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#tw: yandere
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𝕻𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝕾𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓
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𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: In the honor of my birthday (03/26). I give you the rest of my imaginary cake as I do not like cake. Have a vine too.
𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.
𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:
Moje Zlato - My Gold (Slovak)
Zlato - Gold (Slovak)
𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: If you are under the age of 18. Shoo! Go away! Skedaddle! Why you reading this in the first place? Be 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 for/of yourself.
TW // SMUT/NSFW, Filth, Language, Google Translation, 𝙽𝚘𝚗-𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗.
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Getting out of the bathroom, I didn’t expect Dorvenos to be on my bed with his fiber-like suit still on. Showing all the best curves on his body. Was he planning to go somewhere afterward?
“…Dorvenos.” I greeted the relaxed Salamander, ringing out my hair with a towel. His red eyes flickering down at my choice of pajamas before settling on my face.
“Little Zlato, how was your shower?” He asked, gesturing for me to get on the bed.
“Eh, it could have been better.” I said, looking at him skeptically, not moving from my spot as I turned to throw the towel in the dirty laundry basket. “What are you in my room for?”
“To… congratulate you.” He admitted.
“…Why?” I asked, really wondering of that ‘why’ he would. I was simply helping out the old lady on the corner of the street all day. Helping her plant and carry some soil out of her husband's truck. It took all day, but it was worth it seeing her home prosper again.
“Can I not reward you?” He questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. Seemingly tired with the singular question.
I wanted to say “no” and be petty to him. Tell him to get off my bed and go to his own or I could say “I’ll go to sleep on the couch” but the bed was far more comfortable than that old, rickety thing and I was not in the best shape to take that. Gardening was a lot more work than some people realize.
“Reward me how?” I asked, slowly inching my way towards the bed and him. Hopefully, he’ll just move over.
“With you of course.” He sighed, leaning up quickly to snatch me from the side of the bed. My heart jumping at the suddenness as I tensed up in his arms while he tucked me between his legs.
“Me? What?” I questioned him this time. Placing my hands on his fiber suited chest, the rubbery texture of it throwing me off a little. I could feel how his muscles contracted underneath it, working together to help him move and to help him breathe. Even his soft beating heart’s that went off one by one.
“Yes, you, my little Zlato.” He grinned, his lips tickling the top of my forehead. His hands slowly tracing the curve of my back as I shivered in his hold at the sensation of the fabric of my clothing dragging up with his hand.
“What are you planning there, you drake?” I lightly insulted him, practically calling him a subadult.
“I was going to tell you that your strength was admirable today.” He stated, lightly running his lips down my cheek. His eyes looking at me with a certain desire in them. “It was… fascinating.”
“How your little body moved to pick up the soil.” He spoke, his Salvic accent coming out stronger. His heated breath hitting my neck. “How the sun hit your glistening body.”
“Oh, how I wished to eat you up right there.” He groaned, dragging his hand up my backside, threading through my damp hair and gently pulled my head back. His tongue pressing up against the center of my throat. Sending a pulse down to my core. “Such a good little bonded.”
Slowly, he dragged his other hand down her soft body more. Trailing over the skin of her thigh. His mouth sucking at her neck, tasting her skin that smelled like her body soap. Not willing to leave her throat just yet with his hand still in her wet hair.
She whined, her hands pressing up against his chest for support while his fingers traced the waistband of her panties. Feeling her body for her unspoken words of disagreement before he slid his fingers underneath. Trailing down to her pulsing core.
He stopped when he felt her tense on him. A soft rumble leaving him as he waited for any sort of words to tell him to stop, but he got none as he expected. His little zlato was a little shy one in these particular course of actions.
Pulling her head forward. His middle finger slid above her wet folds first, gathering her natural slick before pushing through her gummy walls. Her body tensing up on him again, her breath hitching as he used that to his advantage. Taking her opened lips in his while she refused to moan outright for him. Her body curling into him. Craving for him.
“I pondered what you would taste like.” He confessed, leaning back from the kiss with a huff. Listening to his little zlato trying to conserve her pretty little sounds. Moving his finger in and out. “To taste you while you were working.”
Letting go the back of her head. She leaned immediately forward into him, her forehead pressing up against his chest as he leaned back on the bed. Her walls guiding his finger deeper into her.
“…Dorvenos.” She huffed his name, nuzzling into his chest. A quiet purr rumbling through him, loving how she moaned his name while he pushed another finger through her walls. Her nails gripping at him through his fiber layer.
He kept an average pace with his fingers, occasionally scissoring her until he stretched her enough he could slide a third one in through her soaked folds. A moan escaping her mouth while she shifted on him, chasing him as he grinned.
“Let me hear those pretty little sounds of yours.” He hummed, pushing a little deeper, touching her weak spot just right where she wanted him. A gasp coming out of her as she shivered. Her walls tightening around his fingers.
He let her ride out her afterglow on his fingers before she rested up against his chest. Staining his fiber-muscle layer with her juices. His fingers leaving her clenching core to taste what he longed for.
“You sweet little bonded.” He spoke, licking her slick off his fingers then jerking up in surprise. Not expecting his little zlato to be so bold. Grinding the outline of his c*ck.
“Dorvenos…” she whined for him. His c*ck twitching underneath his fiber confinement and purred when she grinded again on his clothed c*ck. Throne, the things his little zlato does to him.
Taking ahold of her *ss, he rips off her pajamas off with ease before ripping his own clothing off. His c*ck coming out proud and hitting against his little zlato wet folds. Eager to get her all sweating again. To smell her natural scent.
He groaned, squishing her butt cheeks in his hands. Her wet core brushing up against his c*ck. A shiver going down his spine as he twitched against her thigh.
“Málo zlata!(Little Gold!)” He gasped, hips jerking upward, both party’s moaning out. He was not expecting his little bonded to sink down on him. To take him— so well.
She bounced up and down his c*ck, coating it with her slick. His hands resting on her waist. Waiting for her to fall back into him as he knows just how much bigger he was to her.
“Please, r-right there!” She suddenly begged, breathing heavily. Her legs shaking with exhaustion.
“Right… here?” He questioned holding her hips and thrusting upwards in the same spot. Gaining a high-picked moan to please his ears. He already knows all her weak spots, but he loved to watch as his little zlato rolled her eyes back. How her body practically melted in his arms.
