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yandere-writer-momo · 3 months

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Thinking about a Yandere Demon Lord. This is Part 1.

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon Lord x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero

TW: Voyeurism, stalking, Somniaphilia, dacryphillia, dark content, etc

Part 2

You were surprised to be alive after your cold fiancé pushed you into oncoming traffic when you got into an argument with him… all you had wanted was for him to show you that he loved you, but instead he killed you. Yet your life didn’t end… no. Far from it.

Rather than waking up in the supposed after life, you woke up in the Rerenth Kingdom. A fantasy kingdom in a magical world plagued with problems written in fiction novels. And the emperor explained to you, no, demanded that you to take on your role as Saintess to save them from the Demon King.

The demon king was now your enemy. Defeating him was the only way for you to go home… but did you even want to do that? In your last life and in this one, you were merely another unhappy pawn. The silk robes and dazzling abilities did nothing to shield you from the harsh reality of what your life has become once more… would you ever truly be free? Would you ever truly be happy?

The servants often spoke of the monstrous Demon King who controlled the forces of darkness that sought to destroy the light. A demonic entity none of the people in this kingdom had ever truly seen with their own eyes, but they believed him to be out there… how else were they to explain the supernatural happenings that plagued their kingdom? This entire ordeal made little sense to you since you hadn’t seen many disputes between humans and demons unless they were over territory. Vast majority of the time, it was humans that ventured into the demonic lands anyways. Was this perhaps some propaganda tactic? You didn’t know and you didn’t question it, you simply wanted to retire to a peaceful life.

It took a few weeks for you to be able to control your new holy power, but you were able to now harness it for barriers and for healing. Abilities that would be useless without a hero… a fact that the citizens soon realized so they began to devise another plan. To summon a hero!

Another few weeks passed by and they successfully summoned a valiant hero by the name of Reinhardt. His chiseled face was constantly covered by the taxidermied lion mask that adorned his face. The man was massive and intimidating, yet you couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about him. You couldn’t place a finger on who he could possibly be since you didn’t know anyone else with an imposing stature like his but that gut feeling never left you.

Reinhardt would often glance you up and down when he thought you weren’t looking. His green eyes would bore into yours until you felt as if you’d be set ablaze. He was terrifying to you. Especially now that you were on a journey with him to defeat the demon king… along with a fox beastwoman fighter and an elven mage who had joined your party due to the emperor’s order. The Emperor didn’t see you to be enough aid to the hero on this important quest.

Both adventurers were quite rude to you at first since you had no offensive abilities. They often fawned over the hero who blatantly ignored their affections to instead watch over you like a hawk. A fact the two women didn’t really enjoy, but they accepted it as the weeks melted into months. And you still didn’t know their names since they never told you (and Reinhardt never spoke).

The three of them often fought and killed monsters and demons while you protected the supplies and healed their injuries. It upset you that your party ambushed them since the enemies usually were unarmed. Majority of the time, it was a one-sided slaughter. An endless bloodbath that you had no power to stop.

You often lied to your peers about monsters hiding, unaware that your small act of kindness would lead to a snowball effect in the future. You had now caught the eye of an entity much stronger than you and the hero’s party… all because you were merciful. You were kind and sweet. A true saintess.

Your softness had made your peers joke about you being a cry baby. The elven mage and beastwoman often jabbed their elbows into your side to joke about the tears you’d cry because they thought you were scared. The dense women never realized your tears were for the innocent monsters they slaughtered on a day to day basis too. You were never scared of the demons or monsters, you were scared of them.

Yet Reinhardt nipped the subtle bullying in the bud by shoving the other two adventures away from you with his strong arms. He always made sure you were safe before he offered his body for healing… which he’d just make gesture at you with his hands rather than speak. It seemed he was fond of you, a fondness you didn’t understand since he never spoke to you.

Reinhardt would often pick you up without asking you and tuck you into the crook of his large arm. It bothered you that he never took off his mask, but he had quite an attractive jawline with the slightest bit of stubble. There was not a doubt in your mind that Reinhardt was likely an attractive man, but that didn’t matter. Since he was creepy.

Reinhardt never uttered a word to you but would always dutifully stand by your side (or carry you like some sort of damsel). He often reminded you of your ex fiancé with his stoic demeanor and his bewitching green eyes. And the staring. You swore you felt bare under his gaze even if you had multiple layers on.

And it wasn’t just his eyes you felt on you, you swore there was someone else watching you in the shadows and the possibility of you having another stalker made your skin crawl. Had you finally gone insane from having Reinhardt be around you 24/7? Or was there something sinister amiss?

Maybe that’s why Reinhardt so dutifully clung to you? Whether his protection was out of obligation or simply because he lusted for you, his presence did little to ease the extra set of eyes. In fact, he made it worse.

Wherever you were, Reinhardt was never far. He was with you when you bathed to stand guard. He was carrying you if you couldn’t keep up with him and the rest of the hero’s party. Reinhardt even began to stay in your tent with you…

He didn’t utter a word when he watched over you whenever you had nightmares. Reinhardt never woke you up from the horrific dreams of the man with pitch black hair and sharp talons pulling you into his lap and having his way with you. No, Reinhardt instead dragged his tongue down your tear stricken face in delight.

Reinhardt knew his actions were wrong, but he couldn’t help but fawn over your helpless form. You were so weak without his protection… you were a lamb sent to a slaughter that luckily had a herding dog with you. You should be grateful Reinhardt had such an intense interest in you, otherwise you could have perished earlier on at the goblin camps. Or those other two party members would have likely broken a few of your bones from rough housing. You were a frail bird that needed to be locked up at all times and Reinhardt was willing to be the one to do that! He would keep you safe, even if it took you years to understand even an ounce of his magnitude of feelings for you. He was a patient man!

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up in your tent with Reindhart’s imposing form standing over you ominously. You’d cry every single time, but he’d make no move to comfort you. Only stare.

Over the last four weeks, you begin to receive little trinkets in your tent on the daily. Delicacies that Reinhardt would immediately pitch once he saw them, but it filled you with anxiety that he was not the one slipping you those gifts… who on earth could be gifting you such pretty rocks and wild flowers?

You were flattered, just the tiniest bit, by the small, temporary gifts. They were much more welcomed than the iron grip of Reinhardt’s arms. Even though the sender made you anxious, it was nice to know that someone took you into consideration. It was a small action that filled you with hope. Perhaps you would be saved from this fate?

Shame you didn’t understand just how much those tiny gifts upset the hero. Your eyes should only be on him. Your entire purpose should revolve around him. Reinhardt wanted to find the individual who sent you these gifts so he could rip them limb from limb. You belonged to him and he would show you that you had no way of escaping him. You were going to be his bride! Whether you liked it or not, the hero had chosen you as his destined one!

Recently, you’d wake up to him laying beside you in your tent with his large arms wrapped around you. His Roman nose buried into the crook of your neck. This was far worse than him lingering in your tent since he had become so physical.

And your peers did nothing about his harassment of you. To them, it was cute that the hero was so ‘enamored’ with the Saintess! You’ve even heard whispers of how the emperor will no doubt arrange a marriage between the two of you once the four of you eliminated the demon king. It terrified you even more because you knew you’d have little say in the matter… your life was spiraling out of your own control once more. This time, into the arms of some brute with attachment issues. You didn’t want to marry another emotionally constipated man! You wanted to have freedom!

You often cried yourself to sleep which only made Reinhardt even more overbearing. He now would press kisses to your cheeks and cuddle his body into yours. Even in your dreams, you couldn’t escape this massive man. If only you could be saved…

And when you drifted off into an unnaturally heavy sleep, your barriers deactivated. An action that allowed the Demon King to finally slip into your party’s camp and take what he wanted. You.

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mamayan · 5 months

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can we get a babytrapping yandere 🥹

Absolutely you can Nonnie~

tw: Baby Trapping • Yandere • Male Yandere • Afab Darling • Afab reader • Pet names • Manipulation • PIV • Oral (F) • Overstimulation/Multiple Orgasms • Sub! Reader (implied) • Dom! Yandere (implied) • Dubcon • Breeding

This wasn’t originally his intention.

He only wanted a happy life with you, filled with joy and love.

It’s not his fault those dense friends of yours want to keep you from him. It’s not his fault your family is corrupt and trying to tear you both apart. It’s the world’s fault for making you so naive to the evils which lurk in the shadows. You don’t know any better, looking adorably flustered as he buries his face between your thighs.

He could die here, as you tangle your fingers in his hair and shake, he really believes he’s found heaven.

“Oh god—I’m cumming—!” As you throw your head back and your warm cunt gushes, he truly knows he’d do absolutely anything to keep this perfect bubble he’s carefully crafted from popping.

You look stunning, sweaty and ruined from multiple orgasms, looking at him with such pretty trusting eyes. Panting in the bed he bought for you, the lacy lingerie he’d given you as a present hanging off your ankle and pushed up on your chest to reveal all your skin for his gaze, he knows he could never love anyone as much as he loves you.

His eyes are crazed, smile distorted as he gazes at you with obsession and wild adoration. You miss it all, dizzy from dehydration and the intensity of your own orgasms. He’s never usually so forward and rough, intense and dazzling as he whispers his love in your ear.

You were supposed to be breaking up with him. Tell him you need space, something he doesn’t seem capable of giving. Instead you’re in his bed again, falling for his charm and skill in handling your body.

You’d do it tomorrow, as he easily flips you and drags your ass up as your cheek rests on the soft comforter.

“Always so precious when you cum for me…” he’s kissing down your thighs, licking up your release as driving you wild as he blows cool air on your pussy. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fill this pretty pussy too.” He chuckles, acting reassuring as if you doubted he wouldn’t. “I’ll fill you up nice and good.” And you don’t see it.

You don’t see his face, darkening with something sadistic as he slicks his tip up with your juices and presses into you. His thick cock stretched your gummy tight walls, making your back arch further for him as he sinks so deep it nearly strings.

He relishes in your little squeal as he slams the rest of the way in, rolling him hips and driving the soft mushroom top right up against your cervix. His moan mixes with your whine, head falling back as he pulls out slowly before slamming back, a new pace being set of fucking you as deeply and hard as he can. Your lips open to complain, whine what you really want, faster and harder than this sensual pace, but his hand reaches around and his finger touches your clit. You shut up as he gathers your slick and smears it over your hardened nub, beginning to rub small circles around it to accompany his thrusts.

He only huffs a laugh at your behavior, how you relax and roll your hips back to meet him now as he works you towards another orgasm.

His chest meets your back, pressing you deeper into the mattress as his scent surrounds you, lips pressed to your ear as you clamp down tighter. Each little puff of warm air on the sensitive cartilage making him hold you tighter as you moan and wiggle for more friction.

“You like how I fuck you? How well we fit together? It’s like your pussy was made for me.” He groans, only riling you up further with the dirty talk as you feel another orgasm pulling at the knot inside you. His fingers keep the same pace as his hips, his tip rocking up inside you, so deep and pressing it’s like he’s trying to sear himself inside you. “You going to cum sweetheart? Milk my cock and fill your little womb?” The heat and pressure are becoming dizzying, your mind going a bit blank as you do cum, soaking his cock and balls as he speeds his pace up only now, drawing out your orgasm and causing it to intensify. His tip kissing your cervix over and over, fucking you nice and deep before he groans curses. “You’re gonna be such a good mama, fill you up nice and full, breed this fucking cunt make it all mine,” you’re cumming again, too overwhelming to focus on his concerning language as his balls draw up tight. He’s spilling into you as you spasm and tense around him, cock swelling up as his balls release the pent up load he’s withheld for nearly a month into your fertile womb.

