#yandere rollo flamm

[merakiui]

eden.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, non-con, captivity, obsession, menophilia/period sex, vague references to the story of adam & eve note - a self-indulgent paradise crafted by rollo's generous, gracious hand.

Silvery slivers of moonlight spill through the space in the curtains, illuminating the fluffy sheets you’re currently entangled in. A sharp sting in your abdomen rouses you from your dreamless slumber, so agonizing it causes you to slowly curl in on yourself. Miserable and defeated, you groan and bury your face in the neighboring pillow. Now muffled, the sound can only carry on for however much capacity your lungs possess. It eventually fizzles out into a solemn, silent resignation that forces you to accept the third day of the monthly curse that is the menstrual cycle.

It’s a natural facet of your biology, but that doesn’t stop you from moping when you register the slick sensation between your legs.

This wouldn’t be an issue if he got me pads or tampons, you think, bitter with resentment and worn to exhaustion even though you’ve only just woken.

Awkwardly, you attempt to sit up and pull the covers back to check the damage. Rollo’s sheets are always spotless and fresh; he washes them every two weeks on Sunday afternoons, dedicated to following his schedule down to the letter. But then the pain persists, stabbing through to your very organs, and you resume your pitiful fetal position in hopes that the severity may abate.

It does, but you think you’re just tricking yourself into believing so.

You can feel the blood soaking through your white nightgown, and the sodden fabric molds itself to your rear in a very unpleasant way. Shuddering, you blink back tears.

I wanna go home.

Home, as it happens, has felt less and less temporary with each passing month spent in Twisted Wonderland. You’ve come to associate the familiarity of Night Raven College and its student body with comfort and contentment. It’s your home away from home. A long, long way from home. But it’s all you’ve ever had since the Dark Mirror beckoned you forth, and it’s served as your solace for a while.

Initially, you felt trapped and alone, uncertain of your fate and what this could mean for your life. But now you realize that no amount of feeling stuck at school could ever compare to this—to real confinement.

Your capture and, subsequently, your captor’s inexplicable infatuation are the result of arbitrary observation. In his frigid, heavy-eyed stare, you fit the criteria for a definition of purity he has constructed for his own abstract conduct. Untouched by magic, unable to conjure even the simplest spell, you are the speck of hope within Pandora’s box—a blessing enshrouded in sin.

“It must be taxing to live amongst mages so often,” he had said, as if to extend sympathy.

Foolishly, not quite understanding where those words were coming from, you replied in jest, “Believe me, it is. The amount of times I’ve nearly been caught in the crossfire when my friends get into heated arguments… Yikes.”

Rollo Flamme is a righteous man, and thus it is his duty to build a pristine paradise for you. An Eden of his own creation, its sole purpose to safeguard you from the pollution that is magic and, by extension, mages.

But purity cannot be found here, for Rollo is a devil in this garden. Potted plants adorn the floor; it’s something of a floral jungle, filling the room with perfumed scents and pretty sights. You’ve made note of their habits—of every flower that wilts and rises once it’s watered, of every petal that pries itself open under the moon’s glow and closes come sunrise, of every stem that’s trimmed to prevent excess.

Rollo Flamme prefers tidy spaces, so this well-kept garden is sterile and peaceful. You’ve likened it to a morgue filled with dead things—or soon-to-be dead things, as most plants cannot thrive forever no matter how diligent the botanist.

He barked a humorless, monosyllabic laugh at your declaration. “Unless you’ve chosen to view yourself as a rotting corpse, which you are not, your comparison is both unwarranted and untrue,” he muttered, and that was the final utterance of that subject.

Conversations with Rollo are always impossible, which is why you’re dreading this next one when he turns the key in the lock. The sound is like a gunshot in an empty room: explosive. As if echoing your discomfort, your cramps worsen in their intensity and you suck in a shaky breath through grit teeth. You hear the door shut and lock, sentencing you to an exchange with an unwanted warden. He walks into a mostly serene scene, his glacial gaze sweeping across the room to pick apart any interruptions in this slice of Shangri-La.

“I’ve brought dinner,” he announces, and you lift your head to peer at the tray in his hands.

“I don’t want your grapes and croissants,” you spit. “I want something warm.”

“It is warm.” Stepping closer, he sets the tray on his desk. You spy wispy tendrils rising from a bowl of soup. “Sit up and eat before it goes cold.”

You attempt that, halfway up on your elbows, but then your abdomen tightens and you slump back into the sheets. “Hurts,” you whine, clutching your stomach.

Rollo sniffs at the air, brows furrowing. His shoes click out an even rhythm against the floorboards, stopping at your bedside. Without ceremony he yanks the duvet away and you hiss at him, humiliated even though it’s normal. Your skin prickles with a chill, and it’s made even worse when you see the fiery glint in his eyes—the perceptive sort of glaze that overtakes his pupils when he’s observing you. His eyes crawl down your figure, stopping at the stain sullying your satin nightgown.

“Ah, you’ve leaked.”

“Obviously,” you snap. “I did this yesterday, too. When are you going to get me pads? Or tampons? I’ll even take a towel at this point or toilet paper. Anything is better than this.”

Rollo shakes his head. “You’re perfectly fine as you are.”

“Free bleeding like this is filthy and unsanitary.”

“So I’ll simply clean you.”

You drag your hand down your face and groan. “Rollo, please. It hurts, and it’s wet and uncomfortable.”

“You’ve illustrated these points more than clearly.”

“So then… Then do something about it!”

He narrows his eyes at you, silently taking issue with your demand, before he hums his consideration. His face settles into something neutral while he removes his hat and shoes, dutifully setting them in their respective places.

Rollo surprises you when he climbs onto the bed, kneeling over you with the tiniest trace of a smile.

“Spread your legs. I’ll have a look.”

Fresh horror blooms on your already distraught countenance. You bickered with him over this yesterday when he’d brought a wet rag to your inner thigh, seething at you to stay still while he wiped you down. You’d wrestled with him for ownership of the rag, insisting in panicked huffs that you could do it yourself. Your slap had rung out in the silence, rendering Rollo stiff with stormy emotions. He’d relinquished the rag, scoffing at you for being ungrateful and resolving to scribble in his diary for the rest of the day—a prisoner to his own silent treatment.

Now, as his cold fingertips creep up your legs, you feel less hungry and more sick.

Weakly, you shake your head at him, sinking deeper into the pillows. “I… I can do it myself…”

“With what? The nightgown you’ve already dirtied?” He tilts his head at you and smiles an odd smile. You can’t place it, whether it’s smug or sweet, but it soon becomes the former when he throws your words right back at you: “That’s filthy and unsanitary.”

“You don’t have anything either,” you retort, only to grimace once more.

Rollo exhales through his nose, amusement flashing in his dreary eyes. “Because I’m not going to clean you. Not yet.”

Ice crystalizes within your veins, and the tension in your legs slackens enough for him to pull them apart. “What?”

His hands stray dangerously close. You stiffen, nerves tangling with panic. “There are ways to alleviate menstrual cramps. You should be aware of them, so I see no need to go into detail.”

“I know, yes, but—” You swallow thickly and push his reaching fingers away before they can curl around the hem of your nightgown. “Rollo, please don’t…”

“You’ll feel better,” he assures you matter-of-factly, whispering the words like that will change anything. “This is better than medicine and safer than magic.”

You shift beneath him, unsettled. “A… A hot compress will do. Y-You’ll get yourself dirty. Also! A-Also… If we don’t wash the sheets soon, it’ll stain.”

“Let it. It will serve as a reminder to both of us. A reminder that, though you may ruin these sheets with all manner of bodily fluids, they will still remain pure.” He lifts your nightgown, leaning close to your ear while palming at your stomach. You angle yourself away from him, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s because you’re perfect and clean, untainted by magic, that you are able to exist here. I envy you…”

His bare hand is cold against your warm belly and it travels lower, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties. You stifle a whine, tears welling up behind your eyelids.

“Rollo…”

“Even your voice…” He inhales deeply, high off the scent of you—metallic and pungent, a natural musk more enticing than any flowery perfume. “Everything about you is so clean, even the very blood that pools between your legs… Just a moment in your embrace is enough to wash away the layers of filth that accumulate on my person. Perhaps you might even manage to scrub beneath my skin, wash out every ounce of magic that rests within… Would that I could, I’d break myself into pieces so that you may reassemble me—build a better me. A me without magic. If only…”

His other hand slithers into yours, squeezing tight. You’re arrested by the strain in his tone when he speaks next, so full of yearning and desperation. Covetous. Shameless.

“If only.”

“R-Rollo, please stop…”

“Yes… Yes, of course,” he babbles, nodding to himself. “I’ve likened you to a concept—to purity alone—but you are more than that. The embodiment of it… An angel. Otherworldly, immune to the poisonous effects of magic… Yes, that is what you are. An angel bereft of flaws.”

He fishes his celestial-patterned handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to your lips next. Your eyes snap open to find him now much closer than before, and you have but a moment to brace yourself before he leans in. The kiss is indirect, the both of you separated by the cloth, but the intention is there. It sticks to you even after he’s lowered the handkerchief. You are too pure and he is too filthy, which is why your lips must never touch.

Contradictory because he’s kissed you before.

Rollo drags your blood-soaked panties down to your knees. You shudder like a frail leaf caught in autumn’s harsh breeze.