“Y-Yes!” She moaned, throwing her head back, exposing her neck to him and he couldn’t help but lean forward and suck on her skin there again. Feeling how she clenched around him. How her throat moved when she swallowed. Loving the show of submission.
He groaned, wrapping his arms around her, picking up his pace as mewls and gibberish ran out of his little zlato mouth. The bed squeaking underneath the quick movement.
“P-Please, keep going.” She begged him breathlessly as he suddenly flipped positions, needing a better angle. Watching her chest quickly rise up and down.
“I don’t plan to stop, little Zlato.” He stated, starting his quick pace once more into her core. Hitting her at a much more numbing angle.
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gojorgeous · 2 months
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"creature of myth."
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pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)
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You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 
You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 
You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 
Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 
Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 
You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 
The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 
The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 
When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 
Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 
You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 
The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 
Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 
“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 
You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 
You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 
Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”
You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 
“Yes, my lady?” 
You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?
You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 
There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”
Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 
You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 
You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 
You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 
You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 
You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 
You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 
You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 
You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 
You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 
You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 
“Do you like them?” 
You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 
He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 
Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 
He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 
“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 
Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 
There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 
“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 
You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 
“Of course… Satoru.” 
He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 
“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 
“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 
There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 
“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 
You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?
“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 
He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 
You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?
Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 
“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.
Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 
His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 
“Not tonight.” 
His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 
His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 
“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 
You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 
~  
You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 
That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 
When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 
“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 
You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”
A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 
“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 
You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 
You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 
That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 
There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.
~
If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 
Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 
The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 
You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 
He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 
“It was… good.”
You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 
You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 
That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 
A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 
Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 
You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 
You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.
It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 
“You’re not… eating?”
That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 
Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 
You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 
The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 
By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 
“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 
“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 
You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 
He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 
You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”
His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 
You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 
He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 
When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 
He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 
You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 
His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 
“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 
~
You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 
Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 
As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.
~
The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 
The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.
~
You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 
You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.
Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 
Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 
You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 
It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 
You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 
“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 
You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 
“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.
A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 
“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 
Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 
“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”
You skip ahead again.
“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”
Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 
“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 
No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 
“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 
You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 
“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 
No, no, no. 
“(See next page for only existing portrait)”
Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 
You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 
Knock! Knock! Knock!
You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 
You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 
“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 
You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 
Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 
“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 
His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 
No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 
“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 
“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 
You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”
You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?
“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 
You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 
“About the estate?” he asks. 
You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”
His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 
You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”
“Anything interesting?” he presses.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 
He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”
You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.
“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 
You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.
His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.
“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 
“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 
You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 
He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 
You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.
He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 
Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 
“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 
He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 
“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 
“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 
“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 
You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.
He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 
Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 
“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.
“Mhm?” 
You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 
He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 
He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 
“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 
“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 
The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.
His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 
You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 
He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 
Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 
You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 
You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 
You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 
“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 
“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 
He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 
His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 
You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 
“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 
His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 
“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 
thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 
Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 
“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 
Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 
“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 
His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 
You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 
His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 
You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 
His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 
“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 
You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 
He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 
Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 
Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 
Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”
You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 
There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 
By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 
His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 
You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 
Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 
“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 
Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 
When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?
“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 
Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 
You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 
“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 
“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 
Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 
There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 
Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 
“S-Satoru–”
“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 
You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 
You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…
He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”
It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 
“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 
Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.
“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 
“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 
He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 
“Yes,” you whisper. 
His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 
He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 
“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 
He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 
Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 
His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 
When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 
His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 
He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”
You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 
He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 
“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.
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lovverletters · 6 months
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👉👈 yandere serial killer...??? Maybe?? Like just this big scary dude with a mask and a big fuck all weapon like a butcher's knife or something and hes so big and scary but he sees his darling as he's just head over heels in love and obssessed and stalks them and makes sure they are safe.
Maybe leaves gifts as a way to try and court his darling even (trial and error style)
So like he leaves maybe a dead animal like a fucking cat cause he's this kinda survival guy and he's trying to provide food but darling is freaked out, so he tries again with something else maybe bones. Doesn't work. Tries to figure out what they like and tries again with their favorite flower or something.
Like he's out of touch with society cause again big serial killer who likely lives out in the woods, kills people who get to close to his home etc so he's really trying to win over his darling who lives closer to the town/city or something.
Just.... I just love big scary man who is so scary and mean but is ONLY nice and soft to his darling and tries to be so gentle, especially if his darling is much smaller than him.
No pressure if you dont wanna do this! Just!!! Giving out some ideas!
♡♡♡
♡Bunny
Yandere! Serial Killer
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A/N : thank you for requesting! I changed a few things if you don't mind💖 this is like an intro for him? I'll write more if people like this dude
T/W : Obsessive behaviour, murder, mentions of dead animal.
«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»
"─yet another body has been discovered near a park at Heartfelt Avenue this morning. The police were alerted to the scene after a man who was walking his dog stumbled upon the deceased body covered with deep cuts that were shaped into a heart. This marks the twelfth victim of the serial killer, 'Lovelorn' that has left communities in fear──"
The news forecaster were cutted off as [Name] switch the television off. Their stomach churned with uneasiness at the reports of the new killing. With the serial killer still on the loose, god knows who'll be next?
It could be them.
It's a terrifying thought but a probable possibility. All of the bodies were found near their place of living, meaning that the killer is not far from their area. Moving away is not a choice for them, they could barely make enough money to stay afloat.
[Name] will have to put up with the murderous maniac's antics until they were caught and placed behind bars.
"Shit── I forgot I have to cover for Stacey today!" They cursed out, hurriedly changing into their horrendous work uniform.
Working a late shift at a cafe wasn't exactly their choice. [Name] usually worked the day shift── stressful but far better than being all alone at night when there's a lunatic who's going around stabbing people. Their coworker Stacey had an emergency today and had practically begged [Name] to cover for her shift as no one would take up on it.
[Name] don't blame them, no one in their right mind would voluntarily throw themselves in a situation where they would ended up in a news headline.
However, adulting is hard and it drains your sanity slowly and [Name] already lost theirs a long time ago. Plus, they really need more money otherwise they'll have to live off cup noodles.
What ever could go wrong? The killer had just slain a person today, they couldn't possibly attempt to do it again could they?
«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»
Everything went wrong.
It had been mind numbingly boring shift, the cafe were deserted at night with only a few people coming in and getting out as soon as they got their drinks.
[Name] were tempted to just sleep through their shift in the break room. Their boss won't care──probably.
