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lovelybrooke · 4 months

Note

If you're interested in doing some headcanons for Kieran, I'd love to request some!

Yandere Kieran x Reader (Pokemon Scarlet/Violet)

I caved and wanted to write this, don't judge me. (also if you want to request anything for the games go ahead).

Masterlist

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Kieran despises the thought that people think he's weak. He hates knowing that whenever someone looks at him, they view him as small and helpless. So it doesn't help when you, a random student visiting Kitakami, come and prove every one of his insecurities right. You're so much stronger than him, in and out of Pokemon battling. You have this deep connection with each member of your team and he just despises it.

However, even with all this, Kieran can't seem to hate you. You're kind, to him and his sister. You never judge him for his shy nature, in fact you seem comfortable around him, even going as far to consider him your friend. It makes it hard to hate you, because he knows you're a good person. But whenever he's around you he feels weird, like he's sick. He's too embarrassed to ask his sister, so instead he bottles everything deep down. Because of this, whenever he's around you he's awkward, stumbling over his words and blushing whenever you look at him. To everyone it's obvious he has a crush, but to him, he still feels this sort of resentment towards you, even if it is overshadowed by adoration.

After you tame Ogerpon, Kieran converts his mixed feelings for you into motivation to get stronger. He has to get stronger, he needs to. He needs to prove to himself, and you, that he's strong. He doesn't exactly know why, some days he feels like he's doing all this to protect you, to keep you safe. Other days it's because he wants to prove you wrong, imagining what it would be like to see you cry as he destroys your team. In truth, he doesn't know why he's acting this way, but he knows it's your fault. You made him feel this way, and he hates it.

While Kieran's away at Blueberry academy, all he's thinking about it you, about getting stronger. It worries Carmine. Unlike Kieran, she's able to recognize his feelings for you, and at first she thought it was cute. She thought he looked up to you, since you were so strong. In a way he does, just, a little too much. It's not long after she hears Kieran murmur about you that he changed his appearance, and when she asked why, he seemed almost embarrassed. He just mumbled about something about you and about something else she can't hear before rushing off. She chalked it up to him wanting to seem more confident. In reality, Kieran, even though he'd never admit it, wants to present himself as this cool person in hopes that you like that version of him better.

Carmine was so happy when you arrived at Blueberry Academy, she was so relieved. She thought you could talk some sense into her brother, maybe he'd even confess. Instead, when you meet, Kieran looks like he couldn't care less. In reality, he was a mess. His angry and harsh dementor was a facade for the chaos running through his mind. He kept wondering why you had to come now, he wasn't ready. He doesn't know why he expects you to take on the League, because deep down, he knows you're strong enough to defeat them. He starts to feel that old feeling again like back when he was with you in Kitakami, the one that made him feel sick. It's even worse whenever anyone in the league talks about you. He can't help but be so jealous, you must like them because they're strong, right? Well he's stronger, so just, look at him...please.

Kieran rejects any attempt you make to come close to him again. He's still hurt after what you did in Kitakami, and he's still dealing with his feelings for you. But most of all, he's embarrassed. He's spent the last four months non stop thinking about you, about how strong you were. He's channeled all his confused, messed up emotions into becoming the strongest, and now that you're here, all he can think about is how pretty you are, about how well you work with your Pokemon and others, about how even after how mean he's been to you, you're still kind to him.

It isn't until you beat him that he fully accepts his feelings for you, he's enamored, obsessed, infatuated, whatever you want to call it he doesn't care. He becomes completely delusional, believing that you two were made for each other, that you came to Kitakami when he did for a reason. He doesn't care if he can't beat you, if he'll never be as strong as you, because either way, you'd still be his friend, right? And that has to mean something. If not, what was all this for.

After everything in Area Zero, Kieran apologizes, and asks for a reset on your friendship and luckily you agree. He's so happy, and he can't remember a time he was happy. When you bring him into a hug, he feels so warm, and he wants to cry. After all this, Kieran becomes less demanding, at least outwardly. He's possessive, of you and your time, and very clingy. He's just afraid that if you leave, even for a second, you won't come back. He still doesn't like it when you hang out with any of the league members, or really anyone other than him. He still holds the belief that you two are one of the same, and so you shouldn't waste your time with others.

I don't think you'd really notice anything wrong with Kieran. It's easy to chalk up his behavior to the deep insecurities he has, rather than an obsession with you. It might take interference from Carmine or another League member to finally get you to open your eyes about his behavior, and even then, he's great at manipulation. Just a few tears and you're comforting him and promising him you won't leave.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere pokemon #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet and violet #yandere kieran #kieran pokemon #kieran x reader

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elliehearts · 1 year

Note

Some ideas that I want to share with you ( and maybe it can help you write the fic) Because your writing is awesome! And I hope you understand my poor English.

Arven shows this yandere-ness, telling the reader that they are his treasure and should lock them up in his dorm in case anyone steals them away.

The reader (who, surprisingly was not scared) puts their hand on arven cheeks, saying that arven is their treasure and they love every different side of him and how much they love traveling and going on an adventure with him. ( basically the reader is saying that arven is a gem/diamond that shine most beautifully under the sun and not in a dark room)

And arven just melt and feel loved.

Ay sii, It would be so sweet to see Arven melt by love. 🥰

I’m sorry if it’s too short 😅

Easy to blush.

Yan!Arven x reader

You were in Arven’s room cooking and making a mess, your boyfriend is showing you some recipes so that your pokemons can eat of luxury.

You were both having a good time, enjoying each other’s company. Arven hugged you by the back resting his cheek on your head, he gave you tenderness and you wanted to hug him back but you had your hands with flour, you didn’t want to get him dirty so you just laughed as affection. “Do you want me to tell you something?” Arven whispered sweetly to you. “Of course, tell me.” You answered him playfully, you like it when he tell you nice things, it cheered up your day. “You, (Y/N), you are my precious treasure.” You gave an “aw” as an answer and you were going to tell him something else but he interrupted you. “That’s why I want to tie you up and locked you here forever.” You turned your head to look at him with surprised and he looked at you with dark eyes. “You are my world, my life, my treasure. I can’t let anyone take you away from me.” His grip became stronger and stronger as if you were going to disappear at any moment. “I can’t lose you. You’re mine.”

There was a silence for a few seconds, you turned around and put your two hands with flour on his cheeks. Arven opened his eyes like a plate, showing a sparkle in them. “There it is, the brightness in your eyes that I like so much, It’s like seeing a bluish-green diamond.” You moved your fingers to caress him leaving a trace of flour. “I like to spend time with you, go on an adventures and cuddle while we watch a movie. I like you just the way you are, you’re my treasure too. So don’t worry, I won’t leave your side. It’s a promise.” You smiled at him showing him that you were telling the truth, you love him with all your heart, regardless of his flaws.

Another silence abounded in the room, Arven wanted to say something but his words didn’t come out. He was so impressed by your reaction, so relaxed and cute, that you were killing him inside. He had his mouth open and his face was red like a tomato, boiling like a pot. Actually, he always gets like this when you give him a compliment or when you remind him how much you love him. You also like that about him, despite being possessive or obsessive with you, It’s very easy to blush. Arven covered his face with his hands, tried to hide his shameful expression but you had already seen it, that’s why you were laughing. “S-Shut up!” “I love you~” You kissed him on the knuckles of his hands. “… I love you too”

#arven #arven fanfic #arven pokemon #arven x reader #pkmn arven #yandere #pokemon scarlet and violet #arven being cute #soft yandere

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ceruleancattail · 2 months

Text

Victims, been thinking about the self-aware au…

Welcome back

Tw: Yandere

Kalim x reader, Leona x reader, Jade x reader

I wonder how the boys will react to your repeated… absence from the game. Enthusiastically throwing open the door to Ramshackle door again and again, only to find no one but the darkness of their own shadow greeting them.

How tragic, truly.

How cruel of their beloved Prefect.

Once you log back in, it’ll be hard for you to keep Kalim off you. He’s immediately all over you, clutching at every inch of your body he could reach. Wrapping you in a tight embrace, fingers grabbing at the back of your shirt.

Burying his face into your torso, his words slurred with watery sobs, tears sinking deep into your clothes. Kalim’s beaming up at you through his tears, a shaky smile. He just can’t stay sad around you, prefect!

You are his sun, brighter than any jewel Kalim owns in the treasury. He was so lonely, while you were gone…

His grip tightens ever so slightly as he muses about the appeal of chaining you down with a collar of gold. Oh, isn’t that such a good idea? Before you could even get a word in, Kalim’s already dragging you off, chirping about how he’ll commission the best craftsmen in the Scalding Sands just for you. How pretty you’ll look, gold circlets around your neck and your limbs, sparkling like a thousand stars.

It’s all for sake, Y’know!

So you’ll never leave him like that ever again!

Leona isn’t as nice, unfortunately. His palm pressing into your shoulder, he shoves you towards the closest wall. Slamming you into that cold, hard surface as brutally as he can, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Both of his hands find themselves on either side of you, constraining you within his very own body. Leona’s form towers of you, casting your body into the darkness of shadow.

Just where have you been, herbivore?

Who have you been with, huh?

Someone better than him?

Leona fires question after question, the pitch of his voice dropping with each one. You were close enough to feel the heat wafting off him in waves, close feel the trembles of his throat as he growled. A dark, primal sound, clawing out of the very depths of Leona’s gut.

Tch, guess it doesn’t matter too much now, does it? The edge of his fangs brush against the base of your neck, digging their way into the plush of your skin ever so slowly. His breath wafts against your bare skin, stinging it with its heat.

Leona will just have to remind you who you truly belong to.

Jade holds you. Gently, softly even. His fingers caress yours slowly, rubbing small circles into your skin. Yet every touch of Jade’s sent shivers racing down towards your spine.

His fingers, his palm… every part of him as ice-cold, a deathly chill.

All this while, he’s muttering. Soft, velveted words that slip into your eardrums as smoothly as fine wine. You were gone quite awhile this time, perfect. Jade was ever so lonely, without you around, you know? Coming back to this doorstep day after day, dutifully waiting for your return… how cruel of you to play with his feelings like that, prefect.

His hold tightens at the drop of a hat, like the claws of a trap folding into itself. Seizing the poor individual who wandered into it. His fingers dig deep into your flesh, scarlet red crescents forming on your skin.

The fangs of an eel, slamming shut. Oh, don’t worry your silly little head, Jade has no intention of eating you. Does it hurt?

Your absence hurt him a million times more.

Now, what does he do to ensure you’ll stay this time, prefect?

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ozzgin · 4 months

Note

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

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jyoongim · 1 month

Note

Hi!

I really love the outcome of the Prisoner Human Alastor and Police Reader the one i request and i really love the story of it🥹 Thank you so much for making it🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

I have another request :3 (Please do take a rest if you needed)

I would like to request another Human HusbandYander!Alastor x Wife!Reader

Belive it or not Human Form of Alastor is Making Giggle and kicking my feet

The story is about reader finding out that her husband being the killer of the town and try to run away from home but eventually Alastor caught her and fuck her in their bedroom and saying things like Obbsesive person would say.

Like for example "Mon cher, Are you trying to get away~?" "Didnt you said you love me no matter what am i my dear?"

So like i have a breeding kink :>

So alastor is breeding or making her pregnat his belove wife to carry his next geneartion and told the reader "You will never leave my side Cher,you will be taking care of our baby and stuck in this house forever with me~" and maybe some yandere stuff like saying he would cut off Reader feet if reader tries to run again. My english is bad but you can correct my words if anything is wrong with it :<

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I REALLLLLLLYYYYYY LOVE YOUUURRRRRR WOOOOORRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

MWA MWA🫶🏻

I also have other things in my mind but i will save it for another request 🫶🏻😊

Yandere!husband human Alastor x wife!reader

themes: yandere behavior, possessiveness, breeding kink, noncon, threats, mentions of pregnancy

Note: I like yandere but have never written it before so I’m sorry if its not your typical crazy obsessive lovesick personality!

———————————————————————————————

You whimpered as the bedroom door rattled. Loud banging made you curl into yourself, hoping the door held.

”Dearest open the door, we can talk about this” a muffled voice said behind the door.

“N-No! Stay away! I don’t want to talk!” You shouted, frantically packing random clothes in a bag.

Several thuds sounded against the door before it went quiet.

Thud!

CRACK!

You froze. Did he just…

”You think I’m gonna let you out this house to tell a soul? Haha my dear don’t be stupid” Alastor hissed as he hacked at the door, the wood splitting open.

You shuffled to the back of the closet, closing the door, listening as the door groaned at his assault.

You heard the lock click and the bedroom swing open.

Alastor huffed, throwing the axe down.

His eyes scanned the room, he knew you were in here.

He walked around slowly, footsteps making the floor creak.

He stopped when he heard something.

Shuffling. It was subtle but he heard it and it was coming from the closet.

You watched as his shadow flitted about the room from the crack at the bottom of the door.

A soft knock made you jolt

”Darlin we can do this the easy way or the hard way and I promise you wont like it. Your choice” his voice brawled, toying with the knob.

You whimpered and pressed yourself against the wall.

The door swung open and everything that followed happened in slow motion.

Alastor covered in scarlet blood, a sharp smile on his face as his eyes narrowed on your shivering form. He growled as he got a hand on you, grunting as your fight or flight kicked in. You tried to kick and claw at him, but your husband was stronger.

“No!No!No! I’m sorry Al! please!please!” You cried as he wrangled you onto your shared bed. He held your hands fast in his as he used his weight to pin you down.

Alastor huffed, finally pining your wrists and lowering his face to yours, his ragged breath fanning over you.

”You never chose the easy way out darlin. I thought I taught you better than that” he said, smiling down at you.

Fear radiated in your eyes as he kissed your plump cheeks, making you flinch when he went to kiss you on the lips.

”A-Al…!” You tried to turn your head away but your husband wasn’t thrown off by your action.

”You vowed to love me no matter what. Thick and thin, for better or worse. You said you’ll love me no matter what my dear. Did you lie before God?”

You trembled as you watched with wide eyes as he nudged your legs apart, slotting his hips against yours, grinding into your clothed heat.

You tensed as he chuckled “But don’t worry baby you can’t lie to me”

Your lip wobbled “Y-You’re the liar. All those huntin trips, the late nights. You’ve been pickin people off and just coming home like nothin ever happened! You’re sick! A sick bastard with no love for no one” your eyes narrowed angrily as he smiled lovely at you.

”Oooh baby but I do love you, just like how you’ll always love me”

You didn’t grasp the meaning of his words in time as Alastor pulled your panties to the side.

”A-Al n-no don’t don’t please” you tried to close your legs, pushing a free arm against his chest.

Your husband cooed at you as he pushed your thighs apart and lined his cock up against your slit and face contorting as he pushed through the rim of tight muscle.

Your back arched involuntarily as he grinded his hips into yours.

Soft, strained moans left your throat as Alastor slammed his hips down into you.

Tears rolled down your face as the man, you thought you knew, had his way with you.

Your cunt burned at each thrusts, trying to accommodate the brutal assault leashed upon it.

Thick, scarlet blood clung to you as Alastor covered your body with his, caging you against the bed.

”fuck you always take me so well baby” he whispered down to you, watching you try and squirm away from him. Your pretty big eyes focused on his; they were swollen from tears, fear, betrayal and mistrust swirled in them.

”Ill let you in on a little secret darlin”

His pace picked up as a wicked grin crossed his face

“You ain’t got nowhere to run. Where would you go? Who would you tell huh? You think anyone would believe that I’m the terror of this town? Nooooo baby they wont” he licked a tear from your cheek as he angled his hips into that sweet spot that always made you melt.

Your toes curled as delicious tingles ran through your body.

”and they’re never gonna know you know why?” A sharp thrust had you biting your lip to contain your moans.

Alastor grabbed your face, mushing your cheeks as he pounded your poor pussy. He let out a soft grunt, nose scrunching “because you’re gonna be my good little housewife and be stuck taking care of house and babies.”

Your eyes widened.

Babies? You’d be damned if you give a murder a child.

You tried to hook your feet into his hips and push, but he wasn’t having it

You started to thrash but that only encouraged him too further bury himself within you, pushing deep as if he wanted to penetrate your very cervix.

”A-Al no! P-please anything but that please! I don’t-Ah! I don’t want a baby” you choked out as your pussy clenched around him

”You’ll look so sweet round with my child. What ya say darlin? Hehe its not like you have a choice anyway.” He snickered.

