Omega attempting to protect an Alpha.”

Immediately, you jerk away from him.

The key is still in your shaking fist. 

“Don’t start,” you snarl, low and vicious and hurt, “I’ve always been the one at your side.” 

“Yes,” he agrees, hand falling back down to his side listlessly. “I already told you that.” 

You’ve always been at my side, he’d said, when he was trying to convince you to–

“That’s not what I meant!” Your voice rises without your consent and you feel an embarrassed, angry flush through your face for being so worked up. The room is thick with your worry and anger and frustration, all of your pent up energy like a knot in your chest, in your voice. It’s in your heart and the way you look at him. 

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Suguru says easily, “it’s still the truth.” 

When you slam the door this time, you hear something fall from the wall. 

But the key is still in your trembling hand, digging indents into your palm, and your heart is still a beast in your chest.

And behind the closed door, Suguru Getou smiles fondly, and retrieves the fallen, shattered frame from the floor. 

***

For a while, you avoid Suguru. 

You stuff the key he gave you in your nightstand drawer, far in the back, in an attempt to keep it out of sight and out of your mind. 

And at first, you think he is respecting your boundaries; you receive assignments through others from him. You see him only in passing and he never speaks directly to you. He hardly acknowledges you. 

But after a week and a half, it begins to feel like punishment. 

And the key is starting to burn and itch in your mind. You think about it at night, tossing over in your bed; you think about unlocking his door at this hour. What would you find? Would he be asleep? Awake? Alone? Fully dressed? 

You think of him half bare and lounging, hair slipping over his shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood and fig. Tonka or something woodsy, maybe. You know it well and it lingers long after he leaves you. 

You suddenly miss it, crave it. 

Him. 

You twist beneath your sheets. 

Why did he have to–

You make a soft noise of frustration, turning over again. 

You’re restless. 

Something beneath your skin begins to itch and squirm. 

Previously, Suguru had hardly mentioned your status as an Omega. He rarely acknowledged it; you were too brilliant of a sorcerer for him to care, you thought. You were too powerful. The only instance he brought it up was to scent you, a form of caution in a particular instance, for a particular mission. The memory still simmers in your mind, the way he’d rubbed the gland on your wrist with a careful thumb. He’d given you clothes of his to wear. He’d had you sit in his quarters for long hours, until it seemed as if you were his, in some way. 

But now that he’s actually brought it up, offered you his bite, to be his, it paints him in an entirely different light. 

Had he always…wanted you? 

Was he always planning this? 

The naive, desperate parts of you want to believe this is a recent thought of his. Previous to this, he only ever saw you as another sorcerer, a powerful one that aided him. You had always been one of the closer ones to him, at his heel, his beck and call. 

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of Suguru this way; as an Alpha. An unmated one, who kept your company. 

And he does, no matter how badly it burns to admit it, protect you.

You know he wards off Alphas. 

You know he perhaps does more than even that. 

But you don’t want—

You don’t want to be mated. 

You don’t want to suddenly be coddled by him, held back, don’t want to be the little thing that keeps his bed warm.

Your face heats with the thought. 

Images flash through your mind, flickering, melting together like film that bleeds and runs, of him overtop you. Shrouding you. His hair on your shoulders and back. You think of his mouth on your throat, teeth in your neck. 

You rub at your eyes suddenly as if to clear them.

You know he leaves on a mission for a week in two days. 

You assume, at some point, he’ll speak to you. And break this strange silence. 

You’ll both return to normal then.

And then perhaps you won’t lose any more sleep over him.

***

Suguru never says goodbye to you. 

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you just figured he’d finally drop this silly little silence game.

You suppose he must’ve thought the same of you.

Besides, what were you expecting from him? An apology? It’s foolish to even entertain. You knew you weren’t going to apologize either. The least you’ll do, when he returns, is  act as if all is normal again. Perhaps it’s better that way, not to address what he’s put in his head recently. 

The more you speak of it, or think of it, the worse it unravels in your mind. 

On the second day that he is gone, you realize you miss his scent. 

You realize it has become such a staple in your everyday life that its sudden disappearance  is almost alarming. It makes you more irritable, more vicious. You snap at the others faster, bite out insults and brutalities. 

You—

Well, you miss it. 

Him, maybe. 

The admittance is a hard one to swallow around. It burns going down. 

On the third day, you’re genuinely craving his scent in a way that makes your teeth ache. You had no idea you could even miss a scent like this, need it so bad that your body would betray you with a physical pain in your chest. Somewhere in your mouth, under your tongue. 

You try to ignore it. 

You go on with your life. 

But by the fifth day, you are agitated and aggressive. Everyone knows something is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with you. You can feel it beneath your skin, crawling, squirming. It makes you want to tear out your hair, rip at your nails, or sink your teeth into something. You’re restless.

You can’t sleep. 

You can hardly eat or think. 

And as you lay awake in your bed, kicking at sheets, sweating and twisting, you know what it is you need. 

You’ve known the whole week. 

You throw back the covers and wrench open your bedside drawer. 

The key rattles, hot, like it knows it’s finally about to be used. It’s musical sound a siren song, it’s been burning away in there the whole week. 

You swipe it and turn sharply from your bedroom. From your own apartment. 

It’s the middle of the night; not a soul sees you in the compound. 

Like a person possessed, you walk. Your back is straight. Your steps are quick. Your mind is set, on fire.

Suguru’s door has haunted you the whole week.

The key in your hand digs into the flesh, carving it’s divots there like your hand might be the lock itself. 

You try not to think about it–you unlock the door. You throw it open. 

You shut it behind you, slide the lock back into place. 

Darkness greets you.

You wander in like you know the place (you do, you do–)

You wander in like it’s yours to wander in. 

Instantly, something loosens inside of you. 

You exhale hard. 

Inhale sharp. 

The smell of him, fainter because he’s been gone, assaults your senses, sweeps over them. You take in a lungful like gasping for air, you smell faint traces of fig and sandalwood. Notes of tonka that you long for, that urge you to move deeper into his space. 

In the dark, you make your way down the hall, towards his bedroom.

You haunt the arch for a moment.

Guilt or regret or embarrassment almost seize you. They make you pause. 

Some sane part of you is clawing at your insides, wailing to turn around and leave. Leave now. 

But he gave you a key.

He gave you a key, you think in circles, again and again. He gave me a key. 

You cross the threshold.

You sink down into his bed and his scent is strongest here, even still, after several days it’s his. 

You turn over the covers to get beneath them, cool sheets against your legs, sliding and smooth. You turn your face into his pillow and inhale. 

A soft little groan works it’s way out of you.

Instantly, your muscles slacken. 

Everything leeches from you; your anger and irritation and restlessness. 

It soothes you so deeply and so swiftly it makes your head spin. 

You curl beneath his blankets and take deep pulls of breath, squirming a moment if only to bring his scent tighter around you. You envelope yourself in it.You shroud yourself in it. 

And finally, after five days of restless nights, you fall asleep almost instantly. 

Not a single dream. Not one moment where you wake or stir. 

You sleep deeply. 

In the morning, the sun warms you through the broad windows like a content cat. 

You stretch lazily like one, too.

Suguru will be home tomorrow. 

You know you need to leave his bed, hope that your scent dissipates by the time he returns. 

You didn’t do anything wrong, you know—he gave you a key. 

He gave you a key. 

But rather, you know he would never let you live it down. He would use it instantly, as ammunition for his argument, the debate that the two of you keep circling.

You don’t quite leave as quickly as you should still, though: 

You linger.

You’re comfortable.

Calmed for the first time all week.

And when you do slip out, it’s silently, locking the door behind you.

Like maybe you won’t ever let yourself back in there, trying to shut it like it was a one time indulgence and gone now from your mind and body. 

But his scent clings to you. 

And little do you know, your scent clings to his sheets—and to Suguru, it’s sweet as can be and unmistakable—irreplaceable.

He collapses in his own bed when he returns and knows you’ve been all over it. He can smell the crush of dark berries, jasmine, the soothing note of vanilla that clings to you, that he’s come to adore. 

He grins to himself and knows then, he’s got you right where he wants you.

***

For a moment, you think Suguru is going to make you be the bigger person and apologize upon his return. 

Instead, he finds you. 

And he doesn’t say he’s sorry for his recent behavior, but he does say;

“I’d prefer if you didn’t avoid me in the future.”

It feels like sorry enough. 

And for some time, things return to a state of normal.

A version of it.

It isn’t quite like it was before—in fact, you seem to spend more time around him than previously. He calls on you more. He brings you into his space more frequently, often urging you to eat with him, beside him, at his table.

This is ideal for you. Close but not too close.

Although, he begins to ask, don’t you have your key? Can’t you let yourself in? 

You say you haven’t used it.

He hums like he knows differently, but doesn’t press you.

Until finally he asks you to retrieve a notebook in his study and bring it to him.

Fetch, he says.

“It’s locked, isn’t it?”

“You have your key.” He answers simply, not looking up from the book he is reading. 

For a moment, you almost protest, but something stops you. Maybe the twitch in his brow.

It’s a useless argument to pick, anyways.

You do have a key.

It would be fastest, easiest, to just use it.

So you do. 

And you hand him the notebook he asked for, fingers brushing against his as he takes it from you with gentle hands.

“Thank you,” he adds, voice so smooth and low, almost tempting.

You swallow a little.

Then you quickly avert your gaze. 

“Whatever,” you grouse, but he smiles fondly, amused.

And it opens another door, more than just the one to his suite.

***

Tentatively, you begin to come and go.

The first (second)  time you use your key to enter without his order, he is careful not to react to you any differently than how he usually does. 

His eyes brighten a little, though, like a leopard that’s caught something interesting in its sights and is waiting to see what it’ll do. 

Still, you grow more comfortable entering his space on your own. 

You claim portions of it; a corner of the couch. A particular cushion around his low table. All of the sunny patches in his suite become yours, scented with you, indented with you. More than that, some horrible, hidden part of you adores that your scent is all over his space. 

It’s comforting to find it beside his scent. 

It soothes a part of you that you don’t wish to admit to. 

His hands grow bolder. 

Now they’re always hovering at the small of your back, the nape of your neck. He tucks strands of your hair away from your face and though you jerk away from him, it’s often half-hearted. You snip at him and he only smiles.

Pleased. Smug. Knowing. 

His hands guide you as you walk beside him.

You grow accustomed to his touch in some way—he makes sure of it.

Then, as if to prove something—

Another cult member begins to cause trouble with you; he is another Omega. He begins with snide comments and remarks that test your patience. He doesn’t stop until you are growling and bristled and ready for a fight. 

And all it takes to stop you is Suguru’s large hand coming down on the nape of your neck. 

His thumb rests atop one scent gland at your throat, fingertips pressing delicately into the one on the other side. Hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

“Easy,” he murmurs and just like that, you can feel some of your aggression slip from you, deflate like a balloon.

It’s involuntary, the energy and anger unspooling from your body in an instant. In the back of your mind, you’re alarmed; how easily it was for him to effect you. It’s terrifying.

You swat his hand away, lurching from him, another little growl in your throat.

But you don’t fight him or the look in his eyes, the way he tilts his chin up in the barest hint of dominance. 

You storm off.

Instances as such continue to happen, though, where he’s able to sooth or quell your temperament with a touch. A word. A look. 

It comes to a head while you’re eating dinner with him. 

“You’re so wound up,” Suguru comments lightly, “your scent is so sharp with it. What’s bothering you?” 

Reflexively, you snap, “you are.” 

And it’s meant to be some sort of insult but Suguru’s lips twist into this hitched little smile. “It’s my fault you’re wound up?” He asks lightly. 

“Don’t twist my words.” You respond, fixing him with a glare, “you bother me.” 

He’s still deeply amused by this, you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. The smug way he holds himself. 

“Would you like me to help you?” He asks. 

“No,” you say reflexively. 

A beat of silence before he says, “come here. I’ll help you.” 

There’s a command in his voice, laced there, and doing something strange to your head. 

You hesitate.

He pounces, “just a massage.” He soothes, “I can tell your shoulders are knotted up and tense. I can see it.”

His voice has dropped into that soothing lull.

Warily, “away from my glands?” 

He smiles, “of course.” And then, “come here.”

Your body moves easily now and he murmurs, “sit in front of me. Back to me—there, that’s it.” 

It feels more vulnerable than it should to show your back to him, to sit in front of him like a child to their mother. You try to keep your posture straight and careful. 

But then he sets large, warm hands to your shoulders. His fingers dig into the meat of them gently, pressing into your muscles which spasm and twitch in pain. You yelp, jerking away. 

Suguru tsks, “see how tense you are? You’re in pain.” He scolds softly and you feel heat smart across your face, “sit still for me. I’ll be gentler.”

True to his word, he eases up, fingers careful as they run into your tense muscles.

He finds bundles of twisted up tension in your back and shoulders, pressing into them until a noise springs from you—a groan, a whimper, a little growl. He works the sounds out of you. You swear he’s doing it deliberately and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was all just to humiliate you a little. 

But you finally loosen and slacken for him. 

When you finally sink into his hands, he murmurs, “I don’t know why you fight this so badly.”

You let go of a heavy sigh, “you do know why. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“Because you’re stubborn?” Suguru asks lightly and you snort, despite yourself, “because you don’t know what’s good for you?”

“You’re no good for me.” You respond.

Suguru’s turn to sigh and if he digs his fingers in to make you yip in pain, he’d never say it was purposeful. 

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

Reflexively, you jerk away from his touch, you turn to look at him over your shoulder with a sneer. 

“I’m not a pet.” 

Suguru does not heed your warning and instead gently pulls you back towards him by your waist. 

“No?” He asks lightly, fingers resuming their steady massage. You go completely still like prey, unsure, wary. Angry. Humiliated. “It’s not a bad thing to be a pet. You’re thinking about it all wrong.” 

His fingers ease up towards your neck and you stiffen again. 

“Suguru,” you say in warning as he nears your scent glands. Perhaps to what he’s said.

“You’re my pet now,” he continues, “though you don’t like to admit it. It’s not so bad, is it?” 

Stubbornly, you don’t answer him.

But after a moment, you say, “if I’m already yours, why do you need this last bit of me? If you already see me as your pet, why do you want me so terribly, in this way—“

Suguru suddenly pulls you back deeper, into his lap, against his chest. 

You squirm, but he holds you tight, hooks his chin over your shoulder.

Alarm bells ring frantically in your head now that he’s so close to the glands in your throat. 