"Can't something interesting happens right now? I'm bored out of my mind──" On cue, the lights suddenly begun flickering before shutting off.
Fuck. They're not bored anymore.
[Name] jolted in their place when the main door slammed to a close and their heart stopping momentarily as they saw a figure running towards the backdoor entrance.
They raced towards the exit──there's no way they're going to investigate it! They value their life more than this store they worked at──and try to pry the door open but discovered to their horror that it has been jammed!
Before they could attempt to break the glass door with a steel chair, they heard a noise from their former place behind the counter. [Name] eyes widened in fear at the sight of the figure they'd seen running earlier.
The man was muscular and had a red horned mask on, in his hand was a large butcher knife that serial killers loves wielding. Had their life not being in danger, [Name] would've laughed at how cliché this situation they're in.
"H─hey buddy, that's a nice looking knife you got there" [Name] says as they held onto the steel chair tighter, ready to wield it as a weapon if needed to.
The killer only stalked further in silence, ignoring [Name]'s remarks. He only stopped once they reached a good distance from each other and [Name] were confused, is he fucking with them?
Their confusion only furthers when the killer drops a fucking dead rabbit in front of them. Horrified beyond belief, [Name] looked at the horned masked man who stared at them as if he's waiting for a praise.
"Wh──wha..?" They could only croaked out timidly.
"It's for you" The killer spoke in his deep voice, elaborating no further.
Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he dropped a human heart next to the dead rabbit. [Name] felt their knees weakened as they fell on the ground, disturbed at the sight before them.
Mustering whatever courage they have left within them, they asked the killer that's towering over them.
"Wha──what are these f──for?" Stumbling over their words from how terrified they were.
The killer, holding a flower in his hand──they looked freshly cut from the stem──lowered to their level of ground and spoke in his gravely voice that's strangely laced with a certain gentleness and love.
"M' courting you cause' I love you"
«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»
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violet-butterflies · 7 months
Text
❥︎ yandere! Dilf Part 2
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❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ drugging, stalking, delusional, doing things without consent, masturbation, NSFW ( male yandere! oc x female reader ) Click to see part 1 and part 3 !
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"You wanna join daddy and mommy in bed, Yoon?"
The four-year-old nodded at his dad cutely as he climbed onto the bed, right between an unconscious woman and his dad. As soon as the four-year-old was comfortable, his dad took both his son and the sleeping woman. He then kissed the cheeks of both his son and the woman in his arms.
"I wuv you daddy..." the kid sleepily said to his dad as he let out a big yawn. His dad let out a loving smile as soon as his son said the adorable statement.
"I love you too buddy... What about mommy? Do you love mommy?"
"Mhm! But... why can't I call her mommy daddy?" Yoon asked as he tried his best to keep his eyes open to listen to his dad's answer.
"Mommy doesn't know that she's a mommy yet... It's a big surprise and we'll tell her soon!"
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It never occurred to Junho (yandere! dilf) that his perfect mirage of a family would be broken anytime soon. He's always followed a very specific routine that rarely changes. It's always dropping his son to kindergarten, working until it was time for his son to go home, watching the hidden cameras in his house as y/n brings his son home to babysit. Then, it was either drugging the girl so she would be knocked out on his bed and in his arms or letting her go home and watching her in her house through a hidden camera he planted in a teddy bear he gave her.
He was stuck inside of a fantasy where you were his wife and living a domesticated life with him and his son. One day that fantasy will come true, Junho is definitely dedicated to making that dream a reality, however, why rush when he has all the time in the world?
After all, y/n was always under his watch so at this point he knows everything about her!
"Junho! So I have this barbeque party that I'm gonna host at my place next week. You and Yoon should totally come!" y/n invited one day before going back to her place.
"Barbeque party? That sounds fun! What's the occasion?" Junho curiously asked as an asleep Yoon was carried in his arms.
She giggled before answering, "It's a secret until the party!"
y/n then said her last goodbyes before walking out of the door, leaving a curious Junho standing at his front door.
A secret? What is she hiding that Junho could possibly not know about? To be completely honest, Junho did not like surprises at all. He likes to know as many things as he can and a surprise could either be bad or good.
Junho grumbled his way into his son's room to tuck his lovely son before sliding into his room. He plopped himself on his king-sized bed before trying to go to sleep and yet, he couldn't.
After tossing and turning a couple of times, he decided to take something out of his nightstand drawer.
It was y/n's panties.
Junho always felt guilty when he has to take the article of clothing out. He never likes it when he does something behind your back, especially something so lewd.
With one swift move, he took off his sweatpants before bringing one of his large hands that clenched onto y/n's panties over his nose. The other hand, went to his cock which was already beginning to get hard at the thought of masturbating using the panties of the woman he loves. It's not the proudest thing he's ever done but, it was the closest thing he has to making love with his beloved girl.
"Oh y/n... My beloved wife," he sighed after taking a whiff of the scent the panties held. His other hand was furiously moving on his angry cock as he desperately needed a release. His head was filled with images of a naked y/n under his body, moaning beautiful noises and holding his muscular body tightly with her soft hands.
With one last grunt, he released white strings of cum all over his hand and stomach. Sighing for the final time, the carefully made sure to put the panties safely into his drawer without it touching any of his cum (because that means he would have to wash it and that would make all her scent disappear) before lying back into bed.
Now he was tired and ready for bed and he did exactly that, falling asleep before post-nut clarity decides to bug him with any unwanted thoughts.
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The week after, a casually dressed-up Junho and his excited son, Yoon, were waiting in front of y/n's front door. Multiple cars were parked around her house, all probably belonging to the other guests who were also invited to her barbeque party.
"Ah, Junho and Yoon! Please come in! We just finished grilling the first batch of food!"
Junho and Yoon eagerly walked in, Junho taking in all of the details of his beloved (soon-to-be) wife's house since it was his first time really being inside.
The muscular man recognized some of the guests that attended the party; those guests being some of the other teachers from the kindergarten she taught in.
Junho got to mingle with some of y/n's friends as he and his son ate the wonderful food prepared at the party. It made him feel closer to you now that he's met the people you surrounded yourself with and it was also a treat to see his own son getting along with some of the kids present; happy laughter and chatter filling up the wide backyard.
"Ok can I please have all of your attention please?" y/n's sweet voice asked while she softly hit the back of a spoon to her glass with to get everyone's attention.
All chatter suddenly halted as all eyes were on the h/c (hair colored) woman smiling happily.