Harsh thrusts had you jolting as you cried, frantic as your husband forced your orgasm from you.

A loud squeal filled the room as your back arched.

You shook as you cummed around him, sobbing as he worked your sensitive walls.

”That’s a good girl, yeeeessss that right, fuck! Take my cum Take it take it baby” his hips slammed into yours and with a groan his cock twitched before you felt the warm feeling of his cum.

Alastor grinded his hips into yours, riding out both your orgasms.

You panted as you looked at him with glossy eyes.

He smiled softly as he wiped away at your tears.

You tensed as you felt his hips start to move again

He chuckled

”Ill never let you leave darlin, not when you gonna be having my baby”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #jyoongim #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #human alastor x wife reader #human alastor x reader #yandere smut #yandere x reader #yandere x darling

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theinnerunderrain · 3 months

Text

Love Me Dead [Yan!Boyfriend x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulative behaviors, heavily dialogue bc it's just mostly talking and gaslighting, college life, may be somewhat confusing but it's that story that is up to your interpretation!

"[First Name]."

A sizable and gentle hand enfolds your wrist, eliciting a startled leap at the unexpected touch. Casting a curious glance over your shoulder, you discern the hand's owner—a figure with a tousle of rich brown locks. The air on campus carries a lingering blend of pumpkin spice and damp rain, while vibrant leaves in hues of red, yellow, and orange blanket the cement walkway, creating a tapestry beneath your feet.

It was none other than your boyfriend, Asuka.

"Why do you keep ignoring me?"

In a hushed plea, etched with concern and confusion, he inquires, his pallid complexion a canvas for the anxious query. A delicate flush graces his cheeks and ears, a subtle scarlet trace, suggesting an earlier pursuit in an attempt to bridge the distance between you.

"Did I do something wrong..? If I did, then just tell me..."

A dance of confusion painted upon your countenance, a pirouette of bewilderment as you gracefully turned, aligning yourself to face him fully. Brows knitted in contemplation, coral lips drawn into a slender seam, your expression spoke the eloquence of perplexity.

"I'm not ignoring you though..?"

"You are..! You barely text me anymore and avoid me around the campus like I'm some sort of infectious disease.."

He spoke anew, his voice ascending to a higher pitch, an accusatory gaze fixated upon you as though your uttered words were mere echoes of deceit. His other hand delicately enveloped your wrist, creating a symmetrical hold that left you suspended in a still, unsettling equilibrium.

"No I'm not..? Asuka, we both have been busy and I can't spend all day messaging you."

In the chill of the season, you grapple with an awkward attempt at reasoning, noticing the warmth and clamminess of his hands. The contrast, his heated touch against your soft skin, sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. Asuka, momentarily lost in contemplation, lets his lips curve into a frown. In that moment, he resembles a kicked puppy, the weight of his next words settling heavily in the air.

"..Are you mad at me..?"

In a suspended breath, he momentarily halted, drawing nearer to you. Amidst the bustling backdrop of students hurrying to their classes, you couldn't help but wonder if curious gazes were directed your way, recognizing the peculiarity of your shared moment beneath the open sky.

"Are you still hung up about last time..? If that's the issue then I'm really sorry, and I've already apologized before...!"

As Asuka continued to speak, words flowed incessantly from his lips, a torrent of increasing urgency evident in the rapid cadence of his cherry-toned voice. A palpable hysteria seeped through his every syllable, mirroring the rising heat radiating from his fervent body. It was as though he embodied a ticking bomb, gradually approaching the brink of overheating, poised to unleash an explosive torrent of emotions.

"Hung up on what?"

Inquiring, you sought release, gently weaving your fingers to disentangle from his grasp, a delicate dance to temper the heat that enveloped. Yet, his clasp remained unyielding, an unspoken embrace refusing to relent.

"Hung up on that time when I was being unreasonable and it made both of us late to our classes."

"No..? Why would I be mad about something like that?"

In the labyrinth of his spoken thoughts, you weave a delicate tapestry, attempting to decipher the cryptic echoes of his mention of unreasonableness. Despite the elusive nature of clarity, you gracefully surrender to the intrigue, deciding to waltz within the enigmatic dance of his words, a willing participant in the artful play of understanding.

"No, there's something wrong but you just won't say it...."

Persistently, Asuka insists, and a subtle irritation blooms within you, despite your inner plea for calm. Yet, his next words delicately wound your heart with a touch of sorrow.

"Do you not love me anymore..?"

"What..?"

In incredulity, you queried, gazing at the young man whose eyes teetered on the brink of cascading tears. The threat lingered in the wells of his eyes, poised to spill over and trace the contours of his fevered cheeks. Yet he continues to rambled.

"Ha! Everything makes sense now. All that cold attitude, and you avoiding me everyday. You lost feelings for me, didn't you?"

His voice crescendoed, rising in both volume and pitch as he advanced, closing the distance until his face hovered mere inches from yours. In this intimate proximity, you couldn't help but sense the burgeoning awareness among fellow students, as they subtly turned their attention toward his unfolding, hysterical unraveling.

"Asuka, how can you say something like that?"

You try to calm him down, speaking in a much softer and calmer tone compared to the man, as if you were a mother trying to calm down a crying child.In the hushed cadence of your voice, a gentle river of reassurance flows, seeking to temper the tempest within him. Your words, soft and serene, weave through the tumult like a mother's lullaby, an attempt to pacify a sobbing child.

"You know...If you had just told me normally that you didn't like me anymore then I would have just accepted that as it is."

Yet, like whispers through the air, your words glide past him. Though a subtle calm embraces him, his voice, now a gentle breeze, unveils a softer cadence, a stark departure from the turbulent tone that had echoed before.

"But why'd you have to go ahead and treat me like that?"

He inquires, guiding your hand to caress the contours of his cheek, gently pressing it against the tender warmth of your palm as if seeking solace in its soft embrace.

"Asuka...I understand you're frustrated but I do love you, and I haven't stopped loving you.."

In hushed tones, your words tenderly caressed the air, coaxing him to nestle against your palm. With a gentle touch, you traced the padded side of your fingers across his cheeks, a soothing rhythm to quell the tempest within him. A graceful guidance led you both to a tranquil refuge, where a brown bench cradled the quietude. There were no other students in sight.

"It's just that, everything has been so stressful with finals and stuff....I swear, I'm not trying to ignore you."

You painted on a smile, and Asuka, with an intent ear, absorbed your words, as though orchestrating a delicate symphony of comprehension within the corridors of his mind.

"But how can I be so sure?"

Once you convince yourself of soothing the man's agitation, his voice resurfaces, posing a question that resonates within your chest, setting a subtle cadence to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"That you're not just saying that, and that you actually mean it? That you still love me?"

In the quiet expanse of a moment, you pondered his words, delicately crafting a response to safeguard the delicate balance of his emotions. At last, your voice returned, accompanied by the gentle caress of your other hand, tracing a tender path beneath the canvas of his eyes.

"I do love you and you should already know that, Asuka."

Your words, like a subtle elixir, lingered momentarily before gracefully permeating his being. He surrendered to your touch, a gentle immersion into the warmth of your embrace, his grasp on your essence unwittingly tightening. Closer he drew, until the shared touch of both your knees wove a delicate closeness, an unspoken harmony.

"I do...?"

"Yes, you do."

In a graceful motion, you extended your arm, inviting the young man into an embrace willingly embraced. He leaned into your touch, his hand delicately finding its place on the small of your back, creating a tender connection. His body emanated warmth, reminiscent of an oven preheated for hours, yearning for the moment when it could be tenderly turned off. In that intimate embrace, moments stretched like delicate strands of time. His hands held firm against your waist, and his chin found solace upon your shoulders, a subtle dance of closeness. The air bore the comforting aroma of cinnamon and coffee, a fragrant reminder of his presence. As the embrace gently loosened, you parted, a reassuring smile gracing your lips.

"Then, it's settled? I promise to make more time for you, so don't go around thinking I don't love you anymore, alright?"

His countenance eased, a gentle nod painting the canvas of his expression. Where tears once traced delicate paths on his visage, they now evaporated, leaving behind a softened countenance. His lips, once adorned with the weight of sorrow, now curved into a tender smile.

"You promise?"

Once more, you inquire, drawing him into a tender embrace. Your hands cradle the back of his head, granting him the sanctuary to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Unmindful of the ticklish dance of his warm breath upon your skin, you remain oblivious to the subtle curvature of his lips into a contented grin. Nor do you discern the palpable brightening of his eyes, responding softly to your words.

"I promise."

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bwabys-scenarios · 12 days

Text

warning: pregnancy, Kurapika won’t let you give the baby up for adoption, obsessive and possessive behavior, reader is kidnapped

Imagine having a one night stand with Yandere!Kurapika and he ghosts you after… only to come to your door with chocolates and flowers after you tell him you’re pregnant.

It’s not like he didn’t like you, no Kurapika was beyond thrilled to have you in his bed, but he also knew that trying to stay with you would only get in the way of his goals. So, although it hurt, he decided to cut you off. He got to be with you for one amazing night, and he’d cherish that forever.

Well… his life changed when you sent him a picture of a positive pregnancy test. You sent it in desperation, crying because you feared that one of the people you cherished had only been in it for sex. It hurt so much, and it was only made worse when your period didn’t come.

So you sent that picture, asking him to please help you, to tell you what to do.

And he didn’t respond, leaving you on read.

It was devastating, to say the least. You spent the entire day crying, stressed out of your mind. Were you really going to have to deal with this all on your own?

That’s what you thought, until your doorbell rang near midnight. You weren’t woken up, in fact you had been pacing your apartment for the past few hours trying to think of what you should do about your predicament.

So you walked to the door, eyes puffy and red from crying. “K-Kurapika?”

Behind the door stood the man that had been causing you so much heartache, your best friend of 4 years, Kurapika. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and in his arms were a box of expensive chocolates and a bouquet of elegant flowers.

“(Name), oh my angel…”

He stepped in, setting the flowers and chocolates aside before pulling you into his arms to kiss your forehead. Kurapika’s hand instantly settled on your belly, as if already checking for any changes in your body with his soft, warm palm.

“I’m here, and I’m ready to be a father. When I got your message I was ecstatic, I’ve always wanted to rebuild my clan-“

You pulled away, pushing his hands off of you. “Kurapika, where the hell have you been and why haven’t you been answering my calls? You can’t just waltz in here and expect me to be fine with you ghosting me!”

“(Name), love, I-“

“Love? I’m not your love, Kurapika. You pushed me away and left me all alone when I needed you most… how can I trust you to be a father when I can’t trust you to be here for me?”

Kurapika was silent, his expression unreadable as he let you continue your rant.

“You just… you left me after we had sex, Kurapika! You left me all alone… it made me feel like I was nothing, like you only wanted one thing from me.”

You teared up from embarrassment and frustration. It had been humiliating to wake up to an empty bed with not so much as a note or text from him saying where he had gone. And then he wouldn’t answer your calls…

“I’m… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You rubbed your teary eyes. “Whatever. I’ll carry this baby, but it’s going up for adoption. I can’t raise it alone.”

This made Kurapika freeze, his eyes going wide with shock and terror. “(Name)… no, you can’t be serious. It’s my baby too, we should raise it together. I want to be a father!”

“You gave up any chances of that happening when you abandoned me. I hope your mission is truly worth it Kurapika, because I want nothing else to do with you.”

You pointed to the door, your lip wobbling and your brows furrowed. “Now leave! I n-never want to see you again!”

Kurapika was oddly quiet, his now scarlet eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look this way before… he seemed… deranged.

“I’m not leaving, (Name).”

He grabbed your wrist with enough strength to scare you. Kurapika wasn’t hurting you, but it was obvious that he easily could if he wanted to. “L-let go of me, what the h-“

Kurapika tightened his grip on your wrist when you struggled, his face neutral. “(Name), this baby is mine, and so are you. Calm down, or I’ll make you calm down.”

Your heart started to race. Who was this person? You maybe have been mad at Kurapika, but you would have never thought in a million years that he would do something like this!

You were scared now, trembling. “Let me go… please, just let me go.”

He softened slightly, his grip easing up a little. “I can’t, (Name). You’re coming with me, it’s obvious to me now that I can’t bear to be without you. And now that I know you’re pregnant…”

His eyes darted to your belly, and he reached out a hand to gently caress it again. “I can’t let you out if my sight. You’re under my care now.”

Before you could protest, you felt yourself growing tired, your limbs heavy. He caught you in his arms and lifted you up, cooing softly as he caressed your cheek. “There, there, my angel. Everything will be okay. I’ll prove to you how devoted I am, and you’ll never want to leave my side. Just sleep, when you wake up everything will be better.”

And as you drifted off, unable to stay awake, you could barely make out the sight of his car… and two suitcases in the backseat.

‘He planned this… planned to… take me away…’

That was the last thing you thought before passing out. As you slept, Kurapika bucked you up, using a pillow to cushion your head. He still couldn’t help but place his palm on your belly.

“I promise… from now on, I’ll never let you out of my sight. You’re both my responsibility…”

From that day forward, you would never know true freedom again. Kurapika had you now, and he would never let you go. Not you, the mother of his child, the love of his life.

Together forever, that’s how you would stay. He was sure of that.

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cybsoo2 · 25 days

Text

a bleeding bruise (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — The aftermath of the 'accident' stirs up suffering in all of you. How will you handle the pain? How do these three survive with the shame? And what will be the outcome of your relationship?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!vminkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.2k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, injury, past abuse, vomiting, they're such little liars, needles, angst

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

The rush to the hospital is a blur of blood. Stained hands, soaked in sin, carry you out to the car. Clarlet carnage covers everything it touches; their skin, the midnight air, it even seeps into the seats.

Jimin and Jungkook are frantic to force themselves into the backseat. They sit side by side with you laying limply over their laps. Your head is held in Jimin’s hands. He cradles you with care and caresses your soft skin. You’re turnt to face the front of the car in case you spit up any more scarlet. The cold air creeps into your lungs. It’s a comforting contrast compared to the fiery heat that incinerates your insides.

Taehyung speeds down the streets, missing multiple turnoffs in his mindless panic. Every bump he hits along the road results in cruel curses and scolding from the boys in the backseat.

The night sky looks like an inked artwork. Blue stars bleeding out into the black; their loss of light mirroring your own. It rushes by in a restless haze. Blots of blood stain your vision. The starry sky keeps you company as you sink further into a fatal sleep.

The first time you wake, you’re blinded by everything at once. The white-hot overhead lights burn your retinas. Their image lingering even as you screw your eyes shut. You blink back the burn and let your eyes scan over the unfamiliar room. White walls stare straight through you. An alcoholic taste burns at the back of your throat. A sterile smell makes you sick. All these unknown sensations swarm you at once.

The heart monitor picks up the pace, sending sirens off in the two men’s minds. Jimin tightens his grip on the hand he was already holding. He squeezes three times and watches while you panic, feeling frozen from your unexpected awakening. Your eyes roll rampant in their sockets; overwhelmed with information and foreign feelings. Taehyung takes over, forcing your attention on him instead. He pushed back the sweaty strands of hair that stick to your forehead. Then he grabs your jaw in a gentle grasp, whispering words to calm the chaos.

“Shhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He cradles your cheek in his hand, creating a makeshift pillow for you to lean into. “The doctor said you shouldn’t be awake so soon. Go back to sleep, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up.”

Jimin pulls up the blankets to sit at your shoulders. He lays on the edge of the blue bed; head having sunken into the side of your pillow. His hair is sprawled out everywhere, tickling your neck when he attempts to crawl closer. He puts his hand over your face, slowly passing over you to shut your eyes.

You’re dragged back off to dreamland by their sweet songs. They sing lovesick lullabies that send you off to sleep in seconds. The last thing you spot is Jungkook walking into the room. His face is sunken with a certain type of sadness. A doctor lingers out in the hall, clipboard and consoling frown falling off his face.

The second time you wake is much more tranquil than the first. This time, the lights are dimmed to drench the room in darkness. The steady beat of your heart monitor gives you something to focus on. The air lingers with the lasting scent of Taehyung’s cologne. You lift your head up from the pillow, trying to pull yourself up to look around. Two sets of hands push you back down.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t rush. You’ll end up straining yourself.” Jungkook stares at you while he speaks. A pitiful smile pulls at his lips. Trying to act as if the isolating room isn’t alive with pain and panic. “How you feeling?”