“I’ve saved you—freed you!—from those…those villains. So you must allow me to indulge.” He shakes his head, his licentious, lustful stare smoldering to such a scorching degree it brands impure, unhealthy love upon your bare flesh. “I will indulge because I have been nothing but agreeable. This—” his fingers brush your slick folds, testing the waters— “is a wonder no magic could ever hope to reproduce. This is just you. Perfect, pretty, pure you…”

Experimentally, his digits dip shallowly inside. You flinch and inhale a sharp, frantic breath, your stomach somersaulting and knotting itself all at once. Complicated feelings stir within you as you writhe under his invasive touch. Your effort to escape is halfhearted; it’s too painful to move, so instead you attempt to clamp your legs shut. He tuts at you and slips his hand out from your hold to pet along your thigh.

“There goes a certain tale,” Rollo says, breathless as he continues his patient exploration. His eyes rove over your pussy like he intends to imprint it in his memory, and he doesn’t shy away from the crimson rivulet that runs down his palm when he sinks his fingers in further. You grit your teeth, melting against the pillows like an angel stamped in snow, and your free hand strangles a fistful of sheets. “In which a pair lived together in paradise, but it was temptation that ultimately led to their downfall. It is a doomed narrative.”

You’re breathing heavily now, your eyes flicking from the ceiling to the many plants that surround you on all sides, each one in full bloom. It feels as if you’re on a bed-turned-boat in a sea of greenery.

A sea of divine fertility.

With a skillful curl the two fingers delve deeper, pressing up against your gummy walls. Against your better judgment, you whine, loud and bawdy. His touch soothes, but then it stings. It makes you want to peel yourself open and step out of your skin so that you may subject it to a vigorous washing. It makes you despise the scent of flowers. It makes you fear the sound of the bell as it tolls unfailingly every single day. It makes you wish you’d never opened your mouth to respond to his words all those weeks ago.

Tears slip from your lash line. “Stop… Please stop…”

“Perhaps this is that same story made modern. Perhaps you were sculpted specially for me and I for you.” A third finger joins the other two working you open. Paper-pale skin is coated in brilliant vermillion, the very color of ardent desire. “Perhaps we are destined to fall together, born anew in someplace purer…”

The slow, steady drag of his fingers is more tempting than the ripe redness between your thighs, and you force yourself to gaze sidelong at the soup sitting abandoned on his desk. He plucks at each of your tangled, dewy strings, unraveling them with graceful strokes, and you’re pulled along on the blissfully uncomfortable current, treading between someplace grounded in reality and fantasy.

From above, at the bird’s eye view, you have become a garden for Rollo’s twisted whimsy.

You return to yourself when he eases his fingers out, stalling for a silent beat, before he thrusts them back in in one fluid motion. It punches the air from your lungs, has you throwing your head back with a weepy howl. He watches this with fierce scrutiny, curious at a clinical level.

“You’re beautiful,” he admits, spreading his fingers inside you. “My world. My panacea. My angel.”

“No… No, no.” You sob, your chest heaving with every wail. You can smell yourself on the air, the sharp scents of iron and sweat. Your pussy weeps blood, devastated at the hands of a monster, and yet it can’t stop affixing itself to him. A mold meant to suit his design. “Please… Please take it out.”

A shadow of contemplation passes over Rollo’s flushed countenance and then he’s reaching over to dry your tears, dabbing at your face with his handkerchief. “You’re okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore, right?”

You shake your head in protest rather than respond, chewing your bottom lip to shreds. A feeble whine slips through and you arch into him when his thumb presses down into your clit and prods at your hood. It happens all too fast. You tighten and loosen all at once, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. The sheets are soaked through and properly soiled now, but that fact doesn’t lessen the seismic ecstasy that drapes itself over you like a veil. Your vision whites out and you fall, fall, fall through the waning vestiges.

Your heart drops into your stomach at the realization.

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

“You’ve done well.” He slides his fingers out, and the gooey squelching wrings a shudder from you. This time he grants you one of his rare smiles—the authentic, sincere kind—while he presses the pads of his fingers to his upturned lips, dyeing himself in your essence. You blink through encroaching tears, an ocean that obscures your vision and fuzzies his figure.

His fingers dig into the plush pudge of your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along your adductors. You open yourself again, involuntarily blossoming in this garden of iniquity.

“Good,” he praises again, whisper-soft. “You’re only permitted to be this way with me. Anyone else would simply tarnish your sweetness. They’d take advantage of your ability to cleanse even the foulest of filth. But I…”

Rollo, still clothed and now libidinous in his impatience, fumbles to pull himself free. His throbbing erection presses against your stomach, the final piece to force this puzzle to completion.

“I will always lay myself at your altar.”

You beg him not to, but every objection goes unheard. His hips connect with yours; he’s holding back, if only just barely, pressing onwards slowly, his breath coming in huffs and grunts. To savor it. To know the feeling firsthand and engrave it into his very being, from his fingers to his toes. To immerse himself in the red rain of a shackled angel.

To color a picturesque paradise in cardinal sin.

Just beyond the windows of Eden, swathed in midnight luminescence, a glorious city set aflame burns bright, overtaken by fiery flowers.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamme x reader #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: period sex

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

omg can you write one for Rollo on accidentally sitting on their face series. Mans going to pray for forgiveness lool

Accidentally Sitting on Their Face (11) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Rollo Flamme 

Since someone had their little ‘freak out’ there are plenty of things out of order and breaking down

And other than the typical goodwill you hold for your problem-friends 

NRC refuses to be outdone by Royal Sword’s extra efforts to help clean up

“Wow Rollo I don’t think I ever imagined you doing manual labor!”

“Why is that (Y/n)?”

“I don’t know you’re always wearing a robe so I just assume you never usually do things….that’ll get your robe dirty?”

He sucks his teeth watching you from the corner of his eye

You’re so stupid adorkable

You’re at the top of the stairs precariously holding a water-filled bucket and sponge

He opens his mouth to scold warn you but he stops himself

It would be kind of cute to see what way you’d fall

It’d be a good lesson for a naive teacher’s assistant such as yourself

So when hears the clatter of a bucket, the sloshing of water, and your teetering voice he doesn’t bother looking up from his sweeping until it’s too late

“Ow! Geez I’m so clumsy…I really expected these steps to be harder…..wait a second…”

When you finally start to sit up you can expect to see one of two things

One: A blushing Rollo Flamme who refuses to open his eyes 

Or Two a wide eyed Rollo Flamme who is barely responsive

Both you’ll have a hard time reading and both will soon stand up and quickly excuse themselves

Ducking behind a hidden corridor or broom closet to nervously pullout his handkerchief and shove his face into it

For extra measure he’ll take out the gift he had planned to give you

A handkerchief with the inverse colors of his own 

Just to imagine that the cloth against his face is something more…intimate of yours

He’ll eventually come back…after a long while

“It was a simple slip. I hold nothing against you.”

“Okay good. I’m really sorry again.”

“You shouldn’t be. I enjoyed it It was an accident.”

Now if you forget the ghost of a smile on his face every time you and him are paired up for more cleaning duty

“It’s always a pleasure, (Y/n).”

No forgiveness needed because it's his right to be deserving of all things you

The ones he'll have to ask forgiveness for is the ones who will end up dying as his obstacles

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader

[flokali]

Rollo Flamm taking an unhealthy fondness towards you as NRC’s prized non-magical student. You’re simply so pure, a beacon of light in the midst of tainted monsters who don’t even appreciate all you’ve done for them.

He can’t help whisking you away into a secluded area, where you’ll be safe from the hellish flames that will burn the condemned. His emerald eyes take a glint of adoration as he takes you by the hand and whispers about how wonderful you truly are, praising your abilities to survive in such a putrid environment.

He condemns everyone, blaming them for not taking care of you and seeing you as a tool to fix their problems and you can’t help but let your heart be swayed ever so slightly at his statement. But they aren’t enough to bury the sound of fire and the screams of those outside the safe haven he’s granted you.

“Don’t worry,” he laughs as he sees your terrified look, “they’re simply getting what they deserve.”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere rollo flamm #rollo flamm #roro flamme #rollo flamm x reader #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere #๋࣭ offerings #rollo flamme

[cvlutos]

“Hell Fire”

| Repost: 01.12.23 | 1.5 K | Mature |

Rollo Flamm X GN!Reader x Malleus Draconia

| Dark Content | Spying [Voyuer] | Sexual Themes | Etc. | Proceed with Caution, Dearest. |

T.Manor.Notes: The idea was from my lovely, @elenamegan14

“Tell me, how does someone like you? End up in a place such as NRC?”

The flames of the fire flicker and wave as you sit in front of them. Watching the red and orange flames dance freely. He stands behind you, the shoes of his heels clicking against the stone flooring as he nears you. You ignore him, your fingertips messing with the sheer fabric of your masquerade outfit, your mask placed aside. Over the crack of fire, you can hear the orchestra play.

“I do not take kindly to being ignored.” His icy hands touch the flesh of your cheek, searing you so that you automatically flinch. Yet he doesn’t let you crawl away, pulling you into his chest, shushing you as if you were a wild animal. “Shhh… I’m not going to hurt you…” His voice is hot against the shell of your air, attempting to lure you into false safety.

“I truly just want an answer. What makes you so special?” His hands move, forcing your face forward, forcing you to stare into the flickering flames as if they spoke in hushed whispers. Before stilling completely at the sound of the heavy wooden door being knocked upon.

“Answer.” His voice is quiet and threatening. He shouldn’t be here and he knows that. Your lips quiver as you speak, your voice cracking.

“… Yes?”

“Prince Malleus asks for you.” The voice of a guard. His grip on your tightens, a low ill-intended chuckle vibrating through his throat. “Tell him you’re on your way.” His voice is filled with amusement, squeezing your cheeks painfully.