"So, I'm sure that you all are very curious as to why I suddenly held a barbeque party," y/n started, "And it's also been very hard hiding this surprise from the closest people I know. But, I wanted to make it a special event since it is something that would only happen once in a lifetime."
For some reason, Junho had a terrible feeling in his stomach. He had an inkling of a thought that suggested that whatever y/n was about to announce would be something that could absolutely destroy him but, for her, he chose to keep a bated breath as he waited for this big surprise.
Junho watched as her hands held another man's hands to help him stand up, a loving gaze present in both of their eyes.
'No please don't do this to me.'
The foreign man then kissed his beloved's cheeks tenderly making her lips stretch into a wide smile.
'It's not what I think it is right? It can't be it right?'
She then showed off a diamond ring on her finger with a giggle that would've sounded melodic if Junho was the one to be the reason behind it.
'This has to be a joke right?!'
"Everyone meet Josh, my fiance! I'm getting married soon!"
At that moment, Junho felt his perfect daydream be painfully ripped away from him as his heart stopped at the announcement.
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A/N Please send help I wrote this chapter after playing League of Legends for 13 hours straight. My back is so sore ouch. I wasn't gonna leave you all on a cliffhanger but the post was getting super long and my back is slowly transforming me into a shrimp.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this upload, and keep an eye out for part 3!
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 3 months
Text
❤ Yandere Teacher ❤
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▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female reader
WARNINGS: Teacher-Student dynamic; Non-Con.
Merry Christmas! 🎄💖
--
◾ Yandere!Teacher who immediately gets interested in you.
You don’t seem anything like most college girls, maybe because you don’t throw yourself at thim, batting your eyes at him and pushing your chest out in hopes of catching his attention, like many of your colleagues do. 
He knows why they do it. He’s young and attractive, teaching in a college whose reputation is the definition of academic excellence.
◾ Yandere!Teacher who will personally organize the classroom layout, making sure you get the best seat in the house, which coincidentally happens to be right in front of his desk. That way he stays close to you, his eyes often drifting to you as he lectures the class.
◾ Yandere!Teacher that frequently interacts with you, asking if you wanna share an exercise's solution or requesting for you to read out loud a text.
Your reactions are the cutest, he thinks. The adorable way you get shy, sinking into your seat like you want to melt against it and disappear. 
◾ Yandere!Teacher who wholeheartedly believes you to be a talented student, although your grades are mediocre. You are brain and beauty, the perfect combination.
Hence why he adds a few additional points to your grade, wanting to see that beautiful smile of yours instead of ugly disappointment, 
◾ Yandere!Teacher that is fully aware of how wrong it is to have a crush on you - his student - but he can't stop himself from imagining how a relationship with you would look like. The way you’d hug him, pushing your warm lips against his, happy to see him. 
He imagines romantic picnic dates, with you perched on his lap while feeding him strawberries. 
And even worse is when his mind drifts to the two of you creating a small family together. He knows you’re both relatively young but he’s certain that together you could be the best of parents. 
◾ Yandere!Teacher that stalks all of your social media, seeking for anything that could give him more insight on you. What are your hobbies, what type of movies do you like, do you post photos with your family or friends,...
In reality, he’s accidentally clicked one too many times on the like button, panicking before hastily removing it. You never mention it during the classes, but sometimes you give him a weird look. 
◾ Yandere!Teacher that progressively grows frustrated with your lack of interest towards him. While most girls shamelessly throw themselves at him, you don’t. A distant expression and face ducked down as you take notes is all he gets from you.
Even when he accidentally bumps into you around campus, it's a struggle to get you to open-up as he tries to do small talk with you. 
◾ Yandere!Teacher whose blood boils when catches you laughing and joking around with a guy.
He wants to drag you away from the asshole before punching a hole into his face, his imagination running dangerously wild as he imagines all the things he would do to the student, just for making you laugh like that. 
But he doesn’t get mad at you. No, it’s not your fault. You have a kind heart, which automatically makes you naive - unable to see the other guy’s evil intentions.
He doesn’t care about you, he’s probably just thinking of ways to get inside your pants. 
◾ Yandere!Teacher who invites you to stay a bit longer after class, in order to discuss some aspects of your individual project. He notices the nervous way you fiddle with your fingers, uneasy to be alone with him. 
He doesn’t understand why. He loves you and he’s never been anything but kind towards you. 
Your anxiety only increases when the older man places his hand on top of yours, starting to confess the ardent admiration he has for you and how much he thinks you’re gorgeous.
That he feels a special connection between the two of you, something very precious. 
Despite his best attempts of convincing you that you are meant to be together, you’re too stubborn to accept it peacefully. You scream and shout like a crazy girl, scratching and pushing him as he tries to reason with you. 
◾ Yandere!Teacher who ends up bending you on his table, pushing your cheek pressed against the cold surface as he forcefully fucks you, his lips passionately kissing every inch of exposed skin, inebriated on your sweet taste. 
You cry and whimper, his scarf shoved inside your mouth as he punctures you with deep, sharp thrusts while whispering apologies in your ear.
He uses you as a flashlight, setting a fast pace as his cock bruises up your insides till your core is aching and desperate for him to finish already. 
◾ Yandere!Teacher who didn’t mean to break you like this, your pitiful swollen face making him feel bad about what he did, but at least now you know about his feelings for you. 
He’ll make it up for you when he takes you back to his apartment. A warm shower and a good night's sleep will improve your mood. He’ll persuade you to be with him, to accept him.
He knows he’ll be successful eventually and maybe after a few times of making love to you, you’ll also see his side. 
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harmonysanreads · 2 months
Text
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Thinking about Ex!Aventurine who doesn't have much of a reaction to your break-up, who is certain you'll crawl back to him within three days at most.
Ex!Aventurine who goes on about his life, after all, every second is worth precious credits. Days, weeks, months and then a few years pass and one day, the realization that you may actually have moved on from him crashes atop him like a pile of bricks.
Ex!Aventurine who tries to contact you through your number and social media, only to find that he's been blocked everywhere. No matter how many fake accounts he makes and how many texts and calls he sends you, you just don't respond and it frustrates him so much.
Ex!Aventurine who is ecstatic when he sees you again in Penacony, sprinting his way to you and ready to give you a hearty reprimand on your prolonged avoidance.
Ex!Aventurine whose heart sinks when he sees you coiled around the arms of another, smiling and laughing in pure happiness and paying not a millisecond of attention to him. Is this a joke?