You’d been such a good girl, taking the sugar pills diligently. You didn’t even notice you’d been off your birth control for over three months now, just after you moved out of his apartment under the excuse of needing “more personal space”.

He’s fucking you nice and full all night, filling you up over and over, growing increasingly unhinged as he imagines you swelling with the child you created together. Your family wouldn’t push him away once you figured it out. Your friends would take a seat in the back of your mind, the baby taking precedence. And there he’d be, happy and ready to provide and care for you.

“You ready for another load baby♡?” You nod in a daze as you cum for him again, exhausted and overstimulated as he groans and shoots another hot load inside you. Your lower body soaked in fluids from how much you’d both cum.

You’d be pregnant for sure by the time the sun rose.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

#Yan answers #tw: breeding #tw: Dubcon #yandere #yancore #baby trapping #yandere smut #baby trapping smut #male yandere x reader #male yandere x fem reader #general yandere #fem darling #dom! Yandere #sub! darling

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theroyalyandere · 1 year

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request: Hello can I request yandere Emperor with a foreign dancer reader??? Like reader is runaway princess of a kingdom because she didn't wanted to marry an old noble man whom her parents choose for her to gain political support. Thank you!!

yandere!emperor x dancer!reader

you escaped your kingdom in the disguise of a dancer and it worked well with how skilled you are at dancing.

you ran away because your wish to marry for love was disregarded by the king and queen, your parents. they instead arranged you to a wealthy old nobel who's obviously does not have the best intentions.

you travelled along with your crew to various kingdoms to perform.

until you stopped to perform at the yandere!emperor's empire.

he was well known to be a benevolent emperor he already had a harem of his own occupied by the most beautiful women in the empire.

however he has not taken any empress yet, despite the Court's determination to marry one of their daughters to their beloved emperor.

when the day of the feast came, you were the star of the performance. eyes were on you, dazzling as you dance with grace.

with your beauty, everyone has fallen for you including the emperor himself.

he felt his heart beating out of his chest the moment his eyes landed on you, he couldn't take his eyes of you looking like a fever dream.

at that very moment he was determined to make you his.

he immediately asked his right hand to know about you and offered your crew to stay at the palace for a while in return for the performance you had given.

he started to subtly court you by asking for your presence to join in him for tea and a chat.

he then started to take you out on dates, which you don't mind assuming it was only the emperor's kindness and hospitality.

he also gave you gifts such as clothes and jewelery or anything your heart desires he will have it granted to you.

it took a while to make you fall for him but you did.

the emperor couldn't be even happier than having you.

he started to spoil you more and more which made his affections to you even obvious to the eyes of others.

he only requested you to his chambers to spend the night with him leaving the harem confused by his actions.

his courtship towards you spread out like fire within the empire.

because of this the court still continued to pursue the emperor to marry their daughters and it led to the jealousy of his consorts and concubines

you were subjected to various humiliation whenever the emperor was not around but you kept quiet to not cause a fuss

until you were fed up with the mistreatment

you packed your things and talked to the crew to leave the empire and embark on another adventure

when you went to see the emperor, he was happy to see you and even offered to spend time with you

however, his happiness was shattered the moment you said you needed to leave

he went to you and pulled you closer to him asking why are you leaving him and was begging not to leave him because you are his life

you hesitated to tell him but decided not to so you kept silent and went away.

that day the emperor became harsh and cold towards the servants and everyone who crosses his way.

he couldn't let you go, so he ordered his loyal servant to find out the cause of you suddenly leaving him.

it enraged him when he found out how you were treated by the nobles and his harem during your stay.

so he ordered his knights to murder all of the concubines and nobles who participated to make you miserable.

he also investigated your background and found out you were a runaway princess

he immediately went to negotiate with your parents to cut your engagement to whoever noble that it was in exchange for a greater benefit in exchange for your hand

they agree to his offer and he left, but not without a chaos at the kingdom

this action sparked a fear towards everyone among the empire.

they certainly did not expect him to commit a mass murder just because of a foreign dancer.

the news reached to you and you couldn't deny how it made you afraid soon enough he will be out to get you.

guess what, the next morning you open the door and see him staring at you with craziness and love behind those eyes of his.

behind him is his knights conquering the village you are staying at.

he grins down at you "hello my love, I'm glad to see you again."

I hope you like this! :)

#yandere!emperor #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere emperor x reader #yandere oc #yandere hcs #yandere #yandere reader insert #royal requests #fem!reader

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after-witch · 6 months

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The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret.

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful.

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled.

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves.

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war.

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol.

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games.

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win.

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could.

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes.

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you.

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it?

Her smile grew wider.

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze.

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue.

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.”

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is…?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else.

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples.

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you.

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.”

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead, you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned.

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors.

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash.

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats.

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom.

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked.

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it.

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm.

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father.

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets.

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there, unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated.

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it.

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl.

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little. You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not.

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up.

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans.

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.”

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.”

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home.

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University.

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment. You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber.

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy.

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject.

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?”

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.”

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested.

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone.

There was an Avox in the room.

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married.

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic.

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now.

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered.

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did.

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home.

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home.

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1.

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls? I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No. You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world.

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.”

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you. You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father.

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in?

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette.

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real?

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick.

“Good.”

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year.

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow.

Of course you would.

Your life depended on it.

#yandere coriolanus snow #yandere hunger games #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #/slaps trunk #this baby can fit so many references to the books & movie in it.#... well not SO MANY #but enough

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azen13 · 18 days

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CW: Yandere Themes Thinking abt Yandere!Neuvillette with a Sovereign!S/O who seeks asylum in Fontaine after years of hiding in Teyvat from the Fatui, Celestia, etc...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment you enter the Palais Mermonia, Neuvillette feels your presence; like when the sun peaks through a blanket of clouds on an overcast day, something heavy falls off from his soul, like a curtain opening. His office doors open and you find yourself face-to-face with the only being like you in this land.

Of course Neuvillette can't just drop any of his appointments or cases, so he asks you empathetically to wait out in the lobby until his lunch break. Before he returns to his office, he asks one of the Melusines working to keep an eye on you and to make sure you don't get hurt or run off. His fingers twitch as he takes one last look at you, his eyes searching deep into your soul.

When he's finally finished with all his paperwork and met with several people, he ushers you in his office, his face imperceptible. Beneath his human facade, there are currents of emotions pushing against one another like boiling water: protectiveness, anxiety, fear, jubilance, relief. Neuvillette asks you if you want something to eat. Some water from Monstadt to go along with it, maybe?

He lets you tell your story and listens patiently. His expression, perfected over the course of hundreds of thousands of trials, stays perfectly intact, but the tides of his heart lurch as you tell him about all the atrocities committed to you.

The waters roar, and the dragon stirs.

When you ask for asylum and protection he is quick to agree. Very quick. Almost immediately he promises to set you up with a comfortable apartment, a simple job at the Palais organizing papers, some Mora to help you buy clothes, and whatever else you might need. He has to return to work, unfortunately. But he asks again if you can stay in the Palais Mermonia until he is done with work—or at least his official work—for the night.

Your agreement is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

The rest of the day, Neuvillette cannot think. There is an permanent indentation in his mind now from that first feeling of sensing your presence. The feelings duplicate themselves in his mind until he can hardly grasp his pen. Words on pages turn into soupy mush.

For the first time in centuries, Neuvillette does not stay late to continue working. When the clock strikes seven, he has already neatly organized the work he has to get done on his desk to pick up later. Briefly, his expression eases, thaws in a way, the corners of his lips slightly upturned, a hint of fondness finding its way into his iridescent eyes.

Unfortunately, he says, he can't organize all of the papers and contact all of the people needed right now to get you what he promised. However, he can offer you a guest room in his home. Your agreeance is so beautiful, your smile radiant like the sun and eyes shining like stars. He wants to see you smile. He likes it. Loves it, even.

As the two of you walk through the streets of Fontaine, the energy of the city begins winding down; there are still people clustered at cafes and musicians spouting tunes off into the evening summer air, but already, stars have begun to appear in the dazzling dusk sky.

You say you love the stars. Neuvillette listens with rapt attention, as though he is studying for the most important test of his life. He is an Akademiya scholar, and his Darshan is the study of you.

You are his star.

After the walk home, Neuvillette finds himself blessed by your expression when you gaze into the foyer of his house. It's nothing extraordinary like the opulence of the nobility, but it is upper-class; a quiet luxury permeates through every part of the home, from the banister carved with patterns of the sea to the walls painted a rich, deep blue.

He holds in a laugh when you see a potted plant and gaze at it like it is a miracle of life. Perhaps it is, with its delicate petals and fragrant scent. How—he wonders as he guides you to the guest room, nearly reaching to put his hand on the small of your back before deciding against it—could it survive this long? How did it not get ripped apart or trampled on by beasts and humans alike? The thought lingers in the back of his mind like the last traces of sunlight beaming in through the windows.

Neuvillette files it away.

When he goes to bed, he cannot sleep. Part of him is worried that there is something genuinely wrong with him, that he should seek medical attention. But that's impossible. And he knows it. It is an easy, dismissive lie; thin like ice in late winter. Once he smashes through it, he plunges into something lethal.

Is it wrong, Neuvillette thinks, that he wishes to protect you?

He should rephrase that. It is wrong that he wishes to keep you tucked away somewhere where those beasts will never hurt you again?

He holds a court case in his mind, you versus him. He cards through the evidence. The laws. He goes on a hunt in his archives for a tome on the law when he needs clarification.

When he composes a mental opinion to this rhetorical case, it is after several hours of back-and-forths in his head. But he knows now.

You are a special case, Neuvillette thinks. Cursed by Celestia even, he would say, with how much you have gone through, escaping the clutches of the Fatui and their Harbingers, and countless other evils. He can trace the scars on your hands knowing there are thousands of tragedies written in invisible ink over them. Could he be what decodes those messages? He can. He will.

To put it more plainly, you don't fall under the standard limits of jurisdiction of Fontaine's law. You are a Sovereign, not a citizen of Fontaine, and in addition, you fall under the qualifications of a person in extreme danger. Your very existence is endangered, the elusive essence of your being alluring to the foulest forces in Teyvat. And since the Archon of your element has not rescinded their powers, you are so very vulnerable.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Time passes strangely after that night. The god of time has always been a strange, fickle thing in an immortal being like Neuvillette's eyes, but after meeting you, it has only become more warped.

You go out to cafes together. Neuvillette buys you a croissant. You ask him what lavender tastes like. He describes it the best he can, and you buy a lavender latte. You and him share easy, pleasant conversation on a small streetside patio. That is just one morning. There will be an infinite number of mornings like that, but they will all carry that insurmountable significance to Neuvillette. Just like your smile. Your face. Your eyes. Hair. Nose. Everything. Anything. All of it.

This is love. It must be.

Days float on by like meandering clouds, the guest room slowly transforms into your room, and the thought of an apartment is abandoned. Neuvillette asks you to start helping him organize papers in his office, find the right tome he needs on Fontaine's laws from his expansive shelves. He buys you clothes in shades of blue, gray, and white, your outfit's color palette harmonizing perfectly with his. Your days are spent constantly together, going from home to the Palais Mermonia, back home, maybe going out for dinner or some other excursion like an opera or show, and Neuvillette is pleased.

Pleased because you have not tried to fight against this. Pleased that you are just as affected as he is. Pleased that he wakes every day knowing you are safe in your home. Pleased that you are his.

His grasp slowly tightens around you like a gardener lining his pruners up against a flower. His hands clasp yours. They draw around your back. Cup your cheek. Brush your lip. When a stranger finds themselves talking to you, Neuvillette's gravity draws you back in, like the earth and the moon. The stranger is simply a speck of dust in this cosmos, never to fall into your shared orbit again.