“… Oh.. Tell him I'll be on my way…”

“Alright.” The room falls silent as the sound of heavy steps moves away from the door. The man drops you, standing up on his feet, watching you lay helplessly. “I do hope we can speak again.” He leans down, sliding the thin blue sparkly sheer scarf from your form, wrapping it around his hand, and exiting the room just as silently as he came.

Your gazes move up to the flames, slowly sitting up, and exhaling. You bring yourself up to your feet, adjusting your clothing, your hands sliding over the place where your scarf once was. You simply have to make do without it. You grab your mask, placing it on your face, grabbing the water bucket, placed in the corner of the room.

Putting out the flames.

══════ ♡ ══════

The Masquerade ball is lively.

Malleus’ hand gripping yours intently, leading you through the crowd. “You seem worried.” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, turning your gaze towards him and not the various masked faces. “I’m fine.” Your voice is curt and you can tell he looks worried behind his mask, moving to where both his hands hold yours.

“You can tell me anything. If something worries—”

“I’m fine. Malleus. I promise.” You pat his hands, though you know he doesn’t believe you as his hold on your hands tightens. Malleus looks over you, before landing on your waist, his eyes slightly darkening, brows furrowing. “The blue scarf. It’s missing.” Your stomach drops as he locks eyes with you, taking a step closer.

“Malleus—”

“I do hope that I am not interrupting.” Turquoise grayish eyes stare at the scene before him, watching the way yours widen and Malleus’ eyes seem to almost glow in disdain. “Monsieur Flamm, not at all. [Name]’s scarf is simply missing.” Malleus speaks, and Rollo tilts his head. Mocking concern, glancing at you for a millisecond. “I could possibly be able to help. If you were to, perhaps describe it to me.”

You open your mouth, stepping forward in panic before Malleus pulls you back to his side. Snaking an arm around your waist. “Blue and sheer.” His words are curt and venomous. Raising goosebumps on your skin.

He thinks to himself, his eyes seeming to brighten up as he looks at you. Pulling from his pocket, he reveals the scarf. Though it’s different, not the one you wore before. Malleus without hesitation, before Rollo steps back. “Ah. Ah. Ah. A good deed shan’t go unrewarded. It’s unfair. And you are everything but.”

“It is a scarf—”

“A dance! Yes. Thank you, I’m just so clumsy. But a dance, is that okay?” You cut Malleus off with faux excitement, ripping from his grip and taking the scarf from the noble bell college student, wrapping it around your waist and tying it sloppily.

“A dance. It shall suffice.” Rollo takes your hands within his own, pulling you towards the ballroom floor, leaving Malleus standing stiff as a statue. Rollo pulls you into his embrace, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other holding your hand.

“So eager to dance.” He speaks slowly as the music starts and you both begin to dance.

“Why do you keep bothering me?”

“I simply wish to know you. Is that a crime?”

“If it includes you stealing, spying, breaking into my room, being a headache. I could go on.��� Your voice is firm and agitated, squeezing his hand to show your resentment, which only brings an amused chuckle.

“Ce n’est que le début. Bien d’autres choses vous attendent. Be overjoyed that I haven’t done worse. Wouldn’t wish to make your dragon further upset. That’d be a big dilemma for you to alleviate.” His voice has a dangerous edge, silencing you as he pulls you impossibly close. You twirl and dance around the ballroom, silent as a mouse. Saying nothing to the man you dance with.

“Tell me. Have you figured out an answer to my question?” The music ends, and yet he doesn’t relinquish his grip. Speaking into your ear, his gaze locked onto a glowering dragon.

“I ended up at NRC. Like anyone else. The mirror called me.” Rollo seems satisfied, taking a step back, his gaze moving down to your scarf, tugging at the fabric, making it tighter around your waist. You hear thunder crackle.

“Do your best not to lose it repeatedly. Many would do well to not return it and instead keep it, for such—” He pauses, his hands rising to pinch your cheek, his eyes swirling with something lustful. “Unsavory acts.” He steps back, his amused grin replacing with something smaller, almost unnoticeable.

“Enjoy the rest of the night. If you so desire another dance, do find me.” He leaves with a curt bow. Before you can turn around, you sense Malleus’ towering stature. He undoes the scarf, holding it in his hands as he watches Rollo disappear before finally speaking.

“Stay away from him for the rest of the night.”

He scorches the scarf to ash.

══════ ♡ ══════

Rollo Flamm pities you.

Feeble you. Soiled by the impurities of Night Raven College, tarnished by dirty hands of the several unruly dorms. He leans against the velvet of the couch of his study, a glass wine glass in hand, swirling crimson red wine. The clothing from the masquerade stripped aside, dressed in something more comfortable.

The original scarf he had taken from you, hanging delicately off his desk armchair. He rises from his seat, humming a melody from long ago, reaching his desk. Papers scattered across, each were reports about you. Anything that he could get his hands on.

He glances from his desk and out the large windows of his study. The light of the room in which you were staying was on. Showing your outline, you were changing. A soft sigh rolls off his tongue, placing the glass down, and sliding into his chair, wrapping the scarf around his neck and over his nose. Slowly inhaling.

He watches you calmly. It was like you were dancing. As if you danced from him. He hums, tilting his head to the side, feeling drowsiness take over. Almost lulling him to sleep, with the dull buzz of wine. Until a noticeable figure joins you. The prince of Briar Valley. Pressing you against his form, your silhouette merging into one as he furiously kisses you.

Rollo’s eyes widen, his breath becoming trapped in his throat. He clenches the scarf in hand, watching the intense scene unfold before him. You don’t attempt to push him away but pull him closer. He can’t tear his eyes away, his pants growing tight. He runs a hand through his hair. Tugging at his waistband and swallowing thickly.

The fires crackle wildly and dangerously, speaking and mocking the man who sits at his desk. His eyes glued to the shadow scene before him, as if a magician had cast a spell. Cum soiling the sheer scarf, his cock twitching in the warm air. As the man leans back in his chair, watching the shifting and molding of your bodies making love, chest heaving.

He nearly jumps from his seat, as if emerald green eyes peered at him, fully capable of seeing him and the shameful actions he committed.

Taunting his treasure. Rollo Flamm makes a vow.

He will have you one day. A sinful man like him will pull and pick at every fiber of your being. And you will love him.

Mais si vous choisissez de le renier et de vous enfuir, il prendra une allumette et brûlera tout le NRC.

Until the day he captures you.

ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

#t.manor.horror.stories #twisted wonderland dark content #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere rollo flamm #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere rollo flamm x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #rollo flamm #rollo flamm smut #malleus draconia smut

[pinkie-pop]

What's characters like Che'nya, Neige and Rollo's involvement in all of this? Are they all also self-aware, or are they just watching this guys go ape shit while they are like "????"

What about the teachers?

Everyone at Night Raven is more or less Self-Aware in that they know about the Player—although most assume the title comes from the way you 'play' with the students and Yuu, and not that you are quite literally playing a game. This also includes the teachers. Che'nya, Rollo, and Neige also know about the Player. Che'nya heard from Riddle and Trey. Neige overheard Vil talking about them and pestered him for answers. Rollo heard about them from Duece, who accidentally revealed it through a slip of the tongue.

So, what do they think of you? Are they just as obsessed?

The teachers are wary. Your presence causes a lot of bickering and fighting amongst certain students, but it also creates order and unity never before seen at NRC. Your vessel, Yuu, has created a cult-like following. The way they can organize and order them around is unnerving, to say the least. You, in your true form, will hold even more power. How terrifying.

Che'nya is greatful to you, at first, anyway. Of course he is, after all, you've made his two closest friends the happiest they've ever been! But...things are starting to get a little...intense. The way they talk about you is starting to get creepy. Are you really the good person they make you out to be? Or are you just manipulating them for your own game? Che'nya isn't sure, and that uncertainty fuels his growing distaste. Of course, if you were to interact with him directly, he may end up changing his mind...

Neige likes you a lot! How could he not, when his best friend just adores you? You'd make the perfect couple, you know?! Vil often finds Neige not-so-subtly trying to set him and Yuu on a date. It takes everything in him to not spill the beans about Yuu's status as a vessel for a higher being. Vil has no interest in Yuu, only the person behind them. Of course, Neige doesn't know that (yet). If he were to meet you before knowing who you are...it might cause a conflict of interests between him and his best friend.

Rollo thinks of you as some kind of deity. In his eyes, you are the ideal—the blueprint. You are everything. Perfect and just, the height of morality. Of course, he's able to let his imagination run wild like this, only because his encounters with you are so limited. If he were to meet the real you, his unwavering devotion would be put to the test. Would he adapt his own ideals to fit yours, or would he ignore everything you are, just to keep his image of you? Or maybe, he'd discard his worship entirely. There's no way to know for certain. Not yet, anyway.

#pop talks #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #self aware twst #yandere rollo flamm #yandere chenya #yandere che'nya #yandere neige leblanche

[oleanderscorner]

Dearest, Mx.Flamme

Rollo x yuu!reader letter

TW: Manipulative behavior, yandere content, mentions of violence (or rather burning people)

My dearest, (Y/N) Flamme

I know you have not yet taken to this name, but fear not you will in time I am sure of it.

Ever since it has come to my attention that you are but a pure, magicless being stuck in that…so-called phrontistery for magic I have pitied you. To be stuck with the loathsome rats as a pure, magicless being must be awful in every sense of the word. Then, seeing you at the masquerade, laughing and chatting with those…insects, was more than enough for me to be horrified. They must have brainwashed you, I was sure…but the fact you “saved” their souls from the justice they were about to serve proves to me either you are so delusional as to not see their filth…or you actually like them as they are.