Ex!Aventurine who corners you when an opportunity arises, ready to strangle every answer out of you so please tell him this is just some prank and you still love him—and, his heart shatters when you give him the coldest truth of his life.
Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who feels the nudging of an infamous green monster every time he sees you with them in the halls of the Reveries or in dreamscapes. Who wants to tear his hair out when he sees you giving that dreamy look to that vermin, one he thought belonged only to him? Who wants to tear that imbecile limb from limb every time he touches your skin.
Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who wishes to turn back time and drag you back to him. Who drowns himself in liquor, round after round at the casino and the sweetest of dream bubbles, yet, nothing compares to your warmth. Whose regret and jealousy slowly eat away at his left-over sanity til he's on the verge of committing something that'll soothe his agony but, create one for you.
Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who spares no warning, catapulting mysterious debts and financial troubles your way with no trace that it was his doing. But when you still don't leave your so-called lover, he finally snaps.
Yandere!Ex!Aventurine who takes it slow, one by one, patiently and meticulously ; first the fingers, then the legs, then the eyes and at last the heart of your ‘beloved’. But is not satisfied still and has every piece of their remains fed to hungry wolves right in front of your eyes.
Then, Yandere!(No longer Ex?)Aventurine will come to you and wipe away your tears, shush your curses and hateful words with a kiss. Telling you to forget and resume what you had with him. And you absolutely cannot say no, after all, what other choices do you even have?
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yanmaresu · 6 months
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May i request some fem Leona x mc x fem jamil?
Both yandere if thats okay?
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hope you like it <3
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shallyouobeyme · 5 months
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From the Outside
Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)
Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)
Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?
! Minors Do Not Interact !
Requested by @sol565
TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.
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Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you. 
It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through. 
You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights. 
Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.
Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions. 
The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other. 
Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother. 
She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have. 
Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close. 
You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both. 
Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life. 
Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life. 
It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely. 
You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group. 
So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count. 
Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough. 
And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality. 
You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves. 
Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again. 
These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second. 
The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).
Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder. 
“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.
“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events. 
“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched. 
“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.
“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”
“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”
“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”
“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be. 
Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left. 
“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.
“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?
“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”
A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.
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yaksha-lover · 6 months
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You were made in the image of the angel.
That’s what Rollo believes when he spots you, a speckle of light, amongst your tainted peers. You’re truly captivating to him; one so untouched by all the disgusting, dark miasma that swarms you, swirling it’s depraved fingers through your hair.
Despite magic’s presence in your life, it’s never taken root inside of you. For that, you are beautiful; the antithesis to the wicked fae that he so loathed.
He should have known Malleus would try to corrupt you. The dragon was alluring: dark tresses spilling around his broad shoulders, his piercing green eyes, and those magnificent horns upon his head. As gorgeous and charismatic as the fallen angel himself; that was what made him so dangerous.
It’s not your fault you gave into Malleus’ temptation. Rollo knows even he could have strayed from his righteous path had he been less disciplined than he was.
Still, he can’t end the burning rage when he sees the way you’ve been seduced by that man, the mark he’s begun to leave upon you.
He calms himself for a moment.
He’ll have to deal with it. For every drop of himself that Malleus has put into you, Rollo will have to cleanse you by doing the same.
Every kiss, every nip at your neck, every skirting of hands across your thighs will need to be replaced with a touch of his own, that of a pious man.
He’s sure you’ll understand - it’s only the price to pay for salvation.
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tallulah477 · 15 days
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Prove To You
Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader
Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Yandere!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-con, Predator/Prey Kink, Chasing, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Oral (female receiving), Edging/Orgasm Delay, P in V, Knotting, Size Difference, Fingering, Slight Degradation (use of 'whore'), Belly Bulge, Lapdance (kinda), Creampie, Alien Genitalia, Squirting, A Few Ass Slaps, Mentions of drinking and being tipsy/drunk, Brief Violence/Violent Thoughts (not towards reader), Brief mention of pregnancy, Threat of cutting off another's kuru/neural queue, Thoughts of killing/murder, One (1) non-sexual face slap (reader slaps Neteyam)
Word Count: 9.7K 💀
A/N: Hiiiii it's been a while 🤷🏻‍♀️
Summary: It was only ever supposed to be a hookup, something fun to pass the time. But to Neteyam, it was so much more than that. He's in love with you, obsessed with you - his perfect little mate. But he doesn't know why you keep running away.
**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**
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Translations:
Yawne - Beloved
Tìyawn - Love
Tweng - Loincloth
Tawtute - Human
Kuru - Neural Queue
Tsaheylu - Bond, Neural Connection
Swoasey - kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages)
Kaltxì - Hello
Pxir - Beer
Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader / Healer
Skxawng - Moron / Idiot
Iknimaya - Rite of Passage
Oel Ngati Kameie - I See You
Tanhì - Star
Muntxate - Wife, Female Spouse
Mawey - Calm
He’d only wanted to kiss you. To feel your soft lips pressed against his again. 
It had been so long since he’d gotten to feel them. The mask you have to wear is always a frustrating obstacle. He begs from time to time for you to pull it off, just for a moment, so he can press his warm lips to yours, taste your tongue on his just for a few blissful seconds before the lack of air catches up with you and you have to replace it.
You always say no, always push his hand away from where he has it cupped lovingly around the side of your head, but it never stops him from asking. 
You’re not wearing a mask now though. Instead, a long tube spans one side of your face, curling around your ear and stretching across your cheek before the very end of it forks off into your nostrils. At first glance he panicked, terrified of the thought of you out in the dangerous Pandora environment as a human without your only source of oxygen. It’s silly. He knows that you could have never made it to the village from the lab without some way of breathing. But he can’t help how he reacts, needing to be sure, needing to know that you’re okay. 
He’s at your side in an instant, kneeling in front of your tiny frame, large hands engulfing your head as his eyes searched your face in concern. You smack his hand away, answering his concerned questions of “Ma yawne, what is going on? Are you okay?” with a short “Fine. It’s the new tech the lab guys made,”
He calms, anxiety slipping from his body now that he knows you’re still safe. His eyes flicker over your face, a small smile pulling at his lips as he takes in all your beautiful features in front of him. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, he’s always thought that, ever since the very first moment he met you all those years ago. But now here, without the thick layer of glass covering your face, it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. 