“Are you hurting at all? Do you need a doctor? Never mind, I’ll get one anyways.” Jimin’s words are tangled with terror. He tries not to show it on his face, but his words are weak and erratic. Before he can get up to go grab a doctor, you tighten your hold on his hand, keeping him sat in his seat.

“No, I’m okay. Just a bit sore.” The words claw themselves up your throat in a croaking tone. You swallow against the dryness and wince with discomfort.

With the help of Jungkook, you sit up to take in more of your surroundings. All three of them sit in front of you. Jimin sitting at your side, Jungkook standing with your hands still interlocked, and Taehyung laying down at the foot of the bed. All of them watch with worry, waiting for what you’ll say next.

“What happened?” It’s a simple start, and you can already assume the answer, but the suffocating silence pushes you to speak.

Taehyung tries to speak his thoughts, but he ends up sputtering like a fish out of water. Jimin takes a look at Tae and tries not to tear up. Sick memories massacre his mind. His nose twitches as stray tears swim in his eyes. He attempts to hide his emotion, turning away from your questioning eyes.

Jungkook jumps in when it’s obvious the silence has been strung out for too long. “You just got out of surgery and the doctors said it was internal bleeding.” He skirts around the obvious accident that caused it. “They also said you’ll be in here for a couple days at the least. Just so they can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t tear open your stitches.” His line of vision lingers on your stomach.

You follow his lead and look down. Although, you can’t see the damage stuffed under your scratchy hospital gown, you can still feel the strike of pain. White bandages that wrap around you like rope and silver stitches pulling at your sickly skin. Thoughts of the damage hiding in the dark bring a grimace onto your face. Your injuries are all stashed away on the inside. Your only though is that you feel worse than you look.

“Was it that bad?” You turn your eyes up to stare at Jungkook.

He hesitates for a solid second. Your words have whispers of a deeper, more dreadful meaning. His head twists your words into a torturous truth. Because you aren’t really asking about the accident. You may have asked him ‘Was it that bad?’, but all he can hear is ‘Are you that bad?’ He hurt you so horribly that it almost invoked the dawn of death. This torturous truth is too much for him to handle, too much for any of them, including you… so he lies.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of you, like we always do.” Jungkook speaks his sweet lies with a sorrowful smile. Everyone else mimics the same miserable grin. You listen to his white lies, but this time you’ll try to trust them.

You eat a somber dinner of things that are barely solid. A simple soup, soggy bun, and jello that’s supposed to serve as a delicious dessert. You poke at it with your fork, watching as the red blob bounces around. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, silently telling you to stop. You can feel his watchful stare straight through your skull, actually, you can feel all their eyes at once. Their anxious eyes only settle when you start picking away at your plate. The food tastes like poison as it passes through your throat. Your appetite has slipped away from you ever since the surgery. But, with the boys acting all antsy and irritated at everything that hurts your health, you force down the food in order to ease their anxiety.

Each man nurses their own coffee in their hands. Taehyung watches the hot liquid swirl around in his cup. He’s reckless with the way he handles it, anxiety jumping at the slightest sound and spilling the drink down his hands. Red and angry marks wrap around his arms. Blisters burned deep into his skin; yet he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the pain. He keeps his attention towards you. Trying to be subtle, stealing glances at you every so often. Watching for any discomfort, making sure you eat at least half your food, and studying the bittersweet sadness staining your face.

Jimin downs his 4th drink before you’ve finished your food. You make a mixture of your meal, poking and prodding at it. Sometimes Jimin has to hold himself back from force feeding you. Stress stretches him apart, tearing at his mind, his lungs, and his heart. He hates seeing you so pale and so sad. So he helps out with hidden motives. He takes bits and pieces off your plate, eating small bites before holding the rest up to your mouth. He doesn’t let you shrug off his advances, so you end up eating more than you’d like.

Jungkook stirs up his coffee into something sweet. 6 packets of sugar and sweetener sink into the bitter blackness. He adds cream to his concoction and stirs until the sour taste dies down.

You stop eating when everything is half of what it once was. Not too sure how much more your stomach can handle. You push away your plate, trying to pass it over to Taehyung to get rid of.

“Just take one more bite.” He tries to encourage you, pushing the plate back into your arms. He takes a scoop of the jello with your spoon, the easiest to eat, and holds it in front of your mouth.

“I don’t think I can.” You look down at the plate, feeling intimidated by such a simple task.

“Just one more.” Taehyung stares straight into your eyes. His insistent nature has become normal for you. Normal enough to know that he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh and take the spoon in your mouth. It's a difficult task to force the food down your throat. The texture and taste turns your stomach. As soon as you swallow it down, you know you never should have. Regret almost comes rushing out as you struggle to stand and run to the bathroom. The boys fall behind, faces clouded in confusion.

Your knees hit the floor with a heavy fall. Fragile form collapsing under the weight of your weakness. You hug the toilet seat tight to your body and hang your head over the inside. Within seconds every you ate is spilling out of you. The sight of scarlet jello mimics blood from the present past.

A crash is heard out in the other room. Taehyung comes in, colliding with the door and dropping down to his knees. He acts out of adrenaline, gathering your hair in one hand and resting the other on your back. He rubs soothing circles into your skin, whispering words of encouragement.

“It’s alright. Just let it out.” He locks eyes with Jimin as he enters the room. He sits down at your side, pressing a peck against your temple. He hushes your cries and keeps trying to tame the trembles that rack your body.

Jungkook gets a glimpse at the sorry sight and is immediately scrambling out of the room and screaming for a nurse. Head spinning with imprinted images of your red and raw lips. A bloody tint that throws his mind back to before.

Even after you’re sure you’ve thrown it all up, you gag on the metallic taste that lingers in your mouth. A rotten taste that tangles with your raspy cry and tints your teeth.

There are tears streaming down your face. Throwing up everything you just ate has left you feeling empty and aching. Jimin and Taehyung still stroke soothing motions down your back. Jimin pries your hand away from where it grabs the porcelain bowl in a death grip. He intertwines his hand with yours and lets you squeeze it wherever another sense of nausea rolls around.

Two nurses come running into the room. Unfamiliar faces set the two boys on edge. Jimin clutches your hand closer to his heart. Taehyung shifts his body in front of you, trying to keep you out of sight. Jungkook is the one to push them both out of the way so they can help you, but he never strays far, always hovering with a possessive stance and protective eyes.

The two nurses appear anxious in the presence of such intimidating stares. They’re hands sweat and shake as they offer up more painkillers and check to see if your stitches have torn. And when the nurses have nothing more to help you with, they’re fast to flee the room.

You’re settled in bed once again. You find yourself falling asleep as an IV drip digs deep into your arm and the painkillers put a heavy haze in your head.

Jimin squeezes in at the side of your bed, Taehyung crawls in close, and Jungkook holds your hand. They cradle you close. You’re smothered to sleep by careless kisses and whispered wishes. You’re sent off to slumber chasing a delicate dream of a different life.

The rest of your stay at the hospital looks relatively the same. You’re smothered with affection in the form of sweet sorrys. The three men do everything they can to make up for the incident, everything but actually acknowledge it. No one speaks a word of that night. Nothing goes past a simple sorry when alluding to it. Instead, they’re eager to show their remorse through action and affection.

Jimin hasn’t left your side since the surgery. He lays beside you in the bed, having squeezed in during the dark silence of your dreams. You wake every morning only to end up caged in his iron grip.

Sometimes he sits in the steel chair at your side. Cast aside whenever Taehyung or Jungkook has decided he’s pestered you enough. He never backs down without an argument. But one look at your exhausted expression and his angry words begin to die down. He taps the metallic chair in time with the clock. The tuneful ticking and copious amounts of coffee are how he distracts himself from drifting off into a dream. In all honesty, he’s been scared to sink back to sleep. The last time he found himself falling asleep, he woke to you bleeding out on the bathroom tile.

Taehyung takes most authority when it comes to distracting you from your discomfort. He turns your attention to the shows playing upon the TV. He gives you his portions of pudding at meal time. And drowns out any signs of discomfort with his tender touch.

Jungkook is the only one who acts the most distant. A simple side effect of taking on the brute end of your beating. His shame feels like the same shackles used to hold you down. A cold chaos harrows at his heart. He feels the bitter burden of his wrongdoings with every breath he breathes. He turns over his thoughts in the silence, and sorts through his sinful emotions while you sleep. He refrains from talking too much. Only chiming in on conversations when it includes your health or happiness.

He listens to the doctors lecture him on how to take care of you, sinking further into his shell with every sentence because he’s only done the opposite thus far. He watches while the nurses talk him through how to re-wrap your bandages when needed. He struggles to keep his hands to himself. Biting back his tongue whenever they touch your blooming bruises and you flinch. The nurses nurturing hands roam your body with innocent intentions. Applying balm to your bruises and wrapping you up in white. But when your eyes twinkle with tears unshed, the three men shout and shut them out of the room without any rebuttal.

They take matters into their own hands, knowing their tender touches are still too tense. You shed some tears and take your lips between your teeth, trying to hide the pain that’s more prominent than before.

They take matters into their own hands, knowing they’re worse for you than anyone else. But they’re blinded by love and can’t let their butterfly fly away.

The day you’re told you’ll finally be discharged is one you’ve all been looking forward to. They carry you out to the car once again, this time with much less gore and guilt. The scenery blurs by from where you watch out the window. The spring season seems to melt together with the high speeds Jungkook is driving.

They’ve all been acting more restless and rash as the days go on. Impatient and eager to keep you hidden in their home. Protected from prying eyes and devils in disguise. Naive to the fact that they themselves are the real mask-wearing monsters.

The rest of the drive drones on. Each building that passes more boring than the last. Instead, you fix your focus on the three men that surround you. Taehyung wouldn’t take no for an answer when he insisted you sit on his lap. So now you rest against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers skim across your stomach, soothing away the sickness that still remains. He does anything to avoid the white wraps that stick to your stitches. A pang of pain hits him in the heart every time he’s reminded of that night time nightmare. He walks his fingers across your waist, trying to kill time and relax his restless nature. Sometimes his hands stray away from your stomach and shove Jimin instead.

In his sleeping state atop your legs, he tries to catch up on the sleep he’s missed before you get back home. Too hysterical in the hospital and too obsessed over your well-being, he developed a sort of insomnia. However, this tiny sliver of sleep he finally gets is full of disturbances. As his dreams drift into a tortured terrain, his body begins to tremble in terror. Shifting in his sleep and almost smacking his arm into your stomach if Taehyung wasn’t there to pull him away.

During the rest of your drive, each man continues to fight their angry and anxious feelings. When you arrive at your house, nothing much has changed. They cling onto you like a second skin and still struggle with their self-loathing.

Yet their sorry words and tear-stained eyes will never be enough. Not when they know you both are bound to destroy each other. Not when this cycle of crimson chaos will continue till the end.

Even when they love you the most, stricken with guilt and grief, willing to do anything you ask, their lovesick obsession only serves to make matters worse. They hold you too tight, kiss you too rough. Their love is slowly sending you to an early grave. Yet you chose to be ignorant to their insanity. Developing tunnel vision to their love and ignoring all else. And when you slip up again, when they snap again - you’ll pretend it never happened. Harbouring hope in a broken heart. Trying to be someone you aren’t in order to survive. Their love is like poison and their hate is like hell. Staying alive with three lovesick psychos, all you can rely on is hope.

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Title: Homestead.

Continuation of Home Intruder.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader x Yandere!Diluc (Genshin).

Title: 3.5k.

TW: Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Childe's Gone Full 'Fuck 'em Kids, and Continued Involvement Of A Child Of Dubious Origin.

You found Diluc in his chambers, sunken into a velvet-lined armchair, wrapping a length of white gauze around his split knuckles under the soft light of a low-burning candlestick. His shirt (or, rather, the tattered remains of what was once his shirt) had been discarded, along with his coat and his vest, of course, but the exposed skin no longer bothered you the way it once had, even if you still choose not to linger on the field of dark bruises blossoming along his left side.

You perched yourself on the foot of his bed – your bed too, you supposed, considering how often you found yourself sleeping at his side. Even when the threat was distant, when days lapsed between Childe’s ‘visits’, you found yourself gravitating towards him, seeking comfort in his warmth, his presence at your side. There was a reassurance that came with his company – a reassurance that you were reluctant to let go. “Another fruitful night, Master Darknight Hero?”

“Fruitful enough. The Abyss Order’s been minding their distance. The Fatui, as well – they’re stationing their encampments as far from the city’s walls as would be possible without retreating to Liyue.” You smiled, bowing your head, your satisfaction softened but no less apparent. Diluc didn’t overlook your silent mirth. “No sign of Tartaglia either,” he added, his gaze flickering from his tattered hands to you, then back to his idle work. “Not that I’m suggesting you should start taking midnight strolls through the forest. There’s a good chance he’s merely waiting for us to lower our guard.”

You doubted that. Childe was a hyper-violent, murderous bastard of a man, but he wasn’t the type to turn back on his convictions, and since his last attempt, he seemed determined not to take you by force. You couldn’t complain. If his newest delusion was that steadfast tenacity and a few promises of painless forgiveness would be enough to convince you to return to his frozen wasteland of a household, you were more than happy to let him believe it for as long as he cared to. “Maybe he’s decided his time would be better spent stalking another former captive,” you muttered. “I think I might feel a little betrayed if he moved on so easily.”

A raspy chuckle, followed shortly by an airy sigh. He let his eyes close, his head lull back, and with minimal hesitation, you rose from his bedside, fetching a misplaced comb before positioning yourself behind him. He spared you a questioning glance as you undid the already-loosened ribbon struggling to restrain his wild hair, but you only shrugged. “It helps Lina relax,” and then, beginning to pull your comb through the untamed sea of scarlet. “If you’ll pardon the comparison.”

“Pardoned.” The tension seemed to seep out of his rigid form as you pulled the knots out of his long, crimson hair – taking pains not to tug too harshly, not to let the strands you’d already detangled mix with those you had yet to touch. He spoke as you worked, rambling about his day, the state of the wine industry in Mondstadt, matters he was concerned with and matters he wished he didn’t have to be. “I mentioned our engagement at the tavern,” he said, eventually, the comment almost off-handed in its nonchalance. “Only a few drunkards were close enough to overhear it, but you know how they like to talk. It’ll be common knowledge by the time the sun rises.”

You felt something sharp begin to rise into your throat. “…our engagement?”

“That’s usually what comes with having a fiancé, yes.” His tone was not one of levity, but did he sound quite as serious as you felt he should’ve been. As if this was just a part of some scheme the two of you had planned together, in which your compliance was given. “Unless there’s another word you’d like to use? Betrothment, maybe?”

“No, engagement is fine, it’s just—” It was difficult to find the words. You didn’t want to be engaged. You didn’t want a fiancé. You didn’t know how to tell Diluc that you did not want to act as if you did, even if it was just a ploy. “Childe didn’t believe us. Even if he did, it probably wouldn’t do much to stop him.”

“But, it might give his soldiers pause. The other Harbingers, too, if he finds a reason to drag them into this.” You lost focus, catching your comb on a lock of hair still partially braided from the day before, but Diluc didn’t flinch, didn’t seem to notice. “It’d be… convenient to have a more official bond between us, too. A titled relationship can do a great deal.”

It did not escape you that he declined to mention who a titled relationship could do a great deal for.

You forced yourself to smile past your inhibition. “I’ve never really seen myself as the marrying type.”

A slight chuckle, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder. “You’d take advantage of a lovesick fool, then?”

“Without hesitation.” You leaned down, pressing a quick kiss into the top of his head before turning on your heel, starting towards the door. “Take a bath before Adelinde sees what you’re doing to her furniture. I’m going to check on Lina one more time, just to make sure she’s sleeping through the night.”

“Should I warm the bed for you?”

You hummed, nodding as you slipped out of his chambers, but for the first time in many nights, you found yourself colder by his side than you had been apart from him.

You were in the library, pouring over a travel guide concerning the few parts of Teyvat you’d neglected during your previous travels, when you received news that Childe and his legion were returning to his posting in Liyue. The sound you made by way of response – half pitching laughter, half irrational screaming – must’ve scared the poor butler half to death, but you didn’t have time to apologize before your body was moving on its own, rushing past him and deeper into the mansion. By the time you realized what you were doing, you were already in Diluc’s office, already throwing yourself at his desk.