The later cannot be true, can it?

I am hopeful not, hence why I write to you this letter—and give you a choice so that you may come to your senses much easier.

For my pity and my admiration of your willingness to help such people despite their filth has touched my heart—and dare I say I have begun to have feelings for a being like you. Surrounding by dirt and grime and yet pure and pristine. I wish to bring you back to Noble Bell College—and make you mine, and mine alone.

Should you answer this letter positively, I will come and scoop you from your chains and bring you to your new home, where by my side we could clean this retched world.

However, if you don’t write back within 3 days—I shall take that to mean something has happened to our communication has been compromised and will save you from the scum that is Night Raven College, and burn all who stand in my way.

Until then, my darling, I send you a flower with this letter to keep me with you before I can be there to be with you, once and for all.

With Love,

Rollo Flamm

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #rollo flamm #twst rollo #yandere rollo Flamm #yandere rollo

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

Shamefully Rollo is one of my favs, so I mean how about a prompt on Yandere!Rollo bring clingy to Yuu

Or

Rollo post-festival being friends with Yuu and it becomes something more(plus angst with yk him being very two faced w/ trauma and all 🤷‍♀️)

this one is more focused on the first prompt, but I also sorta did my own thing, but I’m proud of it!!! Enjoy, lovey!

{takes place after the Glorious masquerade event, and based on an idea from another writer where Rollos punishment is to attend NRC.}

warnings: yes, this is yandere content, I’m a yandere blog who just happens to write my characters soft. Thoughts of somnophillia, Rollo is a heavy worshipper, male masturbation, pathetic Rollo (no different from canon), Rollo makes out with you while you’re in a deep sleep caused by a potion he slipped into your food, creepy Rollo, small hint of yandere Azul, Riddle, and Malleus, pussystarved Rollo are any of my characters NOT pussy starved? A little bit of masochist Rollo.

Fragile.

Rollo loved you, that was for certain.

He loved the way you fidgeted with your writing utensils or your clothes when you were bored and occasionally distracted, the way the sun caught in your stunning (h/c) hair, the way your gorgeous, dreamer eyes constantly flitted about and took in your surroundings with never fading intrigue and liveliness.

He loved the way you were laid stretched out in front of him currently, sleeping and unaware of him creeping about your room.

Ever since you had stepped onto the property of Nobel Bell College with those damned NRC students, he had taken a special interest in you. You, who was magicless and surrounded by wolves who would tear you apart and taint you at a seconds notice out of their own selfishness. In his eyes, you needed protection from harm. After all, you appeared to be such a fragile thing, but…

Rollo could not have been more wrong.

After the whole Crimson Lotus fiasco, the reveal of his plans to rid twisted wonderland of magic, the knowledge of what happened to his brother, it was you, you, magicless, wonderful, compassionate you who held his delicate and crumbling self together in the aftermath. It was you who cradled him in your arms like he was fine china and used your own body to shield him from the smoldering glares of your friends, as your kindness pierced his very soul like a dagger made out of pure gold.

It was you and you alone who could fill his body with such heat it nearly suffocated him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It was your name he whimpered and sobbed pathetically to himself when he was breaking down or desperately rutting into his fist, the thought of your touch the only thing he could focus on.

When the time came for you and the rest of the NRC students to leave, it took every bit of Rollos self restraint to keep from lashing out, especially when a certain Malleus Draconia, Azul Ashengrotto, and Riddle Rosehearts had all stood protectively in front of you when he tried to pull you aside to give you a personal farewell.

It would have been so easy to spirit you away to the bell tower or his room, if only he had been able to get you alone.

Rollo despised magic with all his being, and even more so he hated himself for being born with such a gift. However, as he watched you give him one last pitying look before finally departing, he was thankful for the small spell he murmured which transported a pair of your underwear from your packed clothes to underneath the fabric of his uniform. Now, Rollo was not a man who appreciated pity, and never saw himself as an individual who would accept such pathetic sentiments, but later that night as he held the fabric of your underwear to his face and frantically bucked his hips into his precum covered hand, he found himself thinking that he would accept any look from you that came his way as long as it was just that. That you were looking at him. Paying attention to him, even if it was delivered in the form of anger or the pity he seemed to despise so much.

Rollo had seldom gotten off before meeting you, and even then he never got off to anyone or anything, simply chasing his high with a blank mind for stress relief and always feeling revolted by himself afterwards. You had been the one to walk into his life and change that. Of course you had. Now Rollo struggled to go a day without cuming to the thought of you, imagining your gentle touch all over his aching body as you kissed him with as much love as he felt for you.

Enough love to harm someone for simply looking at you the wrong way.

Of course, Nobel bell college was not just going to ignore what he had done. Rollo knew better than that. It took the school a full week to decide upon a proper punishment, during which he only left his dorm for meals and to maintain the bell tower, which gave him plenty of time to think and fantasize about you. He wondered if you thought about him at all, about his thinly veiled fragile state that you had seen him in last.

Rollo was well aware that being transferred to NRC was supposed to be a punishment, that he would most likely be looked down upon and treated ruthlessly, but it took every ounce of self control to keep a giddy grin off of his face at the prospect of seeing you again. That being said, the shock that painted itself on his pale face again you opened the door to the Ramshackle dorm, the place he was now supposed to live, was near comical. Immediately, he had brought his purple handkerchief to his mouth, desperate to save face and regain his composure.

“Greetings, prefect.” Rollo had murmured hastily.

At seeing the normally cold former student president being so shy, a gentle smile had spread across your perfect, pretty lips. Lips that Rollo wanted to kiss him breathless, lips that Rollo had fantasized about covering the expanse of his flesh in bruising kisses and bites until he was so thoroughly marked up he couldn’t possibly hide them all.

Lips that Rollo was willing to kill for to keep all to himself.

“Hi, Rollo. How many times do I have to tell you that you can just call me (y/n)?” You had said, teasingly pulling his handkerchief away from his lips and flicking his nose before pulling him inside as he flushed crimson, bringing him to his current position.

—————————————————————————

Rollo was standing over your bed, watching as you slept without any interruptions, curtesy of the sleeping potion he had brewed just mere hours earlier. The moonlight spilled from your open curtains, highlighting your beautiful form as deep breathes moved your frame. Kneeling down beside the bed, Rollo moved his face close to yours and moved his hand to cup your face, absentmindedly stroking your cheek and swiping his tongue over his lips. You looked so peaceful and serene, not to mention warm underneath your blankets, and Rollo couldn’t deny himself the overwhelming urge to crawl into bed with you and cuddle. He had already moved a drugged Grimm away into another room, so there was nothing that could interrupt his time alone with you.

Eagerly, Rollo pulled back the covers on your bed and ensnared himself between your arms, your foreheads pressed against each other as he nuzzled your nose with his own. As his gaze fell to your lips, a small smile pulled on his own as he slowly started to lean forward, desperate for even just a little bit of your love whether fabricated or not. The moment his lips locked with yours, a needy moan reverberated from his mouth to yours. The relief of finally being able to touch you was getting to Rollo as his thoughts became cloudy and his legs tangled with yours. The kiss was clumsy and shaky, like a fawn learning to stand for the first time, as Rollo wrapped his arms around you and pressed his body flush against yours, his skin burning with heat. If you had been awake, you might have likened the way he practically devoured your mouth to the way of a man getting his first taste of food in years.

Moving one of his hands to yours, he slowly brought your entwined fingers up to his hair, positioning your digits in the white locks as he used his own to tighten your grasp and lightly tug on the sensitive strands, moaning as he imagined you lightly tilting his head back so you could access his neck and dig your teeth into his skin. The thought of his blood on your teeth was an appealing one, the scarlet red contrasting against your beautiful skin. Rollo made another keening noise, free to be as loud as he wanted as no one else who could wake up was around, when he brought your hand from his hair down to his throat and forced your fingers to squeeze around the sides of his neck like a vice, his mind wandering to different scenarios where you decided to dish out your own punishment to him for trying to hurt those disgusting magic users you called friends. He imagined your hand wrapped around his throat as you pulled him in for bruising kisses, only to tie his hands above his head, unable to touch you more than what you would allow.

“Did you really think I had forgotten about what you tried to pull?” You would mock as your nails traced teasing lines over his thighs as you straddled him.

“Are you really so foolish to believe that I wouldn’t notice that you swiped my underwear when I left? Honestly, you’re such a perv.”

Oh, and how Rollo would whine and beg for your touch, he thought to himself. How he would agree and beg for you to give him your own special brand of justice.

“Did you think I would just let you get away with it? Hm? No, no, no, my love, I was simply waiting for the perfect time to punish you, and now-” you would lean over him and harshly pinch the tip of his cock, causing him to whine and squirm as he looked up at you with teary eyes. “-I have you right where I want you.”

“Please, please, please, please! I was a fool! I know I was! Punish me! Do anything you want to me! Just let me prove myself to be worthy of you!”

He would tug on his restraints, but other than that, Rollo would be more than content to be your little plaything for as long as he lived.

Using his thumb and forefinger on his other hand, he gently grasped your chin and moved your jaw down before wrapping his arms around you again, connecting his lips in another searing kiss as his tongue began to invade your mouth. Small whimpers were muffled by your mouth as Rollo became all too aware of how pitifully hard he was in his pajama pants, his hips rolling against yours in a desperate attempt to gain friction from your sleeping form. Tears ran down his face as he separated from you for the briefest moment to tug himself out from beneath his waistband, his reddened cock already leaking precum. Rollo turned back to face you and immediately wrapped his arms around you once more, rutting against you as more moans and choked sobs spilled from his puffy lips before they were swiftly connected to yours with fervor.