“You’re so pretty, tìyawn,” He whispers, fingers unconsciously reaching out again to brush against your cheek. It’s finally accessible, bare and soft under his fingertips before the dull sting of another slap knocks his hand away. 
You don’t like public displays of affection. 
Or, at least, now you don’t. 
You used to not mind it. Back before that night in front of the fire, you would touch him all the time - sweet and gentle touches when you were talking, so tactile in your interactions with him. A quick squeeze to his knee whenever he was able to make you laugh, friendly half hugs as greetings that would make his heart pound in his chest every single time, your intoxicating scent filling his lungs and suffocating him in the best way. 
He’d keep his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in until you were all he could smell or think about for the rest of eternity if he could. 
He used to carry you places when you would tag along on fun adventures with him and his siblings. Excitement coursed through him every time you agreed to join them, tail swishing eagerly behind him because he knew that eventually you would get tired from walking and allow him to carry you on his back. You like to talk, prattling on about whatever was going on at the lab or a fun new piece of tech that Norm and the others were working on. Sometimes you’d talk about the current drama - someone said you talked too much, were too abrasive, but that you thought that they personally needed to grow a backbone. He’d listen to whatever you had to say - soaking up your voice like the most melodic song and committing every detail you provide him to memory. 
But your voice has a physical response on him. But the horrified looks his siblings would send him when they would see the tent in his tewng from where his hard cock had slipped out of its sheath was always well worth the embarrassment. The feeling of your soft skin on his - arms wrapping around his neck for balance, his hands completely engulfing your warm thighs from where they wrapped tightly around his torso as far as they could. He’s spent many nights imagining them wrapped around his waist from the front instead.
You didn’t mind public displays of affection when you drank an entire swoasey of pxir and danced in front of him by the fire. The celebration had wound down, the clan members satisfied in celebrating the induction of The People who had passed their Iknimaya just a few hours ago. Only a few younger adults who seemed to have the same idea as you remained now, each couple splintering off to different parts of the campground to get their much needed privacy. Even Lo’ak has moved away, enamored by the pretty girl sitting on his lap, uncaring about the way his hands slide down to cup her ass and pull her closer. 
The fading glow of yellows and oranges look amazing against your skin, the steady crackle of the fire like a song all on its own as your hips move to the music only your own head and nature provides. Neteyam’s eyes are wide, excitement coursing through his veins as he watches your hips sway. You sway too, your body a bit unsteady from the drink still in your hand, but mostly it's your hips - the sensual swish back and forth, beads from your tewng (a gift from Kiri he suspects) clank together against each other and your thighs. Your pretty thighs, so soft he wants to wrap his entire hand around them, spread them open for him and see you like he’s always dreamed of. You’d be so wet, so sticky and drenched for him that he’d be able to just slide right in. You were made for him. Made to take him. He’d fit between your thighs so perfectly despite your size difference, he knows he would. 
His breath catches in his throat when you dance closer, small body seductive in the way it calls to him with your movements. You toss the swoasey to the side, the little liquid that was left pouring out and soaking into the ground beside you. Your hands find their way to his bent knees, heat filled eyes never leaving his as you push his legs apart so you can stand between them, searing him with their intensity even from behind the glass of your mask.
Your hands slide up his legs, tiny fingers creeping up the insides of his thighs and he can’t help the audible gulp that escapes him when he feels his cock nudge against his already wet slit, threatening to poke out at any moment. 
Great Mother, you’re so gorgeous. The most beautiful woman Eywa has ever created. You must have been created by her - no other god or goddess or being could ever have made anything more perfect and irresistible than Eywa herself. 
Surely, the Great Mother has made you for him. Just for him. 
“Why so nervous, Teyam?” You giggle, leaning up as far as you can towards his face while still keeping your teasing hands on his thighs, dangerously close to the now bulging fabric. “Tawtute got your tongue?”
“I–um–” He chokes out. He can’t breath, can’t breath with you so fucking close to him. He wants you so badly, wants to touch you so badly he feels like he might die if he doesn’t.
And then you're turning in the cage of his open thighs, back pressing against his front as you grab his shaking hand. There’s a satisfied smirk on your face as you drag his arm around you, the large appendage spanning your entire chest as he sprawls his fingers out across your front. His fingertips automatically curl around the curve of your breast while his palm caresses the other through your beaded top, his body subconsciously reacting to your own guidance. 
His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode in his chest, breathing labored as his hard cock digs into your back.
“You can touch me,” You whisper, but his ears flick at your words and catch them loud and clear. “Want you to play with me.”
“Ha-fuck,” He groans, mouth falling open in silent awe as your top shifts underneath his hand and his finger grazes your hard nipple. Without thinking his hand squeezes your chest, gently but firm enough for you to gasp as he greedily gropes both breasts at once. 
He can smell you now, the mind dizzying scent of your arousal filling the air around you both as you gasp and giggle excitedly at his sudden action, both of your tiny hands reaching up to grip at his big one as you press him tighter against you. 
“Come on, Teyam,” You moan, moan, and he’s not even touching you yet. You turn your head to look at him, craning your neck as you stare up at him with wide, lust filled eyes. “Have some fun with me.”
That night he spent with you under the hypnotic glow of the fire will be forever burned into his mind. Every detail, every moan, every sigh, every praise and whine and plea spilling from your lips as he made love to you for the very first time is kept under the sacred lock and key of his heart - a memory he saved with Eywa back at the Spirit Tree the morning after so that he would never have the possibility of forgetting. 
The memory of your gasp as he pushed you down, beads flying across the mossy ground as he tore your clothes off like an animal and how the roughness of it all made your arousal even stronger. His eyes greedy as they took in their fill of your beautiful body splayed out in front of him like a prize before he covered you with his own. Your fingers teased along his bullet wound scar, tracing the raised line with careful fingers, and he thinks that maybe your loving touch will be enough to fully heal it. 
The place between your thighs feels like home, your tiny pussy swallowing him up and holding him close like the most perfect combination of love and safety. Your voice ringing in his ears, sweet and sensual as you whimper and moan telling him faster, Teyam, fuck me harder, oh god, and he whines in return, cock throbbing and embarrassingly close to bursting so fast already, and sending up thanks and prayers to the Great Mother for granting him this amazing moment with you.
It’s the blending of two hearts, two souls made for each other and coming together as one in a bond so powerful that no one can ever break it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a kuru, Neteyam can feel you in himself anyway - can feel you wrapping your tiny fingers around his brain and heart and very being, solidifying your bond together without the need for tsaheylu. 