“Don’t play dumb,” Suguru muses, half-mocking, “it doesn’t suit you.” 

“Let me go,” you snarl low and hot.

“What are you scared of?” Suguru responds, “that I’d trap you? If you’d take my Bite, I’d let you roam further than I do now. You’d be safe.” 

“Liar,” you hiss, “I’m not dumb.” 

“I’m not trying to stifle you, I’m trying to set you free.” Suguru almost purrs and his voice is warm and low and creeping up over your spine and trying to find its way inside you. 

You begin to squirm this time, thrashing in his hold until you manage to wriggle free, falling forward onto your hands and knees. 

Instinctively, you turn to keep your back protected, scrambling away from him. You bare your teeth at him. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

He watches this show of aggression with amusement, tilting his head slightly. And then he sighs, “I don’t think anything I say will convince you at this point.” 

You narrow your eyes at the tone. Your hackles rise. 

In an instant, he has grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him. 

Underneath him.

You shove hard at him, twisting and fighting as he settles himself over you. 

You realize how solid he is, how strong, and large. He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“Suguru,” you hiss at him, pushing as hard as you can on his chest.

“See how easy it was for me to subdue you?” He says then, voice smooth and low. “If I wanted to take you, I simply would’ve already. You’re no challenge to me; if I wanted to trap you, I would’ve.”

“Get off me!” 

You thrash hard beneath him and in an instant, he has your hands uselessly pinned above your head, stretching you out beneath him.

His nose dips, near the scent gland at your throat. You squirm.

He squeezes your wrists, “stop squirming.” He murmurs low, “or my instinct will be to bite.”

Your stomach does a horrible flip, a flutter of—fear, excitement. 

“Just—get off—leave me alone!” You get out, voice high and tight. You try not to arch away from the way he lets his face fall to the crook of your neck. 

“Hush,” Suguru hisses, nudging his nose beneath your ear.

He’s scenting you. 

He’s done this before and despite everything in you, you finally go slack. You force yourself not to tilt your head or offer up more, rather let him urge you into the way that he prefers. 

He nudges his cheek and nose against your jaw. He lets out a relieved breath, fitting more of his body to you and you feel the push of chest into yours, his hips.

You squirm a little and a growl erupts from his throat.

You fight back the sound that almost works its way out of you now, swallow around it.

When he’s finished, he asks, “would you like to scent me?” And instinctively, you want to say yes, but you temper yourself. Then he adds, “I’m sending you away on a mission alone. I’ll be scenting you until the day you leave now.” 

You catch his eyes, glinting.

“So, I thought it only fair if you’d like to scent me, too.” 

You don’t know why, but something squirms inside of you, something a little hurt. 

“You’re sending me away?”

Suguru hums softly, “I need you to take care of something for me. I only trust you to do it.” 

You flex your hands a little in his hold, but he doesn’t budge. 

He nudges at your jaw again, gentle, and murmurs, “this would be easier if you’d take my mark.” 

You turn your head then to shield your throat, and face him. His nose nearly brushes yours and you look up at him through your lashes. You bite your tongue from any further complaints, dipping down to the crux of his throat now. 

Easily, perhaps eagerly, he bares his throat for you.

Satisfaction erupts beneath your skin as his scent washes over you, dark fig and oud, sandalwood and musk. Carefully, your nose runs along the column of his throat. 

“I’m not even—“ you huff, retry, “I haven’t had a Heat in—it wouldn’t take, anyways.” 

“Ah,” Suguru says and you wish you hadn’t told him at all. Realization dawns over his features the way a cat might realize it’s caught its mouse beneath its paws. “Is this what you’re so scared of?” 

“No—I prefer it this way. It’s another reason that you can’t. It wouldn’t work.” You say stubbornly and perhaps in your irritation, you burrow further down into the crook of his neck, tuck your cheek to his skin to nudge. 

“I could give you a temporary one,” he murmurs, “I’d let you do the same in return, of course.” 

You go quiet, brushing your lips against his skin, hesitating. 

“I don’t need it.” You finally decide, even as you let the blunt side of a tooth nick gently against his neck. “I can protect myself.” You pull away to look at him again, “am I not one of your strongest?” 

“You are my strongest.” He agrees, he praises. “But am I not also strong?” He asks, “and yet you still insist on protecting me.” 

You open your mouth to protest, but he takes your chin in hand suddenly, words dying before they can escape. 

“You are my strongest.” He says, “I would like the world to be aware of it.” 

“I told you, I don’t want to be yours–” 

“Then stop protecting me. Flee. Run away and never return.” Suddenly, his touch, his body, all of him is gone. He rolls off of you and onto his back beside you. Cold air sweeps in. You can feel his touch like burning imprints on your skin. 

You turn your head to the side to look at him. 

“You would hunt me down if I ran.” 

A flicker of a smile ghosts his face. 

“And if I ran from you?” He asks, “if I discarded you?” 

Something twists so viciously and sharply in your chest that your eyes sting with it. You lock your jaw tight. You stare up at the ceiling. 

“You refuse to speak but your scent is spiced with distress, sour with despair.” He turns to look at you, “not so easy to hear, is it?” 

“I can’t stand you or your games.” You get out. 

“There are no games.” He says evenly, “only the one you’re playing with yourself.” 

You scoff, “which is?” 

He sits up slightly, over you, looking down at you, the inky silk of his dark hair sliding over one shoulder. 

“Seeing how long you can outrun what you want.” 

You exhale roughly, in exasperation, and then you ask dryly, “and what do I want, Suguru?” 

“To be taken care of.” 

“I don’t need–”

He cuts off your growl before it can start, taking your chin in hand to turn your head towards him once more. “You never have, but it doesn’t mean you can’t want it.” 

“I don’t want it either.” You snap. “You have some grand delusion of me in your mind that I am some weak, submissive creature in need of your care.” 

“I’ve said none of that, have I?” He hums. “Now you’re twisting my words, being purposefully churlish–in hopes of, what? To scare me off?” 

His palm opens up against your jaw, your cheek. His thumb touches your bottom lip. 

“You snap and you snarl and posture as some ferocious, independent creature to scare everyone off. I don’t blame you–I am certain you protected yourself many times this way from lesser people.” His voice is soft, almost a lull, you allow his palm to open against your lips, to turn your face into the cup of his hands. “You don’t believe anyone can handle you and you hope if you bite hard enough, tear into them, they’ll run off. And then you’ll feel vindicated; you were right, you are too much to handle. You were right, you are a monster. You’re unworthy of care or companionship or protection.” 

His hand moves upward, baring his wrist to your mouth now, “go on,” he encourages, “bite me. As hard as you like. Scream and cry and tear into me. Loathe me and scorn me.” He leans closer, over you, as he hushes like a mother to their child, “I’ll still be here, with the rings of your teeth marks littered in my skin. I’ll be the only one, bruised and bloody, still taking care of you–no matter how badly you fight me.” 

Out of anger or frustration or something else entirely, tears prick your eyes. As if to hide them, you open your mouth against his wrist, gentle first–warm and soft lips and tongue. He looks enraptured. He looks starving. 

You sink your teeth into his skin viciously. 

He hisses in pain, sharp, but doesn’t pull away. “There,” he coos, leaning over you, sinking into the pain, “is that what you wanted?” 

Blood bursts into your mouth in a way that is almost startling, sharp and metallic. It should be gross and horrible and–you whine a little, somewhere in the back of your throat and bear down harder. 

If that’s what he promises, you’ll make him prove it. 

If he wants to be the one beside you, you’ll make him pay. 

He leans down to kiss at your cheeks, gentle, humming. You realize there are tears. Your jaw aches. 

But you don’t let go and he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Does that feel better? To get your teeth into someone who isn’t scared of you?” He murmurs, nudging at your tense jaw, kissing there. “Shall I do the same to you?” 

You release his wrist and shove him off, hard enough that he gives and he goes. 

You stand up and storm out of his chambers, slamming the door on its hinges as hard as you can. You hope it knocks over every painting on his walls. You hope the entire compound somehow hears it. You hope it breaks something in the same way that something has been broken open inside of you.

You wipe his blood from your mouth with the back of your hand.

Suguru doesn’t even bandage the wound. And he wears his sleeves high, so that all the world might see it.

#suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru getou x you #getou suguru x you #suguru geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #cw: omegaverse #cw: yandere #cielo writes! #cielo's writing!

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hello, I'm the one who requested the Freminent and accidentally forgotten Zhongli with a S/o who has cute aggression towards them. If there is no issue could you also do the same for Zhongli, it's okay if not btw. (Also I loved the original with just Fremi)

hi hi! i'm glad to see you came back :D sorry for the wait, i usually end up writing late at night so i apologize for missing him the first time, here he is now though! i hope you enjoy :3c

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, mentions of starting forest fires, mentions of destroying cities, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Zhongli has seen a lot in his many, many years but this was… well this behavior was rather new to him. He had heard often the great lengths one would go to show their love and devotion to him back when he was still the Geo Archon, but to have his darling say they’d set all of Sumeru on fire was startling.

It isn’t to say he doesn’t like it, he’s quite flattered by it all, but you can expect constant reassurance from him that you aren’t actually going to do this. You- you wouldn’t actually start a forest fire, would you? Zhongli needs that little reminder every so often that you aren’t actually plotting such things, just using them as examples for expressing your intense feelings towards him.

Wanting to share in this cute behavior of yours, Zhongli starts vocalizing his love and affection for you as well. Instead of mimicking your cute aggression though, he uses historical quotes and references. You don’t always get them, but the delighted smile on his face whenever he says them to you, following your cute aggression comments is enough to have you falling in love with them anyways.

“I love you so much I could knock down all of Liyue with my bare hands.” Zhongli smiles at your comment, an adoring look on his face as his hands come up to gently cup yours. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, a shimmer of love in his eyes as he stares at you.

“Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service.” Zhongli’s words are smooth, falling from his lips in the same poetic manner they were written and memorized. Loving you comes easy to him, something that seems ingrained in his being as much as breathing has become. You make him feel human, make him feel like he can be soft and tender like one. Around you, Zhongli feels like he can love.

A lot of times his quotes sorta go over your head and that’s ok, he’s happy to repeat them as many times as you need or to sit down and explain what they mean to you. It just gives him a reason to spend even more time with you, something of which he adores.

If you ever showed deeper interest in any of his expressions of love, do know he would be more than happy to share whatever literature he found them in. Going through old books, reading and acting out long-forgotten plays, what was once a key token of history that now sits dusty on the shelves, he adores doing it all with you. Zhongli is such a hopeless romantic when it comes to you, he just adores you so much and cannot stand to ever be apart from you for long.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x gender neutral reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #zhongli x gender neutral reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x gender neutral reader #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli #zhongli yandere #genshin yandere

[thecuriousquest]

A3!with yandere rengoku (before his death) (nsfw please) and with a very busy s/o?

Tasty!

Yan!Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem!Reader

Request: “You look delicious. I won’t stop until I’ve eaten every bite.”

Warnings: NSFW, light yandere themes, oral sex (female receiving), Rengoku is a pleasure dom, 18+ characters

Note: I’m not sure what a busy s/o is…lol. I’m gonna try my best, though. Thanks for the Ask!

Alphabet Prompt List

Master List

—————————————————————————

He treats you like a queen. Kyojuro makes you feel so special in all types of ways. The way he looks at you beneath those bushy eyebrows, it makes you feel like the only girl in the world, in his world as well.

He only has eyes for you, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Sometimes, he can get a little…aggressive, however. He just gets a feeling like you might be looking at other men, and he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who is able to provide you with everything you need.

The way his tongue hangs out as he carefully takes off his belt. The way he none too gently strips of his shirt and has you sprawled out on the bed on your back, in your rightful place. He does all the work so that you don’t have to do anything. He just wants to make you feel good. With his arms hooked under the pits of your knees, he pulls you in close and spreads your legs apart.

Unable to help gasping or the fluttering of your heart, you lift your head to see what the Hashira is going to do next, although you have a fairly good idea.

Your kimono rides up because of all of this manhandling, and he has a perfect view of your silky underwear. With deft fingers, he slides the garment down your legs, dropping them on the floor beside him once he pulls them past your feet.

Usually always in a goofy mood, he is anything but that right now. He is enthusiastic, but not upbeat as usual. He is primitive, seductive, and rippling with vibrations of pleasure as he sticks two fingers knuckle deep inside of your aching pussy. He takes his time, exploring the territory for the hundredth, if not thousandth, time. Rough padding from a life of hard work skillfully traversing the landscape of your womanhood.

And the way he looks at you with such soft and loving eyes, a dominant look which captivates your very being.

You shudder when he removes his fingers and licks the creamy substance off of his skin, taking his time to suck them clean.

“Mmmmm…tasty.”

He looks at you with a satisfied smile before he leans down and delves his tongue into the folds of your slit. No matter how many times the Flame Pillar eats you out like a man dying of hunger, you still have yet to get used to it.

The way he swirls his tongue around your clit and works his fingers in and out of you at such a cruel yet pleasurable pace. It has you writhing and bucking your hips up into his mouth. He has to pin your thighs down to the mattress with two strong hands just to keep you still so he can satiate your neediness.

“Kyojuro! Oh, fuck, please!” You grip the sheets tightly as you squeeze your eyes shut. Legs quaking from you trying to resist his large hands which hold you down.

You come suddenly all over his mouth and chin, unable to hold it back, unable to hold anything back as you cry with the waves of energy washing over your entire body.

And then he’s trailing kisses up the insides of your thighs, up your stomach, up your chest, up and up all the way to your throat and jawline. He kisses your lips passionately as he weighs you down with his body, keeping you firmly in place.

“You look delicious. I won’t stop until I’ve eaten every last bite.”

—————————————————————————

P.S: This is exactly what I was referencing.

#yandere #triggering content #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #triggering themes #yandere x darling #yandere themes #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer #yandere kyojuro rengoku #yandere rengoku #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #yandere kny #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #demon slayer kyojuro

[animeyanderelover]

Oh, and I rewatched D.Gray Man and god, I love this anime so much. Could you do any basic headcanons for Tyki Mikk?