“Oh, please, please, (y/n)! I need you so bad, but I don’t deserve it! I’m just a disgusting pervert who doesn’t deserve to be near you, someone so pure. Mm~ mmmm~ but I want it, want you! Need you! Mm, mm, mm, ah!~ please!~”

Moving his hips faster, Rollo began to pant and bite his lip, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh and causing it to bleed. Moving his tongue to lick up the blood and keep it from staining anything on your bed, Rollo imagined using the wet appendage to please you. Imagined kneeling between your spread thighs and desperately drinking down all that you had to offer as you pet his hair and praised him, calling him a good boy. Just the mere thought of getting your cum on his tongue made his cock twitch and his hips stutter in his rhythm, not like he had much of one to begin with anyway. He was trying to hold himself back, trying to make the moment last as long as possible, trying to do his best to learn how to hold out for you so that when the real thing happened he wouldn’t embarrass himself by cumming pitifully early. Trying wasn’t enough. While he was grinding against you, your pajama shirt had slid up slightly without Rollo noticing, and all it took was for the head of his cock to lightly brush against the warm skin of your tummy for his lips to part in a near shout of your name before a thick white liquid coated the area and his abdomen.

Coming down from his high, Rollo pulled you as close as possible as the last twitches and jerks of his hips died down. Finally collecting himself slightly, Rollo pulled his pajama pants back up and shifted his face down to the sperm that coated your skin. He could practically hear you say, “clean up your mess, Rollo. Like a good boy.”, and that’s exactly what he planned to do. Carefully, Rollo began to lick up the mess he had made over your soft skin, his eyes half lidded as the exhaustion of staying up so late began to take its toll on him. Gulping down the last of his cum, Rollo quickly crawled back up to your face and pulled you in for a long, loving kiss. The potion would keep you asleep for a good few hours still, and he had enough faith in his internal alarm clock to wake up before you and go back to his own room, so for now he was going to cuddle you and sleep in bed with you until then.

“Goodnight, (y/n). I love you.”

After pulling you into his arms and checking you over to make sure you were completely alright and comfortable, Rollo finally allowed his fragile and damaged mind to drift off to sleep.

#rollo flamm smut #yandere rollo flamm #rollo flamm #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland smut

[shiny-jr]

you can get to this whenever you can but can you do save with rollo flamme please? if this doesn’t interest you you don’t have to do it of course!

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Prompt: Save. “I’m the only one protecting you from such a dangerous and disgusting world.”

– Character: Rollo Flamm.

– Note: Congrats, anon, this ask interests me a lot! I literally just got done doodling more Rollo, and I actually added this prompt on the list specifically because it made me think of him. Unfortunately, Rollo is not in the manga meaning I have no good images for him, so I had to make a quick cover image from the setting instead. I kinda wish I could write more for this idea, but I've been trying to make each response kinda short just so I can get to more of them faster.

“Are you certain you don’t have magic?” This question from Rollo surprised you. When you looked over at him, he was watching you carefully, remaining unsmiling as he always did. 

You frowned and retorted, “Of course, I’m sure. If I had magic, I most likely would've used it already! Why are you asking anyway?” 

For a moment, Rollo was quiet, holding his purple handkerchief to his lips as he gazed away, as if contemplating whether to reveal to you the reason for his inquiry or not. After a tense awkward silence, he murmured, “You’ve placed a spell on me, I’m certain of this. There is no other explanation. And here I was, believing you to be a pure soul untouched by corrupt magic. However, if you ask for forgiveness, I shall give it to you. After that, I will help you. I will help cleanse you of this magic, and make you pure once again, so long as you repent. I only wish to save you from yourself, your own mistakes with magic, and also from this terrible world full of sin. Believe me though, you can still be saved. All you must do is take my hand, and I will save you.”

#yandere #twisted wonderland #twst #twst writing #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #rollo flamm #twst rollo #yandere rollo flamm

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, unhealthy mindset, possessiveness, spoiler for the Masquerade event (obviously)

Voicelines about you, the Overseer

Cheering to yourself you looked at the screen, confirming that you just purchased the new voicelines that you were only able to purchase during this event. To say that this event was stressful was an understatement. Heck, even the app seemed like it wanted to prevent you from earning all the materials and exchanging them for the lines of text, the App crashing and freezing whenever there was the slightest inconvenience. It was also very different from what you were used to in this game. Usually it was always light content and a few sprinkles of Angst for entertainment but this time it was like someone took the game and decided to turn it into something that could only be described with “nightmare fuel if real”. With the usual content creators of the game being unusually quiet, if not to say absolutely silent, about it there were no guides to look up, no one seemingly caring to explore the new lore presented. Tapping the screen you finally accessed the voicelines, curious about what they had to say about the individual which was at the center of said event, the Overseer

What is your opinion of the Overseer?

“There has never in history been an individual, no, simply a being so just and equal as them. One could say that they might be justice itself. Now, we are more than just aware that of course such can not be the truth. When the great calamity of blooming fire happened they were making judgments about the situation and unjust actions of the people resorting out of that also based on morale. If they were justice itself they would have purely gone the path of logic. However, like the sound of the Bell of Salvation their judgment was clear and of pure heart, understanding the resulting pain of the people, guiding the judge into the right direction. Although I am not able to understand their approval of magic. But this also only shows as well that they are indeed a kind individual.”

The view of your homeland, what is your opinion on that?

“Our view of the Overseer is already one that differences in many ways, depending on the person you ask. However, we are all able I agree that they are an advocate for justice. True justice unlike that judge that was topic of many discussions due to him accepting, well how to say this... “donations”. A stain like this upon our beautiful city like that is something everyone regrets and despises. Thus I can agree on the statement that they are indeed very deeply connected to our justice system but I would go even further with this. I would even dare to say that they are the reason why we can live in such a mostly upright and kind world like our own. But how dare those heathens of Sunset Savannah to say that they are nothing more than just a representative of equality? They are much more, they are the reason why freedom even exists!”

What would you do if you ever met them?

“That is a question I am not able to give you a definitive answer upon. All I can say with certainty is that I would most likely not be able to treat them with anything below respect. I might even make them uncomfortable... Pardon me for trailing off. But simply meeting them is an honor too great for my meek and unworthy, stained self. As I said, magic is something that is not certainly good and like a stain that needs certain treatment for it finally be eradicated. I myself am such a stain, or at least stained by it. Perfect of Ramshackle, due to you being pure unlike me I will entrust you with this secret: I highly doubt that someone like the Overseer would like someone like me but what do I expect, being someone like myself? A stain, a... parasite like me is not worth it. And yet I can not stop myself from dreaming that their bright light may reach me in the darkness. Them having the kindness and patience to look upon me as they do with those that deserve such. But I doubt I would be able to share their kindness ever again... how despicable of me...”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland rollo #twst rollo #rollo flamm #rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo flamm #twst Rollo Flamme x reader #tw: yandere #tw: obsession #tw: unhealthy mindset #tw: possessiveness

[hoshinoyozora]

Customs of a Married Couple

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Rollo Flamm x Female! Reader

💛 Word Count: 0,9k+

❤ Warnings: Manipulative MC, suggestive theme

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission. Also, don’t ask for a sequel unless I like the story enough to write one. Please reblog so other people can see my stories!

***

I’ve never watched Hunchback nor have I watched the masquerade event yet, so my knowledge of Rollo is shaky at best.

You were a forbidden fruit.

Deep down, Rollo knew you had an ulterior motive for seducing him. You harbored no real love for him, and your passion was ambiguous at best. He’d called you out on it, of course, but you were a determined woman by any means. You flashed your cleavage through the carefully loosened uniform when you bent down, you lingered on his collarbone when you massaged him, and you were bold enough to offer to go down on him for an ‘extra relaxation’.

All because of your one and only ambition; to be rich. To be powerful. To be influential.

Through the background check he had on you, it was quite easy to imagine you as this poor child, admiring the latest dresses displayed in the shops or the wealthy ladies that strutted around the streets. So, you decided that you wanted to be like them one day.

Unfortunately, you didn’t choose the ‘right’ option to claw your way to the top through hard work like he secretly wished. Instead, you used your feminine charms to prey on him, your master and secret lover.

Rollo had tried to resist you. He truly did. But you were stronger than him despite being physically weaker, and when you touched him, he thought that it must be what Heaven on Earth felt like.

“Rough day?”

It was another secret meeting at night, in a not-so-secret place. You came to his room with your maid uniform on, because you quickly found out that he loved seeing you in it. Rollo considered it as his biggest embarrassment yet, if not humiliation. How his eyes would glance at your breasts and imagine squeezing them, or how they’d linger on your butt and imagine bending you over his desk. And you’d smirk knowingly, and had he didn’t exercise what little of self-control he had within him, he would’ve allowed you to grope his bulging crotch when you both were alone in the office.

“You haven’t answered me yet.”

Presently, you were wearing lingerie underneath your uniform, as you usually did during your rendezvouses. It was black, and it barely covered your private part, and, as you slowly unbuttoned the uniform, your chest. Rollo gulped, still unable to rid himself of the virginal shyness despite seeing and experiencing your body for the umpteenth time.

“O-of course it is. You know I deal with the household too, and it’s almost a full time job.”

You hummed and crawled to the bed so you could unbutton his shirt, butt jutting out in the air seductively.

“Then, let me help you unwind.” Slowly, you guided one of his hands to your breast and urged him to fondle it as if it was a stress ball. “I’m sure you must be stressed with the paperwork all day.”