“He’s gone.” You were grinning like a madman. “He’s gone, Diluc! I can— Okay, first, I’m going to go see if my landlord ever repossessed my flat, and then, I’m going to take Lina apple-picking in Springville, but not before I get back to the market and finally pay back the mora I borrowed from—”

“Have you contacted any witnesses in Liyue to confirm his arrival?”

Your smile faltered. “He would’ve only left today. There’s no way he could’ve arrived much of anywhere yet, and even if he had, I… I don’t think I know anyone in Liyue to contact.”

“There’s no proof, then.” Said with a sort of tempered stoicism, as if he were attempting to gently guide a very mislead soul away from a dire mistake without losing his own composure. He put down his quill, and with a heavy sigh, looked up at you, his eyes as soft as his tone. “I wouldn’t put it below him, considering what lengths he’s willing to resort to.”

He spoke as if he knew Childe; as if he shared your vendetta, stroke for stroke. Part of you wanted to allow him to pretend, to let someone beyond you and a child too young to fully understand the horror she was facing share in your misery, if only in kind words and appearances. Part of you wanted to carve his tongue from his mouth and leave him to bleed. “Childe’s not that kind of man. He wouldn’t do something so underhanded.”

“Most people wouldn’t consider kidnapping a reasonable course of action, either, yet he’s already demonstrated his tolerance for that.” A hint of levity, the ghost of a sympathetic smile. “It’d be safer for you to remain in the manor, for the time being.”

Two things to you occurred in very short order.

The first was, of course, how familiar your frustration felt. It was the same little irk that’d coiled in your chest when you were with Childe, when months and months of playing dutiful, docile captive failed to earn you the freedoms he’d promised it would. You knew, rationally, that one circumstance was not like the other, that there was no reason to hold the two so close in your chest, and yet, the feeling remained.

The second was that you didn’t recall telling Diluc that you had been kidnapped. Kept hostage, sure, broken down and forced to build yourself up, but not kidnapped. That - the first days you’d spent in Childe’s damp cellar, confused and terrified and utterly helpless to do anything but bite at his fingertips and fight against your restraints - was not something he was meant to know.

You paused for a long moment, your lips parted but your tongue useless. Diluc let his head lull to the side, bringing up a hand to cup your face. “I promise, it’s for your safety.” The pad of his thumb ran over your cheek. “You know that I’ve grown fond of you, don’t you?”

“As I have, of you.”

“And you know that it would hurt me, to see you walk into a trap when this is so nearly over?”

“I suppose it would.”

“So trust me. This is the last time I’ll ask you to put aside your freedom.” You believed that this was the last time he would ask, surely. “For Lina’s sake, if not your own.”

You forced yourself to swallow. “If I tried to walk through the doors to your manor with Lina in my arms and no intention or returning, would you let me leave?”

His eyes were so terribly soft. “Surely, my fiancé would be smart enough to answer that for themself.”

You grit your teeth, locking your jaw into place. “And you promise that you’ll keep us safe, in exchange for my captivity?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t use that kind of language,” he sighed. “But, yes. As safe as treasured gems and as comfortable as royalty.”

You held out for a moment, and then, allowed your eyes to fall shut, letting out a deep exhale. “That’s all I want. For Lina and I to be safe.” You melted into his warmth, nuzzling into his palm. “Thank you, Master Diluc.”

That may have been the widest you’d ever seen him smile. “The pleasure is mine, dear.”

Your letter contained five words and five words exactly – ‘I want to go home’. You left it unsigned, addressed it to one of the Northern Bank’s secondary locations on the outskirts of Liyue, and passed it off to the messenger who came weekly to collect the Winery’s mail personally. His response came the next day, in the form of a note bound to the leg of a raven, its feathers wet from flying through the storms that claimed Mondstadt’s skies so often in the summer.

‘Finally.’

He arrived two nights later, accompanied by no soldiers or subordinates. You caught him among the rolling hills, his coat blending with the grey sky, but did not dare to leave the manor until nightfall, when you could gather Lina in your arms and take to wandering through the mansion under the guise of soothing her most recent fit. You slipped out of a ground-story window left unlocked with little difficulty, barefoot and with nothing but your Vision at your side. You did not have the luxury of preparation, as you had with Childe. Anything you might’ve taken, you would’ve taken from DIluc, and you couldn’t give him an excuse to hunt you down.

You didn’t have to look for Childe. He was waiting for you on the beach, where the road to Stone Gate first met the bay. You saw his smile, first, brilliant and fanged, then his eyes, catching in the moonlight, fixating on you before falling to Lina, slumped against your chest. Against your better instincts, you set her down, leaning her against an apple tree. You doubted she would wake up, but if she did, the fluttering leaves and fallen fruit would distract her before she could notice the water.

With little delay, you returned to Childe. He waited for you to face him with an uncharacteristic patience. “You’re bringing her along?”

“You may have outgrown Lina, but she’s still my daughter.” You attempted to hold yourself straight and retain as much pride as possible, but you cracked soon enough, bowing your head and shrinking into a meeker, much less resilient creature. “You were right about him. He’s just as bad as you are, and if I am to be at the mercy of a monster, I’d rather it be the monster brave enough to speak its threats aloud.”

He took a step toward you, closing what little distance you’d attempted to maintain. “You’ve chosen such touching words for our reunion.” You had to fight not to tremble as his hand came to rest on your hip, then skating upward, towards the curve of your side. “We’ll have to tame that clever tongue of yours as soon as we get back to Liyue, but the rest might have to wait until Snezhnaya. I've already asked the Tsaritsa for leave. I just know you’re going to need my full attention, sweetheart.”

You could feel the rain picking up again, weighing down your clothes, turning Childe’s coat a shade darker. You pretended not to notice, not to care. “…and Lina will be safe?”

“Safe enough, at whatever boarding school she ends up in.” He spoke casually, as if he didn’t care at all for the girl he’d been willing to kill for only weeks ago. “As long as you stay where you’re supposed to be, no harm will come to her by my hand.”

He made no promises concerning the hands and weapons of those operating under his command.

“That’s all I want,” you sighed, and then, raising your voice to speak above the pounding rain, the thunder rolling in the distance, “I… I just want her to have a home, even if that home must be yours.”

You buried your face in his chest, and he cooed, his free hand slipping underneath you chin, coaxing your head back until you were forced to stare into his eyes, as deep as the abyss, as empty as the starless sky. You balled his drenched coat in your fists as his lips came to rest against yours, the kiss gentle save for the grin that laid beneath it, as sharp as a blade and twice as fatal.

You could only be thankful that this blade’s wielder was such a fool.

It was a flash frost; a single wave of cryo energy strong enough to freeze the raindrops that surrounded him mid-air. In the blink of an eye, his body was encased in ice – the shell fragile, but strong enough to render Childe immobile as you wrenched yourself away from him, your composure faltering into a collection of muffled screams and frantic breaths. You wasted precious seconds wiping the frost from your hands and tearing the heavy coin purse from his belt before adding another layer of ice, binding his feet to the ground and his hands to his chest, ensuring that he would not be able to break free until your handiwork began to melt. You started to turn away, to return to Lina, but hesitated at the last moment. With shaking hands and grit teeth, you unhooked the gem of his Vision from its holder, and with all of your meager strength, threw it into the bay, praying that the current would not be able to carry it back to shore.

With only a deep inhale and another second taken to gather yourself, you gathered Lina in your arms, fled into the wilderness, and didn’t dare to look back until Childe and the Dawn Winery were both out of sight.

Liyue was where it would’ve made the least sense for you to go, so that was where you went. You treated main roads like necessary evils, stopping by the carts of travelling merchants and staying in roadside inns only when the wilderness proved too hostile for Lina. You were frugal with Childe’s mora, but no more so than any weary traveler would’ve been with their limited supplies. Paranoia drew attention, and attention had only ever served to make your life more difficult.

You journeyed to Liyue Harbor, remaining as close to the ports as possible. After securing a board room with an elderly couple content to fawn over Lina, you fell back into your own habits – lingering in the shadowed corners of the darkest taverns, nursing their cheapest liquor while you spoke at length on your plans to venture to Sumeru, then beyond, wherever Teyvat would have you. When you spotted soldiers with grey coats, you spoke a little louder.

You crossed paths with a captain with a missing eye and a white-haired companion, telling tales of all the many storms and sea monsters her crew had bested and brandishing a fearsome claymore. For the first time, you told someone of your true intentions, let your genuine excitement seep through when she mentioned there may be a vacant bunk on her ship when she next left the harbor. When you told her of your young daughter, she laughed and said that a little young blood might help to liven up the voyage. When she asked what you were so eager to get away from, you smiled and told her that you had monsters of your own.

Lina took her first unassisted steps aboard the Crux, spoke her first word; ‘sea’, due to the influence of the sailors who coddled her. You almost mourned having to leave the vessel behind by the time you docked in Inazuma, but you had come too far to let yourself be swayed so easily. You had always been the type to seek shelter, and you would not betray yourself simply because you had been betrayed.

Although you were reluctant to leave Lina in the care of another for any longer than a few hours, you trusted Beidou, and the reassurance that you would not have to leave her side again did much to soothe your nerves. Escaping Ritou without the proper documentation was child’s play, as was making your way to Inazuma City, or more specifically, the Tenshukaku – high and mighty where it sat above the rest of the city, a fortress of stone and steel painted with blushing sakura petals and violet banners. You were no spy, but you did what you could to stow yourself away inside of it, to remain unseen as you slipped into the gaps between the Shogunates’ constantly revolving patrols, as you stowed yourself away in the shadows of the Shogun’s grand hall. You waited until she had seen her guests, her commissioners, her generals, until she had sent her guards away and claimed meditation as her excuse. You waited until she summoned you, as you knew she would. You hadn't grown so bold as to think you could escape an archon's perception, but you did consider yourself fortunate that her first reaction had not been to strike you down.

“Come out, little bird,” she called, once you were the only mortal soul left in her company. You abided, stepping out from your hiding place and into the center of her hall, where she could evaluate you from her dais freely. “What an obedient assassin,” She clicked her tongue, as if just coming out of deep thought. “Tell me, did you plan to end my life from such a distance, or were you simply going to wait for me to die of old age?”

“I’m no assassin, Your Eminence,” you said, with a shallow bow. You must’ve been an unsettling sight – sea-worn and ragged, weak from your exertions but too stiff to tremble under her gaze. “I merely come to offer you my services.” You paused, raising your heel and taping it once against the matted floor. In a matter of seconds, each and every inch had been covered by a solid layer of frost – perfectly reflective and perfectly unmarred until you took a step forward, the ice splintering and creeping to either side underneath the soles of your feet. “I am well-traveled, and have found myself in possession of a great deal of knowledge concerning Snezhnayan politics and Mondstadt’s commercial trade and customs. You’ll find that I’m not lacking for insights into the ongoings of any other nation, either.”

She hummed. “And what do you ask for in return?”

“Only your protection, your trust, and your assurance that my daughter will grow up happy and safe on your islands.” You pressed your tongue into the roof of your mouth, squaring your shoulders. “All things the almighty Raiden Shogun is capable of providing, I’m sure.”

Her answer was delayed, but you caught something in her eyes – a bright flicker of curiosity, of interest. Interest, and nothing else. For that, you would be eternally thankful. You would’ve fled that very moment, if there had been.

You had grown so, so very tired of living on the whims of powerful men, after all.

It was long past time you gave a powerful goddess a try.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere scenarios #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #diluc x reader #yandere diluc #yanderecore #yancore

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 month

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For my birthday, I decided to finally drop the Jack Hanma smut piece! Enjoy

Yandere Baki Short Stories:

Carne

Yandere Jack Hanma x Female Reader

TW: Cannibalism as a metaphor for love, blood kink, smut, YANDERE, etc.

Hands desperately clawed at the table in front of (your name) in an attempt to ground herself. Pants and wanton moans spilled from her lips as she was driven to the brink of insanity…

“This is what you get for teasing me.” A deep voice snarled in her ear and his hips pistoned into hers. His monstrous length slid between her damp folds as a puddle of their fluids dripped beneath them. (Your name)’s toes were over feet off the ground while her legs dangled in the air since Jack held her body up with his strong arms. “Always flaunting yourself around the other fighters. Parading around in those tight clothes like a whore.”

(Your name)’s head lulled to the side, a loud groan spilled from her swollen lips. Jack had been abusing her poor lower lips with his monstrous length for hours now. The stream of fluid leaking from her pussy was unending. (Your name) wasn’t even aware that Jack had any feelings for her. Their relationship was mostly physical. A no strings attached sort of arrangement. How was she to know he would grow jealous of her friendly banter with the other martial artists?

Jack was simply an outlet for her pent up frustrations, just like (your name) was an outlet to build ‘strength.’ His half brother, Baki, had put a worm in his ear that sex made one more powerful and Jack had approached her with that intention only… until he became attached. Until Jack became so overbearing and protective of her.

Wherever she was, Jack was never far. The blonde tank always stood guard over her. Whenever she’d confront Jack, he’d deny that he had feelings but (your name) knew the truth. She just didn’t care to correct him. Jack was a man one never wanted to anger. Jack was more of a beast than a man, one who would rip his apart like wrapping paper if they even looked in his direction funny. And she would like to keep that animalistic nature of his strictly in the bedroom.

Jack used to leave her in early hours in the morning after a nightly tryst, but now he stayed with her and cuddled. Sometimes he even made (your name) breakfast in bed. This development terrified her because (your name) never gave him any indication that she wanted a romantic relationship. She was always civil with him and treated him like a human being. She didn’t understand why he interpreted kindness as love. But perhaps it had something to do with his rough upbringing.

Jack was a man who felt like he didn’t deserve love nor life since he was brought into this world from hate. A man who only lived for revenge and nothing more… a man who now found solace in (your name)’s arms and in between her legs. A man who would never leave her side until she was completely his. Jack would drown her in his sea of affection until she adapted to be able to breathe in it.

(Your name) was swallowed whole in his musky, woodsy scent. The strong scent of pine overwhelmed her senses. All she could feel was Jack. All she could smell was Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack.

She came undone once more when his titanium teeth lightly grazed against the soft skin of her shoulder. Her walls grasped the empty space while his length ran between it. (Your name) desperately wanted him to fill her. To stretch her poor, weeping cunt until she was satisfied.

And in an instant his teeth sunk into her neck hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to rip a chunk of her off like he did to his opponents. His strong pink muscle darted out to greedily lap at the blood that trickled down her skin. His mouth now stained scarlet.

“Everything about you is so delicious… I can’t get enough of you.” Jack muttered into (your name)’s skin, his cinnamon eyes hazy with lust. “What kind of witchcraft have you cast on me?”

(Your name) gasped when he used a hand to tilt her chin up to look at him. A smirk on his face at how dazed her expression was.

“You’re so beautiful.” (Your name) could barely move when he bent down to kiss her. She could taste the iron of her own blood on his tongue as the strong muscle dominated hers. His large hand lights pressed against her through that left her absolutely breathless. The pace of his brutal thrusts never ceased.

Drool dripped out of the sides of her mouth and onto her bruised chest. Various bruises and bite marks littered her skin in a grotesque picture of love.

(Your name) was so lost… where did she begin and where did Jack end? How could a man consume her entirety to the point that she melted into him? That her blood mixed with his in a gory display of devotion?

“I love you. I love you so much.” Jack whispered in her ear as he dragged his tongue across the salty tears that fell down her cheeks. Had she been crying? (Your name) hadn’t even realized. “I love you so much, I want to become a part of you.”

A loud cry escaped her lips when she felt Jack’s hips start to slow, his grip on her throat never ceased. His cinnamon eyes filled with a voracious hunger she knew only her entire being could quench.

“You’re mine. No one else can have you. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

And that’s when he finally shoved himself inside. His tongue tangled with hers and (your name) came on his length again. She could feel him spill himself inside her fluttering walls with a goal in mind. A goal he’d never reach since he was infertile from excessive steroid usage.

(Your name) went limp like a noodle while his viscous seed spilled from between her legs. Jack’s strong arms still held her up. His lips pressed hot kisses all over her face.