Tyki is together with Lavi and Road Kamelot my favorite character from this Anime.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, stalking, threats, blackmailing, abduction, death

Yandere Tyki Mikk Hc's

🦋Considering that Tyki Mikk has deliberately chosen for his human mindset and his Noah mindset to coexist, his darling essentially won't even know that he is two different people until he decides to reveal the truth himself. He even acts differently around you depending on whether he is influenced by his inner Noah or not. His human personality is carefree and scruffy and whilst he has tried to involve you in a few card games in hopes of stealing a kiss or a date as a price, this side of his still appears to be very harmless and kind. His Noah form is much more refined as he appears as a gentleman who courts you and showers you in expensive gifts and presents. It might be cruel to the unknowing person that he plays such a two-faced game with you and partially Tyki can understand that yet it is a very unique and intersting opportunity to figure you out under different disguises and perhaps even see what side of him you prefer.

​🦋​Whilst he is quite self-aware about his growing obsession, he handles it quite differently as his Noah side has by far the worse influence on him. He's more possessive and manipulative when in this mindset and his sympathy is significantly reduced to stinted pity. He believes in treating his lover kindly and only with the best and whilst he would never drop as low as some other spouses would and resort to distasteful physical violence, he uses psychological methods to keep you if you seem to forget to act your age. From threatening family and friends to exposing you to Akuma and other frightening objects in this world, he will give you a cruel and grim reminder of how little you actually know. He carries Noah's blood and his memories on the other hand and knows more about the world and its cycle than you could ever hope to do. You're smart enough to realise that he is much more suited to care for you and protect you, aren't you?

🦋​You and anyone else would be much better off to be around him when he is in his human mindset as he doesn't display any sadistic traits. Sure, he isn't really fine either as he chews on his cigarette whilst giving whoever is hogging your attention the side eye. He's definitely going to try to trick them into playing cards with him only to cheat and steal their money and clothes to humiliate you. His darker side is much more refined and condescending due to his enhanced possessive attributes. Light touches on your shoulder and your waist to remind you as much as the other person that you are already taken, his soft voice uttering scorching comments as every word of his slowly picks apart their confidence. It is almost laughable that anyone would think that they could take you away from him yet he would appreciate to not be disturbed by such impertinence. Clearly some people have to be reminded that it is common etiquette to not take what belongs to someone else.

🦋​People will die by his hands and he has never tried to kid himself into thinking anything else. All those crimes will be committed by his dark side and both parts of him are fully aware of this. Yet at the very least he has decided to not let you be a witness of any of the crimes he will commit to anyone who dares to treat you as anything beneath what he sees you at or dares to attempt to steal you away from him. His inner Noah is sadistic and fully indulges in this as he plays a cruel game of cat and mouse with his victims. The torment he can put them through as he degenerates ruffians with no manners who didn't treat you with respect or cocky playboys who thought that they could try their luck with you fulfills him yet you must never know about this. He would never harm a single strand on your hand so striking you with such fear would be undesirable and undue. He would hate for you to lump him together with those poor excuses of sentient people who have less dignity than a mutt.

🦋It is ironically the rest of the Noah family, including the Earl, that express their curiosity to meet you when they find out about you and the relationship Tyki has built with you. Whilst he would have abducted you even without their opinion, he still seems to be releaved that they express such interest to get to know you. To spare you from any overwhelming shock and fear, Tyki decides to drug you to make the ordeal easier for everyone involved. He takes everything slow as soon as you have regained consciousness and find yourself in a lavish room with him right by your side. After the abduction, you find yourself in general more confronted with his Noah mindset as he introduces you to all other members of the family, admonishing them in a calm tone when he notices that they overwhelm you as you become a subject of intrigue to them. You are treated quite well even by the other Noah members but only as long as you do not hurt Tyki's feelings.

​🦋​It isn't like his human side has just vanished after the flawless abduction but it is quite rare for you to witness him expressing his other personality around you from that day on. His Noah side almost starts feeling jealous at times when you ask of him to show you his human side again as he wonders what you might miss on his human side. You are expected to spend a lot of time with other members of the Noah family after the abduction as you are deemed as part of the family now and it would be quite impolite of you to hide from your new family. Questions of a potential wedding are brought up frighteningly soon during family time and it soon transforms into a crushing pressure as you are confronted with the expectations of the Noah family. Everyone seems to be very supportive of Tyki but that also means that you find yourself stranded and all alone with your own feelings as you understand that you are only valued because of Tyki's feelings for you.

#yandere d. gray man #yandere d. gray-man #yandere dgm #yandere tyki #yandere tyki mikk #yandere joyd

[devourable]

Okay, but Abraham seeing this guy flirt with reader constantly and is getting wayyy too handsy with his darling? Like the guy is so persistent. How would he react to that? Poor reader is practically getting harassed and confides in their new friend, Abraham, about it.

" whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for *** made man in his own image. " — genesis 9:6.

abraham followed the heathen down the road, a storm in his eyes as he watched him, completely oblivious to his surroundings. he could even hear the shitty music playing through the bastard's headphones.

it wasn't fair. it was guys like him that made it hard for others to walk alone at night, and he was doing it without a care in the world? did he forget what he did to you?

his face scrunched up bitterly as he remembered how distressed you'd been when you confided to him about what had happened. to think this... this miscreant thought he had a right to any of you, let alone the right to treat you the way he did... it boiled his fucking blood. he hated the fact that he wasn't there to protect you from this vile man.

you are an angel. his angel, he thought as he gripped the hammer he had been concealing in his hoodie sleeve. you were his holy being, he had to keep you safe. no matter the cost.

#⛪️ abraham atkins #lovesick | ocs #inbox | anons #surprise! he's insane <3 #reminder that as soft as he is he's still a yandere #just a drabble but yknow #yandere x reader #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x oc #tw implied violence #yandere

[mamayan]

You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

#Dark Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae #monster smut #Greed x reader #Fae smut #faecore #yancore #yandere x reader #fae king #yandere smut #Dark Fae #kinktober fun #request filled #afab reader #Fae x reader smut #changeling #changeling reader

[yaymiyas]

ISEKAI!YANDERE!CROWN PRINCE INTRODUCTION

warning: female reader, his name is saer…just so you can follow a bit lol, isekai lol

a/n: it’s structured a bit differently than my other introductions, do note that yes this is x reader but you had gotten isekai’d into a novel so….i do say her name but…..you’re also you…..if that makes sense, also he is hardly in it but its like….an introduction to the story bc its…an isekai and i needed to layout how i wanted everything to be

its not like you didn’t realize something was up. bright white lights blind you right when you open your eyes. maids coming in and out, calling you ‘miss’ and telling you not to sit up because ‘it will harm you even more’. granted, you were very thankful for their words because, around ten minutes before they came in, you attempted to sit up and gave yourself a headache. even though nobody was explaining anything, you remained quiet, trying to gather as much information from the surrounding maids as possible. the red-haired one with tight curls and an everlasting smile was amanda. she seemed to like you much, more than the other two, and tended to you more carefully. maybe she was your personal maid,or maybe she was just good at her job, but she never let up and called you your ‘name’.

admittedly, none of the other two maids called you your ‘name’ either. it was all just ma’am or miss from them. you just expected a hint of your identity from amanda, based solely on her care for you. selfish? maybe but you needed more hints. the other maids are named cynthia and tilly. the former of the two had long black hair slicked into a low bun, with a small maids hair on top to finish the look. it was a cute detail, if you must say, since the other two didn’t wear them. cynthia hardly spoke above a shout, coming off as more soft-spoken than the other two. she wasn’t really rude, nor did she have an attitude while tending to you, but she wore an expression of indifference that made you think she would rather do anything else.

tilly, on the other hand, was more bold than the other two. still not outwardly rude, but she tested your patience a few times. the main one that got to you though, was when she was rubbing your face. while she was washing off your face with the washcloth, she rubbed against your cheeks too hard, and upon this ‘realization’ she gave you a malevolent grin. her thin lips formed an o shape, mimicking the action of saying ‘oops’. luckily, it seemed as if amanda and cynthia didn’t really care for this ‘prank’ of hers. they both scoffed in disgust, continuing to pick out outfits for me to wear for the day ahead.

a soft but stern knock was heard at the door, revealing a man with black slick back hair and yellow eyes to put the look all together. he reminded you of those webtoon male leads that were cold but female audiences loved. being a sucker for those types, you raised your neck up, making sure to keep your body in the same supine position. the man standing at the foot of your bed looked down at you with an expression that you couldn’t read. an expression that wasn’t scary but wasnt welcoming. tapping along the footboard of the bed, he let out a low sigh out that resembled a growl and turned around to leave. tilly, amanda, and cynthia didn’t acknowledge the man. neither did he to them. the only thing that could resemble an interaction between the four of them was when tilly and amanda gave small bows and the slight side eye cynthia gave before going back inside your closet to look for something.

“madam,”

thats a new one.

“lord saer would like you to have breakfast with him today.”

lifting your head enough to turn your focus towards amanda, you started to guess your facial expression was a bit too expressive because amanda started to giggle. the pain in your body wasn’t really high; it was more the numbness that bothered you. moving your neck and head didn’t really take much strength, it was attempting to move your legs that was the problem. walking towards you in a shift movement, amanda placed the rich, deep purple hair piece down on top of the dress set she had picked out for you. upon arrival, she softly removed your blanket and shifted your body into a sitting position. you felt like a doll.

“okay now miss, i will be lifting you up to wash you now.”

placing her right arm underneath the backs of your knees and her left arm supporting your neck, she quickly moved you to the area you’re assuming was the bathroom. the door to the large room was already open, since once she had lifted you up, cynthia had pushed the door open and walked in herself. the room was massive, twice the size of a normal person’s kitchen. the walls and floor tiles were both the same shade of pale pink, matching the sleeping set you had on. amanda sat you down in a chair and started to strip you down. while she was doing that, the other was running the bath water and testing if it was safe enough. every time the water was a bit too hot or too cold, you saw cynthia’s eyes squeeze shut.

“alright madam edina,”

cynthia sighed, standing up from the clam shaped tub.

“it’s all set for you. please do not make it hard as you have always done.”

not sparing you even a small look, she and amanda were already picking you up and guiding you into the tub. quietly instructing you to lay back, wet, cold liquid found its way both on your scalp and on your legs. edina? are you sure thats what she said? the only edina you knew of was the villainess from the hit novel “obsession falls”. you never really read the book, but you knew of the characters and the content that surrounded it. it was rather controversial for how obsessive and dangerous the male lead was. he had stalked the female lead for years, and it didn’t stop once he got married. with a wife so dismissive and uninterested, the male lead was given all the time in the world to go hunt his prey.

unfortunately for him, once edina randomly started to care about what her husband was doing during the day he had to slowly stop. losing the love of his life to the second male lead, alastair. due to this very random string of events, saer had grown irritated by the events his wife was clumsily stringing together. he then decided to take care of his wife, edina. the night before he was to go and kill alastair, he had poisoned the dinner he had helped make for his wife. from your memory, this was one of the few times in years he had asked his wife to sit at the table and eat with him. she would usually just take her food into her room separately. this night, edina came into the dining room with her most expensive jewelry and dress. she thought this was the night her husband was going to admit his faults and leave the female lead for her. however, what actually ended up happening was that the moment she took a bite out of her steak, her vision went black and her head banged on the table.

focusing on the soft brushes of your hair, you start to put the pieces together. you don’t remember the faces of any of the characters in the story, you just remember the basic blot and conflict. if what cynthia said was true, that you are in fact edina tudor gwynn then that means the reasoning for your stiff body was because of your ‘husband’ trying to kill you. sharply sucking in some air, you seek strength within your legs. even though the lower half of your body was still partially numbed, the feeling of pins and needles filled the tip of your toes to the back of your knees. not wanting to cause much of a scene, even though you were sure she wouldn’t care much, you looked up to check to see if your maid was paying you any mind. cynthia was too focused on rinsing your body, while amanda stopped brushing your hair to grab towels for you.

“cynthia,”

it was amazing how you could even get that out. due to the affects of the poison, your throat had become overly dry and it hurt you to even swallow. that was mainly one of the reasons as to why you hardly spoke to them this morning. stopping in her tracks, she lazily turned her head into your direction. the woman didn’t have much of any emotion on her face. her eyelids halfway down, making it appear that she was tired or just bored. her lips were in a thin line. you had hardly seen her smile or really speak, so you started to believe this was just how her resting face looked like.

“why did he poison me?”

tilting her head a bit, cynthia’s facial expression changed. it was as if your question intrigued her. her low eyelids raised a bit, along side her eyebrows, as she tried to tame the smile that was creeping on her thin lips. this was the most expressive you have ever seen her. she began to part her lips when amanda came back through the door with the towels.

“perhaps this conversation will need to be revisited, my lady.”

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere oc #yay ocs #yay isekai #yandere isekai #yandere crown prince #yandere prince #yandere x female reader #yandere boy

[lovverletters]

Been waiting for this lol

*Ahem* I introduced Yan husband! Finally, after years of waiting and stalking and murdering (if that's cool), he finally has you! He worships you every day and reminds you how lucky he is, and he tells everyone how he's so lucky and how you're perfect!

Yandere! Husband

A/N : Thanks for requesting! Hope you like it, 🌻 anon!

T/W : soft yandere, stalking, implied murder, non consentual photographing, stealing items, this is late asf

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"Honey, do you remember how we met?"

[Name] asked their husband of 6 years as they flip through their old journal, reliving their countless embarrassing, bitter and sweet memories of their youth.

They had been sifting through the storage closet earlier when they stumbled upon a box containing their old belongings dating back from when they were still studying in high school until they got married to their husband, Derek.

"Of course I do, it's the day I met the love of my life" He says with a smile on his face.

"Psh.. you're so cheesy Derry" [Name] swatted their husband's shoulder playfully, flustered at his words.

"What? I'm being honest. Every moment spent with you is unforgettable" A dark glint was present in his eyes as he uttered his reply.

How could he ever forget the day he met his beloved [Name]?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Derek had been in his senior year of high school by the time he met [Name].

They had only recently moved to his hometown and enroll to the high school. He could still recall their timid expression as they asked him for directions, at that moment Derek brushed off the encounter as a one time thing.

He was graduating and they were a junior, he'll probably won't see them again.

Until Derek started to bump into [Name] more frequently albeit it being only a coincidence. [Name] would notice his presence and greeted him with a small wave everytime they pass by each other in the hallway or waiting in line during lunch.

Eventually, he finally spoke to them one day. It felt odd for him to be around them yet never uttering a single word.

It was the best decision he ever made.

"Uhㅡhey" Derek cursed himself inwardly for choking on his words.

[Name]'s eyes widened, spooked to hear him talk to them. They mustered up a crooked smile after recollecting themself to reply to him.