And when you pull your mask off, holding your breath as the hiss of air escapes from the broken seal around your face - he can’t breathe either. The feel of your lips on his, soft and demanding as you kiss him passionately as he fucks you on the forest floor, makes him see stars.
He’s not sure where the change of behavior came from. One day you were affectionate, touchy and giving with your love, surrounding him with your scent and embrace, pussy wrapped around his cock in a hug so tight he thought you might never let go. He wouldn’t mind that, being buried in your heat forever, warm and loved until the day he dies. But the next morning the walls came up, the attitude started, and when he had gone to greet you with a blinding smile and an adoring ‘kaltxì, yawne,’ on his lips as he bent to kiss your cheek, you pulled back and pressed a firm hand against his belly to push him away. 
He thought that your coldness was nerves, just a reaction a human might have to the new soul bond you’ve experienced. Humans don’t mate for life like the Na’vi do, but you’re special, you’re his, and Eywa has blessed your union and made it so even though it should not be possible. Maybe you just don’t know how to handle it. It’s okay, he can be the patient and supportive mate you need.
But the coldness and hostility doesn’t stop, the days go by and the passage of time doesn’t make you calm down. You don’t throw your arms around him like he wants you to, don’t say those three words he longs to hear fall from your lips said with all the love and trust that you have in your little tawtute body. 
Instead, there’s almost anger, a sudden indifference that he can’t seem to place. Had he done something wrong? He doesn’t think so. So, he tries to do the best he can, be the best mate he can be for you during your obvious time of struggle. He’s always there for you, will always be there for you, providing support and bringing you fresh meat, dicing up your favorite fruits and making you pretty jewelry that he knows will look so beautiful on you if you ever just wear it. 
You don’t. You toss the jewelry to the side like it's nothing, you let the food rot exactly where he’s left it.  
You’re not a Na’vi, you don’t understand the implication of your crassness towards his gifts. You don’t see how your refusals break his heart. It’s okay - you’ll learn. Humans are . . . unusual creatures. It will just take a bit more time for you to warm up to the ways of The People.
But his optimism stings with each slight, each indifference you show towards him. Great Mother, you’re so mean to him. Always trying to run from him when he grabs at you, ripping your hand away from his whenever he tries to hold it. You’ve been hiding from him, your trips into the village getting less and less frequent and you don’t let him in when he tries to come to the lab to visit you. 
“You don’t even like being here,” You say when he tries. And you’re right. The stuffiness of the lab makes him tense, and it feels like he can sometimes feel the energy from the machines pressing up against his body. But when he’s with you he doesn’t care. You’re the only thing that matters to him, and when he’s with you, it’s like everything else just falls away. 
The sting from your smack is still on his hand, but he shakes it off as he reaches out to caress your arm instead. “Ma yawne, are you hungry? You should come to my hut. I’ll cook you a fi–”
“No,” You interrupt, shrugging him off of your arm. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh,” He breathes, disappointment burrowing in his chest but he tries not to let it show even as his fingers reach out to graze against your wrist. “Well then maybe we can go on a walk? There’s a lake not too far from here that I’ve been wanting to show you. It’s beautiful.” Beautiful like you. “I know you’ll love it.”
“No, Neteyam,” You say again, pulling your wrist from his wandering fingers and crossing your arms across your chest. “I’m busy.”
“What are you doing? Maybe I could–”
“No,”
The clipped word rings in his ears. No, no, no, always no. He’s your mate, you shouldn’t have to tell him no. Where you go, he goes. Where he goes, you go. Together. Simple as that. And yet it’s still always no, no, no. You’re turning away from him without another word, walking away with strides he thinks are way too quick for a human, and he can’t help but wonder where you’re heading to in such a rush. 
“Okay,” He calls out, desperate for the conversation not to be over but knowing it will just upset you if he follows you. “I’ll come see you later, tìyawn. I swear it!”
You don’t even look back.
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He hasn’t seen you in nearly a week and his patience is running thin. 
Your absence is killing him. 
Where are you? Why won’t you see him? He knows you have to be suffering too without him. Mated pairs aren’t meant to be without each other for so long and he feels like he’s been apart from you for an eternity. 
You stopped coming to the village. He’s been looking, desperately hoping that he’ll see you among the multitude of faces he sees every day. He wants to hear your voice so badly, wants to pull you into his arms and hold you there, safe and loved, while the warmth of your skin soaks into his. 
He wants to push you down again, cover you with his body as he presses you into his sleeping mat - your sleeping mat. Both of yours, together, the way it should be as he plows into your swollen cunt. His hut should be covered in your scent by now, not an inch of it left without your mark on it. 
It’s not, and his understanding for your trouble adjusting to the bond is quickly dissipating. 
He’s tried to come see you at the lab multiple times. A lot. Every day. The lab guys turn him away.
She’s busy. She’s sleeping. She’s too tired. She’s not feeling too well. 
If you're not feeling well, he should be in there to heal you. Give you comfort when you're at your weakest and motivation to get better. So he can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe. If you’re tired, let him in so he can wrap his arms around you. His chest is sure to be a better pillow for you than any other one you would be laying on. He would be warm, chest moving with just the perfect amount of rise and fall to lull you into a restful sleep. Your beauty sleep - not that you need it. And if you’re busy . . . what’s the harm in him just being around you? He won’t bother you, but any time just existing in the same space as you is like a dream come true. 
He tries to be nice, tries to be a good person - these are his father’s friends, allies of the Omatikaya - and he’s never been one to act impulsively. But they are keeping you from him. You are his. His mate. 
By the looks on their faces, they know how lucky they are that they got away with only some vicious snarls and a pushed over lab desk. Keeping away someone’s mate should be punishable by death.
At least, that’s how Neteyam feels right about now.
He doesn’t like being angry, hates the disgusting feeling that he feels clawing relentlessly at his chest. But he’s frustrated and heartbroken at your self inflicted absence and the warriors he’s training are his unfortunate victims. He pushes them hard, way harder than he probably should. Two of them have already had to go see the Tsahìk for their injuries and most of them look just about ready to drop from exertion. The anger he lets out on them doesn’t seem to quell any of the feelings still boiling inside him.
But then he sees you and it’s like time stops. The anger and frustration flee his body in a rush of relief. You’re here. 