When you finally kiss after months of this slow pull, Neuvillette knows it is over. You are his. Your room is now his room. Your bed now his bed. Your love is now his love. Your life is now his life. And you know it. And he knows it. And you both know it's for the best.

He will protect you. His rose.

His star.

His love.

Forever.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabble #yandere imagine #genshin #neuvillette #genshin impact #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #yandere neuvillette #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines

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pinkie-pop · 3 months

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"Reincarnated As The Cringefail Lord of Hell's Second Child."

Part I Part II Part III

Sequel to this.

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Morningstar!Reader, Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Reader, Yandere Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 3.2k

Includes: No applicable warnings for this installment

Synopsis: A straightforward isekai story, you're reborn as the devil's child. With knowledge of your past life and the show your new world is based on, it's clear that you must be destined for greatness. The only question remains: why does everyone around you seem to be acting so...strange?

•~•~•~•~•~•

You remember Lilith as a caring mother.

For the short period of time that she was in your life, you never once felt unloved. Even when you were suspicious of her, even when you tried to turn away from her, she always gazed at you with utmost adoration. Then, six months later, she stopped gazing at you at all. Six months later, she disappeared entirely.

Lucifer handled her sudden departure about as well as one could have. You didn't see him that much during the six months in which your mother was present, but you could tell they were in a rough patch. They never fought, never hit or insulted, but they were awkward in a way that was hard to describe. It showed in the way Lucifer gazed at her, in the way Lilith would break eye contact, in the way she never handed you over to him without his explicit asking. You suppose that must be why Lucifer has hardly changed even after his wife left without warning—to him, she had already left a long, long time ago.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Being a single father to two children isn't easy, even if one of them is already grown up. A child is never fully grown in the eyes of their parents, no matter how many centuries pass them by.

You were always a little too mature for your age. It made it hard to be a dad, Lucifer thought. After all, how could he raise someone who acted as if they had already led a full life some many years ago?

Before Lucifer could blink, seven years had already passed him by, and yet his youngest had not seemed to age a day. It was as if you had stopped growing a long time ago. It was as if you were born an adult. Your physical body was the only indicator of your progress. It scared him, honestly. Before you could even walk, you were crawling to the library and reading grimoires as old as the demon who owned them. Lucifer wishes he could dismiss it as a child simply playing with a toy, but something deep in his gut told him that you understood every word. This theory proved true when you started practicing magic mere months later. Your progress was astounding, unlike anything he'd ever seen.

You…weren't normal. But every so often, you'd look up at him with your big, round eyes and smile, and you'd feel like a kid again. Lucifer would become aware of how rounded your cheeks and small your body was, and suddenly, the unease would vanish. That's right. No matter what, you were still only seven. The same seven-year-old who brought their teddy bear everywhere they went, who'd play with Razzle and Dazzle, just barely starting to be taller than said sheep.

Despite everything, you were still his child.

Lucifer’s phone buzzes, momentarily taking him out of his musings.

It's Charlie.

Wait…Charlie?! Charlie never calls him! Oh no, what should he say? It has to be perfect, it has to be—

“Hey, bitch,” he says. Perfect.

“Hey, Dad,” Charlie says awkwardly, the sound of her pacing echoing through the speakers. She seems nervous, it makes Lucifer's heart ache. He wants so badly to reach out through the phone and comfort her, but he can't even muster up the courage to ask what's wrong. He kicks a duck across his workshop, the sound of it's squeaking echoing across the room. “So, I had a favor to ask you...” The sound of pacing stops, and Lucifer waits with bated breath.

“Sure, anything,” he says. “Anything you want.” Charlie explains the situation to him. She runs a hotel now, apparently. Why didn't she tell him sooner? The thought of her not trusting him with it ate at his pride, but he set his feelings aside and resolved to just listen. Charlie invites him to check out her hotel, and it dawns on him that this is the first time she's ever invited him over. The weight of her invitation is not lost on him. Eagerly, he responds, “I'll be there in an hour!” then hangs up.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Despite your maturity, you're still too young to be left home alone (in Lucifer's eyes, at least), so Lucifer takes you with him to the hotel. He's sure Charlie will be thrilled to see you again—the two of you have always been fond of each other.

The hotel looks pretty much as it did in the show, with the only difference now being the large banner hanging from the stairway reading “Welcome, Dad!”. Charlie is there to greet the two of you at the door, and you can see the rest of the cast hanging around in the distance.

“[Name]!” Charlie says, running to pick you up and hug you as Lucifer stands awkwardly to the side. “I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have added your name to the sign!” When Charlie is done nuzzling your face, she and Lucifer share an awkward hug of their own. “I’m so glad you guys could make it. Let me show you around!” Charlie holds your hand and guides the two of you to the bar first, where Husk is there downing another bottle of cheap booze.

“Who’s the pipsqueak?” He says between gulps. “I don’t like kids.”

“Look at their face, hot stuff,” Angel replies, leaning over the counter with a lazy grin. “Think you just insulted royalty.”

“Hello!” you say, craning your neck up to see them. “I’m [Name]! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Aw, look at that smile,” Angel coos, picking you up by the armpits. “Musta inherited that from ‘er Mom.”

“What makes you say that?” You tilt your head. As far as you know, you inherited most of your traits from your father.

“Look at ‘im,” Angel says, nodding towards Lucifer, who’s wearing the nastiest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Dad, are you okay over there?”

“I’d be fine if that filth were to put you down, sweetie,” he says.

“Hey! I am not ‘filth’! People pay big money just to be in the same room as me, you know!” Lucifer walks over and snatches you from his grip. The two of them exchange insults back and forth. Seeing as this might take a while, you climb down from your Dad’s arms and start looking around.

“Why, hello there, little one,” Alastor says, materializing beside you. He reaches a hand out to shake, then excitedly swings your arm up and down when you give it. “You must be [Name]. Pleasure to be meeting you, dear! Quite a pleasure! Our dear Charlie has told us quite a bit about you,” he says, still shaking your arm.

“She has?” You say, glancing over to Charlie, who’s busy trying to defuse the tension between your father and Angel Dust.

“Yes, indeedy!” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and spinning you around. “And since our dear Princess is so busy with her father and our tenant, I shall take it upon myself to show you around. Isn’t that just grand?” Alastor doesn’t bother waiting for a reply before dragging you by the arm towards the staircase, only to be stopped by Vaggie who quickly blocks the path.

“Oh no you don’t,” she says, brandishing her spear. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you are going nowhere with them.” Alastor grins but relents, dropping your arm and disappearing. Creepy.

“Are you okay?” Vaggie asks, kneeling down to your height. You nod but hold the spot where the Radio Demon had grabbed you as if worried it might be bruised. Vaggie checks to see if it is but sees no signs of any bruise or injury forming on your small arm. That’s a relief, at least.

“Hah!” You and Vaggie snap around at the sound of thunderous laughter coming from the bar. The two of you are greeted by an odd sight—Lucifer and Angel Dust embraced together in a stiff hug, while Charlie looks on, seemingly pleased with herself. You aren’t sure how she pulled it off, but you suppose she must have succeeded in de-escalating the fight between those two.

“Oh, I see you’ve met my girlfriend!” Charlie says, walking over to you.

“Your girlfriend?” Lucifer says, quickly untangling himself from Angel. “You like girls? S-so do I! We have so much in common!” He says, pointing his finger from himself to Charlie in a repetitive manner.

“It’s uh- it's nice to meet you. Sir,” Vaggie says, standing up to shake Lucifer’s hand. To which he grabs her hand but then quickly pulls her in for a brief hug. The hug seems to blindside Vaggie momentarily and ends before she can return it. Still, she doesn’t seem unhappy about it.

“I’m Niffty!” Comes a voice from your right. Sure enough, it’s Niffty who’s come to see you next. “You’re taller than me, even though I’m older. That’s fine, though! I don’t mind at all!” She says, stabbing at a nearby roach with her needle, a crazed look in her eye.

You shuffle away from Niffty…

…And bump right into Sir Pentious on the way.

“Oh, h-hello there,” he says, looking oddly nervous. “Ssorry, I uh…I do not know how to eh, conversse with people of your kind.” You blink at him, and he grabs his collar as if sweaty.

“By ‘people of your kind’ do you mean…kids?” You ask. Pentious nods. “Just talk to me how you would everyone else. If it helps, you can think of me like how you think of Niffty?”

“Sscary…?”

“I meant more like…a short person,” Niffty runs past you briefly, stabbing at another roach with her needle, “-but I get where you’re coming from,” you say.

The rest of the day follows more or less the same beats as the episode it was based on. Lucifer and Alastor have unexplained beef with each other, they sing a song about it (where does the music come from?), Charlie’s daddy issues get resolved via another song (seriously, where is the music coming from? Did they improv this?), and Mimzy appears. Soon enough, it’s time to leave. Charlie is hugging you and your Dad goodbye when an idea occurs to you.

“Hey, Dad? Charlie?” You say, feeling a bit nervous. “Do you mind if I stay here? I want to help out with the hotel.” It’s been seven years since you arrived in hell, but you still remember every detail of the show from having written it down as soon as you could write. With your knowledge, you might be able to help move things along more easily.

Maybe you can protect your sister from making a deal with the Radio Demon.

“Oh, honey, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” Lucifer says, looking down at you.

“Eh, why not? Let the kid stay, for Christ’s sake,” Angel pipes up from the bar. “We could use someone ta’ liven the place up a bit.”

“Sweetie, you’ve never even stayed the night away from home before. Are you sure you want to stay in the hotel?” You nod.

“Charlie will be there with me! And you won’t be that far away, either! Please, Daddy?” You give Lucifer your best puppy-dog eyes, the ones you know he’s weak to. Lucifer looks away from you, clearly conflicted.

“Alright,” he relents. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” you say, a tad too eager.

“I’m staying here with you.”

“Is that okay?” You turn to Charlie.

“Of course!” she says. “I’ll go get your rooms set up right away–”

“Room,” Lucifer corrects. “We, uh, wouldn’t want to take up too much space.”

“Oh no, no, no, it’s fine, we’ve got plenty of room for both of-”

“Just one room is enough for us,” he says, his voice final. You want to protest, being a fully grown adult (in your own head, at least), but you know your father won’t budge on this. He must miss feeling like a father, having one grown child and another who acts like they’re grown already. You should let him have this/

“Uh, sure,” Charlie says. “I’ll go get one ready for you, then.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“So,” you say, looking over to Vaggie. The room is empty, save for you two. It’s the perfect time to start putting your plan into action. “How’d your hurt your eye? I thought Exorcists were supposed to be invulnerable.” Vaggie freezes, a horrified expression on her face as she turns to look at you.

“How did you know that I’m an Exorcist?”

“You have a giant ‘X’ over your eye and wield an angelic spear. It isn’t rocket science,” you say, because it’s the first thing that came to mind.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she says, voice almost a whisper.

“Charlie knows, though, right?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Vaggie remains silent. “I think you should tell her. Keeping secrets from your partner only builds distrust, and it’s not like she wouldn’t forgive you.”

“It’s not that easy,” Vaggie says, moving to sit on the couch. You sit beside her, waiting for her to go on. “I mean, you try telling your girlfriend that saved your life that not only have you been lying to her for years, but that you’ve also killed hundreds of her people. The same people that you’re now trying to save.”

“Well,” you say, shifting a little closer. “I think that last part is what’s really important here.”

“What? The part about me killing hundreds?”