"Derek, hi. Sorry, I was on my phone that I didn't notice you behind me"

From then, something shifted in him. Their conversation faded into a white noise in his ears as his thoughts became fixated in [Name]'s voice.

He had heard them speak before but it felt different when they're talking to him. Their voice engraving itself into his brain like an earworm.

It doesn't stop there, their interaction expanded as their friendship blooms. [Name] would seek him out on subjects they were struggling on despite having other student who would eagerly help themㅡ his heart swells with pride knowing that it's him whom they're relying on.

Derek would also began inviting them to his football practice as an excuse to invite them for an ice cream laterㅡ and to also flex his athleticism in hopes of receiving praises from them.

He's not stupid, he knows that he likes themㅡ loves them. Maybe he had been a fool for underestimating his feelings for them.

It had been an unfortunate timing that he had never been able to confess to [Name] as his graduation passes and he was wrapped up with preparing for his higher education.

Those times away and distance from [Name] were hellish. Derek felt his sanity wanning with each day passes and his thoughts were constantly thinking of [Name].

What are they doing, Where they're at, Who they're withㅡ They don't have a partner don't they? They didn't replace me did they?? I'll kill that bastard who took my placㅡ

He finally cracked after stalking through their social media page and seeing the other student having grown close to them within months of his absence.

Derek decided that he's had enough sitting around in the sidelines with an aching heart. He'll make his move and insured that [Name] will be his.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"I then drove back to back from my university to yours for years until I finally had enough and decided to ask you to move in with me" He traced the picture they took on their first day moving into his house.

[Name] snorted and pinched their husband's cheek, laughing as they teased him.

"Silly, you, I can't believe you rent out an apartment just because you can't be away from me anymore"

Derek huffed and flipped to the next page, tracing [Name]'s photo as he always does everytime he sees it.

"I love you too much, it hurt's to not be around your presence. I feel like I was going to die with each hour passes without you"

"Mmh sure, how come you never died after leaving me everytime you have to go back?" [Name] attempt at poking at their husband again.

Only to receive an unexpected answer.

"I never left" Derek uttered. No elaboration whatsoever.

Silence follows after as the cogs in [Name]'s brain turn to process what their sweet stupid dork husband just said.

Derek closed the journal shut and stood up, planting a kiss on their temple.

"I'm going to prepare dinner now. You better come and eat when I call you before continuing your clean up! No buts and ifs, okay love?" He gave them another kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

Come to think of it, Derek had re-entered their life at a time where their newfound friend tragically passed in a mysterious incident. [Name] had been devastated and clung to Derek for comfort before it eventually delved into them being in a relationship with the man.

Everything was perfect. Too perfect if they had to be honest. It's almost as if he had planned it.

They shook off the thoughts and continued sorting through the old boxes when one of the contents surprised them.

It was the items they thought they had lost or threw away. But how could Derek have it when they had lost it before they begun dating. The polaroids were also odd as Derek weren't around during their senior year when it was takenㅡ if the dates marked was correct.

"Honey! Dinner's ready"

They'll ask him about it later.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere #tw: yandere #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere headcanons

[honeykaes]

to land and sea

neuvillette x adepti!reader II 2.7k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, yandere themes, adepti!reader, reader is from fontaine, monsterfucking, pool sex, biting, creampie, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, hurt/comfort, angst, cucking, non consensual voyeurism, mention of blood, fontaine story spoilers, unedited

synopsis: with lanturn rite finally done, you decide to go relax at luhua pool only to find your former lover you haven’t seen in centuries confused on what your doing there.

The end of Lanturn Rite always felt freeing to you. With fewer responsibilities of protecting the harbor from threats to ruin the event, you finally had an opportunity to use your time as you saw fit—and most importantly, get away from him for a little while.

You walked along Luhua Pools, letting your bare curl themselves in the soft sand. The area was desolate from humans and adepti alike, for now, only accompanied by an occasional singing sparrow or the soft ruffles of swaying trees. You always admired the pools. The blues and faint greens of the vibrant waters always reminded you of your former homeland. 

Your eyes gazed at a sparrow beginning to flap its wings heading northwest beyond the large mountains of Liyue. Your eyes softened as your smile began to falter wondering if that bird would be headed towards Fontaine.

How long has it been since you were in that nation…at home? Was there still a home there for you?

You pull the robes of your attire, folding them up and placing them on the base of a nearby tree before picking one of the smaller pools and dipping into the waters. You shivered, your body trying to adjust to the temperature before letting your body completely submerge itself in the pool.

Would the cobblestone be the same? Would the food and culture be the same?

You knew how quickly humans adapted, even in Liyue. You had already heard and witnessed Fontaine’s technological feats during this Lanturn Rite. They were the nation now leading in technology, a far cry from how things used to be when you were there.

You wondered what happened to Furina.

…To Neuvillette.

“What became of you, Neuvillette…” you whispered to yourself. Your mind spiraled trying to remember his appearance from hundreds of years ago. Did he still keep that noble shape of his?

Did the reincarnation of the former dragon sovereign still have those lilac eyes of his that softened whenever he tucked a rainbow rose in your ear?

You dipped further in the water, blowing bubbles in the salty pool before sighing once more. 

“I miss you…”

A few hours pass as sunset begins to settle. Golden hour begins brightly as its rays highlight your skin as you sway your arms admiring the ripples of the water. 

Swoosh.

Your eyes dart up, looking around you to search for where that strange noise is coming from. Was it him? You didn’t exactly want to deal with your lord at the moment; you had plenty of time forced at his side for Lanturn Rite.

Your eyes whipped around scanning the land, but you didn’t see anything unusual. As you moved your gaze to the sea where the various pools resided you narrowed your eyes seeing a strange blue glowing coming from beneath the waters. It was moving fast, whatever this was, was an adept swimmer.

Before you summoned your weapon and left the pool to get your clothes, you gasped watching a head pop up from where the glowing was coming from. His hair was long and as white as snow, flowing behind him like a small river adorned with two stripes of blue. His skin was pale and dewy from the water, also illuminated in gold from the sunset.

Your eyes felt misty focusing on every curve of his face: his high cheekbones, his thin rosy lips. After all these years, he kept the same form.

“Neuvillette…” you called out. You couldn’t stop those words from leaving your mouth. His head slowly turned to meet yours, eyes widening in recognition as he looked at your form in the pool. 

The two of you remained frozen, drinking up each other's appearance desperate to make sure each other's eyes were not playing tricks.

His gaze softened before he soon swam near you. Water clung to his suit as he descended up to the pool you rescinded in. He kneeled near the edge, leaning down to your size.

“It’s you right? (Y/n)...” he muttered before placing his hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, chuckling as tears cascaded down your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved upwards as his thumb tenderly caressed you.

“I thought the usurpers would never allow my eyes to gaze upon yours again. I should have come to this nation much sooner,” Neuvillette whispered. You shook your head, hastily wiping your tears.

“What are you doing here anyway? How’s Furina?” you asked. Neuvillette’s eyes twinged in pain, a sad smile coaxed over him as clouds began to form blocking the golden light of the sun.

“ She…freed her people of their curse. The nation of Fontaine is thriving more than ever,” he replied. He turned his head away, smile faltering, recalling the months that still haunted him.

“...Furina did? I wish Egeria lived to see it. I’m sure Furina is as happy as ever—”

”...The cost was a part of her life. She destroyed her throne for her people. She is now just a human, set to age as all others do,” he admitted. Your gaze leaves his, looking down at your bare body.

“I see…” you trailed off. Your heart ached. You wondered if she still remembered you. Both she and Neuvillette had to go through such troubles alone. You wondered if they felt abandoned by you.

You take a deep breath trying to process everything. You were even sure if you’d be able to see Furina in her human lifetime.

”I hope she didn’t think I abandoned her before she passed. I hope you didn’t either. I left to try to find a solution to our problem, asking the other Archons for their help or ideas but…I ran into trouble as you can imagine,” you whispered. The softness in Neuvillette’s eyes hardened quickly momentarily.

“If you’re in Liyue, I’m guessing it has something to do with Morax?” he asked. You ball your fist tightly beneath the water, nails harpooning against your palm before sighing and letting it go.

“I was almost killed by these..abyssal beasts and their poison before he found me. Apparently, he was familiar with my work in Fontaine. He offered his help to save my life and give me a solution to Fontaine’s problem. In desperation, I agreed. I was forced to become one of his adepti by that contract,” you revealed.

Neuvillette sighed, anger coaxing his brows but he didn’t touch further on your life with Morax.

“Shouldn’t your contract be fulfilled now that Fontaine is saved?” Neuvillette asked. You clenched your jaw, slowly shaking your head.

“...No. Our contract had been written that he had to give me the solution. By not telling me himself, our contract is now fulfilled and I’m stuck subservient to him. I tried to go back to Fontaine but…”

You sighed, pressing your lips against his soft palm resting on your cheek. You missed his touch, it always calmed you in times of uncertainty. Neuvillette’s gaze softened once more as he leaned in, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I missed you more. Furina always said I looked happier whenever you were with me,” he replied. Your arms reached out, placing your hands on his cheeks. His eyes still had that same love and loneliness peeking through his long white eyelashes as you last saw them. He was the same as before…but yet different.

Whatever had happened in Fontaine had changed him.

You slowly leaned, pressing your lips against his own. The juxtaposition of the softness of his lips and the electricity igniting by his touch in your once barren veins was jarring; but yet it remained as slow and sensual, desperate to reclaim the hundreds of years they’ve been apart from.

At the moment, you two felt as though you were back in Fontaine 500 years ago, in a field of rainbow roses near the sea, promising each other everything was going to work out.

You leaned away feeling a sharp pain on your bottom lip and the taste of iron on your tongue. The haze in Neuvillette’s eyes lightened up, realizing his mistake as he tongue grazed one of his elongated canines. He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment.

“I apologize. It’s been a long time since I had these types of desires and affection,” he admitted. You smiled as your hands trailed down finding their way on his neckpiece, slowly taking it off. 

“As have I,” you whispered. One by one, his articles of clothing that were soaked in seawater—adorned in the finest materials and jewels—fell onto the sand of the beach. In his nude form, he slowly dipped in the pool, joining you.

Your hands wandered through his body, admiring the sapphire scales that sometimes shined on his shoulders. As your hands gently glided on them, his body shuttered in response. He sucked a sharp breath in, feeling your hand grab his hardening cock, pumping gently. 

His cock held unnatural bumps and ridges. As it grew thicker and longer in your palm, you could see the bluish tone beneath the water. This was one indication that he wasn’t human; he was the incarnation of the hydro dragon sovereign after all.

Neuvillette bit his lip hard, showing off the elongated fangs peeking through his lip. His thigh moved your leg as his hand dipped beneath the water to cup your cunt. A soft moan escaped from your lips feeling his long fingers rub between your folds before settling on your clit.

“Neuvillette,” you whimpered out. It was a forgotten melody he had missed, your voice in that tone—it brought shivers throughout his body.

His other hand, grab your hand that was wrapped around his now pulsating cock before lifting it and placing it on his chest. 

”I don’t want anyone else to take you away from me…” he whispered. Neuvillette leaned in once more, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before diving beneath the water of the pool. You paused, blinking to try to process what he was up to.

“Neuvillette what are you— Oh!” you yelped. You feel his tight grip on the globe of your ass and thigh. He widened your legs, admiring the view of your quivering hole beneath the glistening light above. He leaned in, opening his mouth wide, before taking a long stripe of your cunt.

”God, I miss this taste. I always went crazy going through my ruts without getting to taste you again,” he muttered but you couldn’t hear as all that came up to the surface was bubbles. His tongue swirls against your clit, sucking the nub hard as you can feel his nails beginning to elongate and prod at the skin he clung onto.

You squirmed under his touch, trying to grind your pelvis to get any bit of friction you could to satiate your desires. Neuvillette offered a tender kiss on your clit before smiling.

”I hope you can forgive me if I become too rough..” Neuvillette murmured.

He opened his mouth again, prodding his tongue out, and soon began to grow longer and thicker in size. Pressing itself at your entrance, his elongated tongue slowly sank inside of you— shuddering at the taste of your arousal mixed with the waters of the Luhua Pools. 

Your hands grabbed at his now glowing antenna on top of his head as he groaned beneath you in response. He pumped his tongue inside of you, keeping your body in place, as you tried to squirm from his touch. 

Moving his grip around, he moved one hand to toy with your clit. While he rubbed tight circles along the bundle of nerves, his tongue curled against your spongy walls. You grabbed a mound of your chest, arching your back as the muffled noises of his name came from above.

Your essences flooded his tongue as Neuvillette desperately drank every drop that gushed out of you. As he slipped his tongue out of you, he left your overstimulated clit with one more kiss before lifting his upper body to the surface. You leaned against his firm chest, catching your breath.

“Was that too much…?” he whispered, pressing another kiss on top of your head. You shook your head, breath heavy as you tried to come down from your high.

”No. I want more of you Neuvillette,” you whispered, gaze half-lidded looking up at him. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip as he leaned in with a soft smile.

”Then more you shall receive,” he replied. Neuvillette lifted your chin before capturing your lips once more.

Neuvillette hooked your leg up as his cock slid itself against your puffy folds. Your body trembled as his blueish tip grazed against your clit. He soon sank his cock inside of you slowly. As he sheathed himself deeper inside, you could feel the faint burn from your walls stretching out to accommodate his large size. 

His lips peppered themselves throughout your chin and neck before he finally bottomed out. Letting your leg go, you quickly wrapped your legs around his thin waist as he reached deeper inside of you.

He lifted his head, leaning in close to let his nose graze yours.

“I don’t want this moment to ever end. I loved you then, I love you now. I always will,” he whispered. You two share another kiss before he begins to move. His hips rocked as the waves rippled in the pool to his pace.

One of his large hands found a way to your ass once more, gripping it tight as he rutted against you faster. You can feel his tip curve and nudge against your cervix.

As your head lulled to the side, focusing on the pleasure ripping through your body, Neuvillette gently grabbed your chin while grunting.

”Please don’t look away…I want to burn your expression into my mind…” he softly begged. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip, wiping the drool peaking out before you gently bit down the tip of it. 

Your walls fluttered, squeezing against Neuvillette’s cock pulsating and thrusting inside of you. You feel his nails sinking into the spongy flesh of your ass.

”Neuvil…ette. Neuvill—ette. Neuvillette!” you stammered out. Your eyes shut tight in pleasure, as a whine left your lips. With an inhumane growl, Neuvillette buried his face into your neck, cock throbbing inside of you before his hips began to falter.

