beloved-nyx

[beloved-nyx]

finally finished writing!! Omg this fic was a doozy to write.

#❛❛𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒—๋࣭ ❞ #Gonna take a long nap after this fic #anyway I posted it so I hope y'all like it <3

[beloved-nyx]

𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑

The Lamb is devoid of sin, full of purity and devotion to the Divine. So why is the Lamb always the one to die at the end?

ft. Yan Priest/Cult Leader x GN! Reader

content. Suggestive themes, Religious Imagery, Reader has Religious Trauma, Reader is Called "My Lamb", Reader is In A Cult, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Blood, Reader Dies at the End, General Yandere Themes, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

notes. Ummm Yikes bro this was kinda fun to write ngl. Anyway this is still like my second time writing Yandere but I didn't really push on the romance, more like I focused on the horror aspect of this. Anyway uhhh I am NOT catholic so please forgive me pookies I wrote this using my limited knowledge that I learned from a catholic school I attended when I was like in middle school.

The Lamb is a symbol of childlike innocence, of purity and selfless sacrifice. 

You had heard these words whispered every time you stepped out of your small, cramped room as your savior smiled down at you and proclaimed those sacred words.

You were sacred, he told you. 

A gift to the world, he told you.

The only good thing in this cruel, wretched place, he told you. 

You clung onto his words like they were Divine Word. You clung onto him like he was Divine Word.

You wanted to retch, to slap your naive, innocent self as you looked into the mirror.

You were dressed like royalty, white silk covering your body and jewels of ruby draped around your neck like a noose. Gold bracelets decorated your arms, and you wonder if this is what listening to Divine Words–no, what listening to the words of a mad man brings you too. 

“You look divine, my little lamb. Fit for the gods.” 

You shake out of your stupor, eyes widening as your gaze meets black, lifeless eyes. Black eyes the color of nothingness. Black eyes the color of a starless sky. 

You wonder if the Devil’s eyes are as black as his. 

His steps are light, graceful and elegant as he makes his way towards you. His white hair-a stark contrast to his dark eyes, is braided, hanging loosely on his shoulder. His lips are curled, and he’s probably happy. No–of course he’s happy, he never looked as happy as he is today. 

Cold fingers curl around your neck, and you can feel his lips next to your ear as he whispers, “White looks good on you, my lamb.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Your fingers curl, halfmoon marks etched into your palm from digging your nails into the soft flesh. You want to claw his hand off your neck. 

He doesn’t deign to give you a response, and you can feel his hands roaming downwards towards your chest, your stomach, lower and lower and you squeeze your eyes shut.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The Ram is a symbol of sacrifice as well. But the Ram is not as sweet as a sheep. They do not represent innocence but violence. They represent not of sweet submission but of cruel rebellion.

You tried escaping once, when you realized that you were nothing but fodder for the Divine. 

It was meaningless, sure. They were going to find you, take you away and strip the measly rights of freedom they had given you before.

But that didn’t matter when freedom was so close to becoming yours. 

You had planned for your escape for days. As your captor smiled down at you with his lifeless eyes, proclaiming your sanctity, you drew up drafts of escape plans and dreamt of seeing the stars. 

You were so, so naive. 

“How careless of you, my lamb. Don’t you know what may have befallen you outside of this sacred ground?”

You glare up at him. “Nothing worse than being locked up here like an animal!” His eyes darken at those words, but he chooses silence as his weapon. Fine, you think bitterly. I don’t need his words anyway.

That night, your dreams of freedom crumbled like chalk. 

He had taken you away to a more separate wing of the place he called a “church”, and had looked at you in a way a mother would look disapprovingly at a child. 

“Atone, and maybe the Gods will cast their mercy onto you, my lamb.” 

Fuck the Gods. If you ever came out of this place alive, you would make them beg for your mercy. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

They say that sacrifice is a symbolism for what life has to offer. About the sacredness of life. Of the sanctity of the divine. Of how little we all are compared to the world around us.

They had to drag you towards the altar as you kicked and screamed and shouted profanities. 

You didn’t want this. You never wanted this. But it didn’t matter, did it? All that mattered was the word of the Divine, and your captor who looked down at you with a sort of giddy look in his eyes that made you wish you had sunk a dagger into your neck instead of giving him the sweet satisfaction of…this. 

As you reached towards the altar, your captors hand reached to cup your chin, and you thrashed in his grip. 

“Open your mouth.” 

He didn’t even give you a moment for you to refuse before he pried your mouth open and made you choke on wine that looked too much for blood to your liking and stained your white clothing red in the process. 

You didn’t want this. You never wanted this. 

But when did your choice ever matter?

You think they drugged you. They probably did. As they lift you up to the altar, they’re cloaked silhouettes hiding their faces and humanity, you look up to your captor with pleading eyes. 