“The part about you trying to save hundreds. I think that speaks to how much you’ve changed over the years. You’ve done things in your past that you aren’t proud of. Everyone has. But now you’re trying to make things right. I mean, you love her, don’t you?” Vaggie nods. “And she loves you?” Another nod. “Then what’s the issue? You guys are a good pair, and you’ll get through this. But first, you have to be honest with her.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she says, looking down.

“I know I am. Now go. Go and tell your girlfriend the truth. Make sure she understands your point of view. Don’t just tell her and leave. Sit down and really explain where you’re coming from, okay?”

“Okay,” she says. “You know, you give some really good advice, for a kid.”

“I know I do. Now, shoo, get outta here.” Vaggie smiles at you, then moves to get up. You give her a thumbs up, silently praying for things to go well for her.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Charlie, there’s something I need to tell you,” Vaggie says, closing the door to their shared room behind her. “It’s um, I mean, you might wanna, uh, sit down for this…”

“Is it bad?” Charlie asks, her face creased with worry.

“No—I mean, yes— I mean, maybe?”

“What is it?” Vaggie sighs, running a hand through her hair. She moves to sit down, and Charlie moves to sit with her, taking Vaggie’s hand in hers. “You know I love you, right?” Vaggie nods.

“I—I’m—I…I can’t do this,” she says, abruptly getting up and walking to the door.

“Wait!” Charlie says, standing to block her. “Hold on! You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“No.” Vaggie shakes her head.

“Then it’s fine, isn’t it? We’ll be okay.” Charlie takes Vaggie’s hands in hers and Vaggie feels herself begin to tear up. She hastily moves her hands to wipe at the tears, missing the hurt look that briefly crosses her lover’s face. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Vaggie nods, throat dry. She needs a drink, water, alcohol, something.

“I…” Charlie nods along, an encouraging smile on her face. “I’m an exorcist,” she says at last.

Charlie's face drops. She and Vaggie stare at each other for a long time before Charlie steps up to speak. “...Why are you telling me this now? Why keep it secret for so long?” She says at last.

“I…I’m not proud of it,” Vaggie says. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you but I just…I was scared.”

“Vaggie, you know I believe in redemption more than anyone else. What were you scared of?”

“I don’t know. I just—I didn’t want to have this conversation. With you. With anyone. When I first got here, I didn’t know you, I couldn’t trust you with my past, and then as more time passed and we got to know each other, it felt like it was too late. Like I couldn’t say it anymore without it becoming this huge thing. Every day, the secret got bigger and bigger, and I…I felt like I was drowning.” Vaggie looks down, ashamed.

“Vaggie,” Charlie says, once again taking Vaggie’s hands in hers. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” She rubs her thumb against her hand comfortingly.

“Are…are we okay?”

“Of course,” she says. “I love you, Vaggie.”

“I love you, too.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“You know, you never did tell me how you hurt your eye,” you say, looking over to Vaggie.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because if angels can be hurt, they can probably be killed, too. I want to believe in Charlie’s hotel, but having a backup plan is always good.”

“An ex-colleague of mine slashed my eye right after she took my wings,” Vaggie says with a sigh.

“What did she use?”

“An angelic spear. Same as all of us.” You hum, pretending to ponder the information you were just given. Should you just drop the act and tell Vaggie you know what Carmilla did on the last extermination, or should you keep nudging her in the right direction?

“Carmilla Carmine deals in angelic weapons, doesn’t she? Maybe she knows something we don’t.”

“Doubt it,” she says. “Not even the other exorcists knew we weren’t invulnerable, and whether or not we can be killed is still up in the air.” You make a noise of displeasure. Without the information that Carmilla definitely killed an exorcist, Vaggie won’t do anything, but there’s no plausible explanation for how you could have come across such information. But if you don’t tell her, Charlie will end up making a deal with Alastor… But if you just give her the answer, Vaggie won’t fight with Carmilla and regain her wings…In the actual show, Alastor only relayed that Carmilla killed an angel, and Charlie took it from there. You should do the same.

“Vaggie, there’s something I need to tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else or ask any questions, okay?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me,” you say, holding up your pinkie. Vaggie obliges, and the room turns red with your deal. She looks shocked, her singular eye wide as she stares at your intertwined fingers, but the shock doesn’t last as you quickly move on to more pressing matters. “Last extermination, Carmilla Carmine killed an exorcist. I don’t know how she did it, but you need to go there and find out.” Vaggie opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. You suppose she must have been trying to ask a question, but the strength of your deal must have prevented her from doing so. “Please, Vaggie. Something’s going to happen during extermination day, I can feel it.” Seeming to sense your desperation Vaggie at last relents.

“Okay, I’ll go talk to Carmilla,” she says.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Taglist: @Halparkebitch @American-idiot21 @Toast-on-dandelioms @Mixplara

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #platonic hazbin hotel #niffty #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #sir pentious

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atiny-desire · 2 months

Text

Glitter and Gold

Pairing: Yandere Dragon! Seonghwa × Reader Summary: You get sent away as a sacrifice to the dragon, but instead of being met by a fire-breathing dragon, you encounter a handsome man who seems too good to be true. Word count: 2.8k Disclaimer: I'm in no way condoning, justifying, encouraging nor promoting this kind of behavior. This is not supposed to represent Seonghwa in any way. Warning: Some kind of soulmate bond, yandere behavior, mention of murder.

A/N: Didn't post in a long time because I had literally zero inspiration, and on top of that Ghost from Call of Duty kind of had me in a chokehold (I wish). Anyway, here's a small oneshot and I hope some of you like it. :)

◇◇◇

You could feel it. The burning jealous stares that followed you as you walked through your village, they wanted to puncture your skin, burn it off with just their stare. It was mainly young women who looked at you like that, their beautiful faces were adorned by angry frowns. Normally it would have made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out again, but now your chest was swelling with pride your head held high as you felt an odd sensation of satisfaction. You were the chosen one, the one who would be sent to the dragon as an offering. A sacrifice, that's what you are, but it's an honor. Your sacrifice would be the reason why your village would be able to live in peace for another year. It was said that only the most dazzling beauties would be chosen worthy enough to be sent away.

And now the time has come, you were the chosen one. Not those girls who looked down on you throughout all of your life. You're not pretty enough, not smart enough, not charming enough, and most certainly not worthy of anything, not even the same air they breathed. That's what they had always told you. For the longest time, you were their personal punching bag, their outlet for all of their frustration and pressure that was laid upon their shoulders. This was over now.

Your departure was quick and almost anticlimactic, but you didn't mind it. You had no interest in getting emotional with people who had tormented you your entire life, although not everyone did it, everyone knew about it, yet no one did anything to intervene.

The first step outside felt like you had achieved true freedom, even if the sentence of being a sacrifice hung heavy over your head. You had thought about running away, but there was nowhere you could go. Your small village was located in a valley, surrounded by huge snow-capped mountains and vast forests which were the homes of dangerous wildlife. Now, a mountain inhabited by a dragon might not necessarily sound like the safer option, however, you had a reason to go there. It was also the reason why everyone was jealous of you.

It was an old tale, no one really knew if it was true, but everyone believed in it nonetheless. It was said that if you were chosen by the dragon as worthy enough to be kept alive, you'd spend the rest of your life living in wealth. That's why you decided to take your chances with the dragon, rather than just accept your certain death.

The euphoric feeling of being free from those damned people that had been tormenting you your whole life, and the determination of wanting to live a better life, kept the fear that wanted to envelop your heart at bay. No matter how much you might fear walking through the dark forest which never seemed to end, or the thought of what lived inside the mountain you were approaching, you would keep walking because you were desperate for a new life.

Your feeling of hope diminished quicker than you would like. After almost four hours of foot walk you stood in front of the beginning of the mountain trail that would lead toward the cave. The muscles in your thighs were burning as well as your feet, you weren't used to walking this long without a break but you had forced your body through this ordeal, you didn't care how much it hurt. Your heart was in your throat and not just from physical activity, but from anxiety too. Understandably, who wouldn't be afraid of the outlook of meeting a fire-breathing dragon?

As soon as you set foot on that trail it felt like an invisible barrier sucked out all of the energy that was left in your body. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly, ready to give up from underneath you at any given second, but once again, you forced yourself through it.

Faster than you'd like you stood in front of the massive cave. Your mouth was opened in awe as you stopped in your tracks. Mountains of gold coins, gems, and glittery jewelry filled the cave as far as you could see. A small path between the huge piles leads deeper into the cave. Carefully you followed the small path, you were tempted to reach for the jewelry, or the gems that glittered in various colors between the gold coins, but you kept your hands to yourself. If there was truly a dragon living in this cave, it certainly wouldn't be very pleased should you touch any of its treasures.

As you walked deeper into the cave, your anxiety rose within you. Every corner was filled with treasures, there was barely any walking space. You started to doubt the dragon's existence, after all, how could it live with such minimal space?

Steps echoed off of the walls from deeper within the cave, steps that weren't your own. You froze in your tracks, straining your ears to pick up on any more sounds that might follow. Your body refused to move, even when you saw the silhouette of a human coming out of the dark. The sunlight from outside provided minimal lighting, but enough to illuminate the man who stepped in front of you.

You held your breath, you knew immediately that he was different from you. Small patches of red scales covered him in some places instead of skin, but eventually, they merged with his normal skin. The man came to a halt shortly in front of you and stared into your eyes. Unnerved by his stare and the serious look on his face you shifted your weight on your legs and inched a little away from him.

His eyes wandered over your face and down your body, his gaze was analyzing and cold until something suddenly shifted in him and his eyes seemingly softened. Even a small smile stretched on his face. "You can breathe, you don't have to hold it just because of me." He almost had a teasing tone as he spoke to you.

You let out the air you were holding in your lungs. It was as if your body was reacting to his smooth voice because your tense muscles relaxed a little as soon as he spoke to you. "You're not a dragon." You blurted out.

You managed to draw a low chuckle and a headshake from him. "Oh trust me, I am." His hand reached out to grab your chin before you could flinch away he had caught your face between his fingers and forced you to properly look at him. "Beautiful." He mumbled while he turned your head from side to side, so he could examine your face from every angle.

"That's a little too much touching for a first meeting, don't you think?" You mumbled quietly and pulled your head back as you became flustered. While you talked you couldn't look away from him, his eyes were mesmerizing. They were golden, almost seemed like they were glowing, and the color in his irises swirled like liquid gold.

He let go of your face, but not without a dissatisfied grumble. "Is it? But you're a sacrifice to me, are you not? You belong to me now."

His brazenness left you speechless for a short moment, but you didn't need to say anything anyway because he took the word again. "Don't worry, I'm just messing with you." He said with a smirk on his lips. However, with how serious he said it, you doubted that he was just messing with you.

"I... what are you?" This question has been burning on your tongue since you first spotted the scales on his body.

"Asking the important questions right from the beginning, hm?" His hand came up to his face to brush away a strand of his black hair that had fallen into his eyes when he leaned closer to inspect your face. "As I said, I'm a dragon. I might not look like one right now, but in my true form I'm indeed a dragon." He motioned down his body and continued, "This human body is just a costume. I learned that it's less intimidating for mortals like you, and honestly, it's way more practical too."

"Do you have a name? How old are you, and how does this whole dragon thing work?" The questions spilled from your mouth like a waterfall once you realized that he wouldn't be a threat, at least for the moment, and your body relaxed.

Another chuckle with his smooth voice reached your ear. "Curious little thing aren't you? You can call me Seonghwa. My age?" He shrugged his shoulders, looked away from you for a second, and fixated his gaze back on you shortly after. "I stopped counting the years, and as for how my nature works, how about we talk about this at a different time? I don't want to overwork your pretty head."