Tears pricked your eyes as you clung to him tighter, crying out his name. Your walls clamped down, quivering as you climaxed. Neuvillette struggled to continue, his ruts getting slower and sloppier.

With a few thrusts, he shuttered, holding you tight as he emptied himself inside of you. You could feel globs of his thick cum filling you up as he gently bucked inside of you, nursing himself from your high.

You kept your eyes closed. Sweat clung to your forehead as you tried to catch your breath. Neuvillette lifted his head from the nape of your neck admiring your look. Just as he gently caressed your cheek, his eyes narrowed, noticing an odd sigil glowing that wasn’t there before.

A Geo sigil.

Neuvillette held you tight, shielding your form as he watched a man emerge from behind you in silence.

”I thought avoiding you would have been the best situation, but to think you’d find them…” the formerly known god as Morax murmured with a practiced saccharine smile on his face. 

Neuvillette was thankful your back was to him. His golden eyes were slitted in pindrops and glowing in envy. He was trying to hold his anger back.

”The Usurper Morax, know this: I’m done with you all taking things that don’t belong to you,” Neuvillette stated, narrowing his eyes.

Zhongli simply put his hand behind himself, closing his eyes as he pondered Neuvillette’s words momentarily before a soft chuckle left his lips.

“And that’s where you're wrong. Although you control the notion of justice, I still have authority over contracts,” Zhongli replied. His eyes opened, much colder than before. The earth began to shake slightly—a warning of what he was still capable of.

“You got a taste of your desires. Now, you should head back to your newly settled nation. I don’t think after such conflicts, a war is what you would look to have. No?”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette scenarios #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader

[ozzgin]

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

#female reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere fic #yandere lawyer #tw yandere #yandere oc #yandere original character #original work

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART ONE !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 7.5k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, yandere!noir, yandere!hobie, reader death, gore/violence, murder, electrocution, fire, guns, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, physical restraint, child abuse/neglect, allusions to a child's death, physically abusive ex-boyfriend, infidelity, & torture.

──── October 17th, 2099 — Miguel O'Hara remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. August 24th, 1934 — Peter Parker remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. July 3rd, 2020 — Hobie Brown remembers the day the same way he will never forget you.

Y/N L/N. Miguel O'Hara, Peter Parker, and Hobie Brown will never forget them the same way they will never forget how it felt to lose them.

The inevitable fate of your demise is a cannon event for all spider-people. To love this person with every shred of their being only to live the rest of their lives without them; to love this person with all the might their body can contain only to let go of their hand in the end. It crushes their soul. Countless people are forced to live with the consequences of being bitten by a spider, not one had suspected it would be so detrimental.

Not when it is your life that has been taken.

Written in the stars is this destiny. How they will never love another again, but vow to be a hero and refrain a similar fate from falling onto anyone else. Many have been able to crawl out of the bottomless pit that is grief, but others have succumbed to the unforgiving anguish and let their life escape them. Just the way yours had. After all, what is life if you are not present? What is the point of living if there is no one there to patch up their scars and praise them for their heroic acts? There is no point, which leaves these three particular spider-people here. Their body is stuck in the past, reliving each moment with you up until they lost you forever.

October 17th, 2099. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't let his violent tendencies toward anyone who isn't you slip through the seams, maybe if he had been more persistent in his reminders of how loved you are. Maybe if he had tried harder, Miguel O'Hara would still have you here at his side.

Miguel's attempts to make this sudden transition in your life as easy as possible turned out to be disastrous. He is not stupid; he knows this upbringing into this new lifestyle you claim to be "kidnapping" was blunt. He knew this, yet still, his plans on easing you through this change had collapsed right before him. Time had passed, and he naively assumed your fear had depleted, far too caught up in the sheer delight that came from holding you in his arms. Days and nights spent trailing his fingers down the expanse of your skin and kissing away the bruises his fangs had left upon your lips. This is a dream, Miguel always catches himself thinking.

And his sweet daughter, Gabriella. How she adored you so much. Even more so than her own father, he often joked. Coming home to find you both brushing the hair of her numerous dolls, baking treats that were rich with far too much sugar, or fast asleep on the couch while some whiny kids show plays on the television. His heart hammers like a fluttering hummingbird at the sight of you so soft and calm with his daughter. However, your guard then builds itself back up, brick-by-brick, faster than a gust of wind when he makes his presence known. In a way, Miguel found himself... jealous of Gabriella. That gentle and loving nature of yours, why couldn't he have it for himself? Why couldn't you give him some of that attention, even just a blink? What could that crybaby brat possibly have done to deserve such an amazing thing!?

No matter what kind of thoughts suffocate his mind, Miguel always tried to keep himself composed in front of you. With his tall, muscular physique, it makes sense why you are so intimidated by his appearance. If he were to ever let this satiating envy bleed through the bandaids, however, you'd certainly never open your heart to him. The prospect alone makes his chest tighten with dread.

And he had been so negligent towards his daughter, it only makes sense why she would turn to you. With how breathtaking, elegant, brilliant, electrifying you are, Miguel can understand why she loves you so much. Still, this does not refrain him from tightening his jaw whenever his daughter does something as trivial as hug you. That should be me with Y/N. Let me hold them, let me hold them, let me hold them like that.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his envy through sharp gazes, a towering frame, and muffled shouts through the thin walls. It's his fault he never assured you these ugly emotions were never your fault, since you could never do any wrong in his eyes, after all. It's his fault he didn't drown you in even more heaps of affection, to further remind you of just how much he needs you.

It is his fault you are dead.

Overcome with drowsiness, Miguel heedlessly packs his daughters lunch for school that day. Despite how you are usually the one who does this task, since you have always adored looking after the little one, you needed your rest. And he was insistent on treating you with even more intensive care, all to prove that he is the right one for you. No one else. Meanwhile, Gabriella sits at the kitchen table with her backpack on, swinging her short legs back and forth. She is bright with full energy that contradicts her father's state in a comical manner.

"Y/N/N always cuts my food into cool shapes! Yesterday, they made my sandwich star-shaped!" Gabriella exclaims to her father with admiration.

The mere mention of your name from someone else makes Miguel freeze. A sudden surge of anger wraps around his lungs like a sheen layer of morning dew resting on Spring grass. You treat her with such attentive care, why can't he get any of that? What is so special about her that he doesn't have? What does he need to change about himself in order to get you to love him the way you so fatuously love her? Miguel casts his gaze across the counter and finds several bottles of cleaning products you must have forgotten to put away. So endearing, so adorable. An idea then sparks. While Gabriella continues to babble about how cool and amazing you are, Miguel finds himself considering something he will never be able to take back.

Just a dash of some drain cleaner in her sandwich and this problem will fade away.

"Y/N/N!" The sound of your nickname shouts through the air upon your arrival. Gabriella is more than elated to greet you, but your eyes remain locked on Miguel. In other circumstances, he'd be thanking the heavens above for this bit of attention you have given him. At this moment, however, there is a disturbed gleam of horror in your expression that makes his stomach twist with apprehension.

The energy is not directed towards Gabriella, as you caress her cheek and gift her that smile of yours that rivals sunlight. Miguel inadvertently rolls his eyes at the sight, envious as ever. As she continues to ramble to you about her success at a recent soccer game, you retrieve all the cleaning products and return them to their respective place underneath the sink. Not without shooting a burning glare at Miguel, however. Had he made his intentions that obvious? You wave him aside from his stance at the pink, glittery lunchbox and he obeys. Pretending to finish up his original efforts, you examine every snack inside for anything this crazed man may have tampered with.

"Good morning, button..." The nervous tremble in Miguel's voice doesn't tarnish the sheer adoration that seeps from his tone.

Your short response of "'morning" could barely be heard over the thunderous sound of his heart shattering. Yet again, you have broken his heart. And still, he will crawl back to you every time, aching for any inkling of your regard. Soon, you're saying your goodbyes to Gabriella and wishing her a wonderful day at school. Planting a quick peck to her cheek, Miguel's talons grow and dig crevices into the steering wheel while he waits for his daughter to join him in the vehicle. Oh, if only you could give him the same act of affection, he would never ask the universe for anything ever again.

And if only he had known how the rest of the morning would play out, he never would have left the house.

When Miguel finally pulls out of the driveway, giving you a quick wave that is not reciprocated, you let your guard down. You almost watched this man murder his daughter. Tears begin to form in your eyes as the revelation simmers like boiling water. With more time here, who knows what lengths he'll travel to?

Fortunately for you, with how occupied he was with his daughter and his own inner turmoil, he had entirely forgotten to lock the door to his office. The one place neither you nor his daughter were allowed to venture into. You were unaware of what is within the room or how anything inside could aid you in your attempts to escape. What you were aware of, however, is how paranoid he was in his efforts to keep you out of there. Peeling back the curtain and taking a fearful glance out the window, just to ensure this psychopath who claimed to be your soulmate wasn't lurking, you embark on your journey into uncharted territory.

Miguel had mentioned several times in his late-night talks with you about his job at Alchemax. His boring explanations about the technology he was working on there did wonders in lulling you to sleep. Now, seeing the scatterings of machinery that littered the room made you gasp from their futuristic appearance. One contraption had caught your attention, however. It seemed to be a current project, evident in the numerous tools and papers inked with equations littered around. Upon stepping closer to the contraption, a holographic screen sputters to life. You find several distorted, glitching files that all attain to you in some shape or form. Y/N's wish list, Y/N's checking account, and Y/N's security camera footage. Curiosity does spark, but with how swiftly Miguel is able to drop his daughter off and speed home to return to you, the time you had was not versatile.

If I can piece together how this gadget works, I may be able to call for help and get Gabriella and I as far away from this man as possible, you think to yourself.

The machine continues to stammer pathetically as if it were desperately chasing its own life. Trying to peruse through the technology to find anything useful, its poor performance prevented you from any fruition. In a fit of frustration, you pull your hand back and deliver a harsh smack! to the side of the machine. With how little time you have, you can feel your opportunity for freedom begin to fade away with every glitch that erupts. With one final, violent slam to the machinery, the metal borders protecting the numerous open wires inside fall, and a sudden wave of electricity surges through you. Your entire body goes rigid before you splat harshly against the ground. You are now left entirely lifeless, except for the electric shocks that cause your stiff form to twitch in response.

With that, your life was over. October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

August 24th, 1934. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had stayed with you more and neglected the city, maybe if he hadn't been so careless with expressing his love for you. Maybe if he had tried harder, Peter Parker would still have you here at his side.

Peter, too, attempted vigorously to make your transition to this new life with him as smooth as possible. At the very beginning of this new adjustment, hope had still plagued your mind. As days turned into weeks, soon months, the forest fire that was your persistence had slowly been snuffed out like an old candle. Now, all you can do is sit at the window seat of his apartment and just pray that someone will recognize your face. From the numerous missing persons' posters that were now left behind in dumpsters and rain puddles, you could feel your luck grow thin. Everyday looked like this, all with this lovesick maniac at your beck-and-call, deluded enough to believe this fantasy of being your doting partner to be reality. The amount of egg-creams you've drank is bound to make you vomit at some point.

At the end of the day, you had gotten what you had wished for. You were once a journalist, putting all your time into unmasking the famous Spiderman. The truth of his identity was now in the palm of your hands. However, there were far more consequences to this wish than you had originally anticipated. And Peter is overcome with guilt when he thinks back to how disastrous his efforts to give you his heart turned out.

It's his fault he had so carelessly exposed his acts of heroism through the stench of gunpowder and chunks of blood beneath his fingernails. It's his fault he didn't spend more time showering you in the affection you truly deserved. It's his fault he never assured you the inevitable fate of the bastards that hurt you was never your fault, just so you can realize that everything he does, no matter how calamitous, was all for your benefit.

It is his fault you are dead.

Slow dancing with you in the gentle haze of the moonlight peaking through the window, swaying along to some romantic melody echoing from the saloon across the street, amorous words that you'd hear from the lips of a poet whispered into your ear — this is where heaven is. This is all that he has ever dreamed of; this is all he has ever wanted for the two of you. This is what makes him happy.

"My heart is bleeding in your hands, dollface. It's all yours, I'm all yours." Peter's breath tickles your neck, the infatuation-stained harangue finally coming to an end as he continues to sway you along to the harmonies outside.

You often joke to yourself that you could stab Peter in the heart, give him even just a sliver of the turmoil he has forced into your life, and he would still give you a smile with blood painting his teeth and that revolting gleam of pure, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. With this devotion, however, comes dark, dark side effects. This was not a surprise to you, considering how you've been locked up like a bad dog for these past several months. Still, when you inhale and the sharp odor of iron poorly masked with bleach overwhelms your senses, you find yourself taken aback.

The clamoring sound of the bolts to your prison cell your captor claims to be your love den being unlocked brings you out of your thoughts. When the door opens and Peter walks in, all you see is a euphoric, hopelessly-besotted partner. With the sudden stench that is still heavy in the air, however, you feel a new, sudden sense of dread with his presence. He is elated to see you, as he always is. An impassioned kiss to your lips and an ardent compliment are essential to your everyday encounter with the man you thought once to be a superhero. Sometimes, a gift of fresh, blood-red roses may accompany him in his attempts to woo you further, as well.

Through the whiff of cigarettes sitting on his trench coat when he envelops you in a much-needed embrace after his long day of work, you sense something else. The tang you had inhaled from outside the bedroom is now stuck to his form, nestled beneath the aroma of late-night brume and smoke. You force a gag down your throat and reciprocate the affection, trying to push your suspicions to the back burner in your mind. The rest of the evening is like any other: listening to some tunes from the radio as the two of you play a card game, all that Peter deems as a "romantic date". Your winning strike against him (he always lets you win, but he won't tell you this) falters when your brain can't help but wonder what he was so occupied with outside that door.

As devastating and exhausting as the truth is, coming to terms with reality is the only chance you have of returning to the life you once had. Hoping he'll wake from his delusions and let you off your leash is nothing more than a pipe dream, you realize. If you want freedom, you'll have to take it by the neck and claim it as yours. So, as the hours of the night fade into dawn, you conjure a plan in your head while the man beside you snores in a deep slumber (not without a few sleepy mumbles of flattery for you, though).

The scheme you had so flawlessly crafted was quick, simple, and easy. You would do something you have never done before: initiate affection with Peter.