(Your name) slowly reached her hands up to cup his cheeks. A few tears spilled from Jack’s eyes while he shuddered. His lungs gasped for breath but he couldn’t help but hold his in anticipation. Jack wanted to know her answer, he wanted to know if his twisted feelings were reciprocated.

“I’m yours.”

Yes, she’d accept Jack. There was no one else in this world that has ever been attached of this broken man’s side and she’d be that person. She’d be his solace. (Your name) would be his meal.

For limerence and love were merely separated by a thin line.

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merakiui · 2 months

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everything is going to be okay.

yandere!trey clover x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, descriptions of unsettling imagery, derealization, implied drugging, descriptions of hyperdontia, descriptions of teeth falling out, non-graphic allusions to sexual assault, emotional manipulation, gaslighting note: 01110111011011110111010101101100011001000010000001101001001000000110110001101001011001010010000001110100011011110010000001111001011011110111010100111111

i. itchiness - the worst feeling in the world is knowing something is inside of you, and there’s nothing you can do to get it out.

A white rabbit blinks up at you with its beady, red eyes. Its nose twitches. Once. Twice. Thrice. A quiet breeze slithers through the field in which you currently stand, surrounded by lush greenery and colorful wildflowers. They sprawl endlessly, clawing at the horizon beyond with botanical fingers. You watch rainbows sway, dewy petals fluttering like butterfly wings beating against a cloudless, cerulean sky.

You take one step towards the rabbit and it takes off in a sprint, bounding through knee-high grass. You stagger after it, crushing flowers underfoot. Stems snap like spines, sturdy until smashed. You hear agony whispered in the wind: How could you? How could you? How could you?

Shrugging it off, you pursue the rabbit. The grass grows with every passing minute, thickening in abundance. It’s so tall it blocks your view of the sun, eclipsing your figure like a menacing shadow. You fight through it, your gaze pinned solely on the speck of white fur. Verdant blades brush your skin, soft like silk. Itchy like hair. Itchy like maggots wriggling in marrow.

Itchy.

You struggle through the infestation until, eventually, you burst through the grass. The other side is calmer here. When you glance back at the way you came, you find a wall of grass stretching up into the above. The wildflowers are nowhere to be seen, but you can hear them when you stick your head through the grass. They’re still weeping: Why? Why? Why? It’s not fair. We were so happy. You’ve stomped us out—ruined us. We’ll never grow back the same.

“You coming?”

You whirl at the sound of a familiar voice, scanning the field in search of him. Instead, the rabbit is just a few feet away. It tilts its head at you, ears pricked. You meet its scarlet stare.

Something tells you you’re better off waiting. There’s no point in chasing, but curiosity crawls into your cranium. You hurry ahead, single steps sliding into fast, frantic footfalls. The rabbit moves quickly, its little legs thumping against the ground. You run until your every breath squeezes your heart. Until your head is dizzy. Until you’re nauseous and panting.

You run all the way to the edge of a forest, the field falling away in patches, and you reach for the trees, fingers splayed. The rabbit is within your grasp.

You step with your right leg and crush a violet butterwort.

Pain shoots through your foot in a white-hot flash. The butterwort stabs through your sole, emerging from your flesh as if it’s simply a clay pot with soil for snuggling. You yank your leg away and roots are ripped from the ground with it, attached to the flower stuck in your foot. Warm blood trickles out. Green grass is stained rusty-red. It sweeps along your calf, a physical lullaby.

Itchy.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stumbling backwards. The root goes with you, an endless strand set deep into the ground. You tug, but the flower persists. It folds itself into a bow and wraps its petals around your foot in a parasitic hug. “Let go of me.”

At the edge of the forest, the rabbit remains. Watching. Waiting. Wondering.

You flop onto your side, breathing heavy and haggard. The pain is itchy. The blood is itchy. The flower is itchy. You grab at it with shaky fingers and attempt to pry it off. Trees tower overhead, bark bending forwards to loom like leering fiends. With all of your might, you yank the butterwort out. It comes free with a sickening snap, soil-speckled roots dragging through the hole in your foot.

Itchy.

Between the breeze and your devastated whimpers, you hear it—the withered wheezing of the earth beneath your body.

Suddenly, the trees have eyes. Suddenly, everything is alive.

Desperately, you stretch your arm towards the rabbit. It blinks at you. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then it turns and disappears into the forest beyond.

You roll over on your back just as more butterworts bloom from soil moistened with your blood. A garden germinates from flesh and bone.

You shut your eyes.

Itchy.

When you open them, you see a single blade of grass backdropped by a cumulus-spotted sky. He peers down at you, glasses glinting in the sunlight, and offers his hand.

“Nice day for a nap, isn’t it?” He smiles a boyish, lopsided grin.

You stare for another quiet second before closing your hand around his. “Trey…”

Right. Your friend, Trey, who offered to stay with you in the wake of…something. Something about companionship. Something about looking out for you during difficult times. Something about something.

Was that it? What did he say again?

Words are a valuable thing for people like Trey. When strung together, they create stories and Trey is especially good at amazing others with sugared ambiguity.

You allow him to pull you up. When he moves to brush the grass clinging to your clothes, you jerk away. The two of you stare at each other for an abnormally long time.

A discordant note resounds within your head, a strangled cry from a pretty piano. The jarring crash of splintered glass. Looking at him now, in his green-and-white checkered jumper and boring, beige slacks, you feel…itchy. There’s a dull ache at the back of your throat. You think you might be coming down with a cold.

Spring is just starting to poke through the frost of winter. Even though today’s sunny and the weather is warmer than usual, there’s a frigid feeling in the air. A disconnect between seasons. That odd border between not-quite-winter and not-quite-spring.

“How long was I out for?”

Trey’s hand falls to his side. “Long enough to give the muffins time to cool.” He nods in the direction of the house, a quaint structure built at the edge of the forest. “I made your favorite.”

You brighten like candles lit in a birthday cake. Twenty of them, in fact, all arranged perfectly. It will take twenty more for you to overcome the tragedy of never having the chance to partake, for every slice was dragged onto the plate and devoured with haste. And all the while the flames flickered, burning wax down to tiny stumps.

Itchy.

Blueberry muffins are placed on a circular glass plate. The accompanying dome lid sits off to the side. You take one and turn it over in your hands. How does someone determine their favorite food? And when does that food stop becoming a preference? Memories attach themselves to everything: clothing, rooms, bodies. Even food. If something unsavory happens when indulging in a favorite, the memory soaks into the batter. The next time you encounter it, even if it’s in a dream, you avoid it. Not because the food has lost its flavor, but because the memory has corrupted the comfort of the gastronomic experience.

In a distant past, you think you liked blueberry muffins. Certainly at one point, right?

Still, you bring it to your lips and bite into spongy bliss.

Blood fills your mouth.

Trey’s initial placidity morphs into something disturbed. He moves to your side, to your aid, but you shove him away. The blueberry muffin lands on the table in a spoiled heap, crumbs scattering. You spit chunks of muffin into your palms. It feels like something’s lodged in your throat. A tiny porcelain hand pinching the skin of your esophagus in an unrelenting hold. A wad of something impossible to swallow. Like words or screams.

Crimson-tinged saliva dribbles past your lips. Lying in your hands, amidst bits of chewed muffin, is a sliver of skin.

“(Name)?”

Your name sounds wrong on his tongue.

“Hey, are you okay? Let me get you some water. Wait right there.”

Wrong. It’s wrong.

You stare at the flabby piece of skin. Your skin.

Trey returns with the aforementioned water. He pulls a chair out from the table. “Sit and have a drink. Not too fast. Slowly now.”

The rest of the muffin is swept away, destined for the rubbish bin. While you watch Trey clean up your mess, you sip at lukewarm water. Your tongue squirms in your mouth, searching for the space that’s now bleeding freely. You find it, almost like one finds the space where a missing tooth ought to be, and prod at it with your tongue. It’s raw and sensitive. Stinging slightly. You wince.

“Bit my cheek,” comes your reply when Trey walks over. He wipes his hands on a towel patterned with tulips. “Hurts.”

Trey frowns. Golden hues flick from the plate of muffins to your forlorn face. He lowers to his knees, peering up at you through his glasses. “Don’t eat so fast next time, all right? You could choke.”

“Tastes funny.”

“I can’t imagine it’s very appetizing. Blood and blueberry muffins… A crazy combo, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

He chuckles. “Well.” He runs his hand through his hair. It reminds you of the grass and trees outside. Of a summer that has long since passed. “Nothing like a little scare to liven the afternoon. How’re you feeling?”

You set your half-empty glass on the table. “Better. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You wanna try another one? I promise the next one won’t have you biting your cheek.”

“I… I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”

“As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” Trey smiles. “I’ll make something softer for dinner. Any requests for the chef?”

You think back on all of your favorites and choose something you wouldn’t mind losing. “Lentil soup.”

After tonight, you’ll never enjoy the taste of that dish again.

Maybe that’s okay. Soups are easy to eat. Easy to slip special sentiments in.

Soup is what becomes of your brain when your body is too itchy.

ii. incessant - static is buzzing in your ears. buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. fluffy like bumblebees. sharp as a sting.

The elusive rabbit is looking at you again, red eyes boring into the back of your skull. You glance over your shoulder at it. A little bow fashioned from blades of grass is fastened around its neck. It nods in a new direction, urging you to follow. For a moment, you stand there and wait. Deep down in some forgotten corner of your stomach, you know you’ll never be able to catch the rabbit.

So you fall into step as it hops off to its destination.

Hedges line the horizon, boasting roses and thorns. The rabbit leads you all the way to the entrance of the maze. A xylophone rattles. You step forward. Another hedge rises from the ground up to trap you inside. With the rabbit out of sight and no other way around, you trek onwards into the maze.

The frequency at which xylophone chimes are registered and translated in your mind are muffled. At best, they’re almost silenced. At worst, they are static—piercing and grating in your ears.

Amidst so much static, Trey’s voice has always remained at the same pitch. An immutable intonation, one that fills the clouds with buoyant assurances: Just relax. You’re all right. I’ve got you.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him shout, but that makes sense. Grass only whistles and shivers in the breeze. It never screams. It’s soft and sweet—a wondrous embrace until it begins to feel itchy with time. Like a wool sweater. Like ants crawling in lines up your arms. Like cobwebs wrapped around your wrists.

The grass in your garden sounds more like static. Incessant, ear-splitting static. In your brain, bunching up like scribbles on paper, and falling in waterfalls from his mouth whenever he speaks.

It was static you heard when the grass cradled you in wispy tendrils.

Quiet at first, as if the world had been clicked off like a bad program on television, and then the static came seeping in. Rot was encroaching, grabbing at the rabbit and gutting it before your horrified eyes.

Somewhere within the maze, a jovial, uplifting song spills from a spinet. It puts you at ease, filling your soul with serenity.

Itchy dissonance. A rabbit split open, gooey innards tumbling free. Cotton fur tarnished. Lines running red.

Dead.

The spinet swells with rhythm. You’re walking yourself into corners, traveling in circles.

Incessant melodies, ringing in your ears like cicada shrieks.

The circle winds around and around. Where are you going? Hedges on either side, white roses blooming from comforting green. The deeper you delve, the darker they bloom. Mottled, petals wilting, white closes up and shrivels away.

Blotted black with tar, trailing in thick streaks.

Your feet pound against mossy meadows. You need to find the exit. It’s here and then there and then here again. It’s everywhere and then it’s nowhere. It’s here. Here. Here. Here. Here—

Now it’s there!

Static screeches. Blood trickles from your ears.

It hurts until it doesn’t. Until the static numbs everything and all that’s left is nothing. Blank and bitter, a wonderland set on mute.

The hedges breathe alongside you. It’s incessant, unintelligible static.

Frosting melts on cake. Pastels are sticky and spoiled. Candles droop.

A xylophone played in garbled glissando.

Quiet breaths. In and out. In and out. The grass whispers to you: “Hey, it’s fine. You trust me, right?”

In and out.

Out and in.

In and out.

Out. Out. Out. Incessant itchiness. Get it out.

Glass shatters. The rabbit’s heart, still beating faintly, is slit.

That…didn’t just happen, did it?

It didn’t, right?

Grass is supposed to be soft and full of life when watered with love.

That didn’t just happen.

What happened?

The grass billows in a breeze. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

You’re not. You…are anything but fine.

What happened?

You run under an arch, past thinning hedges, over the threshold, and burst into the kitchen.

“Trey!”

He startles, almost dropping a bowl of cake batter. His glasses sit crooked on his face. It takes a moment for him to process your arrival. He sets the bowl on the countertop and turns fully to face you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His concern makes your skin prickle.

Itchy.

“Everything okay?”

Incessant.

“Why…” Your fingers curl around the doorframe. You gulp down a gasp. “Why are you here again?”

He gives you a weird look. “You said you needed my help—that you were having trouble getting up in the morning. Remember? Actually… Here. How about this? Do you want me to fix you a cup of chamomile? It’ll help with anxiety and insomnia.”

Your once rapid-moving world slows to a screeching halt. You said that? When? When did you say that? When the fuck did you say that?

“I…don’t remember saying that. Ever. I don’t think I invited you here either…”

Trey shakes his head, tutting softly. “I get it. It’s rough. I know.” He folds the spatula through the batter. Calmly. “But you’re exaggerating. I’m only here to help.”

Static. Incessant, itchy static. You blink owlishly at him, straining to hear over it.

“What?”

“I came over because you asked me to, and I’m staying to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.” You point towards the door. “I think… Trey, I think you need to leave.”

His arm, which had previously been moving in circles, falls still. He sets the bowl down again. “We’ve talked about this before, (Name).”

“I don’t remember.”

“All the more reason for me to stay, yeah?”

“No… No, that’s not—”

Trey smiles, his tone lighthearted. “Hey, relax. You’ll feel better after something sweet. It won’t take long for the cake to bake. Wait for a little longer. If you want, you can lick the spatula when I’m done—”

“I don’t want cake.”

“No? I remember you told me it was your favorite, though. Am I remembering wrong?”

Is he?

“It’s…gross.”

“Gross?” He chuckles sheepishly. “That bad, huh? Not a fan of my baking?”

You gaze past him at the batter in the bowl. Confetti cake. You look towards Trey again. “What was that?”

He opens his mouth, but you don’t hear the words.

Static.

Incessant, itchy static.

You track his lips, his eyes, his hands.

“What?”

Sound seeps in, crunchy but audible.

“…a joke,” he’s saying. “I was just joking.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Don’t worry about it. My feelings aren’t hurt. I know you enjoy my baking.”

The TV tunes into a nonexistent channel. Static buzzes on the screen.

Loud. Louder. So loud!

You can’t hear yourself think. Can’t hear your lungs wheeze. Can’t hear yourself speaking slowly as you stumble into the grass’s green embrace.

Incessant. You’ll go insane. Static. Incessant. Too much. You feel sick. Bile drags itself up your throat.

Loud. Loud. Loud. Impossibly, incessantly loud!

Your arm sweeps through the air. The bowl is flung across the room. Ceramic shatters. Batter spatters on the wall and kitchen tiles. You feel the dull ache in the aftermath. Trey’s speaking, but it’s just static. All-consuming. Buzzing like flies over birthday cake gone bad. Incessant.

And then the TV clicks off.

And then it’s quiet.

iii. insanity - over and over and over and over and over and over and over and and and and and and and andandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandand01100001011100100110010100100000011110010110111101110101001000000110111101101011011000010111100100111111

Teeth. All thirty-two of them. Porcelain teeth. All forty-two of them.

They grow under your tongue and along the roof of your mouth in clusters. Insanity. It’s doing the same thing incessantly while anticipating different results. Insanity. It’s looking at too many teeth crammed where they shouldn’t be.

Opening your mouth as wide as it can go, you peer at yourself in the mirror. Your tongue runs along them. Smooth.

Teeth. All fifty-two of them. Hellish hyperdontia.

Grass is pesky when it gets in your mouth, reaching far with green fingers.

Flossing is important. If you forget, your gums will bleed and bleed, and then your mouth will be in for a world of pain. You’re smarter than this, so you need to keep up good dental hygiene. Brush and floss as you would, but not too hard or else you’ll break.

Insanity. It’s taking advice from butterworts and rabbits—from meadows tilled and filled with sin.

Teeth. Too many. Have you been flossing properly?

And then they’re at the back of your throat, sprouting from skin like the dainty heads of a dozen Frozen Charlottes. You stick your fingers down your throat to grab at one, but you can’t get hold of it. You cough. Teeth are closing up your esophagus. You look at your mouth and see a lamprey.