You couldn't help but feel a little offended. He made it seem like you were too stupid to comprehend what he would tell you. "Fine. Where are the other girls that got sent here?"

"Other girls?" He seemed bored just thinking about it, his brows furrowed, he looked like he had to remember what you were talking about. As if there weren't any girls sent to him, every year for multiple centuries. "I killed them." He finally answered.

Your breath got caught in your throat, fear started to claw at your heart once again. So, was this going to be your end? The scaled man in front of you chuckled when he saw the fear in your eyes. "Don't you worry, my precious little gem." Seonghwa's hand reached out again to get a hold of your chin, his thumb brushed over your lips, and his eyes followed his own movement. "You're the one I've been waiting for."

"The one you've been waiting for?" You asked a bit unsure. You didn't know if you had to fear for your life or not.

He nodded. "You're destined to be with me, you, a mere human don't feel it of course." He paused and you almost flinched away when he suddenly put his hand over your chest exactly where your heart was located. "But your heart. It only beats for one purpose, and that is to belong to me. It's beating in a specific rhythm, almost as if it's calling out to me."

You swallowed down your fear, or at least you tried to, and replied to him with a hint of doubt in your voice. "A specific rhythm? Doesn't every heart beat in the same way?"

You could swear that he rolled his eyes a little, but he quickly overplayed it with his charming smile. "You don't get it. As I said, you're just a human." He put his hand under your chin and grabbed you with his thumb and his index finger to tilt your head up. "You're the one I've waited for, everything else is meaningless now. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Stop calling me pretty."

"Why? It's the truth after all." Seonghwa leaned closer, getting into your personal space more than before, to the point you could feel his warm breath fan over your face. You panicked a little when he didn't stop crossing the distance between you two, you were sure he would try to kiss you. You were about to pull away when he did something against your expectations.

Instead of kissing you, he pressed his forehead against yours and his hand came up to cup your cheek, you felt his thumb brush over your skin, gently, almost as gently as a feather, it felt like you were just imagining his touch. "Don't worry," he murmured. His breath smelt like the smoke of a forest fire but somehow it wasn't unpleasant. "I waited so long for you, I can also wait until you're ready to fully be with me." The words he spoke were nothing but a mere whisper. "I can wait," He repeated a bit more firmly to make sure that you heard him properly.

He moved his head away from your face and more to the side so he could whisper in your ear. "I'll wait until I can kiss you until I can explore every inch of your body," Seonghwa took a small break, his eyes glinting with mischievous as he added, "Until you're willing to let me claim you, in every possible way."

Seonghwa gently brushed your hair back before his hand landed on the side of your neck with his thumb caressing your cheek. He brought his face closer to yours again, your eyes widened and you were about to pull back however, he was faster than you again because he stopped shortly before his lips would touch yours. You felt his warm breath on your lips, it distracted you to the point you almost missed the words he whispered to you. "My desire to kiss you is overwhelmingly big."

"Don't-," Seonghwa shushed you before you could protest any further. Another chuckle resonated from deep within his chest. "Don't worry, I won't. I told you, didn't I? I will wait until you want me as much as I want you." He distanced himself a bit from you, a lazy half smile tugged at the right corner of his mouth. "But when that time comes I might make you beg for my touch." It seemed like he wanted to make a joke, but you had a feeling that he was dead serious.

With a sigh, he moved away from you, this time he really left your personal space. Seonghwa held his hand out to you, waiting for you to grab it. "You've asked enough questions for now, don't you think? It's time you see where you will live with me." You were too busy staring at him in awe, so you didn't catch the words he muttered under his breath. "For eternity."

The way he stood, with his posture being flawless, as well as his perfect face and the gentle smile on his lips, you could have thought that he was royalty, if it wasn't for the red scales embedded into his skin. Maybe he was royalty, some kind of dragon royalty if it even exists. You thought to yourself as you took his hand.

Together with you, he started to walk deeper into the darker part of the cave. He seemed to navigate in the darkness just fine, while you were stumbling after him like a newborn foal, with just his hand as your guide. Eventually, a small source of light fell into your eyes, and as you walked closer you realized that the light were torches attached to the cave walls. Seonghwa stopped in front of two ridiculously big oak wood doors. You and to crane your neck to be able to see where they ended.

How would those doors even open? "How-" And again, Seonghwa didn't let you finish your sentence. He let go of your hand walked up to the door, and pushed one of them open with ease. "I might have a human body right now, but I still have the strength of a Dragon. Now come." He nodded toward the inside, silently telling you to go in.

Those huge doors made you a little nervous, inside your head, you were imagining what would happen if the door suddenly closed while you were walking through it. Swiftly you scurried inside and Seonghwa followed with a smile. A loud noise echoed through the room as the door fell closed behind him. You were surprised to see a fully furnished living room. Everything was illuminated by torches attached to the wall, allowing you to see the extravagant furniture.

"You like it?" Seonghwa quietly asked you close to your ear.

You only gave him a small nod as you continued to look around the room. There were more cave tunnels, leading away from the living room probably to more living space, such as a bedroom. "I'm glad. You'll be spending a lot of time here." He was still close to your ear and whispered to you while he stood behind you.

While you looked around your gaze traveled to the, now closed, oak doors. You didn't think about it at the time, but you were trapped now. There was no way you would ever be able to push these doors open on your own. Your breath hitched when Seonghwa suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his body. "A lot of time." He growled into your ear. In this moment you realized that it wasn't just something he said without real meaning. It was a promise and a threat at the same time. However, you realized it too late, you were already in the claws of this dragon and he sure as hell would never be willing to ever let you go again.

#ateez imagines #yandere ateez #ateez yandere #ateez x reader #yandere seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa yandere #yandere seonghwa x reader #yandere ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez scenarios

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privitivium · 3 months

Note

AHH!! I’ve got a new obsession with your yan!freak/nonchalant reader!! I just imagine him being too pretty we can’t say no✨✨

yes yes exactly... in my mind im thinking of a shallow dude who goes along with yandere cuz he's pretty...

yandere x nonchalant, willing reader rambles

both amab;; cw, stalking, murder, mild manipulation, perverted creep yan 🌹

ㅡimagining catching this fucking pretty boy boyfriend of yours absolutely inhaling the fuck out of your underwear - sucking at it and touching himself and then walking in on him and him getting all shy and trying to hide himself but you couldnt care less... but still, having the need to say something just to make him all squirmy -

"gross." you state, eyes glancing up and down his figure accentuated by a fitted stylish shirt, dainty hands gripping a pair of your underwear you had just thrown in the hamper; "i-is it? am i? i-i'm sorry,,," murmuring apologies and his eyes glazing over with tears. so pathetic you cant help but comfort him - your adorable little boyfriend sniffing your underwear.

ㅡ"i-i did it for you... that... girl..." he murmurs weakly, jaw tensing in anger as he averts his gaze from yours - embarrassed? "ㅡh-had no reason to touch you! i'm the only one who gets to touch you!" okay, you mightve gotten a little more than bargained for - but that's alright, that's fine... nothing you can't handle. maybe. he was really cute like this though, of course you can look passed all his faults of hurting others for you as he so claims...

"no, it's fine." petting his head gently, affectionately and he looks up at you with dazzling eyes,,, "you are weird, though." he frowns, and you quickly make it up to him by pecking him on the lips, as you cant resist... making him inhale sharply and so ecstatic that he stares at you for a moment unmoving - "it's fine? it's fine... hmm!" happily nuzzling into you, face burning in your neck and making you inch away - guiding him to sit on your lap and letting him grind his bulge into your thigh while huffing and biting on ur underwear unable to contain himself that he's grinding his erection onto his one true loves' thigh and that his one true love likes it-!! like a dog!

"there's no reason to hurt people, i am literally dating you." his jealousy was another thing. SEIROUSLY! you have to do something about that - "you don't want to make me unhappy, do you? i'm already so willing to be your boyfriend, as you are mine." nearly cooing; gently coercing the pretty boy closer and burying your face in his neck, inhaling his perfume that was made up of your favorite smells... humming in contentㅡ"... or maybe it isn't for me. maybe it's for you. you arent thinking about me at all are you-?" pulling back and holding him at arms length to look at him accusingly -

"no, no!! i p-promise!" he cried out, pitifully - yes, yes, baby him, treat him so kindly... he's quite knowing of your antics and plays along with his damsel in distress tone of voice; to be manipulated by his lover whom he stalks when apart is his wet dream come true. "it's all for you, everything..." mumbling as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, slender arms wrapping around your neck and nuzzling into you - inhaling the scent of your neck. creep.

ㅡhe acts similar to those girl flings you had in grade school. way too clingy, too jealous of you making eye contact with other people. and ... well, new factors that mildly bother you as well... but not having quite the problem with it. you think it's a little cute he stalks you at work, following you around from afar like a loyal little dog. as well as... i mean, as long as you dont find out about the killing, hes sure that this will be such a great relationship!! sneaking into your room, burying himself in your bed and fingering himself - riding one of your pillows and waiting for you to come home. and... ur not very surprised at the sight when you do come home,,, seeing ur pretty lil boyfriends ass in the air and his hole fluttering as he seemingly came on your pillow - your pillow?! hey, you just washed that...

#ocs =͟͟͞͞★#x male reader #male reader #yandere male x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere m x m reader #yandere male x male reader #willing reader

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qingxin-dream · 10 months

Text

“The Afterparty”

summary | lyney is the face of fontaine’s entertainment industry, stealing hearts with every flourish of his magic. however, in the night, lyney tends to entertain a different kind of crowd.

warnings | written pre-4.0, ooc lyney, light yandere themes (stalking/manipulation/obsession), a sprinkle of smut (creampie/implied dubcon) [18+, MDNI], brief mention of drugs/alcohol, reader is neutral but wears a dress, lyney uses a little french

genre | yandere, slight smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

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It’s no mystery that the Great Magician of Fontaine is a man of many talents. His shows are famous across Teyvat for their grandeur and flare. Beautiful venues draped in red curtains frame the scene before a sea of velvety theater seats, skilled acrobats maneuver themselves among rings suspended in the air. Blazes of fire erupt from the stage dramatically. A master of misdirection, the audience falls for his tricks every time as he effortlessly makes the impossible possible.

Lyney is incredibly perceptive. He knows how to read people, as a showman can read his audience, a small smug smile crinkling the corner of his eyes if you’re paying attention. It’s an art form—the way he flips through the pages of your soul, licking his fingers to reveal the next juicy detail with ease. Rarely ever does anyone truly surprise someone as cynical as him, who has been personally privy to the vile nature of the Fatui.

A life of fame is never kind to anyone. The planning and training for shows is incredibly rigorous. Executing the stunts in front of a live audience is equally thrilling and terrifying. Without fail, the crowd is mesmerized and the show ends in a shower of roses and marriage proposals. Rinse and repeat. Though, this is only what Lyney allows the public to know of him.

It’s after hours, when the theater is empty and the stage is dim, when the mask begins to slip.

Lyney is the lead, the star, and as such he maintains his appearance by rubbing elbows with the elite of Fontaine. You’d never catch him amid the nightlife of the city, no. You wouldn’t believe the sheer grandeur of the dazzling, flamboyant parties thrown every night at the country’s largest mansions.

It was Arlecchino who insisted that he attends these lavish parties, rampant with the city’s darkest vices between drugs, alcohol, and sex. But Lyney is a cynical man, so this much is to be expected of wealthy aristocrats.

It was all a façade, couldn’t they see? It sickened him, how gullible people were and how obsessed they were with status. Not to mention the inevitable hordes of women who threw themselves at him.

Nevertheless, Lyney played the game well and with a bewitching, handsome smile. Eventually he had learned to take pleasure in this little game.