This was your ploy: fulfill all the fantasies his lovesick brain was infested with and watch with a newfound sense of hope as he forgets to lock the door, too dazed from the pleasure your sweet attitude had brought him. And it worked marvelously. Not only did this man forget to lock the bedroom door, he had entirely forgotten to lock the front door of the apartment altogether. The prospect of this mistake being a test of your loyalty lingers, but when you watch through the window as he swings away from building to building, you let out a roar of laughter.

After your fit of hysterics, a smile sits on your face as you tread to the front door. Something stops you in your tracks when your hand hovers over the doorknob. When you leave, you will have nothing but months of memories to defend yourself with. Who are the authorities going to believe — you, a mischievous journalist, prone to bending the rules for a good headline, or Peter, the famous superhero, notorious for his restless efforts to save the city? Despite the freedom you have dreamed of being right in your palms, you step away from the door. Instead, you look around for any evidence deemed beneficial. Whatever can put him under the negative limelight is satisfactory to you.

No stone was left unturned in the apartment, all besides a single door at the end of a long corridor. The night before, Peter had been so frantic with his time inside (all in order to get back to you sooner) that he was sloppy with his efforts in cleaning his mess. The spilled bleach he had accidentally knocked over was still lying in a puddle; the nauseating scent of fresh blood still satiated through the air like a fragrance. And lastly, the latch on the door had been left unlocked.

Without so much as a second thought, you enter the room and let your curious eyes soak in the sheer horror that resides within.

A metal chair rests in the middle of the room, leather straps tightened around a body that sits motionless. Two tables are located on the sides of the room where all sorts of gut-wrenching tools reside. And there is blood everywhere. What was once a second bedroom for buyers of the apartment has now been morphed into a torture chamber of sorts.

The person restrained in the chair, you weren't sure if they were even alive. Everything is drowned in so much heaps of red, attempting to use your mere first-aid knowledge is impossible. What is most perceptible, however, is the way their eye had been forcefully torn from its socket. It resembles a runny egg how it causes bodily fluids to cascade down their face. The amount of flesh on their body that had been torn asunder, the gag in their mouth that was oozing with tears and saliva, the gushing blood that continues to hastily seep from infected wounds. Everything makes your eyes blur and your stomach churn with nauseau.

With the career you once had as a journalist, you've seen some disgusting sights. Sneaking onto crime scenes from a brawly saloon fight gone too far or snapping pictures of the result of Spiderman's "heroic" acts to save citizens, you've become desensitized to gory scenes. But, this. This wasn't like anything you have ever seen.

"Y/N?" You hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until the poor victim is able to speak out.

With one eye practically staring daggers into you, the revelation hits you like a train. That voice, that eye. This is no other than the man you had called your boyfriend before this mess had snuck into your life. Or, ex-boyfriend, as you'd prefer to refer to him as. The status of your relationship was left a mystery after the night he had come to your home drunk and reeking of someone's perfume. Your insistent demands for him to sober up and inform you of his recent whereabouts earned you a harsh slap across the face. With a loud shout of how much of a “shitty partner” and "piece of cityside trash" you are, the person you thought to be the love of your life storms out of your home. Never to be seen again.

Hastily, you unclasp the restraints that left his skin numb and bruised. With how malnourished he had become from his time spent here, it was fairly easy to support his weight. You swing his battered arm around your shoulder and help him stand on his emaciated legs. After only two steps, he pushes you off of him harshly with what little strength his body was able to garner. His attempts served well, as you feel your stomach hit a table adorned with blood-stained utensils that make you sick to imagine how they were used.

"You... How could you...?" As his weak voice fills the air, you feel your stomach fold into itself. Does he think you did this?

Opening your mouth to begin stammering your way through what you intended to be a thorough explanation, a loud bang! then pervades the air. Without a second to process his actions, the man grasped the pistol left on the table and pulled the trigger. A stream of smoke now stems from the barrel. The betrayal, the aversion, and the debility in his expression tell you everything you need to know. You were so close to the finish line that would grant you freedom, but when you shift your gaze down, you're devastated to find a bullet hole protruding through your chest. You then slump to the ground and your killer falls not long after you, the act of merely standing too much for his abused body.

With that, your life was over. August 24th, 1934 — the day Peter Parker inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

July 3rd, 2020. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had been more attentive to your safety, maybe if he hadn't exposed how soul-crushing the love he has for you is. Maybe if he had tried harder, Hobie Brown would still have you here at his side.

As opposed to the others, Hobie did little to ease you into this new life with him. The transition was curt, violent. With you as a bartender, drunken customers are most certainly not a rare sight. However, when you rejected a man who had one too many drinks and he reacted with violence, it caught you off-guard. And Hobie, the lead singer of the band that consistently played at your bar, had become blind with rage. Through the mess of the blood on your head when the beer bottle shattered against you and the apple-red matter staining Hobie's guitar as he smashes it relentlessly into the man's skull, these events somehow landed you where you are now.

An abandoned building on the outskirts of town, that's where you had woken up. The debris around the room was masked with string lights and band posters adorning the walls, as well as a rickety bed frame scarcely supporting a lone mattress. With bleary vision and an even fuzzier head, you gain consciousness abruptly. You find yourself on the bed with thick, itchy blankets draped around you, clothes that certainly do not belong to you on your body, and spiky belts used to restrain your limbs. Barbed wires and decaying planks of wood board the windows; the lack of passing cars and loud pedestrians outside cause you to worry about how far you are from the lively city you called home.

A lanky figure makes their presence known, dressed in those all-too-familiar garbs. Spider-Punk, the man you'd always see performing at your penurious bar, despite how widespread their band was. Much to your shock, his large hand finds the trim of his mask before tearing the garment off. Beneath is a gorgeous face embellished with piercings and a wild head full of hair. Large, wet eyes overwhelm you. And there is only one discernible trait you could read clearly through his expression: desire.

The way your plump body pools from the hems of the small clothing he dressed you in from his closet, fuck. Hobie has thought of this moment plenty of times — finally being able to take you away, just the two of you. He swore up and down he'd keep his fervid cravings at bay. But, when you're truly here in front of him, looking like that. He has to dig his long nails into his palms to physically restrain himself from lunging for you like a feral animal in heat. God, you look too fucking good.

From here on out, the relationship you have with Hobie sprouted into something only you would call treacherous, something only he would call rapturous. Being trapped within the small expanse of this grimy room, your new life has shown how perceptibly different your reactions are from one another. You are entirely dumbfounded at these new circumstances you've been forcefully thrust into. Meanwhile, Hobie attempts to put space between you both to avoid giving into his irresistible hunger. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice how his hands always find their way to your naked skin and how his eyes linger on the intimate parts of your body. And it most certainly doesn't take a genius to notice the sheer terror and confusion stuck to your expression.

The discomfort the residence brings does little to ease you, as well. How your body is restricted against the firm mattress has your limbs aching with cramps. Your neck throbs from no support, considering the lack of pillows. But, Hobie always remarked that his chest is more comfortable to lay on, anyway. His clothing reeks of alcohol from the numerous bars and parties he’s attended, but also from the expensive perfumes, lotions, as well as the skin and hair products he received from his time being a runway model. The scent now clinging to your skin fails to bring you any of the tranquility he wished you would feel. Meals shared between you two were often dowsed in grease and cheap in flavor. Your captor never put much effort into making your dinnertime together anything reminiscent of a romantic date in Italy or something along those themes. He would much rather eat something else for dinner, after all.

This is what life looked like for the next several months. Records spinning and filling the air with headache-inducing songs he says he had written about you; Polaroid pictures scattered around the room that display different variations of the same scene: you sitting pretty with Hobie's hands and lips all over you. Never, never, has this man ever felt so much bliss in his entire life. He has always preached about how the idea of "love" is nothing more than propaganda meant to earn greedy, capitalistic companies more money with their cheesy movies and Valentine's Day garbage. When you entered his life in all your glory, however, he was ashamed to put his pride aside and admit those irritating pop songs may have been correct.

"I don’t need nothin’ else. 'Long as I have you here, birdie." He fidgets with the necklace he had given you that was currently draped upon your neck. His lucky guitar chip is swung upon the chain, since it always belonged to you, anyway. You will always be his muse.

With how carelessly he let himself be swathed in the warm blankets of love, how carelessly Hobie had let you slip from his fingertips.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his protective nature through blood-stained bar floors and constricting arms encompassing your body. It's his fault he never assured you these conflicts weren’t your fault, it was only the monsters outside who wished to separate true love. It's his fault he had disciplined himself so heavily for his big heart, fearful of losing self-control with the love of his life.

It is his fault you are dead.

You regret not tallying the days you've spent locked up in this birdcage. Carving lines into the deteriorating walls to represent the slashes this new life has left in your sanity. It feels as if lifetimes have tread by you, the same day repeating itself like your own personal nightmare. Mere months have gone by and unbeknownst to you, the sweet escape you so despairingly crave is sitting upon the horizon. The circumstances of your freedom were the absolute last thing you had wished for, however.

Hobie’s history of being a heartthrob and heartbreaker were no secret to you, but his newfound loyalty to the innocent person he had taken from their previous life was even more evident. All the possessive, delusional fans that were convinced they'd marry their favorite singer, it was just so easy for Hobie to indulge in some casual fun before leaving them behind in his dust. As the story of all Spider-People goes, however, Y/N L/N is the tool that throws this man into a whirlpool of enamoring disarray. Embracing this newfound happiness was exhilarating for him, but Hobie was so dazed from it, he never had thought that karma would slither itself between you two.

A certain groupie, wholly convinced she and Spider-Punk are soulmates, was devastated to see how carelessly the love of her life abandoned her. Her mind had sprinted to all sorts of gut-wrenching conclusions. Am I not enough? Is he moving on? Is there someone else? Her worst nightmare materializes into reality when she stalks behind his tall figure and follows him to a building one late night, an odd pep in his step as he enters. What she assumes is just another exclusive club location with more taboo forms of partying, she is left stunned when she catches sight of what sights lie within.

The man of her dreams is found in the depths of infidelity. Through the crack of a rickety door coated with locks, there he was. Chest pressed against the back of someone else, who was sound asleep beneath an array of blankets like a baby in a crib. With his arms locked around them like a lifeline, Spider-Punk presses long, intimate kisses to their face. The words she had begged to hear from him, he was so frivolously drowning this stranger in such, despite their unconscious state. Every syllable was dripping with lust and smitten-induced hysteria. Tears brim in her eyes from how desperately she covets to be you in this moment.

With a shattered heart and a festering rage, she comes to the conclusion of what she must do. She will take him back, no matter what it takes.

Rarely did Hobie ever leave the expanse of your room, he wanted to stay with you forever. When he did, however, it was for some quick cash at yet another gig he and his bandmates had landed. Singing his lungs out, knowing every lyric revolves around the one waiting for him back home — you have brought him ecstasy he still cannot fathom the sheer weight of. A Friday night like no other, Hobie would spend the evening beneath the blinding spotlights, drinking the hours away, before returning home and cuddling with the only reason he chooses to live.

Through the barricaded windows and doors, a sudden stench of what appears to be smoke invades your senses. A big city like this, something along these lines is nothing out of the ordinary. After all, you were so thrilled to finally be granted a night to yourself, anything that would jeopardize this gift from the universe is seen as insignificant. When the heavy smell becomes more perceptible and the unmistakable sound of fire cracking gets louder, you feel dread tickle down your spine. The fear settles into your bones before you can think of a logical way to escape. Hobie did everything to ensure you wouldn’t leave his side, after all.

Air soon becomes precious, your lungs begin to squeeze, your skin is burning with scorching pain. It brings you the hell you had carelessly thought you felt before. A final cry of help into the suffocating air and you feel your life begin to fade. Meanwhile, the lost groupie stands near the entrance, holding back a satisfied smile. An onslaught of concerned pedestrians and firefighters accompany her. And Hobie was still far away, alcohol heavy in his system and the joy of returning to you seeping through his body like a drug. So blissfully unaware of what awaits him when he comes back to the place he had called home only with you.

With that, your life was over. July 3rd, 2020 — the day Hobie Brown inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

The effects your departure has left on these men are all nothing short of disastrous. No longer do they have the vibrant, loving souls they once held. Day by day, they are dragging the dead carcass that is their own body, suffering through every second and hoping it will be their last. The paths your death have led these three are unique from one another, but they all find themselves in one specific space. Spider-HQ, within Nueva York on Earth-928. The story the multiverse has written for them had so selfishly taken their happiness away from them. Taking the pen for themselves and creating the most beautiful fairytale where you are alive and back in their embrace is the only purpose they now have.

Now, Miguel O'Hara stands at the office he earned from becoming the leader of this society. Upon the various monitors displayed around him are scenes taken from numerous different universes. Lethargy sits like bags of bricks beneath his eyes, slowly blinking as he ensures no minor mistake is present. If the multiverse were to crumble, his sole objection to save the only important person in Spiderman's life will fall with it. When he verifies all is well on Earth-1610, something perceptible then catches his gaze and he does a double-take. Any sign of fatigue within him is snatched out of his body, leaving him more awake than ever before.

Within this universe, Miguel finds you.

Before, these universes have only displayed the effects your death has left on all the spider-people. Today, however, is the first time he has seen you alive since the day he lost you. Lyla snickers and accuses him of having a cute, teenage-like crush when she takes notice of the sheer captivation in his expression. Little does she know how much history lies in your mere face. It is heart-crushing, how much the simple sight of you enjoying a cup of coffee (with one too many sugars, as he knows you've always preferred) has such catastrophic effects on him.

Piles of schoolwork are scattered around your desk, covered in information adhering to your current college major. Even with your lack of sleep, school-induced annoyance, and general exhaustion over everything in your life, Miguel has never seen something quite as breathtaking as you in this moment. An epiphany sprouts in his brain as quickly as the sight of you caused his soul to blossom, just like it did all those years ago.

Maybe he can stop it. Maybe he can get you back.

Your death is inevitable, and even though Miguel was aware of this, dread still pervades his stomach at the prospect and churns with his breakfast. What really makes him shudder is when he reads through the cannon events assigned to you. A flare of jealousy ignites within him when he finds an unfamiliar name in the midst of your story.

Miles Morales, the Spiderman you are meant to fall in love with. What good is he? He's just some stupid kid, what more could he possibly do that Miguel can't? Why would you choose this loser when he can give you everything you have ever wanted!? In a sudden fit of rage, he grasps hold of whatever matter was closest to him and uses all the strength within his muscular arms to hurl it across the room. His chest heaves with infuriated huffs; his claws slice into the meat of his palms. He is enraged, yes, but he is mostly devastated that the beautiful face on his screen will soon meet their inescapable demise.