Insanity. It’s full of teeth.

You gag around them, heaving mouthfuls of air that struggle to reach your lungs. You feel teeth in there, too, growing in groups like an invasive species. You brace yourself against the sink, gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles sting. Your jaw is starting to feel sore.

Terrified, you find your reflection staring back with wide eyes. And then the first tooth comes loose. It falls into the basin of the sink with a pattering clink. You inhale through your nose, and that’s as much of your shock as you can express before more teeth follow suit. They shift out of your gums, one by one, until dozens of them are spilling out in calcium rain. Bent over the sink, you spit and spit. Tears threaten to pour from your eyes.

This can’t be happening.

You try to scream, to beg for it to stop, but the teeth keep coming. For every few that fall out, twenty more grow. It’s a cycle.

Insanity.

Incessant.

Itchy.

You sob helplessly, salt mingling with saliva and teeth.

When you look back at the mirror, you see blood stringing from empty gums.

The bathroom light flickers. Dizzying darkness. An unusual heat settles under your skin.

Itchy.

Incessant.

Insanity.

The bathroom light flickers. Blinding brightness. You’re still reeling. The heat won’t go away. Your eyelids are heavy. You feel sleepy, but it’s only early evening.

“Everything okay?”

You spy Trey in the mirror. His arm is propped against the doorframe as he leans in, half of his body shrouded in the shadows from the hall.

You swallow. It goes down smoothly. The teeth have retreated.

“T-Too much chamomile,” you grind out, reaching up to touch the column of your throat.

Teeth. All thirty-two of them.

The basin is empty. No teeth.

“How about a slice of bread? You’ve gotta eat something, (Name).”

“I’m not hungry.”

Your tongue traces all thirty-two of your teeth. They’re there, rooted firmly in your gums.

Trey frowns. “At least let me heat the leftover lentil. It’s liquid. You won’t bite your cheek again.”

“I might burn my tongue.”

“If you’re worried, I could feed you instead. Airplane it and everything.”

At your bewildered stare, Trey laughs and holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Joking.”

“Are you really here to help me?”

He lowers his arms. An uncanny cold fills the bathroom.

“Nothing is going to get you.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing here, (Name). You’re safe.” Trey glances down the hall for good measure. The hair on your neck rises, alert. “It’s in your head. You’re messing with yourself, you know, getting worked up over things that aren’t really there. I promise you’re okay. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here.”

It’s not in your head. Of course not. It couldn’t be.

Right?

It’s not really in your head, is it?

You storm out of the bathroom, pushing past Trey in your impatience. He follows you soundlessly. Everything looks the same. The sofa. The wallpaper. The kitchen. The cracks and creaks. Nothing’s changed.

So is it in your head? What is it—the thing in your head? It’s itchy and incessant. It makes everyone gaze at you as if you’re insane.

If you could, you’d take a scalpel to your body and cut yourself out of your skin, put it through a long wash cycle, and hang it out to dry. Maybe then the thing would leave.

You stop at the front door, suddenly hesitant. Has it all been in your head? Are you going crazy? Is Trey right: There’s nothing here and you’re making everything up?

You wrench it open.

A black rabbit blinks up at you with its milky-white eyes. Its nose twitches. Once. Twice. Thrice. A loud gust slithers through the field in which you currently observe, surrounded by decaying greenery and wilted wildflowers. They sprawl endlessly, clawing at the horizon beyond with broken fingers. You watch monochrome tones sway, dried petals flaking off like scabs against a battered, bloodless sky.

You take one step towards the rabbit and it takes off in a sprint, bounding through—

The grass gathers you in a hug. It whispers strangely soothing static.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

iv. 01101001011101000010000001110111011000010111001100100000011000010110110001110111011000010111100101110011001000000111010001110010011001010111100100101110

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere trey clover #yandere trey clover x reader #yandere trey x reader #yandere trey

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cheegu3 · 6 months

Text

Jake - come back to me

prompt; sadist jake, full prompt - here

summary; you try to escape from your sadist ex-boyfriend who kidnapped you when you broke up; bringing you to his house in the mountains where snowstorms and wild animals were frequent, if you escaped, would the wolf or jake get to you first?

tw / trigger warning; yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, toxicity, dead animals, blood, vomiting

wc; 1.7k

Your sore feet had long started bleeding, surely leaving some trace behind. But you had stopped feeling it a long time ago.

Now, you didn't care much about if he saw the small splotches of blood and chased after you. The coldness attacking your cold feed made you push through; brain in survival mode. All you cared about was getting there before he got to you, because that was only a question of when he would.

It was a race against the clock for your survival.

The forest stretched miles wherever you turned, and the initial optimism you had about reaching anyone who could help you before nightfall, quickly declined as the last beams of the sun started shining through the treetops.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you had a faint memory of a few weeks ago - when you and Jake were lying on the couch in front of the fireplace. Outside, the weather had been terrible, and he had told you of an upcoming blizzard.

You regretted not putting much importance on the warning, as you weren't quite honestly sure if you would survive the night. The wind was howling in your ear, even louder than before and it brushed sharp particles of ice across your skin, making it feel like small cuts.

Nevertheless, you had no choice but to keep pushing with your head down. Sometime, maybe around five minutes ago, visibility had gotten way worse. You weren't sure where you were going or how far you had even walked.

You were stopped in your tracks when you reached a big oak tree. Below it lay what looked like a small animal. The scarlet stood out against the bright white snow.

Slowly you crouched down. You didn't have the heart to leave it there when it looked like it was dying. Animals as well as people were always helped by your big heart.

The hands that inched closer to it were shaking. Then when it hovered right above the injured animal, you made up your mind, and finally let your fingers touch the soft fur.

It didn't move or react. You swallowed thickly, feeling a bit nauseous. It took a lot of bravery to use both hands to roll it over, and when you did so you inhaled sharply and crawled backwards in the snow.

A pair of eyes stared at you, blank and void - it was dead. You turned your head to see if there were any predators around so that you could get an answer to who or what could've done this.

To your horror, you discovered there were several more animals lying around in the snow, face down and bleeding like the one in front of you. They were all just a few meters away, spread out throughout the forest at a great distance.

'' No, no, no...'' you whispered to yourself.

Your hands rubbed at the skin of your throat, trying to control the bile that wanted to rise. Eventually, your head fell forward as you couldn't anymore, vomiting beside the animal loudly.

Sniffles sounded from you when you stood up. Your feet slowly dragged until you had the energy to get away. But it felt like you were in a nightmare; even if you had walked a hundred meters, new animals would pop out in the corner of your eyes, making the tears flow even more than before.

The wind had started to calm down, and a certain eerie quietness - the quiet before a storm, came instead. Then, you heard the sound of a motor in the distance, getting closer and closer to your location.

Ecstatic, you thought you were finally getting rescued by some local, until you realized the possibility of it being Jake. He owned a snowmobile too since he lived so far up the mountains.

The distance between you and the person coming closer was getting smaller. You only had a few seconds to dive behind a tree, hoping the snow pile offered some shielding.

It became deadly quiet.

It seemed the driver had turned off the motor, but you felt a certain uneasiness at not hearing footsteps instead. It was just quiet; even the howling wind had stilled completely.

You shuffled in the snow and pushed yourself up with the help of your forearms. There wasn't a single person in your field of view, not even an object as the snowmobile was nowhere to be seen either.

You made a hasty decision then to sit up fully on your knees and turn your body around the other direction, to see if there was something or someone there.

The second you sat up, a hand pushed you forcefully forward, causing you to dive face-first into the ice-cold snow. After letting out a muffled shriek, you rolled over and brushed the flakes from your face.

The first thing you saw when you were finally able to open your eyes again were two boots. They stood on either side of your legs, almost as if trapping them.

Your eyes dreaded going higher, but you let them anyway. Slowly your gaze wandered up; you started recognizing the clothes, and then it stopped on a very familiar face - Jake.

'' What- '' you sucked air in through your teeth, caught off guard by your whole body having gone cold from the snow melting on your face and hands.

It stung uncomfortably and your teeth clattered when you tried to talk again, '' How-how did...you? ''

You didn't finish the sentence. What you wanted to ask was how he'd found you so fast. It was hard to wrap your head around that fact; how he had found you way faster than you'd expected, days and even hours faster than what you thought.

Jake knew what you wanted to say, an amused smirk spread on his face, antagonizingly slow.

'' I already prepared for this, set up things just in case you would run away. I own these woods, did you know that? ''

'' N-no, '' you pressed out.

'' Now you do. I have cameras everywhere. You looked so stupid and cute running around so cluelessly. Did you even know where you were going? '' he snickered, '' That's why you need me to take care of you! ''

You didn't say anything. Although you weren't really sure what you'd say. He wasn't wrong; you went without a plan, or without any knowledge of the woods, and during a storm nonetheless.

'' I bet you didn't know I have wolves too. ''

Wolves? Was he a psychopath?

'' Just remember that for next time you try to escape, I will use them then. You're lucky if I get to you before they do, '' his amused smirk turned into a grin full of sadistic glee, very unfitting the words that came out of his pretty lips.

Putting on an act, he snapped his fingers and gasped dramatically.

'' Oh right! You probably can't talk because you're freezing to death. Do you want me to save you? ''

Your focus had long disappeared. Your body was much more busy with keeping you alive, as it had started shaking violently now. Small, short breaths left your mouth occasionally and your eyes struggled to stay on your ex.

'' Poor baby, '' he cooed.

You were barely awake, in some kind of daze when he lifted you up. He carried you in his arms and put you down on the snowmobile. The loud humming of the motor kept you from falling asleep as he drove off.

*******

You weren't sure if you actually managed to fall asleep after some time after all. All you remembered was that you got lifted again and carried.

You felt the temperature change and heard the blizzard become muzzled. Jake put you down on some kind of fur in front of a warm fire.

'' You'll feel better soon, '' you heard a voice say far away.

And slowly you did.

The fire spread warmth all throughout your body. You opened your eyes and could tell he was in the room, leering over you. The situation in the woods came back to you very clearly.

You tried pretending you were asleep again, scared that now that you were home you'd get punished for running away. But Jake wasn't that easy to fool, he listened attentively to every noise you made and turned his head whenever you shuffled; waiting for you to get back to normal.

He let you pretend for about an hour until he got fed up with it. You flinched when his hand touched your thigh and then bit your cheek due to your reflexes always giving you away.

'' I know you're awake. ''

Finally, you opened your eyes. Jake had sat down on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. You swallowed down your fear and met his narrowed eyes.

'' Are you...going to punish me? ''

'' What do you think? ''

You opened your mouth to answer, but he hadn't actually expected one. It was left hanging open as you instead watched him stand up and go over to the kitchen.

While trying to turn, you discovered that you had been tied to the couch so you barely had any room to move around. Instead, all you could do was listen.

Cabinets were opened and a drawer was pulled. Everything around you seemed to turn deadly silent when you heard the familiar sound of something sharp grazing, being dragged against wood.

'' There's no use, '' he haughtily said in response to you starting to thrash around in panic.

You kicked against the cushions and arched your back to try and get out of the ropes. But like he said, there was no use. Your body didn't get any more freed and if anything, your wrists hurt more from the material rubbing against your skin.

The sound got closer and closer, stopping just by your ear. You could turn far enough to see his favorite knife on the armrest. Whimpers left your mouth.

Jake sat down again; despite you closing your eyes shut to distract yourself, you could feel the dip of the couch. It made your breaths turn shaky.

Your wrist was grabbed tightly by his soft fingers, very different from the dark and harsh look he had on his face which promised nothing but softness.

'' Let's play a game, '' he grinned, eyes filled with craze.

'' It's called- if you scream, you die. ''

#yandere kpop #kpop yandere #yandere enhypen #yandere jake #jake yandere #yandere enha

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dovkss · 10 months

Note

Continuation of the “dumb bitch” series/ Drabbles ,maybe something where she apologizes to kiri + him and katsuki make up and then have a threesome

anon: + orrr she cheats with kiri | but she doesn't realize she's cheating or something like he convinces her

“cheating" on bakugou with kiri

word count: 2.2k

warning: 18+; gentle dom! kiri; dubcon; size kink; dumbification; belly bulge; light degradation; mocking; manipulation; panty stuffing; mating press; unprotected; yandere themes; kiri finally got some pussy !

all characters are aged up !!

a/n: i love your brain, anon. more of “dumb bitch,” hope i made it to your liking !! had a lot of fun with this one actually, i was giggling a little too much... forgive me for any mistakes, it's 2am, i'll proofread later to touch some things up, xoxo, enjoy <3

You lay next to Bakugou as he slept. Your body nestled comfortably under the warm blankets, he was almost naked, as he only had on boxers as he laid on top of the covers to feel the coolness of the fan that was in the corner of his room. His body was hot; every time you touched his back, you were stunned at how warm he was.

He was a peaceful sleeper to your surprise. Despite knowing it for a while, it still shocked you just how less intimidating he looked. His snores were faint, and his chest would rise up and down slowly as he took in deep breaths. All you did was smile.

It was late at night, well past midnight. The room was shrouded in darkness, except for the faint glow of the moon that seeped through the curtains. You had decided to stay over for the night since you didn’t think it would be safe to drive home in the dark. Bakugou suggested the idea of course.

“I don’t want you driving at night,” he said sternly. “It’s dangerous I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Well, that’s how you liked to recall it. Really, it was: “You’re not leaving.” When you opened your mouth to insist, he just glared at you. His scarlet-colored eyes made you shut up instantly.

You didn't even realize that he'd only kept you there to fuck. But even if you did know, you wouldn't deny him. You would always give in to his touch, responding to his touch in a way that nobody would ever be able to make happen besides him. It was like love.

You were awake, in your undergarments, running your fingers through his soft hair. Everything was comfortable until intense thirst crept up on you. You shifted in bed, careful not to disturb Bakugou, until you realized that you couldn't ignore your thirst any longer. You gently untangled yourself from the sheets, being as quiet as a mouse, and slowly slid out of the bed.

Every movement was calculated, as you tiptoed toward the bedroom door. You'd spent enough time at his house to know your way around in the dark. You navigated through the room with ease, being careful to avoid any potential obstacles that could out your presence. You'd made up your mind to get a glass of water from the kitchen, but the main operation on your mind was to not wake Bakugou by accident.

Taking slow, deliberate steps, you glided through the hallway, your ears perking up for any sound that might indicate Bakugou stirring. The house was quiet, except for the faint hum of the fridge and your footsteps. You reached the kitchen unscathed and let out a sigh of relief as you switched on the softest light.

Your gaze fell on the cupboard where the glasses were kept. You gently pulled it open, wincing slightly at the faint creaking sound. Your fingers brushed against the cool glass as you selected a cup, being careful not to clatter it against anything.

You recognized that cup. It was a cute one, with children's stickers on it. It was Bakugou's from when he was a kid. A gift his mother gave to him, you remembered Kirishima showed it to you when you were trying to get intel on Bakugou. With the cup in hand, you turned toward to fridge to grab the filtered water dispenser.

The soft sound of the water being poured filled the silence. You watched as the water flowed into the cup, your mind momentarily drifting to the peacefulness of the night. The thirst that had gnawed at you earlier had seemed to fade away.

With your thirst quenched, you silently placed the glass on the counter. You paused for a moment, considering whether to grab a snack as well, but ultimately decided against it.

You suddenly heard a rustling noise and froze. You turned slowly and saw that it was just Kirishima. His looked awfully tired. His hair was messy, and his basketball shorts were loose around his hips as you were able to see his v-line. He opened the cupboard as you just did and grabbed himself a bigger cup than what you had grabbed.

"Hey, Kiri," you said. "You scared me!"

"Sorry." He said flatly.

"Didn't expect to run into you. It's really late," you pressed on.

No response.

"How are you?"

He only hummed, not meeting your gaze. You felt the tension between the two of you yet again, and it made you uneasy. He wasn't interested in a conversation.

He poured water into his cup as well before putting the dispenser back in the fridge and began to walk out. You frowned. He didn't even say 'goodnight.' He said nothing at all.

You couldn't stop yourself from reacting.

"I'm sorry!"

He turned. Finally, his slow-blinking eyes met yours. Those familiar red eyes that once gave you comfort now were filled with what you would only describe as distaste. You stammered over your words, trying to find the right thing to say.