Hours passed in groans, pants, and moans. You’d long drifted off to Dreamland, while Rollo was still awake in his thoughts. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be the last one to sleep, but tonight, he was contemplating something. You. Your motive. Your relationship. Rollo didn’t think he could hide it anymore, and he didn’t think you were satisfied with all the extra money he’d furtively given you too. How could you be powerful and influential if you remained a lowly servant? You might already be those things to him, judging by how easily he succumbed to his lust with your touches and whispers alone, but other people wouldn’t hold the same opinion.

And besides, how could he let you prance around and interact with other men? It didn’t matter if they loved you or not. You were his, in every sense of the word. Your body, mind, soul, and gaze.

It had to stop. Everything that was hidden in the shadows must come to light somehow, and Rollo would like it if it was under his terms.

As expected, his family wasn’t pleased to know that he chose to marry you, a mere maid, out of the many pious and dignified women they’d offered to him. You, too, weren’t very pleased to know about the hasty wedding he’d notified you of one morning. But Rollo didn’t care much about their feelings, not even yours, and more about the wedding which would surely atone for his nightly sins with you and officiate your bond together. All this would accumulate to the daily routine where he’d be free to take you anytime he wanted, without fearing for people’s judgment.

“What do you mean I’m not allowed to talk to my male friends?! They’re my friends!”

“And they are male, no?”

Rollo fixed his clothes in front of the mirror and watched you stammer on the bed. For the first time, you were left speechless. Not even his scathing remark about your shamelessness back then managed to fluster you this much.

“T-that’s not fair! How could you do that?! I’m your wife!”

“Exactly. You’re my wife, and therefore,” He spun and gripped your chin, lifting it until he was glaring at your eyes. “I have the right to decide on what kind of things you should and shouldn’t do.”

You were a forbidden fruit that he’d bitten in a night of curiosity, shame, and obsession.

Deep down, Rollo knew you had an ulterior motive for seducing him. You harbored no real love for him, and your passion was ambiguous at best.

All because of your one and only ambition; to be rich. To be powerful. To be influential.

And, through your marriage to him, he’d given you exactly just that; wealth. Power. Influence.

So, why were you complaining now? After all, you were officially his, in every sense of the word. Your body, mind, soul, and gaze.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #twst imagines #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo x reader #rollo flamm #rollo x reader #yandere twst

[merakiui]

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”  

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle. 

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you. 

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer. 

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo #yandere rollo x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you do Malleus x Yuu or reader, it is in the future when they are married and have a son named (ironically) Tsunotaro. It is the celebration of either Yuus/ reader and Malleus wedding anniversary or their sons birthday. Everyone in the realm is invited/ their old school friends. Their ages normally at first due to his mothers human side and has her hair but the rest they have from their father. (Cute horns and all) Rollo (secret Yandere for them) is in attendance with his son Neige (snow in French) his mother died in childbirth and views Yuu/ reader as a mother figure since they are over at the kingdom quite a lot and play with the young prince. Leona’s son Sonbaai (sun bathe) is starting his first year at Night Raven College is in attendance reluctantly. (Doesn’t share his father’s laziness) the event is sabotaged and chaos ensues. Malleus and his family separated. Rollo set it all up, not giving up his goal from the masquerade event and offers them a place with him if they leave Malleus and their son behind. They refuse and he uses the chaos to trap the two and burn them alive. The reader is clutching Tsunotaro telling them it’s going to be okay as the fire they are trapped in worsens (maybe they are in a room or stuck) Tsunotaro and his mother are saved by either Sebek or Silver. the Queen is in severe condition, but Tsunotaro is unharmed as he is fire proof. They are helped by their Allie’s but the Queen is put into a coma for healing and Malleus wants vengeance and gathers his friends from their school days.

Jealousy Burns |  Yandere Rollo Flamm

Rollo would never hurt you

Or attempt to mortally wound you without guaranteeing your safety

Nor would he jeopardize his appearance in your eyes

Since you’ve met he’s already have the image of someone untrustworthy

But he’s grown and kept in touch with you to build something new

Slowly and quietly biding his time

“Congratulations on your…engagement.”

He’ll stifle it

Shove his anger down to fester and boil as he brews a plan

A plan that will leave you coming to him in the end

But he has to be careful

His enemy is wiser, older, and plenty protective of his spouse more than ever

But he’ll find a way

Find some easily manipulated pawns and begin an orchestra of a kingdom’s demise

It is his passion, afterall

The fire flower now cultivated into another blossom

A different color, a more volatile effect, and a more durable network of roots

He doesn’t plan them 

He has nothing to do with them

…but his followers on the otherhand…

His followers know better than to let his name even leave their lips, magicing themselves dead before they can even be tortured

So when the King and their spawn are rendered nearly comatose by the outbreak it’s easy for those nobles to push the human away

And its so easy for Rollo to open his doors and his aide…in your separate research

“I fear this new plant was a cross breed, with the one I used all those years ago….I am…so sorry.”

“Oh Rollo it’s okay. It’s not your fault!” 

Yes, it’s not his fault at all

So your guard is let down while you have his shoulder to cry on

A drop of mere suggestion as you share a spot of tea

“I’d hate to have your mind full of something so despairing….so how about I help distract you.”

#yandere rollo flamme #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yanderes #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere #yandere rollo #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader

[theodora3022]

Efforts

Genre: Yandere/Dark fic/Horror

Rollo Flamm x gender neutral Reader

Summary: As much as Rollo Flamm loves a challenge, he only has so much patience towards you, the object of his endless affection/obsession. 

Author’s Note:

This one is for all of  my friends (yeah you @187-mg) that love this freaky man. What can I say, those who claim to be the pious and holy, are often secretly the most perverted and repressed. This belongs to the same series as the Malleus “steal someone else’s partner”.  Not proof read!!! Be warned for my incoherent grammar!!!

Word count: 1.7k

Content Warnings: MENTIONS of starvation(willingly on reader's part) Canon divergence, mild nsfw, overall just awful*cough yandere content, Rollo is his own warning! 

Disclaimer: This is NOT healthy love and is MEANT to make you feel uncomfortable! 

By clicking the READ MORE you are assumed to have read the content warnings above.

Hard work produces results, no matter how distant one’s goal might seem. 

Rollo Flamm likes to think of himself as a man who applies that respectable rule in his everyday life. To him, being respectable is the basic condition for him to reach his goal. Of course, there is another rule: only strike at the right moment, which Rollo used to hold himself to, but he has failed on it recently.

The prefect of Night Raven College, who for sure has enchanted him with evil magic! Worse, they dare to claim to be a magicaless person? 

What urge, what dissatisfaction! These intense, sinful emotions have been preventing him from sleeping at night, making him lose focus during lectures and meetings. The burning desire is practically eating him up from the inside, in Rollo Flamm’s every waking and sleeping moment. In his eyes, you are the culprit of his suffering. Although you appear to be none the wiser, still greeting him with a smile and kind words. 

It was only later when he found out you had promised yourself to another, way before meeting him, that Rollo Flamm stilled his maddening heart rate for a bit. 

So, it has been your natural charm all along. Dangerous individuals like you cannot possibly be permitted to roam free in this continent. Not anymore now Rollo Flamm, the one who understood the legacy of the Great Judge the most, has a say in the matter. 

All of Night Raven’s students are losing their minds over the disappearance of their dear friend. Even Grim, who often acts nonchalant about your well being, is beside himself. Rollo Flamm offered the group almost unlimited access to Nobel Bell’s campus grounds; search parties were dispatched daily, only to return with little results. They are still grateful for the Student Council President’s support, as they should. 

Almost unlimited access, which does not include private quarters of Rollo Flamm. Not that anyone would dare, or bother to look there in the first place. 

You tried screaming, pouding the door for hours, but all it ever does is make you dehydrate faster. Convinced he placed a magic barrier over his living quarters, you ceased the fruitless labor. 

Grim must be so worried! What about others? Oh, and him… you cannot imagine the sadness he must be going through right now. Although you are trapped in this windowless room behind a bookshelf, your sense of time is not yet lost, being able to realize the passing of days by counting three meals per day. Those scrumptious meals went cold, untouched, and you only drank the water from the tap in the adjacent washroom knowing it was not as clean as the water in mugs on the trays, but you are not willing to give in an inch more than necessary . 

The stubbornness was endearing at first, so were your glares of hatred. Even though he is not accustomed to feeling such a way, he labels these bizarre feelings as ordinary. Rollo has read and heard about how when you are in love, everything the other person does will be filtered through a rosy stained glass.  But Council President Flamm worries for your health after a while, and he does not wish to force food down your throat(as for other things…that’s for later). 

The bell rang six times, and Rollo snapped out of his concentrated state, his mind wandered to what those on kitchen duties have to offer today. Maybe you would finally nibble on something today. A small blot of ink dripped off his quill due to its tiled state, and he had to suppress the urge to curse out loud. Knowing you are in the next room makes Rollo’s lips curl upwards, calming him,  and he does his best to finish up the bothersome task at hand so he could spend time with you. 

He had almost finished writing that Headmaster Crowley one out of many reassuring letters, about how he is doing anything in his power to help find the lost prefect of NRC. It is amazing how far a few words of praise and sweet lies can get with that crow. Sealing it with a wax seal, he tucks it away into his outing robe, to have it sent out first thing tomorrow morning. 

There you are, in that corner cot, back against the bed frame, all defensive hugging your knees close to your upper body. You never acknowledge Rollo when he comes in, set the silver tray on the nightstand; only shooting him angry glares when the tall man pushes you to have some of those tartiflette. 

“Still not willing to touch your food? This kind of pathetic act is beneath you, my love.” Sitting down on the other edge of the bed, Rollo scoops a spoon full and brings it to your lips. “How wonderful it smells, aren’t you famished? Just open.”  