As fate would have it, you let your friend convince you to crash one of these extravagant parties with them. You had heard whispers of what takes place at night behind the golden gates of Fontaine’s richest residences. Why wouldn’t you want to have a taste of the finest wine, dressed in designer, getting lost in the magnificent corridors of a packed mansion of partygoers?

It’s something straight from the movies.

You emerged from the bushes to sneak inside, which wasn’t that difficult surprisingly. You wore your best dress, not knowing what to expect. It was a floor length, silky black dress with a sexy slit that traveled all the way up to your mid-thigh. You had a lovely string of pearls dangling from your pretty neck. A classic choice.

Unfortunately for you, Lyney is a man who is extremely attentive to his surroundings. After all, an illusionist must be a master of his environment as well. The moment he spots you, a mere reflection of something new and fascinating for him to discover, he gravitates to you smoothly.

“Mm, I don’t believe we’ve met,” his voice is an alluring, a well-practiced approach. Before you could even answer, Lyney had already taken note of your little mannerisms and nuances just in these few passing moments. He had already adjusted the figurative mirrors of misdirection in this little trick, assuring your undivided attention.

You glance to your friend, who isn’t there. Oh. You had been cornered without even the opportunity to explore the party.

More of a wallflower type, you found yourself struggling to conjure up a confident answer. You were acutely aware of who this gentleman is, and his egotistical demeanor was already a huge turn off.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” he chuckled lightheartedly, yet there was a peculiar undertone hidden beneath. It was hard to place. He kisses your hand. “Lyney, the Great Magician.”

You withdrew your hand, unable to hide the way your eyebrows crinkled together with disinterest. Perhaps you should’ve been more prepared for these guests to be more brazen and unapologetic when they see something—or someone—they want.

Taking no for an answer is not even in the realm of possibility for these people.

The party continued on, gorgeous partygoers dancing and drinking to their heart’s content. All the while, Lyney kept his eyes trained on you. It wasn’t necessarily out of admiration; rather, it was curiosity. Why didn’t you bat your eyelashes at him like a good girl? Bite your lip when he kissed your hand?

He followed you like a ghost, slinking through the crowd tactfully to observe you. You were a rare creature indeed. None of the other women could hold a candle to you. Archons, he felt this unsettling churning in his stomach everyone your glimmering irises met his. His heart would tense instantaneously, threatening to explode within his chest.

You saw through Lyney from the moment he kissed your hand, and he hated it.

Through the night, you both danced this delicate tango around the massive mansion, a palpable tension tethering him to you. He was equally appalled and fascinated by you, never wasting any opportunity to slip in an innocent question or two to learn about you.

“A beautiful lady like you in a place like this… Do you feel lost in Wonderland yet, Alice?” Lyney had persuaded you to follow him to an unoccupied balcony, closing the French doors behind him.

He stalks toward you, his soft lavender irises cool and calculated. In an ashy flourish of embers, a deck of onyx cards materialized in his gloved hands. It had taken all evening, but just enough wine had passed beyond your lips to give Lyney the opportunity to disarm you.

“Not scared of a little fire, are you, love?” His voice was warm and inviting as a hearth, though it held a hint of mischief like that of a crackling inferno. Each mysterious card in his hand is shuffled with a distinct flick.

You were much more susceptible to his charm now more than ever, allowing him to weave glittering silk strands of harmless sweet nothings to entice you. Had you taken a step back, you would’ve seen the web for what it is. The grand reveal was imminent.

“Now, now, don’t fret. I won’t let anything harm you, chérie,” Lyney chuckles lightheartedly, as if he hadn’t been playing and pawing at you like a cat ready to pounce all night.

Your poor little breath hitched at every whisper and touch he gifted you. It started by fatefully picking the Queen of Hearts from his custom deck of cards. You should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve picked the one next to it. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.

Lyney’s lilac eyes spark with intrigue at your choice. How fitting. Had you paid any attention to the magician’s sneaky maneuvers, you would have seen that every card in the deck was from the suite of Hearts.

The illusion of choice.

He takes this as an opportunity to step closer, his hands reaching forward. Your chest is beating wildly, begging for relief from how he intoxicates you with just a flutter of his long lashes.

Lyney rests his hands on the marble railing on either side of your hips, drinking in your anticipation, your fear, and your desire. A small, smug smirk pulls at the corner of his pretty lips. He takes the liberty of helping you meet his gaze by bringing his wrist to his mouth, white teeth tugging to remove his glove. Your body feels weightless when he lifts your chin with his bare index finger and thumb.

The Great Magician would argue that he took extreme precautions to ensure the success of this escapade. It was all carefully calculated and orchestrated according to his whim. He had you exactly where he wanted you, blissfully unaware of how deep these exhilarating feelings for you had rooted themselves into his guarded heart.

“Do you feel the magic in my fingertips? Hehe, tonight’s show will be a private event for only for you, mon trésor.”

The night was a blur. Fading in and out of consciousness, one moment you were dancing with him in empty halls and the next you were enveloped in his embrace against a wall. Lyney would pin your hands above your head before pushing you onto the bed, catapulting you into his next breathtaking trick like one of the acrobats in his show.

The silhouettes of your frames were shadowed in the moonlight that bathed the sheets in silver. Lyney skillfully unzipped your dress. Clothes fell to the wayside, vanishing in a flourish of passion. There was no denying it. He had to have you, and you were such a willing participant in his performance.

Of course, the wealthy partygoers were none the wiser, the echoes of pleasure the Great Magician was able to rip from your lungs were easily deafened by the music of their own opulent fantasies.

What is a magician if not an artist who must mark what is rightfully his—painting your womb with a decadent display, a growl escaping his throat.

However, Lyney is a perfectionist. When he catches a glimpse of his seed spilling out of you, he is quick to stuff his slender fingers into your overstimulated hole and seal the masterpiece with a final kiss on your bruised lips.

“Magnifique…” ❤️

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin yandere #genshin smut #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #yandere lyney #lyney smut

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 month

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🧡🤍🩷 Lesbian Visibility Week Special 🧡🤍🩷

Yandere Short Stories:

A Dragon’s Treasure

Yandere Lesbian Dragon x Shy Princess Reader

The Emerald Calamity. The Green Inferno. The Jade Death. All of these titles belonged to a feared, emerald dragon by the name of Cahira. She was one of the few dragons that lived in the land and yet she didn’t often pillage villages to earn those titles. No. She only decimated kingdoms for their jewels… for her princess.

Cahira’s true interest lied in the happiness of princess (your name), a woman so beautiful that anyone could fall in love with a single glance? Cahira was instantly enthralled with the idea of the princess. How could a dragon resist the tales of such beauty? Cahira simply had to have her… dragons loved treasure after all.

Yet there was a rumor that really caught Cahira’s attention. Supposedly, the princess was in a scandalous relationship with her own maid… yet it ended up with the maid betraying the princess for money. This rumor made Cahira’s heart flutter since she was a sapphic too.

Cahira’s curiosity eventually got the best of her and she flew to (your name)’s kingdom to be sure. And when her golden eyes landed on the meek princess, Cahira was instantly captivated. Cahira had to have the princess! There was no ifs, ands, or buts about Cahira’s decision either. It was her way or death.

It was a year year ago today when Cahira had decided to steal the princess away. Before (your name) could be married off to some foreign royalty. Men couldn’t possibly take care of such a dazzling jewel. They would ruin (your name) because they wouldn’t be able to protect her properly! The princess didn’t deserve to be some concubine when she was queen material! (Your name) was a permanent prize to be attained, so Cahira was far better for her… at least that’s what the dragon told herself.

Cahira had went to the extremes to try to earn her beloved’s favor. Expensive jewels, extravagant meals, and the finest silks were always within her grasp. The finest for the finest, Cahira always insisted. Yet Cahira noticed how the princess would cower in her room. A fact that deeply upset the dragon.

So Cahira went to a witch for a magic necklace that would allow her to transform into a more humanoid form in exchange for a ton of gold. Maybe her beloved would like her more if she was able to touch her better?

And Cahira adored the blush on her princess’s face when she transformed for the first time. It seemed a voluptuous body made (your name) avert her gaze and turn into a tomato… a cute tomato of course! And Cahira couldn’t get enough of teasing her precious princess!

(Your name) was now an irreplaceable treasure that would be forever cherished by her enamored captor! A princess locked up in an inescapable tower in a giant forest far from civilization. A beautifully decorated cage with her gentle dragon! A cushy life perfect for a pampered princess.

A hero would be vacuous to even create a rescue attempt… no matter how much the princess desired freedom, she would never get away. For Cahira had her best interest in mind… and a dragon never loses sight of their treasure.

(Your name) whimpered when Cahira dragged a wet rag down her back while she sat in the large claw tub. Cahira’s voluptuous human form leaned against the edge of the tub, the dragon hummed a low melody to try to ease her beloved’s shyness.

Sharp talons delicately traced shapes on (your name)’s back as Cahira rinsed the suds off the princess’s delicate skin with the green rag. Cahira leaned forward to press a few kisses against the blushing flesh.

“You’re so lovely…” Cahira whispered in (your name)‘s ear, her hot breath made the smaller woman recoil in embarrassment. “You don’t need to hide yourself from me…”

(Your name) still held her arms over her chest, a shiver ran down her spine when Cahira’s golden eyes flicked over her bare body. Despite the two years they’ve been ‘together,’ the princess still wasn’t used to such brazen behavior. (Your name) was simply lucky the bubbles covered up a bit more of her dignity from this lustful beast.

“I’m still a lady…” (your name) squealed when Cahira playfully nipped her neck, a small red marking now on her nape. “Hey!”

“You’re such a prude.” Cahira stood up from the ledge of the tub. The gorgeous woman stretched her olive arms over her horned head and yawned to reveal her sharp fangs. “I’ll let you wash yourself up then. I simply just enjoy indulging my precious princess.”

Cahira then left the bathroom, her hips swayed behind her in a confident manner. Her emerald tail flicked the door shut behind her, finally leaving (your name) to her own devices.

The princess softly sighed and turned her gaze to the full body mirror across from the tub. There was no doubt Cahira pampered her. She was healthy and dressed in the finest silks (ones that were confiscated from traveling merchants).

Cahira often sung (your name)‘s praises during every interaction. The dragon often made every moment feel far too intimate to simply be a relationship between a captor and their victim… a fact which muddled the princess’s thoughts.

Cahira placed hot kisses on (your name)’s body whenever she could and she would loudly proclaim how she adored (your name) with every fiber in her being. She even stated that she’d burn down (your name)’s kingdom to keep the princess at her side forever. A statement the princess truly believed.

(Your name) just didn’t understand what Cahira saw in her… was she really as beautiful as she said?

(Your name) traced a thumb over her lips in thought. A blush enveloped her cheeks when she noticed all the love marks on her skin from Cahira. How naughty…

Cahira hummed while she waited for (your name) to come to bed. Her tail flicked back and forth like a cat, her golden gaze studied the bathroom door in thought. She wondered if her beloved would put on the emerald night slip she had gifted her? Cahira was really excited by the goods she acquired from the latest merchant. It is a shame she didn’t keep him alive, he seemed to have fantastic taste in clothing… oh well! Men are useless anyways.

Cahira perked up when (your name) shyly peaked her head from the doorway. Did her princess wish to remain hidden? How cute!

“C-Cahira, this dress is too… revealing.” (Your name) blushed when Cahira sprung to her feet. The dragon now face to face with the bashful princess.

“Let me see.” Cahira licked her lips when (your name)’s eyes became a bit teary. So cute! Cahira could just eat her…

Cahira pulled (your name)’s hand to try to encourage her to leave the bathroom’s threshold and what a sight to behold… her beloved looked so darling in emerald hues! The same shades of her scales… it was divine.