"I know I haven't been the best of friend to you lately. But it's not because I don't care about you, it's just... things are complicated."

"How?" He asked, his voice groggy.

"Well," you said, hesitantly. It was embarrassing. "Katsuki..."

"Of course it is." He scratched his head. "He's always been that way."

You sighed. The guilt was getting to you at that moment. "It's not like that. He just wants to protect me. He told me to stay away from you, Kiri, and to not talk to you. That's why I've been a little silent."

He shook his head. "Whatever sick game you and your boyfriend have going on, keep it between you two. I don't care for it."

You raised an eyebrow. "Boyfriend? Katsuki and I aren't dating."

Kirishima's eyes widened for a moment. Then he laughed. He laughed at you. Your face got hot. He was taunting you. He laughed at you.

"That's rich," he teased. "Katsuki doesn't even want you, but he can control who you talk to? That's low, even for you."

Your eyebrows furrowed, and your lips parted slightly in surprise. You searched Kirishima's face for any signs of deception but found none. A wave of uncertainty washed over you. "Don't say that."

He chuckled, enjoying the reaction he had provoked. "Well, that's what it sounds like. And you just let it happen, why? You're... weak."

You shifted uncomfortably. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. "You shouldn't say things you don't mean."

Your mind spun with conflicting thoughts and emotions. While you and Katsuki never had openly discussed your guys' relationship, you believed there was a mutual understanding between you both. The idea that Katsuki didn't want you shattered your heart.

Kirishima's grin widened as he poked more at your vulnerable state. "Oh, come on. Don't be so naive."

Your heart sank. The room fell into an awkward silence, your emotions welled up inside you. The weight of his words became unbearable. Tears welled up in your eyes.

You wanted to believe that he was just hurt. He had every right to be. When people are upset they say things they don't mean. That's happening now.

"I'm sorry, okay?" you mumbled. "I don't know what else to say."

Kirishima stepped forward, no sign of regret on his face. "Don't cry, Baby. It's not your fault you're so trusting."

You wiped away the tears that fell and turned away from him. You needed to stay composed.

"You know what? Let's have some fun. If you really wanna make it up to me for being such a shit friend, why don't you spend some time with me? Let's just... enjoy each other's company."

Your heart began to beat faster as you felt his bigger chest rub against your backside. You shook your head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Kiri. I don't want to go behind Katsuki's back."

"Come on," he whined. "It'll be our little secret. Just for tonight. Don't you miss having fun with me?"

You felt a flutter in your stomach. It was true, you did miss the way things used to be between you and Kirishima. You missed the inside jokes and the way you both would talk for hours without running out of things to talk about. You missed never having to look over your shoulder.

But you also knew that what he was suggesting was wrong. It would be going against Katsuki, and you'd never want to disobey him.

"I don't, I mean, Katsuki wouldn't approve-"

"Katsuki doesn't need to fucking know."

He was persistent. He turned you around, your chest brushing against his. He leaned in close, you could smell the faint scent of his cologne.

"Come on, babe," he whispered. "Just this once. For old times' sake."

You just wanted everything to go back to normal.

You didn't mean for things to escalate.

Your entire body was on fire, but the opening between your legs burned like hell. Kirishima's fingers were entangled in your hair and he deepened the kiss in an attempt to make you more quiet.

"K-Kiri, i-it hurts!" you tried to turn away from his kisses, but his hand held your chin toward him, your sentence getting caught up in between his lips.

He was much bigger and girthier than Bakugou. Legitimately, you were afraid he would split you open. He entered you slowly, being sure to make you cum twice from his mouth first. But even after all of that work, the pain of just his tip was enough to make you want to tap out.

But he insisted it would feel better. That the pain would go away in no time. So he kept going, slowly. He had your legs pushed up by your head, making sure to get every inch of himself inside of you.

"Does that feel good, baby?" He asked, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, pushing your body into his mattress.

All you could do was cry out. The sensation was too much to bear. Your fingers gripped the sheets, your nails almost splitting through the thin sheets. Tears streamed down your face each time he thrusted into you. He wasn't being rough at all, he was just so hard to take.

His hands softly slid up and down your stomach, feeling your skin thoroughly. His long, fluid strokes only made you gasp. Kirishima huffs out every once in a while, a wide smile plastered on his face as he watched you take him in.

You were so tight.

"You're clenching so much around me- oh, fuck, baby, look at me," he slapped your face lightly when he noticed that your eyes were closing.

He leaned forward and took your arms in his hands before wrapping them around his neck to make you hold onto him closer. You never thought you'd be here. Never thought you'd be doing something so intimate with him. You weren't this sensual with Katsuki either, your heart ached at the fact.

Maybe Kirishima was right.

He pressed a thumb to your swollen clit and you screamed. His eyes went wide, taken aback at how you reacted. Quickly, he grabbed your panties from beside him and forced them into your mouth. Your garbled noises went muffled as they continued to spill from your throat.

"I didn't know you were so sensitive," he panted. "I need you to stay quiet, hun. Understand?"

You couldn't answer him. You felt so full, so stuffed. You felt his cock hit your cervix with every roll of his hips. You had yet to notice the bulge he had made in your stomach.

His head tilted. "Awe, you're so stupid. You've gone all dumb on my cock, can't even fucking talk. Shit, but you're gonna. Does he make you feel as good as I do?"

Your eyes traveled to him. You were nearing your third release, your thighs started twitching in pain. What?

"Don't look at me like that. Answer the question, baby."

He purposely began grinding his hips deeper into you. His sharp-toothed smile turned you on even more. He was only teasing you, he knew you were barely able to comprehend what he was saying to you.

You felt yourself coming closer, your cream making a mess all over his cock. You trembled and squirmed.

"T-Too m-much, aah!" you cried out, the panties slipping to the side of your mouth.

He chuckled. You're so fucking cute.

"Wanna cum, pretty baby? Wanna come undone all over my cock? Be a good girl for me, yeah?"

All you could do was babble. Babble about how good he made you feel, about how much you wanted to cum, about how much better he was compared to Bakugou.

You gave him everything he wanted to hear.

He took that as a sign and he drove into you faster, harder. The sounds of skin slapping filled the room. Your back was arched and your eyes were crossed before you knew it.

Your cunt squeezed around his cock involuntarily and you couldn't stop your moans from coming out as you finally gave in to your release. Your moans were like music to his ears. They made him want to fuck you relentlessly, but he needed to hold back. He slapped his hand over your mouth, grunting as he reached his end.

It wasn't long before he came. Inside you, that is.

He collapsed onto your chest, you both breathing heavily. His skin was slippery as both of you were sweaty. Your cunt was incredibly sore. You winced at every breath he took as his cock was still inside you. He didn't plan on taking it out anytime soon, either.

You didn't mean for things to escalate. You just wanted things to go back to normal. You knew Kirishima long enough to know he'd always kept a promise.

You only feared that things wouldn't go back to normal as quickly as you'd hoped.

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ceruleancattail · 2 months

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Yandere Octavinelle being fascinated with the red of your blood.

TW: yandere, gore, slightly suggestive

In the depths of the sea, the colour red doesn’t exist. Scarlet, ruby, crimson…. These mean nothing to the creatures born of the ocean.

Blood to them is just a dark liquid, with a strong, heavy metallic smell that weighs on all the senses. Something primal, yet alluring at the same time. Perhaps it’s the hunter genes in them, the need to sink their teeth into a squirming, bloody mess. To clutch and hold someoneuntil it breaks under their grip, to devour them whole.

The stench of blood drives all three of the Octavinelle boys slightly off the rails.

Azul nips your shoulders when he’s holding you. Dark red marks dip down the curve of the base of your neck, blood gleaming scarlet in the faint light. It almost looks like a string of pearls, draped across your skin.

Azul does it as gently as he can. The plush of his lips pressing softly against your bare skin, the chill sinking deep into your flesh. Before he takes a bite. Nibbling at your skin until his teeth breaks through and draws blood.

Sometimes, he sits back and watches his handiwork with a perverse pride. Watching your neck beaded with your very own blood, a grin spreading across his cheeks. Of course, you’ll never be far from him while he’s admiring you.

Azul’s legs tangled with your own, arms tight around your torso. Holding you down, your back pressed flush against his chest. Azul craves your touch, like a creature craves air. It hurts, whenever you’re not around. Like a dagger stabbing through his heart, again and again and again. A frenzied attack on his very being.

Look at the effect you have on him, darling. You won’t be as cruel as to leave him without a reprieve, would you?

Floyd doesn’t even give you a chance. Without so much as a warning, his fangs are already plunging themselves into whatever part of your body you deemed fit to expose that day. Floyd isn’t picky.

You’re unceremoniously shoved under him, Floyd’s fingers wrapped tight around your wrists. They dig in your flesh, leaving bright red welts against your skin. He throws you on whatever flat surface he can, before clambering over you. Pinning you down with the sheer bulk of his body alone. Habits from the hunt, trained into the memory of his very muscles.

Floyd quite literally knocks all the fight out of you, wrapping himself around you as tightly as he can.

Every part of your body is lined with violent, bleeding bite marks, scarlet gushing from them. There’s nothing but that metallic stench in your nostrils, stinging every crevice of your nose like a thousand wasps. Floyd isn’t gentle, not by a long shot. You’re just so warm and soft, Shrimpy….

You can’t really blame him for taking a bite or two, right?

Jade enjoys watching you squirm. There’s just that shiver of glee that runs down his spine whenever you twist and turn. Struggling in his arms, trembling away all the while. Watching your futile efforts is entertaining in itself. Separating yourself from him is something you’ll unfortunately never achieve in this lifetime.

Not when your blood is this sweet.

Jade’s fingers wrap around your limbs tight, the blade of his nails digging into your flesh. Lining your arms with crimson crescents, the ruby-red flaring to life on your skin.

He varies the pressure he uses to press down into your skin. Sometimes quick and firm, sometimes slow and gruelling. Leaving you on your toes, eyes watching his hands glide through your limbs with quivering fear.

Yet once you’re overly focused on the antics of his hands, Jade makes his move. Burrowing his face into the crook of your neck, fangs sinking quick and deep into your very flesh. Piercing right through your skin, drawing blood. He stays there for quite awhile, tongue lapping up whatever spills out of his bite.

It’ll be a shame to waste even a single drop, no?

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Text

Factions

König x 'Maus' F!Reader

(Part 6 of "Little Mouse" Series)

Word Count: 4.5k Rating: Teen and up Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Dark König, Angst, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Found family, Hints of yandere König, Canon bending Warnings: General dark romance themes A/N: A bit of a longer chapter, and no Maus + Konig, though some desperately needed plot/character development. We will be going back to our hunter/prey vibes with the next chapter.

He rises from the shadows of the cliff.

You see him, see the way his body unfurls from where he crouches. The silhouette of him plucks at the veins of your heart, winding a song that feels ancient in its origin, primordial. Instinctive, bathed in a touch that seeps a crimson so dark and deep you think you might drown in it. It soaks you to the bone, dyeing you in a wash of terror that spreads outwards as his body towers higher, higher-

A monster.

Something from fairytales, the thing that would haunt your nightmares as a child and yet exists even now. Older than your deepest fears, the horror of the thing before you seems etched into your very marrow, an intrinsic instinct to run, run away from the massive form before you. You can only make out the outline of him as he moves, the edges of him wavering in the darkness like a supernatural entity. A poltergeist. One that stretches out with phantom limbs and whispered voices, promising sinister prophecies.

"What made you think we were done, Maus?" He murmurs into the shell of your ear, his massive arms snaking around your front, secured there like bands of steel.

"I'll take better care of you." He promises, and his hand catches yours, smoothing his thumb into the soft, sensitive skin of your wrist.

"Hello, little Maus." He purrs from where he stands, far above, backlit by the waxing crescent moon.

"I'll see you again." You hear his voice all around you, surrounding you, within you.

"Soon."

Now that same creature, that cryptid looms above you, and when he moves he seems to blur at the edges, the darkness of him shuddering into nothingness. A void. You can hardly make out the details of him. When he shifts it leaves an incandescent aftereffect that sears into the back of your eyelids. Too bright and too dark to trace. Red pulses there behind your vision with every drumming heartbeat.

He turns to you, and you can see the bleach tears that pool across his hood, draining down into lasting marks that you think will burn into your soul if you stare too long. You see his eyes then, and they glint when his eyes focus, when he reaches a hand towards you that drips of shadows-

Yet he doesn't touch you. Doesn't extend his hand to grasp at your shivering form.

Instead, there's light.

Soft, glowing, it radiates like sunlight through dappled trees, where dust hovers like glimmer dust. Enchanted, gentle, warm.

Edelweiss.

Delicate pale blossoms that spill from his fingertips, their bright centers twinkle with soft whispers of peace, an entreaty you can't fully comprehend. They sing out to you, against that terror that seems so inherent, so primal it almost pains you to struggle against it. Yet even when the scarlet of it thrums and groans in your veins it's muted by the brightness, the strange, hesitant words of the shadow that offers them to you.

"I won't hurt you, Maus."

When you look up, it's not a monster.

It's him.

---

"Rookie."

You awake fighting, instinctively throwing out your limbs in a sloppy offense that's easily deflected by broader, calloused hands. The gesture does nothing to calm you, not when the world is an enigmatic amalgamation of movement and dizzying, blurring sensations. Squirming, you try to raise your voice, arching off the thin padded cot where you lay and blindly grappling with whoever is trying to subdue you.

"Rookie!" The voice calls again, and now your wrists are caught in a steel grip as you buck, try to yell-

Light floods your vision, and there's another voice now, murmuring a question you can barely make out, startled and concerned. You blink against the brightness, stilling long enough to clear your vision, allowing the hovering face of Gaz to float into view.

"K-Kyle." You manage, and your eyes trace over the still fading scar over his brow, the one he earned on that night all those months ago, when you'd been stolen away into the darkness.

Kyle's eyes are concerned, shocked at your violent awakening. He hunches over your prone form, leaning his weight down so he pins your hands to either side of your head, his shoulders blotting out the crackling fluorescent light above you.

"You're okay." He tells you almost instantly, voice softer now. "You're safe. Take a breath."

You blink at him for a few moments, thoughts rapidly trying to process his words and your hazy surroundings. Yet you follow him when he inhales, holding the air in his chest before releasing it. The sigh whooshes from your lungs, curling up between you and draining the coiled tension from your still drowsy form.

"That's it." Your sergeant smiles at you, brown gaze wrinkling at the corners. "Just had a bad dream. You're okay."

You swallow, feel the dusty, dry air crack against your throat before you speak. "Y-yeah. I'm okay."

"Good." Kyle declares, and his fingers flex around your wrists, loosening. "I'm going to let you go, try not to punch me again, yeah?"

You manage a nod after a moment, mind still churning with the unknown waters of confusion. Yet when he releases you, you keep still, wait for him to pull completely away before trying to sit up.

You cradle your brow in your hands as you do, dragging your palms over the planes of your face in an attempt to reorient yourself. Gaz turns from you, allowing you a few moments to gather yourself before you at last turn to him. There's a pinched, worried look on his face, arms crossed as he leans against the wall.

"You good?" A voice asks from the doorway of the bunk, and it's Soap, his muscular forearm arm braced on the doorframe as he regards you skeptically.

"Yeah...yeah. I'm good." You tell him, even when he quirks an eyebrow at you. "Just...sorry. Had a nightmare."

Soap merely shrugs, but averts his eyes from you as a frown tugs at the corner of his lips. Before you can ask, he focuses back on Gaz.

"Briefing is ready, Price is expecting us."

Gaz nods, eyes looking down in thought for a moment before they refocus on his comrade.

"Give us a minute, we'll be there." He replies, and you blink at the tone in his voice. Grim, contemplative. He regards Soap with a look that conveys a meaning you can't decipher.

Whatever it is, it's enough for Johnny, who gives a single nod before vanishing, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

There's a silence that lingers after him, stretching long and tense between you and Gaz. You cast a glance at him, but his gaze is focused downwards, towards his boots. He doesn't speak.

"...We should go." You offer, standing and moving towards the doorway to follow Soap. You're stopped, however, by Gaz's hand that catches across your bicep. You blink, turn to him, brow furrowed in worry. Yet Gaz's expression is dark, serious, intent on your skittish, frightened eyes.