Not only will he do everything in his power to stop your death, but Miguel also vows to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring you do not fall for this boy. Additionally, he will formulate a plan to bring you back into his arms without destroying the multiverse as a whole. With that being said, this does not change how reality on Earth-1610 continues to play out in front of him. It’s like a television show; a show he'd give a 1-star rating out of sheer pettiness.

In his last year of high school, Miles Morales' life was thrown into a tornado when his parents enrolled him in a new school to finish his last semester. And the 18-year-old boy absolutely dreaded this. New people, new location, new clothes that poke and jut at his skin uncomfortably. With the hefty responsibility of being Brooklyn's sole hero and hiding this truth from his loved ones, this sudden alteration in his environment does not relieve any stress. Swiftly, Miles conjures a plan to convince his parents to send him back to the way his life once was. Slack off, play dumb, and bring home report cards that are absolutely atrocious and his parents will have no choice but to give their son what he wants.

However, this is not what happened. Much to Miles' dismay, the grand idea his parents had was to not let him continue his education comfortably. Instead, they hired a tutor to aid him through his final months of high school.

Rio and Jeff had invited this tutor for dinner at their home, which Miles had flaked on entirely. Mostly due to his duty as Spiderman, but partially from how sour he was about the state of affairs. When he returned home, their anger was practically palpable. However, this disappointment soon shifted into a long, insufferable tangent about how marvelously smart, mannerly, and kind this tutor was and how embarrassed they were because of him. That Saturday, he was expected to join this tutor in the school's library or his parents may consider grounding him once again. Miles has to refrain from rolling his eyes at their never-ending lecture.

March 11th, 2023. It will be all his fault. This day is the day Miles Morales will inevitably meet the only thing that will ever matter to him.

To earn some extra support through your time in college, you had decided to take up tutoring in your free time. The myriad of students you had met all possessed the same attitude — the kind of attitude you'd expect from teenagers whose parents forced them to do schoolwork in their free time. Miles fit this category well, at first. And how your situation developed, it was oddly refreshing to finally meet someone who isn't repudiating every second with you.

15 minutes late, open backpack spilling with paper, tie loose around his neck, the student most certainly made his presence known when he stumbled into the silent library. Attempting to fix his untied shoelaces, you rush over to help him and save him from any further embarrassment he was already enduring. You are able to catch the folder that had tumbled out of his bag before it hit the ground, to where he mumbles a quick "thanks" in response. His gaze is still locked to the strings of his shoes he was attempting to tie together as swiftly as possible. Nearly tripping, Miles makes it to the table you had once organized thoroughly, but was now cluttered with everything this boy had thrown onto the surface.

Oblivious to you, the boy whose parents described as having a "heart of gold," was doing everything in his power to appear as rude and ill-mannered as possible. Deliberately arriving late, making a fool of the two of you, messing up the neat array of lesson plans and pencils you arranged. Anything to convince his parents to send him away from the nightmare that is this school. This plan of his was seized from his mind like a rug pulled out beneath his feet when he finally turns his shoulder and shifts his attention to you. What Miles expected would be the slowest, drawn-out hour he's ever experienced would actually be the most exciting, life-beaming 60 minutes he’s ever experienced.

Your voice sounds like honey as you introduce yourself to him. And that heart-stuttering smile of yours works wonders on him. Miles had already known your name, but hearing it from your mouth made him think he was listening to a symphony of angels. Since the last few stages of high school are stressful for everyone, you decided to cut him some slack and offer a kind hand for him to shake. All thoughts of his old school and the comfort it brought are all eradicated as he stares into your soul with those wide, bambi-brown eyes. After months in this new environment, you must be a gift the universe sent to compensate for all the misery he has endured. And fervently, Miles accepts you as the best gift he has ever received.

"I'm Spiderman." His mouth moves before his brain can compute. Your brows furrow in response, scrutinizing the confession for some sort of punchline.

“I mean- shit, uh… I mean, I’m Miles... You-You know, like- kilometers, yards, feet. Except, it's Miles this time... Y-... Y'know?"

His relentless stammering to try and prove himself worthy of your time while also acknowledging he accidentally told you his deepest secret earns him a quick giggle. And the sound bouncing from your lips is nothing short of paradisiacal, especially when he is the cause. A sudden wave of silence then rests between you both. You, laughing nervously to lighten the awkward tension. Miles, entirely flabbergasted at how he could have ever wanted to miss out on something as profoundly magnificent as this. His mind runs rampant while his wide eyes remain locked on your averting ones. Do it, do it, do it. Just do it already, Miles!

He pulls his hands up, your eyebrows furrowing once more trying to consider his intentions. He then lands his touch upon your shoulder.

"Hey..." Miles' voice drops several octaves, a fiddly excuse of a smirk forms on his lips, and he squints his twitching eyes that still hold the same crazed wonder they've had since they first landed on you.

"Hi...?" Your response expresses nothing but sheer confusion, not your face burning from the attention like Miles had initially strived for.

Wrapping your hand around his, your mere physical touch sends flares of electricity down his skin. Goosebumps bloom across his arms and his entire body halts in place, tense with shock and nerves. In an attempt to forcefully remove his hold on you, you're startled to find how he is now stuck to your hand. As if he had lathered his hand in heaps of glue before touching you, the efforts you took to get this boy off of you only resulted in your skin painfully stretching.

So enveloped in the way his heart lurches from holding your hand, a sudden, hushed whimper of "you're hurting me!" and Miles feels a gasp involuntarily escape his throat. Attempting to pull away from you, as much as he wishes not to, only intensifies your pain. What had Peter told him to do when this happened? Oh yeah, just relax! But, how on Earth can he possibly relax when your hand is in his!? 

People are staring, exclaiming in annoyed distress over their interrupted study time. You're trying to piece together how Miles had managed to cement his hand to yours and why he refuses to let go of you. Meanwhile, Miles is apologizing profusely for inadvertently harming you, while also soaking in how rhapsodic it is to have your hand in his. He knows he has fully fallen into oblivion when the prospect of letting go of you hurts him more than the relentless pull and twist of his flesh.

So much for first impressions, right?

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ MANY LIVES THAT COULD HAVE

BEEN ENTANGLED FOR ETERNITY . . . ❞

gif credits :: miguel, miles, peter, & hobie.

tag list :: @honey-beeuwu, @hex-touchstarved, @thel0v3hashira143, @cailey1011, @mickxxstxvxns-blog, @flaming-vulpix, @puthypirate42069, @dolliemoons, @mikalovesnoodles, @explosiongamora, @thegalacticnacho091, @brinleighsstuff, @shinsou-hoetoshi, @uselessbutinteresting, @amortentor, @fried-milkfish, @officiallypoopoo, @lu-lupe, @belladonnashifter, @forgottenbynature, @marooseshawnash, @gothika-spacech1k, @funtimefoxybae, @ethnicbratz, @painpainflyaway, @shadepelt4673, @vivacioussaint, @palepettycharmer, @rqdior, @clownwiki, @clever-username96, @bisoudoll, @darlingdontwe, @naiomiwinchester, @weskennedysgirl, @chubbuart, @simpfo, @neytirisarrow, @leilani04, @lizzymizzy-blogg, @sublimesoulmagazine, @minimari415, @hcmay, @jinuaei, @altusha, @daisygirlll, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @islandgyal06, @the-hufflebird-girl, @laucoeurs, @nepherawinchester18307, @tiredao3reader, @decadentlawyerapricotcowboy, @kitisb0red, @gabiacee, @reneuv, @letmegetthestrap, @krentkova19, @ayupfrogg, @vita-nire, @emmbny, & @realifezompire

#moonfairy #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miles morales #spiderman noir #hobie brown #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales x reader #spiderman noir x reader #hobie brown x reader #atsv imagines #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o’hara imagine #miles morales imagine #spiderman noir imagine #hobie brown imagine #yandere atsv #yandere across the spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miles morales #yandere spiderman noir #yandere hobie brown #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #Spotify

[silkscream]

blessing

ੈ✩ yuuta okkotsu x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, soft dom!yuuta, dacryphilia, oral sex, overstimulation, delayed orgasms, he's a little mean, slight yandere vibes because. it's yuuta.

ੈ✩ wc: 1.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: i'm on my soft dom!yuuta agenda. i also can't write him without feeling fucking insane

yuuta okkotsu is a gentleman. he holds the door open for you, gives you his jacket when you’re cold, has your ramen order memorized. everything about him is gossamer-soft, too. the cadence of his speech, the lithe way he moves, even though his lankiness has been replaced with lean muscle since you first met him.

yuuta okkotsu is gentle. just not when he fucks you.

it’s ironic, though, because his tone is still gentle. the rasp of his voice is low, quietly masculine, haunting, but still full of adoration. it’s alluring more than anything. he reminds you of the vampires you used to lust over from your childhood fantasy books. dark hair, dark eyes.

the essence of him is unfathomable to you — you can’t find the word for it, but it’s something akin to eve’s apple. how tempting he is, how much you’d let him ruin you, bruise the fruit of your flesh with his teeth.

he tells you to open your mouth. at the moment, he’s in between your legs, mouth slick with your cum, and he reaches to set his fingers onto your tongue. a small push and you choke on the taste of yourself.

it’s dirty. but when it’s yuuta, it purifies you. makes you his angel. you believe him like a god when he tells you as such.

“so sweet, don’t you think?” he murmurs. “my sweet girl. the best girl, yeah?”

“yes,” you cry.

he’s coaxed at least three orgasms from you in the past hour with his mouth and fingers alone. with bliss also comes pain, and the way he coos your name and calls you his good fucking girl feels like a divine reward in itself. he licks your tears, pride swelling in his chest.

“how about another for me, huh, baby?” he bites into the meat of your thigh as he circles your clit with his fingertip again, chuckling at the way you shake.

“i—i can’t."

“can’t?” yuuta raises a brow. he looks beautiful in between your legs. there’s something oddly terrifying about it despite how beautiful. “i know you can. i know you will.”

“yuuta, please—”

“you’ve done it before, haven’t you? usually take whatever i give you, every fucking time, right?”

“s’too much,” you sob.

he tuts. rounds his full lips into a taunting pout.

“want my cock, then, don’t you? poor girl, you should’ve just asked.”

(you couldn’t have. you know better.)

“please, please—”

you don’t even get to finish begging before he’s buried inside you. pushed to the hilt, his tip kissing your cervix with bruising force. he wipes away your tears as if he isn’t the cause of them.

“too rough?”

“n-no.”

but it hurts. it hurts in the way it feels too good, too sensitive after the amount he’s made you cum. he hasn’t even been inside you for a full minute and you already feel the ache in your abdomen ready to burst into flames.

the sweet nothings he whispers into your temple are loving and affectionate, but the way he rolls his hips into you is mean. he has his hand snake up to squeeze your breast, nicking your nipple with the grit of his teeth just so he can hear you mewl like a wounded kitten. it’s one of his favorite sounds.

his palm settles on your neck after, gentle still despite his other hand nearly bruising the fat above your hip.

he knows you’re close from the way your eyes blank out, glazed over in bliss as he tightens his hand around your throat.

“close, baby, i’m—”

and then the bastard stops. chuckles against your jaw at the way you cry as he thrusts into you so agonizingly slow. unsteady. taunting.

“yuuta!”

“’m sorry baby, did you wanna cum? i just thought you wanted me to hold out for longer. it’s nice like this, see?”

“fuck, yuu—”

“that’s not very nice,” he grins. he ruts into you extra hard, just once.

“that’s not what i meant,” you whine.

“wanna cum? just ask.”

you know you can’t just ask. you know he means he wants you to beg.

“pleasemakemecum, please, please!”

“yeah, why should i?”

“’cause ‘m your girl,” you slur. he loves you like this. wet mouth all slack, cheeks flushed like a nymph in a baroque painting.

he pulls out, then, drawing out another moan from you, just to flip you over onto your stomach. your hair is bunched up into his fist while his teeth are on your shoulder. when you feel him again, your walls full of him, you feel even dizzier than before.

“yeah, my good fucking girl,” he groans against your skin. “so good. so sweet to me.”

yuuta has never been an apostle of hedonism. he’s always reserved himself, the parts of him that wanted, thinking that his love and devotion would only curse other people.

when you came along and loved him so irrevocably, he felt reborn. drunk on pleasure. being with you makes him realize that it’s okay to take. he deserves it, doesn’t he, after everything?

you have him on a leash and you don’t even know. it’s why he likes to play with you so cruelly like this — to have his cake and eat it, too. because the way he controls you in the oasis of your bedroom, the way he marks you up and swallows you down like honey — it’s what you want as much as him. and he’d rather die than not give you everything you want. even if he’s a little mean.

if he was a curse of a boy, you were his blessing.

“yuuta, i’m gonna cum,” you gasp. as you clutch the bedsheets, he covers your hand with his, engulfing it, entangling your fingers together. “cum with me, please—”

he wants to open his mouth to speak, anything to push you over the edge, but he’s as breathless as you are. consumed in your skin, in your cunt. he pulls your face toward his, instead, swallowing down your moans as he spills inside of you. you convulse, your orgasm like a lightning strike.

yuuta laughs softly against your mouth and soothes the bruised parts of you with his palms gently.

“you were so mean today,” you sigh.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he says, nuzzling your neck. “had a bad day, but i feel much better now. let me run you a bath, okay?”

you hum dreamily as your lover leaves you. the fuzz in your head satiates you. empty-minded except for him. and when he has you in warm water, hands washing your wet hair, yuuta feels blessed. baptized in tenderness.

#jjk smut #jjk x you #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #okkotsu yuuta smut #okkotsu yuuta x you #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #okkotsu yuta x you

[plethora-of-imagines]

Soft Yandere Ascended Astarion Headcannons

I’ve decided to make some Ascended Astarion headcannons as if he was a soft yandere once he ascended so they are a little ooc. Just dipping my toe into writing for BG3

You did such a wonderful job, leading the party all that time. But now that your adventure is over it's time for Astarion to take charge. “You were so strong for us, love. Now let me spoil you and do all the hard work. I don’t want my treasure to worry their pretty little head over anything!”

He doesn't want you to have to lift a finger for anything beyond simple pleasures. He lavishes you with affection, his beloved treasure. 