“You look so beautiful in emerald green.” Cahira pulled (your name) into a tight embrace, which made the princess squeal. “I need to view everything now.”

(Your name) was quickly guided to the bed and thrown onto the plush covers. The princess made an attempt to try to cover her cleavage with her arms, but Cahira easily smacked them away.

“I’m just looking. Don’t be so shy, it tempts me more.” Cahira chuckled at how terrified (your name)’s expression was. “You look so frightened… like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Cahira grasped (your name)’s hands in hers so she could press chaste kisses to her wrists. “I’ve taken on this form for you and I’ve done so much… I just want to admire you.”

(Your name) sniffled when Cahira bent down to press her lips against her teary cheeks. “I want to kiss you… to love you… yet you’re still so frightened of me.”

Cahira sighed before she pulled away to sit on the end of the bed. “I know it will take time, but you’re much safer here. You don’t have to marry some old, demented man or some promiscuous prince. You’d be my one and only.”

Cahira ran a hand through her curly, emerald hair with a sigh. Though her face wasn’t visible, there was no doubt that she had a hurt expression on her beautiful face. “I really like you… no. I love you.”

(Your name) sat up and frowned. Cahira wasn’t necessarily wrong about her statement. Despite being a princess, she had no interest in princes or kings of foreign lands. To be frank, she had planned to runaway with her maid before she found out her maid had deceived her…

Being vulnerable now made (your name) afraid… yet Cahira had never given her a reason to doubt her devotion. Even in grotesque displays, Cahira eliminated every knight and hero that tried to save her just to show (your name), that Cahira would never let anyone take her away… it made (your name)’s heart flutter and made her head spin in confusion.

The princess had never felt wanted like this before. She’s never been pampered and kissed on… Cahira’s affection was all consuming like the poisonous breath she breathed.

Cahira made loving (your name) seem as easy as it was to breathe. Perhaps she should cut Cahira some slack?

Cahira was shocked when she felt soft arms wrap around her body. Cahira’s golden eyes widened in shock when (your name) buried her face into the crock of Cahira’s neck. Her breath hitched at the heart warming sight.

“(Your name)? What are you-“ Cahira blushed when (your name) shyly pressed a kiss on her left cheek. The princess shyly glanced away.

“I… I like you too-“ (your name) was tackled into a hug as Cahira pressed her lips over and over the entirety of (your name)’s face.

“Love you. Love you. Love you.” Cahira replied between each affectionate peck. “We could get married? I could kidnap some human officiant. Or maybe an elven one if you don’t want human! Then I’ll eat him-“

(Your name) pushed her palms up and squished Cahira’s cheeks together in a way that made Cahira kind of look like a fish. A pout now on (your name)’s face.

“You really need to stop eating people.”

“I do it to protect my precious treasure.” Cahira gave her a grin. “I’d eliminate the entire human race for you if you asked that of me. Whatever you desire, I will obtain it for you, my precious princess.”

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allfearstofallto · 4 months

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Nice

Yandere childe x reader

1.7k

Synopsis: He'll buy you absolutely anything your heart desires, but he longs for you to describe things as more than just "nice"

TW: Yandere, abusive themes, bribery, NSFW themes, toxic relationship, Dub-Con

AN: I haven't written in FOREVER so forgive me if it's not awesome or if it feels incomplete. My last account got shadow banned :(, doesn't help that I was already pretty depressed before that. No time for sob stories here, it's been two years since I've written anything and I miss writing, thanks for joining me!

Gems that dazzled and gleamed stars in the night sky, silver that was carved painstakingly from the mines in Liyue, an appearance that was beautiful, but still kept up with the most current fashion trends. He had truly outdone himself with this one, this has to be the one that would take your breath away. The one that would make you leap into his arms and pepper his face with kisses from your sweet lips that he rarely got the chance to taste.

When it came to gifts for you, there was no price tag. Childe would spend every mora he had if it meant he could even get a smile out of you and spend he often did. Money meant nothing to him, being a Fatui harbinger, his paychecks were larger than he knew what to do with. After sending money back home to his family, he still had so much left and nothing that he longed for other than your affection. So, why not spend it on something else he cared about?

Your eyes ghosted over the ring he was showing you, encased in a black velvet box with red satin holding it up. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d assured you of that multiple times after you were taken aback by him holding it up to you. He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, and he was willing to respect your wishes, but he still wanted to give you something to wear on that pretty little finger to show that you were his while you waited for the real deal. Your engagement ring would be much, much larger than the one he was gifting you now and it would incorporate details from both of your home countries.

The expression on your face was unreadable. It wasn’t quite a grimace, but it wasn’t a smile either. It was the usual face you made when you were given something. An equal mixture of discomfort and unease. “It’s…nice.” you mumbled quietly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

There was that word again. Nice. It made him sick to his stomach every time he heard it fall from your pretty lips. But that was always what you said about his gifts, as if you couldn’t think of another word to describe how you felt about them. Rare spices imported from Sumeru? Nice. A custom hanfu made from only the finest silk to wear to the lantern rite? Nice. Wine aged for almost a decade and shipped straight from Mondstadt? Very nice.

You spoke that one word, but even then it felt like you were straining yourself to say that much. On multiple occasions, your displeasure with receiving such expressive gifts was expressed, but he told you that that didn’t matter. Mora was just an object to him, something that held no value, and yet you still held each gift as if they would collapse under your touch.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,”

“No!” you quickly retorted back, holding your hand up to examine the ring once more, “Its…” you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying the word, knowing that he would only be upset with your lack of what he considered to be a proper answer, “I like it.”

With a sigh and a dramatic slump of his shoulders, he reached up and cupped your face. His hand felt like solid ice against your cheek. Childe often claimed that that was another thing he loved about you so much. How warm your body was in comparison to himself. He told you that when he someday took you to Snezhnaya to meet his family, you would be his personal heater, that he wouldn’t let you go for even a second during the duration of your stay there.

“You don’t even wear the earrings I got you anymore,” Childe’s long fingers traced from your cheek to the lobe of your ear, grazing the empty hole where jewelry would go.

“You know I can’t wear those at work,”

“Then quit your job,” He spoke those words so quickly, with no hesitation, a part of you was convinced you imagined it. But you working was a constant conflict of interest between the two of you, something you’d even argued about before.

The situation grew heated that day. Both of you, yelling back and forth about what you thought was right. You remembered seeing his eyes glow at the same time as his vision that rested on his hip, making your stomach drop. Childe would never hurt you, would he? But even you didn’t know the answer to that, you could never be too sure about what was going on in the mind of a harbinger. So you backed down slightly, telling him that it was something you would consider, and that answer sufficed with him for the time being.

“Childe-”

“Ajax,” he cut you off. He hated when you used his codename, claiming that as his future wife, you alone should be allowed to call him by his given name.

“Ajax," you exhaled harshly after speaking his name, "I really would like to work and be independent,”

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes went dull, his smile fell, his facade faltered and he was his true self. It only lasted for less than a second, the average person might not have even seen it, but you’d spent so much time with him. You knew his tells. You knew that even though he was smiling again, it was completely fake. He was angry, even if the gleam in his eyes didn't show it.

A cold kiss was pressed against your cheek, just a peck to get his point across. When he pulled away, still making eye contact, he was still so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your skin. He squatted down slightly to meet your eyes and whispered against your lips, “I don’t plan to let my wife work. Why don’t you quit now, have a little practice before we’re wed?”

He said that as a suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t one. With Childe there were only orders and threats, nothing in between. You had no choice on whether or not you’d get to work, on whether or not you got to live alone, on whether or not you married him. In his eyes, you were already his, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

A lump was caught in your throat as you tried to figure out what to say. Could you even tell him that the prospect of marrying him was something that seldom crossed your mind? Something that even when you did think about, it brought a twinge of fear into your heart. That on multiple occasions, you considered leaving him, but your unease around him was what was making your stay.

“I…” you finally met his gaze as you tried to force words out of your tense body. His eyes felt so cold and the hand that he had managed to snake its way down onto your shoulder was gripping your flesh tightly. It was a warning that what you said next would matter, “I should just-”

“You should quit,” he spoke the last part of the sentence for you, not caring about what you truly wanted to say.

Eyes turned downcast, you gave a slow nod. There wasn’t much of a choice with him anymore, he was hellbent on that being your answer. He had given you an order, if you didn’t react the way he wanted you to, you would regret it.

The grip that was on your shoulder loosened, exhibiting that you had pleased him and another kiss was placed on your cheek as a reward. This time his lips touched just below your eyes, where tears were threatening to fall, “That’s my girl,” another peck right against your lips, “How about I buy you something special, huh? For being so good.”

You swallow slowly, trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him, clenching and unclenching your fist as a way to self soothe. Your voice was shaky as you delivered your stiff answer, “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

“How about a new pair of earrings,” he followed this up by lightly biting the side of your ear, “or maybe a new necklace,” you felt his warm tongue slide down from your ear to your collarbone, making all the hairs on your body stand up, “Or maybe even a new dress,” he spoke into your neck, his hand reaching down and trying to slide the dress you were wearing up your thigh, exposing your your bare skin to the air.

You jolted your body backwards, your hands placed against his chest in an attempt to keep the distance between the two of you. He was moving so fast. Too fast. Even though it had been a while since you and him had last been intimate, for him to try it again so suddenly was worrisome.

You didn’t dare look at his face. There was no doubt about it that he was upset at your response to his touch, he never liked when you rejected him. The hand that was placed against him, was taken into his. The way he held you was gentle, but you could still feel force behind his movement. The thumb of his hand traced the back of your palm as he held you, before lifting it up and placing a kiss against it. Right on your finger, right on the very expensive ring he’d just bought you, almost as a way to draw your attention to it once more.

“What’s gotten into you? Hm?” he had an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face, “Pushing me away like that after I got you something so precious? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now,” you mumbled, switching between looking at your dress you were fiddling with and his borderline unblinking eyes.

Silence fell over the two of you, to the point where you could hear your own heart beat, the sound of blood pumping in your ears, the sound of his breaths that were slightly heavier than normal. Childe was rarely quiet. It was hard to get him to keep his mouth shut. In a way his anger was scaled based on how loud he was, the quieter, the worse.

His large hand came into your sight again, making you flinch about what was coming ahead, but rather than being struck, he used his thumb to trace your lips, “Figure something out.”

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #childe #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #mdni

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running-with-kn1ves · 4 months

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Can you do a yandere killer clown that has been following you all night on Halloween

A/N:I wrote this a long time ago and hated it at the time but it really wasn't as bad as I thought! Hope you all are having a wonderful 2024 :>

Synopsis: A suspicious "killer clown" has been stalking you on Halloween to your dismay. Is it really just a costume?

CW: murderous clown, clownery, slight in-depth stabbing(death), stalking, intimidation, general fear

Word count: 2.7k

“Nice costume, man!” The echoed memory rang hollow inside your bobbing head. “I bet the black helps hide all the blood, huh?”

At the time you mischievously brought a hand to your mouth, shielding it from the eyes of curious and terrified children who mersmerisingly watched you joke to the killer clown. The masked figure hovered in front of you, staring blankly from behind the blur of white and red. The figure didn’t move, didn’t alter to his dominant hand with the bloody knife that rested in his palm.

You were met with silence as your comment passed; dark, invisible eyes watched you through the small eye-slits of the clown’s mask. Its elaborate makeup donned diamonds under and above each eye hole, a spongy red nose covering the mask’s nostrils. Though, you could still hear whoever was underneath, breathing-- the air pushing against the silicone. Painted black lips covered the faint outline on the masks mouth, detailed to almost look feminine. However, the broad shoulders underneath the harlequin patterned suit made you think otherwise.