"He hurt you, didn't he?"

The question feels like a gunshot. You feel the impact before you hear the sound, your body tensing automatically, coiling under the blow. It's a blatant reaction, one Gaz takes it with narrowed eyes and a tightened grip.

"Who?" You manage, but it's a bluff Gaz sees straight through.

"König." He answers instantly, and you only wind further into yourself, feeling panic rise at the intensity of his accusation.

He sees it then, sees the sudden flash of alarm that glints across your gaze. Almost immediately he blinks, face softening as he realizes he's startled you, watched you poise to flee under his touch.

"...Sorry." He offers, gaze averting, hand releasing your arm and dropping back to his side.

You don't speak, trying to summon the words needed to answer his question, to grapple with the strange, forbidden secrets in yourself he can't be allowed to see.

"It's just-" Gaz tries, then stops, swallowing before he faces you once more. His eyes are sincere, open and bright as they regard you. "I can see it. We all can."

When you don't speak, Gaz takes it as an indication to continue.

"You won't talk about what happened that night. I mean, we know from your report, but you won't...won't talk about it. You try to act like it didn't happen, try to just ignore it."

"Kyle-" You try, reaching for him. He pulls away.

"Even then, when you've seen him again, anytime he's spotted over comms you get this look in your eyes, like you're trying to figure out what to do with yourself."

Kyle's fists clench at his sides, his brow knotted. Yet his gaze is unwavering, staring straight at you and almost pleading.

"You keep saying he didn't hurt you, but every time you hear his name you tense up, go all stiff like you're scared. It...it makes me think he hurt you, and you won't tell us."

"No!" You try, voice rising quickly, trying to step towards him. Yet the sudden pitch of your voice betrays you, and Kyle's eyes widen then darken at the tone of your voice. You cut him off before he can say more.

"Kyle I swear to you, he didn't hurt me."

Yet Kyle seems unconvinced, lips pursing into a thin line as he stares at you, his eyes trying to uncover the secrets hiding below the surface.

"You don't have to hide it." He offers after a few moments of tense silence. "Nobody is going to judge you for it. I just..."

You see it then, the flash of something across his gaze that looks upset somehow, poisonously guilty.

"I need to know if it was my fault."

You blink, lips parting as Gaz's gaze shifts away.

"Kyle." You ask gently, and when you step forward this time he doesn't retreat. "Why would it be your fault?"

Kyle doesn't answer straight away, nor does he move when your fingers skim across his arm. He allows the touch, even as he avoids your gaze.

"I was your partner." He murmurs at last, and his voice drips with hurt that's self-inflicted. "I was supposed to keep you safe, and I failed. I'm...I'm sorry."

In the silence that trails after Gaz's words, you hear the sound of your heart cracking.

Frozen where you stand, hand outstretched and skimming across his arm, you feel the weight of your secret weigh down inside you. Like a taboo, forbidden gravity, the truth of your answer, of the reality within you drags you downwards into yourself. The pressure of it threatens to fracture outwards, cracking along your sinews, your spine, the shadowy depths of you.

What do you even say?

It's true. König never hurt you. He's saved your life more times than you care to count by now. He was your captor, your abductor, and yet his touch to you has never been anything other than firm, guiding, grounding against the conflict of mystery that churns within you.

You see him even in dreams, your mind conjuring visions of bleach-streaked tears and shadows, only to douse it in his gentle entreaties, the lulling warmth of his words. He ripples across your thoughts, a massive, hulking behemoth that you should be terrified of, and yet somehow find that fear within you absent.

No, you're not afraid of him. You're afraid of the truth, the raw jagged breadth of it that threatens to slice your heart from the inside out.

You don't want him to be your enemy.

You...you want him.

The realization comes so sharp and fast you jolt, flinching away at the exact moment Gaz turns his gaze to face you once more.

Silence, stillness between you both.

Then, blooming deep and wounded across Gaz's face: Hurt.

"N-no, Gaz." You try, voice cracking in your throat as his expression changes. "It wasn't your fault, you were injured too, I-"

Yet Gaz seems to have found whatever it was he was looking for inside your eyes, wild and panicked as they are at the revelations he can't see. His face sours, mouth dipping and brow furrowing as he turns from you, shrugging off your hand.

"I get it." He tells you, and even with his terse tone you can hear the pain there, the aching sensation of regret that clings to his skin. "Just...don't blame yourself. Please."

You don't dare to breathe, and it's within that absence that Gaz brushes past you, makes his way down the hallway to the briefing room. His footsteps fade, and you're left behind, hands clenched at your sides, trembling as you try to hold back the warmth that pricks against the corners of your eyes.

Don't blame yourself, he said. All while his own guilt growls, gnaws at his bones, hidden away in a place you couldn't see until it was too late.

You're such a fool.

Too obsessed with your own guilt and shame over the conflict of your feelings, you didn't notice how much he was hurting, how he watched every expression flicker across your face and betray you.

If you just told him, confessed to him the truth, then surely he wouldn't harbor this hurt, this pain inside him over his supposed mistake. How were you supposed to do that though when you could barely accept the truth yourself? What would he even think? To realize you...might have feelings for the man who hurt him?

"Rookie!"

Price's voice echoes gruff and loud down the hallway, calling out for you.

You wipe your face dry on your arm, swallowing down your bitter regret and turn to follow him.

The team murmurs amongst themselves, but when you step into the main area with the table full of maps and supplies they hush, turn to you.

You see Soap's hand fall from Gaz's shoulder quietly, tucked back to his side.

When Price clears his throat you all turn to him, with his hands planted on the table, body leaning forward and head raised to return your gaze.

"Our enemy is KorTac." He states grimly, taking a pause to fasten his eyes around the members of his team. "An elite private military company composed of international operators that are highly skilled and extremely well-armed."

You watch as Price's hand smooths across a number of manila folders scattered across the creaking metal table.

"We don't have names of every agent listed within this company, but Laswell has managed to compile a number of reports on some of their members."

When Price looks up, you see his brow is pinched, his lips a tight, severe frown.

"Many of our allies died to obtain this information."

There's a current of unease that ripples through the team around you, unspoken and yet sinister as the reality of your captain's words sink in.

"These are all operators that have gone rogue from their government and have been privately enlisted in KorTac. They operate outside any government and with full discretion. However, we were able to compile certain information on their previous training and deployments, which allows us an idea of what they're capable of."

Price's hand lands on the first folder, his voice rising as he announces its contents.

"Tor Eriksen. Callsign 'Aksel'. Former Norwegian Maritime special forces. He's a utilitarian. Knows everything from HALO Jump to bomb disposal."

"Jack of all trades." Soap offers, thick, brawny arms crossing.

"Exactly right." Price replies, looking up sharply at the sergeant. "Laswell is certain he's KorTac's specialist. He's highly trained, extremely intelligent, and adaptable."

You watch as Price's hand drifts to the second folder, plastered with a grainy picture of a soldier in full camouflage, his face obscured by a matching mask and sunglasses.

"Kim Hong-jin. Callsign 'Horangi', the 'Tiger'."

"Why do they call him that?" Gaz interjects, and when you look at him he stubbornly avoids your gaze.

"We don't know." Price replies bluntly. "What we do know is that he's former RKAF, sniper training." Price's eyes briefly raise to you, and you try your best to return his even stare. "He's been recorded as the executor of several high value targets on the CIA counter-terrorism wanted list. Highly effective and very dangerous."

"Another sniper." Soap mumbles, and his elbow bumps against your side. You manage to shoot him a nervous smile, but the expression feels forced, hollow.

"Rozlin Helms." Price continues, pointedly drawing your attention back to him. Yet before he can go on it's Ghost who interjects.

"Helms?" He questions from where he leans against the wall, outside the reach of the overhead light. "Thought she was with Shadow Company."

"She was." Price returns. "After the clusterfuck in Las Almas it seems she jumped ship, ended up in KorTac. Now she's their munitions expert and weapon procurement specialist. MI6 has tagged her name attached to several illegal weapons sales moving through Eastern Europe."

"Might explain where that one grenade came from." Gaz mumbles, and you feel his eyes dart to you for all of a moment before they vanish from your form. "Maybe."

"Laswell is arranging an information swap with MI6 regarding her whereabouts. If we can pin her, we may be able to pin where the company is currently operating from."

"We're going on the offense, Cap?" Soap asks, his voice dipping, leveling into a harsh, rough grain at the seriousness of his query.

"I'll be covering that in just a moment, MacTavish. Hold your tongue until then." Price replies, voice smooth and yet managing to convey his annoyance for the repeat interruptions.

"Yes sir."

"Good." Price nods. When his hand drifts to the next folder, however, you see him pause, glance at you.

There's no photo.

"König."

The room stills.

"No real name that we can gather. Former German Special Forces Command. Extremely skilled, extremely dangerous."

You feel them, the eyes of the team sliding over to your stiffened form. When your hands shake, you curl them at your sides, refusing to meet their stares.

"Failed enlistment as a sniper, was assigned as an insertion specialist under the first platoon. His former comrades describe him as a human battering ram. He's recorded as single-handedly eliminating an AQ cell in Berlin, all twelve fighters KIA. He's a weapon's specialist, but besides that we know he has a preference for flash bangs and frag grenades."

You hear Gaz shift where he stands, the hostility radiating off his form, poisonous and acrid.

"I don't need to emphasize that this man is dangerous. Given his...history attacking one of our own, you have full execute authority should you encounter him."

You freeze.

Yet Price doesn't notice your sudden stiffness, like a doe caught out in the open, seeing the glint of a rifle from the trees. Instead, he focuses on Ghost's voice that growls from where he lurks.

"Who's their commander?"

Price pauses, takes a drag of his smoldering cigar caught between his fingertips. The ashes spill downwards onto the reports below.

"Declan O'Conor."

"O'Conor?" Soap exclaims abruptly, arms falling as he takes a step towards the table. "Of the Irish Defense Forces?"

"The same." Price responds gravely, and this time he doesn't bother trying to correct Soap, likely allowing Soap's outburst due to his own sense of shock.

"I thought he was dead! They said he was KIA during that raid in Mozambique two years ago!"

"…They never found his body." Ghost adds in the tense silence that follows, voice deep, cutting as he absorbs the information Price has laid out.

"No, this doesn't make sense." You watch as Gaz shakes his head, stepping closer to look at the clear photo attached to the commander's profile. "I knew Conor. He's a good man. Why would he defect? More than that, why would he go so far as to fake his own death?"

You look between the group, watch as their faces morph from surprise to confusion to anger. Yet when your eyes land on Price, you stiffen at the cold, unflinching weight of them, gazing past you, into the possibilities you don't yet see.

"The agent who compiled this report was found dead at her safehouse last night, just outside of Minsk."

You suck in a breath, feel the air in the room drop several degrees as the men around you straighten, stiffen in surprise.

"Wait." You try, and when you raise your voice for the first time during the entire briefing, four sets of eyes turn to you. "Are you saying that...O'Conor had her killed? For just finding out who he was?"

Price is silent, doesn't respond. Yet the grim, fatal glint in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

"Creepin' Jesus." Soap breathes beside you. You shiver.

Price straightens then, looming above the table as he fixes his gaze on each of you.

"From what we can gather, KorTac has been mobilized against the 141. We don't know from where, and we don't know by who. What we do know is that they've already proven they can strike anywhere, anytime. This puts not only us, but also our allies at risk, and that is something we cannot allow."

Your allies, you realize. Farah, Alex. Alejandro, Rudy. Nikolai. All them, walking with targets on their backs. Because of this.

Because of you.

"Your company, Maus." He insists, voice lowering. A hand flexes on his knee.

He won't hurt you. He said he wouldn't hurt you.

"The 141." You murmur, and something stabs inside you, guilty and hurt over your own betrayal.

"One four one." König echoes, accent turning over the numbers in a low rumble.

Something changes then. You feel it. There’s an energy that seeps from you, coiled in anger, in determination. It unspools from your veins, spilling loose so the threads of it graze against the men around you.

Ghost straightens from where he leans against the wall, and you catch his eyes as they blink open. Dead, empty, cold. Yet there's an energy there, primal, instinctive, calculating and premeditated. When he steps forward into the light his mask catches the fluorescent glow from above. Not a halo, but a radiance that burns dark at the edges. Mesmerizing. Fatal.

Beside you Soap straightens, rolls his shoulders back and you hear them grind, crackle with years of strength built into his bones. The curve of his jaw grits harsh and unrelenting, eyes piercing. Like a live, sparking wire Johnny oozes raw energy, motion, a durability you can only dream of.

When your eyes move to Gaz, you find him already staring at you. There's a clairvoyance there, an insight you know only him to possess. Gaz divines the shifting currents of events like he's tasting the wind and summoning rain. Now that same acumen seems to extend to you, peeling back the layers of your thoughts and exposing the vile, verboten interior of your mind.

You close your eyes against it, try to blot out despite the howling gale of treachery inside your chest, seeping dark and oily into your bones.

You can't tell him. You can't tell any of them. These men, your brothers, who have fought by your side and come to your aid, who have stemmed your wounds and been the shield for your spear, they should never know the horrific, undeniable truth inside you.

You can't deny it now, the fatal secret exposed in the light of your own realization. The outline of him, of König lurks in your mind, turning as you watch, offering his voice in a double edged greeting that seeps of gentleness, of a sinister threat.

"Hello, Maus."

He haunts your daydreams, your nightmares. He stalks you across the battlefield, keeps you safe, only to turn around and reach for you, threatening to drag you under into his beckoning embrace.

"I'd never hurt you, Maus."

He refuses to kill you, choosing instead to poison you, the drip of his curiosity treacherously sweet and sour against your tongue. It winds through your veins, tinting the color of your blood into something you can't discern, a syrupy intoxication that leaves you breathless, reeling from his onslaught.

It will kill you.

You'll kill him first.

You turn to Price then, see your conviction reflected in his knowing, piercing stare.

"When do we start?"

----

As the sun sets over the Svislach river, and twilight oozes from dusk to darkness, the stars in the heavens above Minsk twinkle distantly. Here, in the metropolis, the lights of the city drown out the constellations above, obscured by wispy trails of clouds. The lingering taste of snow clings in the air, blank and frigid, a clean slate of which to start anew. Yet the stars shine, pinpricks of light against the dome of growing midnight that stretches gently against the horizon.

A set of eyes watches them from atop the warehouse in the center of the city. Crouched, hidden by the shadows, a single breath fogs, curls away from him, up into the sky. Beside him, a weapon missing a single round chills against the nighttime air.

König’s eyes open under his hood, staring out across the river, to where the lights of the city gleam and glitter like midnight lanterns. The freezing air bites at his bones, but he ignores it, seeking instead to set his sights upwards, into the empyrean atmosphere, lost in thought.

The sound of a single gunshot still echoes in his ears, the crack of thunder, loud and brilliant. It electrifies him, sends a familiar, addictive energy coursing through his veins.

Yet the excitement, the rising crescendo of feverish passion feels dulled now, obscured just as the stars by the veil of something else.

"Hmm."

The sound gusts, billows like steam, floating higher. König’s dark eyes take it in silently, mind twisting, churning with contemplation.

"It's boring." He decides at last, mouth forming the words under his hood. Even then his tongue grazes against a familiar taste, a memory.

The AQ fighter before him jerks, and there's a violent, grotesque spume of blood that erupts from his head. It sprays against the concrete wall to his left, an abstract of violence. Yet his hands remain clean, and after a moment König realizes the origin of the shot came not from him, but up from the sky.

He turns.

Backlit by the sun, he catches the shadow of your form eclipsing the light that peeks over the rooftops. The glint of your scope shines in the afternoon light, even as it points down to him, to the waiting target of his body.

You saved him.

The realization sends a pulsing, intoxicating electricity through him, rising into a wild, untamed smile hidden under his hood.

You saved him.

He sees you tilt away from your scope to regard him, blinking in the brightness, and König feels the desire to reach out, to touchyou rise sharply inside him.

Within him, a memory of a memory, one that glows against his thoughts, bright and soft with hallowed light.

"Your name, Maus."

Then, the sound of your voice.

König blinks, shifting now to try and rid himself of the cold beginning to bleed into his bones. Drowsiness pulls at him, fed by the bite of winter and the many sleepless hours spent hunting his quarry.

"Hmm." He echoes again, the sound dragging in his chest, close to a displeased whine.

"I miss Maus."

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