He helps to bath and dress you as often as he can. He takes very good care of what is his, as evident from his 200 year old clothing still in decent condition. So he does quite enjoy taking care of you.

While he had teased about having you naked on his lap for everyone to see, he's possessive. Only the maids that help to dress you when he cannot are allowed to see you bare. Anyone else loses an eye for daring to look at what is his.

He dresses you in silk. Covered in jewels. He even spends his precious time embroidering some of your clothes for you.

He embroiders your smallclothes to say "Astarion's treasure, keep out or lose a hand!" It's only slightly a joke, anyone who dares to touch you inappropriately does tend to lose a hand.

He is very strict about your health. When it's time for you to eat or sleep, you will be eating or sleeping. If he has to compel you to do so, he will. “Now, now my pet- no pouting. You need your rest, even if I have to swaddle you up in all those cozy furs over there.”

Getting so much as a paper cut triggers his need to protect you. He doesn’t let you so much as turn a page or open a letter for a week after such an injury.

He's so overprotective that he even creates several spawn whose only job is to keep you safe.  If they fail to keep you safe or even dare to express a disdain for you, his precious consort, his beloved spawn- he kills them to make an example of them. To remind the others that you are the only one that is indispensable to him.

You never have to find your own meals, Astarion hunts for you. Presenting you with blood whenever you could possibly have even the smallest of peckish feelings. He said that being his spawn would be different for you, and it is. Instead of serving him, he could be seen as serving you. Anything you want, you get. Within reason, if you want to leave him or become a true vampire those are not reasonable desires.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #ascended astarion #soft yandere

[animeshotsh]

We love you | VariousYandere x Sinner!Reader HCS

Summary: Characters from HH being obsses over you.

Warnings: Alastor's part has Mentions of cannibalism - Valentino's part its DARK - Mentions of brainwashing - Most of them are slight!Yandere but still Yandere no less - Stalking - Killing - NSFW SINCE IT HAS SUGESSTIVE THEMES -

☆ Charlie

It does not matter if you happen to be one of the worst sinners from the circle or a top overlord who makes everybody fear them. Charlie its just obsses with you.

She sees something good, deep down in you. And wants to bring that out (or maybe its her being lovestruck).

She Will use her princess status to bring you to her hotel.

Will follow you around and ask for your opinion and likes. No matter if your responds are harsh, she will be in cloud nine with them

☆ Vaggie

As a former Angel she is carefull around sinners. She wants to protect Charlie and herself. Then you appear and now not all sinners seem bad.

Thinks you should be in heaven but wont complain since she gets to pass time with you.

Her love for you its platonic.

Wants you to be under her watch 24/7. If she has work at the hotel then you have it as well. The same as hers.

Tells Charlie about you and Charlie its supportive of her. Believes Vaggie needs more Friends and you seem like a good person!!

☆ Angel Dust

Its afraid to approach you because for a sinner you seem pure. Not like him. He believes he is too dirty for you.

Tries to convince himself that he justs wants to corrupt you and thats it. That there are not Real feelings involved.

The minute he hears someone tried something on you he is getting hella protective and will go and look for them.

If it was Valentino he will console you the best he can. Will break his walls to let you in.

Hugs you with his four arms against his chest. Makes sexual comments but gets flustered when you respond with more intimate ones on emotional level.

Just like he fought for his Friends he would do the same for you.

☆ Husk

One of the most tamed ones.

He is quick to know he feels something for you and wants to keep you only for himself.

Reminds him of his old overlord days when the most terrorific ideas plagued his mind.

Would totally gamble with you for your soul if he could.

Tries to keep you away from Alastor knowing the radio Demon may use you to get to him.

He also wants you to avoid him because Husk knows he means trouble.

☆ Sir.Pentious

He is so confused.

You two meet as enemies or by being amazed by his creations.

His eggs are quicker to catch up how he is feeling, asks him if he wants them to kindapp you.

He wants but wont do it.

Will try to impress you but fail.

Follows you everywhere.

Claims its what Friends do or that he is doing it to keep a closer eye on his enemy.

Fainfs when you give him little attention.

☆ Alastor

The one who once he starts to realize what is happening goes in denial and killing mode.

Ends charming you on his own way.

If you resist him then he gets you kindapped. No one is allowed to talk to you and you cant talk since he cut off your tongue and ate it.

Gets angry when he sees you playing with Niffty and starts to feel soft things for you. Like wanting to cuddle you, dance with you.

If you are more open to his advances he is a protective Yandere and manipulative one. But its so subtle no one will notice.

His shadows likes to play with you a lot.

☆ Lucifer

Goes ??? When he starts to fall for you. Tries to ignore it till he sees you with other demons or sinners then he loses it.

Not in front of you. He wants you to keep a very gentlemen image of him in your head.

Will kill whoever wants to court you.

Gets you a work by his side so no one can reach you.

You want to leave? Jokes on you, this Man its going to gashlight you so much. The idea will leave your head in seconds.

Oh, and will make you like ducks.

☆ Valentino

Poor you.

Like for Real poor you.

You may end being his favorite dancer or he just saw you one time and decided to take you for his joy and personal use.

Starts as pure physical interest then it developes into obssesion. No one knows if he truly feels something for you, not even the other Vs.

He is mean and a dick. Expect lots of punishments when you dont behave like he wants you to.

☆ Vox

Different from Valentino, Vox its more calm...at least on the physical side.

He probably saw you with one of his cameras and started to watch your daily life like a show. He then imagined you were the main character and he was the love interest.

He got it badly.

Its worse when he happens to catch you being intimate with another sinner/demon.

It should be him.

That one ends dead and Vox decides to make his home yours too.

He kindapps you.

He is a delusional Yandere. Believes you two have been together for years now. If you try to correct him he goes into error mode.

Will not hit you but may electroshock you.

Will try to brainwash you into beliving you are married to him.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #husk x reader #Charlie x reader

[lyomeii]

・❥・warnings: yandere themes, manipulation, obsession, violence, reader has trauma, lante agriche, reader’s children are crazy and they gift you a dead animal.

・❥・ request by anon! How about Lante Agriche with a reader who really loves her children and does everything for them while Lante is looking for this as a way to bind her to himself?

・❥・a/n: another request for lante…what do you guys see on him?

・❥・ it doesn’t take a fool to realize that lante had a favorite wife which is you :) and it easy to notice how awkward you are in his presence despite the fact that he is obsessed loves you in his way. and seeing how soft he is with you, makes you chills as you are aware of his unique behavior with you.

・❥・his hands on your waist whatever you are in the same room as him is a reminder that you belong to him. your parents were the one to sold you to him in an marriage and for what? a few gold coins and a house somewhere else, leaving you to be married with a man crazy like him and to have children that share the same blood as the head of the black agriche.

・❥・two little boys who are a mixed of your and his appearance, both share the bloodlust personality that are too common in the household. the two boys are often seeing training their blades (almost killing each other) or reading books to amplify their intelligence. regardless of their personality, they still care about in their own way. one of the boys gift you a dead bird with bright smiles on their faces, scaring you and almost making you faint.

・❥・and as life couldn’t get better, you are forced to act like you truly love lante in every event that he needs to go. a fake smile on your lips and standing closer to him like a perfect wife, many believe that your little acting is real, after all, you are his favorite wife! or did he threatened your children if you didn’t act like that?

・❥・even though, your children are not considered normal due to their behavior and often struggling to not do anything too reckless, you deeply love them and there is no way that you would abandon them. Lante knows that, of course he does, and often uses them in order to make you obey his wills. you don’t want them to suffer? then, you will be serve him like a perfect wife.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #yandere manhwa x reader #lante agriche #yandere lante agriche #yandere the way to protect female lead’s older brother x reader #the way to protect the female lead’s older brother headcanon #the way to protect female lead’s older brother x reader #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #lante agriche x reader #manwha imagine #female reader #yandere x female reader #female y/n

[aft3rhrs]

— heaven ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: yandere, allusions to kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of reader getting locked up, a tiny (👌) bit of angst, possessiveness, corruption kink, rough sex, choking, praise, humiliation, dirty talk, hair pulling, implied big!dick jk 💁‍♀️, he's a simp, creampie, some aftercare & lots of kisses, still messed up tho lmao I'm sorry <3

It never seemed heaven would be so dark. A room draped in shadows, the door carefully locked. Not even a glint of moonlight broke through the drawn curtains; complete isolation from the world down below.

Even if Jungkook turned on the lights, you wouldn't have been able to see much; not with your face pressed into the mattress rocking beneath your knees. The headboard banged against the wall rhythmically, the sound mingling with each slap of his balls against you, thrusts deep and hard, stretching you out to your limits.

You could feel his chest pressing down onto your back, skin warm and sweaty. His hand remained on your head, lips glued to your ear. The sounds spilling out of them made your head spin, drool seeping into the sheets by your open mouth.

"Always such a good girl for me," he whispered, hot and low. His fingers tangled in your hair, giving it a tender pull. "Fuck me back." His free hand squeezed your hip, encouraging you to move. "Come on, baby. Fuck me back."

Your pussy clenched, muffled whines growing louder. Mindlessly, your hips moved with Jungkook's guidance, numb to anything but the searing pleasure of his cock spearing through you.

"Yeah— fuuck—" the soft groans turned deeper, your little hole soaked and so fucking desperate; just the way he liked it. Just as desperate for him as he was for you.

He grit his teeth, trying to hold a little longer, abdomen tensing against you.

"I love you," he gasped, "tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want."

A hiss escaped him when he felt you tighten again, signaling that you knew exactly what he meant, and your pretty, little head was no less depraved than his own. That only spurred him on, made his hips snap against your ass faster, sloppier, sweat shining on his temple.

He wasn't expecting you to be coherent and provide an answer to his question; it was like he just wanted to establish dominance, mark his claim, driven by the sadistic instincts that flickered to life in him in the raw dark, like stars. Equally charming and destructive.

"Gonna," he breathed, the slaps of skin against skin harsh and relentless, "gonna come on my cock, you pathetic whore? You're so good for me. You know you're mine, only mine, and this little pussy knows it too. Always so fucking wet for me."

It seemed more like taunting than a simple reminder; he was trying to get under your skin. As if he didn't already make a home within your ribcage. As if he hasn't infested your bloodstream the first time he had kissed you. The filthy words messed with your mind, made your hole pulse around him harder with each thrust.

"Mm, fuck, fuck, ah, why so quiet tonight?" He moaned into your ear, gently slipping his hand around your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze, immediately getting one back on his cock, throbbing and slippery as it pounded into you. "Come all over me, kitten, don't hold back."

You whimpered, your thighs shaking under his, teeth biting into your lower lip, hard. Didn't he fuck your brains out in the last three months? There should have been no thoughts left there at all, and yet something seemed to be wrong, like some semblance of doubt was keeping you hostage tonight. Didn't he do a good job getting rid of that? Jaw tensing, he choked you harder, snapping his hips forward faster.

"I said be a good girl and come for me," he gritted.

He was desperately close himself, his cock hot and swollen, spurting precum as it rubbed against your walls.

"Fucking come for me," Jungkook groaned. "This was supposed to be a celebration. Stop holding back. Do you want me to bring you back down to the fucking basement?"

You gasped, but he could barely hear it over his ragged breathing; how tightly his veiny hand enveloped your frail neck didn't help. However, he could still feel you, especially on his sensitive cock.

"Oh... oh, fuck, are you—"

You quivered around it, so tight his movements stuttered, white spots dancing around his vision at the sensation.

"Did you just come? You want me to keep you like a fucking pet, baby? Oh god, yeah—"

A burst of warmth spilled inside you, your skin tingling and head fuzzy with the limited oxygen his grip on you provided. You shuddered under him, moaning as he fucked his cum deep into your abused cunt. You could feel him all the way in your stomach, his groans loud as kept twitching inside you. Oh, he liked this; how much he corrupted you, how hard you came at the thought of him owning you. He liked it, because he came hard as well, hand loosening around your throat as his hips stilled, last, few spurts of hot seed shooting into you.

You tried to catch your breath, soft kisses trailed along your shoulder slowly bringing you back down from your high. You felt warm, satiated, full; you felt Jungkook's lips quirking in a satisfied smile against your skin, too, his cheek resting on your neck.

"Good girl," he whispered. "So good. I love you."

"I love you," you sighed, eyes slipping shut.

Jungkook hummed.

"Finally got your voice back?" He brushed your hair to the side, exposing more of your skin, his lips pressing into your cheek. "Should I be concerned, baby? Do you want me to stay a little longer?"

You shook your head. Any other time, Jungkook would have cleaned you up, especially before going anywhere. Tonight, though, he wanted you just like this. Naked, in his bed, with his cum dripping out of you while you drifted off. You didn't seem to mind either, heartbeat and breathing steadying as he started getting dressed.

You were almost asleep by the time he crouched down by the bed, the touch of his lips on yours making you stir.

"You know this is just for show, right?"

His question was soft, eyebrows furrowed. No matter how strong, it looked like not even Jungkook could escape some monsters — something like doubt, something like fear. Everything only felt amplified when it came to you.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Promise."

Perhaps three months ago his words would have hurt; but there was no wound anymore, only scars, and his gentle fingers ghosting over them.

Your soft reply smoothed out the frantic, worried fabrics of his soul, the image of you lying there, in his room, glowing; surrounded by his scent and his sheets, so domestic. It was everything he ever needed. His sacred place.

He sighed, contented, pressing the next kiss onto your forehead.

"Good. Mm, then rest. Just stay here and look pretty, my love. I'll collect your ransom and be right back."

He brushed his knuckles along your flushed cheek, dark, hooded eyes boring into yours.

"Can I have another kiss for good luck?"

A pleased hum left him when you leaned in, lips pouty and swollen, ready to be kissed more and more, and how could he ever not want to do just that?

He held your face with an inked hand, and a black mask in the other.

Heaven was a pricey thing to uphold; the church would know. And not that Jungkook didn't already have enough to spoil you, but all angels were painted in gold, weren't they?

"Night, baby," he murmured lovingly.

His voice never led you astray, lulling you to sleep, helping you land safely in the arms of the mellow abyss behind your eyelids. He kissed both.

"Gonna be back real soon."

You didn't get to hear that promise, but he didn't mind. In a few hours, he'll be holding you in his arms. All angels were shimmering gold, to match the golden gates; his angel deserved the same.

In the end, there was nothing wrong with a man of faith collecting donations for the purposes of worship. Right?

#yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts yandere #jungkook smut