My love? How dare he refer to you like that. This crooked being has no clue what love is. For the first time since the start of your captivity, you managed to make direct eye contact with him. “No, leave me alone!” Pushing the spoon away with much force, you panic a bit after noticing it gets knocked out of rollo’s slender fingers, producing a horrifying noise on floor tiles. Previously you dealt with similar situations with dead silence, and Rollo never insists too harshly, exiting with a sigh to leave you to your own devices in this makeshift prison.

But he is right. You do need food, and you are scared how good it smells, how dangerously close you were to opening your mouth to that spoonful of tartiflette just now. 

To think you would obey him. No, you will not give him that. Despite your logic telling you to accept the nourishment, you cling to what’s left of your autonomy like a drowning individual to a small wood chip floating on open seas. 

Seeing how you turned to face the wall again, the already shaky patience of Rollo Flamm leaves him all at once. Does he mean less than nothing to you? Do you hate him this much, to the point of hurting yourself to hurt him? Did that swine who you look to so longingly taught you this? Whatever it is, Rollo does not think he can suffer to see you in this state any longer. 

Before you get a grasp of what has transpired, Rollo is standing beside your end of the cot, towering you with his large form. Perhaps the reduced senses from hunger is to blame, you fail to realize how he always has his overly decorated staff with him when he comes to see you.

Rollo is done with humoring you, and you are making your best efforts to hide your fear of what he could do to you. He has not done anything despicable to you yet, other than denying your freedom, but you had enough time to analyze all those traces of his sickening fantasies he hides behind this constructed affable facade. 

You do not want to see what is underneath, not ever. But what you want does not matter to him now. “Still thinking about him? I am your master now, and I order you to forget about that damned person. Where do you think these acts of defiance will get you? Out of here?”

He exclaims while using the metal staff to lift your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. There are unmasked flames of anger in Rollo’s eyes, where usual calmness and feigned friendliness have been. 

Coldness of the metal almost got a shiver out of you, you struggled to not let him have the satisfaction of getting your reaction. Screw you, Monsieur Flamm, you want to yell and slap the one in front of you, the selfish monster that took you away from your friends and loved one. However you are powerless against Rollo, and your senses are not as sharp as they were when you are fed and happy. 

Rollo Flamm’s heart clenches a bit when he sees tears circling in your eyes, and how much effort you are making to not let them fall. Crying, you should not be like this,you should be smiling with admiration at him. Yet you leave Rollo with no other option. You are making him act cruel with you, because you refuse to listen, to be good. 

The noise of the staff falling to the stone floor was similar to that of the spoon, it was the last thing you heard before he forced his hand on the back of your head, and covered your lips with his own. His lips are of feverish temperature, and the way he does it is too rough; practically hungrily devouring you while you are the one who went on days without food. Kissing is supposed to be a romantic gesture, shared by couples in love, in moments of intimacy. There was no romance in that kiss, at least not to you. What you do feel is Rollo Flame's strong sense of entitlement, the desire to have you all to himself, with a mixture of unknown frustration. You shut your eyes, not wanting to take in the visuals of what is happening. 

After what feels like eternity, he lets go of you. You are so focused on catching your breath…that you failed to notice how much the man is savoring the sight of you panting rapidly with flushed cheeks. 

Only he can see this sight. No one else. Thought of seeing this everyday puts Rollo in a state of frenzy, as if he is not in already when he “falls in love” with you. 

Grabbing your hand that attempts to wipe your mouth clean of traces of him, Rollo whispers threats into your ear the same way a lover whispers sweet nothings. 

“Listen now. You will open your mouth when I feed you, understand? You and I both know defiance will do you no good. If you are good, you can have anything you ever wanted. But you will have to obey.”

Pulling your frozen body into his arms, Rollo starts to plant tender pecks on your cheek, the tenderness you would expect from someone who claims to be head over heels for you. 

“I don’t wish to harm you in any way. Quit making things harder for the both of us. Accept me as your one and only, we will live happily together.” 

No, you will not. It does not matter. Your efforts are in vain, it was worthless from the start. Rollo Flamm has got the upper hand from the very beginning. As the helplessness of your situation finally dawned on you, you did not try to resist when the monster kissed your tears away. 

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere rollo flamm #rollo flamm x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark content #tw: food

[yaksha-lover]

You were made in the image of the angel.

That’s what Rollo believes when he spots you, a speckle of light, amongst your tainted peers. You’re truly captivating to him; one so untouched by all the disgusting, dark miasma that swarms you, swirling it’s depraved fingers through your hair.

Despite magic’s presence in your life, it’s never taken root inside of you. For that, you are beautiful; the antithesis to the wicked fae that he so loathed.

He should have known Malleus would try to corrupt you. The dragon was alluring: dark tresses spilling around his broad shoulders, his piercing green eyes, and those magnificent horns upon his head. As gorgeous and charismatic as the fallen angel himself; that was what made him so dangerous.

It’s not your fault you gave into Malleus’ temptation. Rollo knows even he could have strayed from his righteous path had he been less disciplined than he was.

Still, he can’t end the burning rage when he sees the way you’ve been seduced by that man, the mark he’s begun to leave upon you.

He calms himself for a moment.

He’ll have to deal with it. For every drop of himself that Malleus has put into you, Rollo will have to cleanse you by doing the same.

Every kiss, every nip at your neck, every skirting of hands across your thighs will need to be replaced with a touch of his own, that of a pious man.

He’s sure you’ll understand - it’s only the price to pay for salvation.

#i despise him (he consumes my every waking thought) #me writing this even tho i barely know this man (sorry if it’s ooc) 💀 #idc ab canon he’s depraved and weird and wants both yuu and malleus to me 🙄 #also him just being delusional and lying to himself ab his true motivations #wym he likes yuu?? no he’s only doing the ‘right thing’ #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamme #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #twst #twisted wonderland #yandere #(ish) #tw: yandere

[dotster001]

When You Escape Him; Non NRC

Summary: Yandere Neige/Chenya/Rollo/Najma x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

CW: these are probably the tamest of the crew, yandere content, probably ooc but we know so little about these guys, Rook's an ass, gaslighting/manipulation, restraints, Rollo's darling is on their last straw, Stockholm syndrome

A/N: I was gonna include Najma, but she's so pretty, she could do whatever she wanted, and I'd be like, "whatever you say, babygirl." Anyways...I did not include her here...for reasons....

Edit: I am a dumbass. I figured out how to write a Najma part.

Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

You'd gotten an invitation to Rook's estate in the Sunset Savannah. 

Rook had basically become your son's godfather, though you had to doubt his motives. At first that is.

You'd been suspicious. Of course Rook would want to raise up the next Neige le Blanche. Your son was the spitting image of him, but with the added “bonus” of having your “radiant, glowing eyes.” You couldn't help but worry that Rook was helping you because he wanted to be the one to help polish and prepare the one who would grow up to be the fairest of them all.

Your suspicions had faded over time, as he seemed to be taking a hands off approach, opting to send money, buy food and clothes, and play pretend dad if someone asked questions. He'd visit twice a year, expressing his excitement to simply play fairy godmother to the boy.

Then one evening, long after your son had gone to sleep, you'd sat late into the night talking in front of Rook's grandiose fireplace. The both of you had inched closer and closer, until he'd taken your chin in his hand, and was whispering against your lips.

“I've always loved your eyes. I'd always hoped that it would be my son you'd share them with.”

You laughed dryly. “Perhaps in another universe, there's a boy who looks like Rook Hunt, who has my (e/c) eyes.”

“I hope that Rook treasures him as much as I treasure S/N and his parent. Perhaps you can make the transgression up to me, by allowing me to dote on you, and continue to help raise your son.”

It had been a night where, despite not having drunk anything, you'd felt intoxicated: on eachother, and the firelight, and promises for the future. The next morning, you'd both agreed it was best to proceed as usual. Perhaps, as time went on, you would fall into something naturally. You weren't far off as it was.

A month later was when you'd gotten the invitation to his estate.

Your son was excited as always. And when you'd arrived, Rook had told you he had set up a tea party for you. The door opened, and a pair of arms were wrapped around you.

“Oh my sevens, thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

You stiffened, but didn't have time to react as Neige pulled away, and got down on your son's level, cupping his cheeks, and cooing softly. The static in your ears was preventing you from understanding anything he was saying. But you were the only one out of the four people in this room who was not smiling.

Neige pushed a lock of your son's hair back, and gave him a tearful smile, and you watched as your son skipped out the door. You felt Rook's hands on your shoulders, and it brought you back to earth. He gently directed you to one of the two chairs of the tea party you had been promised. You sat with a thud as Neige took the one across from you. 

You looked up at Rook, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He reached out, and gently brushed one away.

“Do not cry, Mon Trickster”

“Why?”

He smiled softly, yet still had the decency to look heartbroken.

“I cannot stand between soulmates. You can't let true love escape, for someone like me.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “Just give him a chance. The beauty the two of you  create together is not something I can allow to get away.”

And then he left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him, as you stared at Neige, who practically had hearts in his eyes. He reached across the table and gently took your hand, stroking the back with his thumb.

“I missed you both. So much.”

You bit your lip unsure of what to say.

“Listen, I know I've made some mistakes, but,” he sniffled a little, “I want you back. Please, give us another chance.”

“I don't think-”

“I'm so much better than I was! I hurt you, I know, but I'm not that person anymore.” He got up from his chair, and knelt before you, pressing your hand to his heart.