His lifeless eyes meet yours. 

And he grins like the Devil. 

“You were always too pure for this world anyway, my lamb.” His voice is like silk, lulling you to sleep as his eyes never blink, never look away from yours. 

“At least now you will be protected from the sin of this world. At least now, in the afterlife, you will be mine forever.” 

You wonder if God deserted you just like you deserted him. 

You wonder if God was ever there for you in the first place. 

The tip of a blade pierces flesh, and you think dully if you're now actually free. If you can now look at the stars finally. 

“You will never be free from me.”

#yandere male #yandere oc #yandere priest #yandere cult #yandere male x reader #yandere male x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oc x you #yandere male x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere priest x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #❛❛𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.𝐎𝐅.𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋.𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄—ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹❞ #um ehe

[beloved-nyx]

by Francisco Ribalta, 1620

#❛❛𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.𝐎𝐅.𝐓𝐇𝐄.𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃—.𖥔 ݁ ˖❞

[beloved-nyx]

Sinner- Andres Rios

#❛❛𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.𝐎𝐅.𝐓𝐇𝐄.𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃—.𖥔 ݁ ˖❞

[beloved-nyx]

How do we feel ‘bout priests/cult leaders? 😻

#Guys guys you don’t get it #They’re such a cool concept sujsjs #Also sneak pic/hint on the fic I’m working on #❛❛𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒—๋࣭ ❞

[beloved-nyx]

I just think it’s romantic to be possessive over someone’s death. No one gets to kill you but me. I want to hold you as you die. Your last breath should mingle with mine. I want your blood on my hands because I’m the one that spilled it.

#❛❛𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.𝐎𝐅.𝐓𝐇𝐄.𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃—.𖥔 ݁ ˖❞

[beloved-nyx]

It's about devotion and obsession. It's ALWAYS about devotion and obsession. And hunger. It's love with teeth.

#❛❛𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.𝐎𝐅.𝐓𝐇𝐄.𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃—.𖥔 ݁ ˖❞

[beloved-nyx]

I promise I’m alive guys LMAO winter break just started for me 🤌🤌 so I’m writing somethin’ up. Very excited to introduce my new oc (my bbgirl)!!

#❛❛𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒—๋࣭ ❞

[beloved-nyx]

I like my men crazy and pathetic and covered in blood my dude. And like. Just like totally deranged too.

#And big booba #❛❛𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒—๋࣭ ❞

[beloved-nyx]

- Beau Taplin

#❛❛𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.𝐎𝐅.𝐓𝐇𝐄.𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃—.𖥔 ݁ ˖❞

[beloved-nyx]

This close 🤏 into making a yandere dilf oc. But not like a ceo dude, no, a fucking pathetic sopping wet cat of a man.

#Old men my passion 😻😻 #Okay sorry guys that’s enough from me #❛❛𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒—๋࣭ ❞

[beloved-nyx]

Guys I’m cooking something up guys dw college is just kicking my ass and now that we have thanksgiving break I have to go on vacation. (Someone save me)

#❛❛𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒—๋࣭ ❞ #why must I suffer 🥺

[beloved-nyx]

underrated threesome dynamic of herding dog x lamb x wolf

[beloved-nyx]

pink haired men…amirite? 😼

#I got this idea for an oc and yknow I love snarky lil men #Especially little shits with huge anger issues #❛❛𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒—๋࣭ ❞

[beloved-nyx]

daydreaming about making home in your rib cage btw. if u even care

#This is literally my oc(s)

[beloved-nyx]

Love the fic 😩😩😩😩

awww, thank you!! >_< this made me so happy

[beloved-nyx]

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ SYNOPSIS - What more could a king want than you?

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ PAIRING - Yandere!Emperor x GN!Reader

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ FORMAT - Oneshot

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ CW - YANDERE CONTENT, Alexi is fucking depraved, the wine is really sus, mentions of blood, illegal use of blood (?), implied noncon if you squint, implications of SA on reader (not graphic, just mentions), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊ AUTHORS NOTE - bleh this is my first time writing Yandere sooooo but um hehe I hope this is good and um scary I guess I hope u get scaroused when reading this

You had never liked wine in the first place. 

It tasted sour, left a bitter taste in your mouth that made you want to puke. Maybe It was because you only had enough money to buy the cheap bottles, the ones that nobles would probably scoff at. It’s not like you could afford the luxuries they had anyway, or the time which they wasted by throwing extravagant banquets. 

But you started hating wine more when you stayed at the palace, the place you worked at. The Crown Prince was frivolous, throwing parties and balls every night, and the smell of debauchery was always present. You had no choice but serve the half-drunken nobles all night, wincing and scowling and sometimes even slapping wandering and unwelcome hands that came near you.