You gave an amused smile, letting the figure keep in-character as he watched you slowly pass. A whiff of reeking gore and thick blood came across you as you walked away; a thought of ‘maybe you should have honked the clown’s nose for good measure’ crossed your mind, but the smell made you think otherwise. If he was dedicated enough to cover himself in pigs blood, who knew what else he’d do to you to stay in character.

Your mind ran in circles as the heels of your feet ached, your subconscious desperate to know what you said that made it all go wrong, or what made it go too right with this costumed killer clown.

Because here you were, walking down your neighborhood’s sidewalk with flickering light posts barely brightening the road in front of you as you sped passed your front door for the third time. With a dirty hand mirror gripped in your sweaty palm, you faced it slightly below your shoulder, hoping it was low enough that the shadow behind you couldn’t see it. You caught a glimpse of the red-speckled plastic mask and dazzling crimson hair of the clown behind you. Shutting the pocket mirror immediately, you picked up your pace again for whatever time again that night-- you've lost count. But it didn’t matter, the masked freak always seemed to be just a lamp post away, gradually getting closer with a joyful pep in his step.

After your first interaction with him at a lame Halloween festival, you then saw him again at the gas station right across your friends’ street, and once more at that same friend's costume party. You thought it must've been a coincidence to see him inside the gas station, only witnessing the back of his crazy dyed hair that looked too attached to be a wig; talk about being dedicated to the bit. Maybe he gets paid for being a scare actor? You didn't know, you didn't get the chance to ask before he ran out at the sight of a police officer perusing the candy aisle. Too bad for him, it was only a prominent gay dressed up in a sexy uniform.

But there he was again that night, peeking behind your friend's bedroom window that you sat across from. Seeing him there nearly made you shriek, jumping up enough to spill your drink all over the guy next to you. When you tried to explain, the clown had disappeared, only to show up mere minutes later from the bathroom window while you tried to rub beer out of your costume.

Seeing him the second time was nearly as startling, but you managed to keep your reaction to a minimum, merely glaring at the bloodied clown from behind dark glass. You threw your cup at the window, hoping to scare him off or show that you weren’t worth fucking around with, but he… didn’t move. Through the tiny hole in the mouth of the mask, breath came through, just slightly fogging up the glass. How the hell did he get up here in the first place, weren’t you on the second floor??

You turned away, hoping to just turn the light off and that’d be the last you’d see of him; but a thump on the glass told you otherwise. Another thump, this time almost with a clinking crack. Your hand still resting on the lightswitch; you nonchalantly looked back to see a familiar knife jabbed against the window pane, small cracks growing as he twisted it further into the window. Your hope of giving an apathetic reaction to deter him did nothing, gloved hands coming up to squeakily draw a dark red line on the window.

A threat? Maybe he's trying to apologize? What was he going to write-- you wondered if it was worth even sticking around for. But instead of words, the red line was finished with another, creating a small, dripping misshapen heart on the bathroom window. You slammed down on the lightswitch and shut the door quickly at the sight, making your way down the stairs.

He had to be one of your friend’s frat-guy pals, someone who went out of their way to terrorize on the nights of halloween in unassuming grocery stores or parties like this one. Someone here at this party who was just fucking with you-- that’s just what it was.

But now, hours later on the dark pavement of a street that looked so unfamiliar at night, you were starting to second guess yourself. The sweet whistling of what could only be from the clown behind you grew louder, squeaky shoes mimicking your steps and seeming to pick up in pace. You did the same, nearly jogging as you saw something moving in the distance. It was oddly pale and hunched over, going faster than you could run.

It was a biker! Some random fucking guy on his bike at 2 in the morning! You assumed this was what people meant when miracles roamed the earth, waiting to be found.

“Hey!” You shouted, running towards the speedy white demon as you blocked the middle of the sidewalk, hoping the guy would see you waving at him. But his stare was blank, not focusing on you nor the sidewalk in front of him. All he did, was bike.

“HEY! Can you please help me--” a pair of white wireless earbuds were nestled deep in his ears, immune to your shouting. Once he came cycling up close, almost too close, you realized he wasn’t stopping. His eyes completely looked past you, swatting you away with a sweaty arm as you stumbled into the street after narrowly avoiding his bike.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, watching him ride away as you threw your hands in frustration. You stopped to watch as the clown stepped to the side to give the incoming biker a clear path. This guy was just going to go past like everything was fine, not paying attention to the person in distress right in front of him, OR the creepy ass harlequin clown he was approaching. You gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and turned around, beginning to walk again as you hoped maybe the new distraction would stop your bloody walking partner.

But a sudden thud against the sidewalk caught you off guard.

Did he really ride into the clown?

No, from behind you, the man’s bike laid twisted with spinning wheels in front of your hunched clown stalker. The man was grasping his side with one arm, having fallen on top of his bike as his hand shielded from above.

Well, that's kind of what he gets for biking at the witching hour. And for not helping someone in distress! Karma's a bitch.

You hadn't noticed where the gore-striken clown's weapon had landed during the whole ordeal, not even thinking of it until a wet 'shlink!' and violent howl was released. The biker held his raised wrist with a shaking cradle, looking up at the knife that was just pulled out of him.

And just as the knife was removed, it was slammed back in with great inertia and skilled positioning on the clown's part. A wretched sound left the biker's throat, along with the odd crunching that came with him being pushed farther down onto his minimalistic bike.

A great red gash split onto his forehead, leading to the knife's metal stem that seemed to make peace with its new home inside the biker's skull. One of his earbuds popped out, crashing onto the sidewalk as blood flecked into his left eye. He seemed to look at the fallen earpiece, no longer acknowledging the knife now pushed as far as it could stab.

The clown seemed to stand back, watching the creation of his short few motions. He let out a whistle similar to an animated sigh. Comically, he wiped invisible sweat from his brow, looking over at you.

Your feet began to shuffle backward, grating against the rubble on the road as your hands flew to your mouth with an intensity that made you lose breath.

The mask seemed to look at you with no emotion, blankly watching with a sad smile as the clown stood simply. With the silence of the street, the stillness of the wind, you could hear faint breaths from across the street. They were soon replaced by a muffled whistle beneath the plastic, the clown's eyes dark and unseeable behind it. But the tiniest speck of light, a teensy reflection from the streetlight showed the human eyes of someone…unpredictable.

He stopped, only to give a high-pitched whistle as he pulled his steel weapon out of its created hole and rammed the knife back into the cowering biker, this time his chest receiving the treatment. The clown pulled it out again, only to prepare in the same position, raking up the bikers chest with the blade once more. Each time, he whistled and heightened it to mimic the sound of the knife flying through the air, only to crash down into a body of meat. He stopped once the knife made a connection to the skin, only to begin again.

You stood in grotesque awe, mouth ajar as you tripped over the sidewalk's curb. If it wasnt clear already to your record-broken mind, you needed to leave, now. You knew the guy was a creep, someone wayy to into the “murderous killer clown” trope but now, shit was a little too real. You began to run, making your way around the rest of the block without a care of whether or not he chased after you, finding your home. You needed to get inside, somewhere with locked doors that would be a barrier too thick for him to cut down.

Sweat and tears blinded you as black road filled your vision, along with your dim phone screen. you pressed the all too familiar three numbers on your phone. A nine, and two ones.

You waited for the shrill gurgles and distant whistling to stop from behind you, to hear a human voice pickup from the screen against your ear; which thankfully came after about two consecutive rings.

“Hello!?” You unknowingly interrupted, hearing the end of an “your emergency?”

“Hi-- uh, some freak has been following me and,” You were cut off by a grating voice, one slightly deadened and distant.

"Now that's just being mean."

Your heart jumped as you ran, dread settling inside you as the voice hummed in disappointment.

In the distance you could see the familiar front porch of your home, only about five houses down.

"You've got..to be…kidding," you huffed out of breath, elongating your stride to look like a wild runner as you sprinted to your driveway.

"Clowns are universally beloved; maybe you're the freak; considering you picked me I'd say you already had questionable taste."

"How'd you-- but I called--" You huffed, yet the clown cut you off.

"You really shouldn't leave your phone unattended in a room full of people…who knows when a devious comic of a murderer might strike! Especially one so handy in manipulating technology." You could practically hear the animated pose he struck along with the words. "So, having fun yet?"

You didn't answer, or rather couldn't from the lack of oxygen in your throat. All you could do was focus on running; but that's alright, because the freakshow on the other side talked enough for the both of you.

"We'll I hope so; in fact, you know I've chosen you to be my last man standing. My final girl," He paused for dramatic effect "My, surviving victim of tonight's excursion… you'll be a grand commemorating prize to bring back home, to be sure. You're just lucky that buddy boy back here took your place-- if he hadn't, I can't say I'd have been able to restrain myself enough to keep you alive until we got back home."

What the fuck was he going on about? What did it matter anyway, your sides were cramping so twistedly that it and your upcoming mailbox were all you could manage to concentrate on.

An infectious laugh cracked over the line, running from one ear through the other as you ran with your phone gripped tight. Looking down at your smudged screen, the caller ID read a simple “Unknown number.” You tried pressing the end call button, only for your screen to remain frozen. The caller screen almost looked like a screenshot, holding your phone captive as none of the buttons managed to work. The on/off button clicked and clicked, not altering the white screen.

“Ahh I can still see you running down there… trying to hang up on me while sprinting is hard, huh? Just make this easier and stop where you are, save me the trouble of having to play this hide and seek game for tonight. I promise if you make me play, I'll win."

You stop for a moment to catch your breath, turning around to see neon red hair in the distance and a black outline, the red diamonds on the clown's suit blending in. He still stood next to the fallen biker, holding something to his ear.

You wheezed out a laugh, throat beginning to close up.

"Oh yeah?... I'm halfway down the road, bitch! Once I get inside it's.. gonna be over for you. I don't, I don't know what the fuck this is-- but you're not gettin away with--with anything!" You held onto your knees, heaving into the phone as your chest burned. The silence on the other line was hardly noticeable as the sound of blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat drowned everything else out.

"...Don't say I didn't warn you, doll."

The phone without warning went dark, line cutting off as the caller screen went missing.

Through blurry eyes you saw the clown lower his hand that was once at his ear. With a short moment of stillness, he stared at you. That stillness, morphed almost automatically into a full-on run. The pitter patter of squeaky rubber shoes on the gravel was adrenaline-inducing, filling the silence of the dark street besides the heaving of yours and the clown's breath.

"Oh fuck…" you murmured, turning around to begin your sprint once more.

As long as you could reach the house first, open the door with your keys in time, lock the door-- you'd be fine. You didn't have another phone in the house, but you'd be fine-- you'd just, at least be safe. From him.

But speaking of keys, where were yours?

You ran your hands over and over the pockets in your clothes, feeling nothing but the scraps of empty candy wrappers in your pockets. Where the fuck were your keys?!?

Finally, the grace of your front door made its way directly in front of you, your exhausted legs running up the short porch steps. You hadn't given even one second to looking back at your fellow runner, panic of losing your keys and the upcoming door occupying your mind. You jiggled the door handle, banging against the door with your shoulder as you let out a panicked exhale.

You could hear him getting closer, hear the labored breathing and chaotic deep giggling muffled by silicone.

The sound of heavy shrill footsteps stopped-- but beside your rapid heaving, hot breath covered the side of your shoulder. Wet red locks touched your ear, a deep inhale came to grace the top of your matted hair.

Four fingers covered in a frilly, harlequin-patterned glove were thrusted in front of your face, jingling your precious keys in their grip.

"Looking for these?"

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