“I swear on everything I love that I will never hurt you again. I'll be less controlling. I won't fly off the handle. I won't give you the silent treatment when you have to talk to someone who isn't me. Please.”

He knew his crimes. That was a pretty huge step. And as you stared into his pleading eyes, you remembered how much you used to love this man. He seemed so earnest. 

Maybe you could learn to love him again.

“And what if you're lying?” You asked, hoarsely.

“I'm not.”

“A-a trial period. That's all I'll agree to.”

He looked ecstatic as he jumped up, and wrapped his arms around you.

“Thank you. I promise to never make you cry again.”

You believed him. Just like you'd believed him everytime he made you pretty promises. 

But, maybe this time…

“Oh. Hey Y/N. Meow's it going?” Chenya said as though him shopping at the supermarket you always shopped at wasn't about to send you spiraling.

He reached past you, grabbing the bag of chips on the shelf next to you. You didn't dare move. Sudden movements made him excited. You'd sent your kids to grab something you'd forgotten in the frozen food aisle. You prayed it would take him a while to find it.

“Nya, you have nothing to be a scaredy cat about. I'm just here to shop,” he said with a wide smile, grabbing another several bags of chips. “See, I have a mew family. With an even more purrfect son.”

“Oh, well good for you, Chenya. I'm happy for you,” you said, quickly turning your cart so that you could run if you had to.

He looked at you, face blank. “So, I don't need you anymore.”

“That's so great. I'm happy for you,” you took a step back, trying to decide if you should call someone over, just in case he decided to be wild, just to fuck with you one more time.

“I'm glad. So leave me alone. M’kay?” He said, his face still uncharacteristically blank.

“Sounds good.”

You slowly walked out of the aisle. Once you were out of his eyeline, you ran for your son, and grabbed his hand.

“Forget it, baby, we're just gonna go home,” you whispered.

“But why?” He whined, begrudgingly putting the ice cream sandwiches, that you definitely didn't ask for, back on the shelf.

“I forgot my wallet at home,” you explained, but he didn't seem to be listening. He slowly pointed slightly behind you. Then you felt a tail wrap around your middle.

You looked over your shoulder, but as usual there was no body attached to the tail. You held back a groan. The only way to deal with him was to give him nothing.

“Nya, you were supposed to get insanely jealous!” He whined, and you felt his rough tongue lick up and down your neck, possessively.

“You said you were happy, and that you didn't need me,” you reminded, trying to subtly give your son the eye signal. You'd established it about a year ago. If you gave him that signal, it meant he had to get a grown up to help. Chenya was too unpredictable, so you had to hope that if your son got away, he would actually get help, or he'd be taken care of by a family far away. He turned on his heel, ready to walk, not run, down the aisle, when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Chenya 's face hovered above the both of you, clearly upset. 

“Where are you going? Bad kitties get bites,” he warned. Your son, who was not related to Chenya, unfortunately had the same feline features and instincts. Upon hearing that warning, his ears drooped, and he looked down at the floor, whimpering.

“Aw! So pwecious! Papa will forgive you!” The tail around you disappeared, as Chenya recorpperated himself before your son, happily squishing his cheeks, and nuzzling their noses.

“Uh, who are you?” Your son asked nervously, looking at you as though you'd have a logical answer.

“That's-”

“Didn't you hear the first time? I'm your papa!” Chenya giggled happily, as he squeezed your son in a hug.

“This man is scary,” he whimpered.

“Chenya, let's just have a chat-”

His eyes turned to you, and you couldn't fight back a gasp. The anger in his face was something you'd never seen before.

“No. No more chats. No more discussions. No more, ‘let’s take a break's’. We are going home right now.”

He floated over to you, his face less than a centimeter from yours. “And, this time, you are going to stay put. Or the baby kitten is gonna be all mine to raise. I don't think you'd like that very much.”

Your door shattered into a million pieces. And there he was, holding his staff, and looking very displeased with you.

He held out a hand, clearly expecting you to take it. 

“Come.”

You simply sat there, too shocked to even blink, let alone process the command. The fact that he'd found you, meant you were already fucked. Taking his hand would have lessened whatever “purification” punishment he had cooked up for you in your twelve year absence. But you were too shocked.

“How-”

“If you have enough brains to ask questions, then you know you should take my hand, and come home. Before I get angry.”

“We should talk about this-” you began, but cut yourself off as his eyes flashed angrily.

“You had plenty of chances to talk about it. But you chose to act like a child, and run away from your problems.” His staff started to glow, and you swore you saw fire in his eyes. “You have one last chance. Come.”

You stood slowly, knowing he wouldn't hesitate to burn your apartment to the ground, just to make a point.

“S/N is asleep in his room,” you said, taking a step in that direction.

“We're leaving him.”

“What!”

“He was supposed to teach you how to behave. Instead he caused you to be foolish, and run from me.”

“Wait, Rollo, you can't be ser-”

“The child is obviously a distraction. So, he has no use for us.” 

You stared at him, and then ran for your son's room. Rollo quickly caught you around the middle, dragging you towards the exit.

“You can't do this!” You shouted, trying to wrestle from his firm grip. “That's my son!”

“One of your neighbors will see the broken door, and take him in. He is not your son anymore.”

You screamed, and struggled, but, for some reason, none of your neighbors even opened their doors to investigate. He dragged you all the way to his car, no one stopping him. He threw you in, quickly tying you down, before beginning the drive back home.

You continued to scream at him, calling him inhuman, a monster, how dare he separate you from your son? How could he care so little? Your son looked like him, for hell's sake!

“I told you. That boy was a means to an end. And he failed at that end. So I have no use for him. And neither do you. You'll soon forget.”

You snapped at him, and he groaned.

“Oh, just shut up for five minutes,” he muttered, and you found you no longer had your voice.

Ooh, you were steaming. When you had your voice back, you'd let him have it. Then again, so would he. He'd  throw you straight into your punishment, which would probably get worse when he realized your son had been manifesting signs of magic, meaning you needed to be “cleaned”. 

But, at this moment, you realized something. 

If you had to kill this man to get your son back, you were pretty sure you now had the resolve to do it.

You hesitated a moment, before knocking on the front door. You heard shouting inside, then were greeted by Jamil opening the door. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes widening. Then he groaned, and rolled his eyes.

"Najma, you can relax now. They're back!" He shouted into the house. You winced as you heard her squeak. She came running for you, wrapping her arms around you and her son.

"You gotta start taking better care of your things," Jamil warned her.

"Shut up," she muttered into your neck.

"I'll go tell Kalim to call off the search party," Jamil mumbled, walking past the both of you.

"I'm sorry, baby," you whispered, tears springing to your eyes.

She pulled back, her face furious.

"What the hell, Y/N? You scared me half to death. Where did you go? Why did you leave?" She snapped.

You sniffled, more tears flooding your eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't know. I just got very scared for a moment. So I ran. I don't know why. I'm so so sorry."

She stared at you for a moment, before she sighed heavily.

"This may be partly my fault," she muttered, but you shook your head. How could this possibly be her fault? She was perfect!

She gently took your son from your arms. You reached back over to take him back, unsure why your stomach was turning, but she softly smiled at you.

"It's alright, Y/N. Come inside."

She walked in, and for some reason your feet felt like lead as you followed her.

"I know exactly what I did. It's not your fault, love," She smiled at you sweetly, but you were doubtful. Didn't you just run with your new son, filled with unspeakable terror, out of nowhere?

She laid your son in the basinet she'd gotten for the living room, then took a seat on the couch, tapping the space next to her. You quickly joined her, laying your head in her lap as she caressed your cheek.

"I thought you were far more adjusted, so I rushed us into the next step. You just weren't ready yet, and it clearly startled you. I'm sorry," she said, a regretful smile on her face.

"That's not true! I'm so ready. I love you and our son so much!"

Her eyes looked so sad, as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"You don't even know," she whispered forlornly, before perking back up. "But, we'll work it out. We're in it now, the only thing to do is move forward!"

You felt lulled under by her gentle caresses, drifting off into a nightmare filled sleep. The last thing you saw, was a bitter expression on her face. Not that you'd remember it when you woke up screaming. You never did.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #neige leblanche x reader #neige leblanche #yandere neige leblanche #yandere neige leblanche x reader #chenya x reader #twst chenya #twst chenya x reader #yandere chenya #yandere chenya x reader #rollo flamme #rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamme x reader #najma viper #najma viper x reader #yandere najma viped #yandere najma viper x reader

[married-to-google-translater]

Yandere Rollo Flamame headcanon

Rollo would be an obsessive and worshipful yandere.

He would obsess over your "purity" and how you can't do magic.

Rollo would also adore these traits in you.

You would be his angel.

Rollo would have heard about the NRC student who doesn't have magic.

But it wasn't until he met you that he realized how "pure" you are.

He wouldn't want to let you go back there.

They will only spoil your purity.

But Rollo could protect you.

He could secure your innocence.

He and only him.

Rollo wouldn't want to kidnap you at first.

He would initially try to convince you to stay with him.

Because it would be much safer with him.

And rollo would be sure that you understand your own best.

But if it doesn't work…

well, in that case, he doesn't have much choice.

Rollo would make rules that would be quite protective.

And he expects you to follow them.

And if you don't Rollo won't hesitate to punish you.

Discipline and order are a good thing even if it hurts you momentarily.

But if you obeyed Rollo would be surprisingly gentle.

However, all this is for your own good.

Or so he says.

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twst #Yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twst x reader #Yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere headcanon #yandere headcanons #rollo flamme #rollo flamme x reader #Yandere rollo flamme #Yandere rollo flamme x reader #twst rollo #rollo flamm #twst x you #twisted wonderland imagines