You hardly ever got sleep when you stayed at the palace, not when you had to partake in such parties, and definitely not when you could feel prying eyes following your every movement at the palace you begrudgingly called “home” even if it was nothing like that. 

You don’t know how you caught the Crown Prince's attention. You had made sure to look down, made sure not to break the rules, and absolutely made sure not to stand out. 

You knew what happened when poor servants had the affection of nobles.

Poor servants would get beheaded by jealous fiancés, maids would carry bastard children they never wanted, and the nobles would whisper and gossip and cause hell towards those weaker than them. 

“You look lost in thought, beloved.” 

A soft, silky voice that makes you want to claw your ears off startles you from your thoughts, and you look towards your left.

A man is seated at the front of a long banquet table, dressed in the finest clothes one could imagine. His long, black hair is messily done, and his dead, dark eyes stare into the cup he’s holding in his pale, lithe fingers. His lips, dabbed in red powder, are curled up in a smile as his eyes leave from his cup. 

“Am I boring you?” He sets his cup down, and you peer at the contents. Dark, crimson wine enters your sight and you quickly look away, instead looking down at the red, lush carpets. 

“Of course not, Your Imperial Majesty,” You hastily answer, your voice loud in the cold, empty room. The only light that seemed to illuminate the dark was the flimsy glow of the candles, a pathetic attempt at making this situation “romantic.” 

Ever since the Crown Prince, Alexander, became Emperor, your life had become a living hell in the making. He makes a contemplative “hmm,” before tapping his finger on the table. 

“Please, there's no need for such formalities.” He grins, and in that moment you want nothing better than to slap that grin off his face. “After all, we will be married soon. It’s quite uncomfortable having to hear my soon-to-be call me by such a…boring title.”

“And please, is the floor more interesting to look at than me?” You feel his cold hands lift your chin up, his eyes crinkling as he smiles again. “I missed looking at your face. Ever since I became Emperor, I hardly had the time to visit your chambers.” His fingers inch towards your cheek, before cupping your cheek. 

You try to refrain from scowling. 

“Alexander-”

“Alexi.” He corrects you, and you bite your tongue. 

You open your mouth before he shushes you, his eyes trained on your lips, before pulling away, instead opting to hold a knife instead as he expects the sharp blade. You gulp, and he smiles at your nervousness. 

“I…I think I lost my appetite, Alexi.” You try to refrain from stammering. You weren’t scared-you weren’t, you weren’t, you weren’t-

“But you haven’t even touched your food.” 

His black eyes regard you coldly, and you think dully that he must be having another moodswing. That happened often, at the strangest times too. But it also happened more when he was jealous, when he was sickeningly insecure of himself that he latched onto you to try and stave off those feelings of his. 

“C’mon, beloved. Why don’t you atleast have a sip of your wine?” He tilts his head, pushing a gold chalice in your hands. Your palms are clammy, and you think you're visibly sweating. You grab the chalice in your hands shakily, and he rewards you with a kiss on the cheek, even if it makes you feel disgusting and dirty inside. 

“My attendants told me you’ve been talking to some of those absolutely wretched servant friends of yours.” Alexi places down his knife, instead opting to take a drink of his wine as he hums thoughtfully and your blood runs cold. 

“You know that I’m easily jealous, my beloved.” The words roll off his tongue like poison, but he doesn’t look at you, instead swirling his cup around and examining the contents inside. 

“I-I’m sorry. I was just lonely-” 

He clicks his tongue, silencing your apologies with a wave of his hands. “To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement, my beloved. But I forgive you.” He grins, and gazes at your cup with a slight curl to his lip. “So just drink and be merry, my dear.”

Alexi looks at you intently as you gaze into the contents of your cup, the liquid reflecting your face as you gaze into it with a frown. Alexi places his head on his palm, watching you with some sort of sick glee that makes your stomach drop and makes your head spin. 

You take a sip and almost throw up.

It's thick and visceral, and the taste of iron floods your mouth and clogs your senses. You throw the cup away from you, the wine–no, the blood, seeping onto the red carpets. It doesn’t make much of a difference though, and you collapse on the ground as you try to cough up the blood that you had just drank. Alexi chuckles softly, and you can hear the faint sound of screeching as he gets up from his chair and makes his way over to you, kneeling down and making his pointed, iron-heeled boots stained red. 

“Oh, please don’t look at me with such a face, beloved.” Alexi blushes as you scowl at him, slapping away his hand as he tries and wipes off the blood still stained on your lips. He chuckles, black eyes filled with a sick sort of delight. 

“You know I get jealous easily, my beloved. I just wanted to drill it in that sweet head of yours who you really belong to.” He grins, and you want to puke. 

You never even liked wine in the first place.

#— OC: Alexander de Demarié #Yandere #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #male yandere oc #yandere royalty #Yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #Yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #male yandere x you #male yandere x y/n