You’re hiding behind a tree just along the edge of the clearing. Why are you hiding? Maybe you’re trying to surprise him, stay out of sight until he’s done training so as to not distract him with your beauty. You would have. You’ve told him plenty of times that he has a staring problem. But he can’t help it. You’re just so breathtaking that he can’t help but want to stare at you all the time. You’re what he imagines Eywa incarnate to look like - a beauty so alluring and otherworldly that he just can’t bear to tear his eyes away. 
The training session is just about done. He releases a majority of the warriors for the day and there’s only a few stragglers that need a few minutes of one-on-one training before he can send them on their way too. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying to them, letting muscle memory and repetition help him drag these last few minutes along as quickly as possible before he’s able to run over to you. He’s already decided that he’s going to take you out tonight. A date night, just like his father and mother have. It’s a time where you both can get away from the hustle and bustle of village and lab life and just be with each other. You clearly need it and he’s so desperate to spend time with you that he’s just about ready to kidnap you from your duties just so he can get a moment of peace just to stare at your gorgeous, unmasked face more. 
Maybe do some other stuff too. Hopefully. 
His heart hasn’t been the only needy thing of his without you. 
The last warrior he’s with is really pushing his luck. How hard is it to switch a knife from a bladed upward position to a downward facing position with just one hand? It’s a simple wrist movement to perfect a move that might save your life one day and this skxawng keeps. dropping. the. knife. Neteyam’s seemingly endless patience is gone. He dismisses the warrior, words much too harsh to be considered professional but he doesn’t care. His mate is waiting for him and he doesn’t want to waste any more time. 
He turns back to head to where you are, a giddy smile pulling at his lips, mood immediately flipping at the thought of finally seeing you, talking to you, holding you. 
Except when he does it’s like he’s being doused with freezing water. 
Another one of his warrior trainees, Oäpon, is standing in front of you and Neteyam can see how he’s purposefully bulging his muscles a little more to make them seem bigger - an action male Na’vi do when trying to attract a mate. Neteyam wants to rip those muscles out of his worthless body. He should be disgusted with himself with how fast his hand twitches towards the knife on his hip, ready to give no thoughts and just act on his emotions. He’s not impulsive, he’s not. But for once in his life he feels like he might actually kill one of his own clan members. 
Would the Great Mother desert him if he did?
But you catch his attention again, the movement of your small step closer to the other man dragging his furious gaze back to you. Your gorgeous eyes aren’t on Neteyam like they should be, but instead on Oäpon in return. You’re smiling at him, grinning so wide that surely it's fake because you’ve never smiled at him like that before. Oäpon lifts his hand and there’s a deep purple flower between his fingers. The flower finds its way behind your ear and all Neteyam sees is red. 
He’s across the clearing in a second, roaring snarls ripping from his chest as he tears the flower from behind your ear. He can hear Oäpon start to talk, to question what the fuck he’s doing, but the other man’s words are cut off with a pained gasp as he’s kicked to the ground and then he’s shock silent, fear written all over his face as he stares in horror at his kuru and the knife held in Neteyam’s inescapable grip. 
“Don’t! Please, don’t,” Oäpon begs, voice shaking as he struggles to force the words out. “Great Mother, help! Please, don’t!”
“Neteyam, stop!” You yell, tiny fists beating at Netayam’s back, but he barely even feels them. 
“She is mine!” Neteyam growls. “Mine. My mate. You do not touch her!”
“I didn’t know,” Oäpon whimpers. “I didn’t know. Please! I swear!”
He wants to do it, wants to slice through the braid so badly. He doesn’t deserve to have it. Kurus are sacred, the ability to connect to Eywa and her creatures is sacred. Attempting to defile the bond between a mated pair is nearly unheard of. Your screams for him to stop are just making the desire worse. You’re protecting him?! Protecting the thing that was trying to . . . no. No, no, no. He deserves to have it cut off, deserves to die.
Oäpon should kiss his feet in thanks for the mercy Neteyam shows by releasing him. 
“I don’t ever want to see you near her again,” Neteyam shouts. Oäpon doesn’t respond, too busy scrambling away and darting across the clearing, but Neteyam knows he’s heard him. 
“You’re a monster!” You scream, another fist coming down to hit at his back. “How could you do that to him?”
Your hits don’t stop and even through his rage he’s trying to be gentle with you. He catches your flying fists in one of his hands, holding them tight as he crouches in front of you trying to get on your level.
“Ma yawne, did he hurt you?” 
Your eyes are wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “Did he hurt me? Are you kidding me?"
Neteyam’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“You fucking–” You screech, Neteyam’s ears pinning against his skull from the high pitched, angry sound. “You–you–I–ARGH!”
You're so frustrated, so upset you can’t even speak properly. Maybe you are hurt - Neteyam’s eyes scan your body for injury, eyes lingering on the area around your ear where the flower had been. The flower now lays forgotten at your feet, crushed and ruined from his angry grip, and Neteyam can’t find any source of injury that might be causing your upset.
“You don’t have to worry,” Neteyam says, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “He won’t bother you anymore, I swear it.”
You jerk away from his touch. “What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t understand what you mean. Nothing is wrong?”
“No,” You shake your head, wrists still trying to twist out of his grip. “No, there’s something wrong with you. Something is seriously wrong with you,”
“You are upset, tìyawn. Tell me what I can–”
“Don’t call me that!” You scream, nose scrunching with the effort. “Stop calling me that!”
“Oh,” Neteyam’s swishing tail droops in disappointment. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know you didn’t like the name. I only meant to use it to show my love for you as my mate but I can–”
“We aren’t mates, Neteyam!” The words stab like a knife through his heart and his hand loosens around your wrists in shock enough for you to pull them out of his grasp. “We fucked once. A hookup, Neteyam. Sex, that’s it.”
“No,” He whispers. 
Why are you saying this? How could you say this? He was there! He remembers that night more clearly than any other day of his life. You love him. He feels it, feels it with every fiber of his being. You let him into your body, wrapped him tight inside you like a promise that you would never let him go - like he would never have to be alone ever again. You caressed his bullet scar, and he remembers the feel of your gentle fingers silently mourning for it and for all he’s had to suffer. He remembers thinking that being there with you in that moment was worth every other hardship he has to endure. He can take on anything with you at his side. 
“No,” He says again, disbelief coloring his tone. “How can you say that? We are mates! You’re mine!”
“No, we aren’t,”
“We are! I love you, y/n! Oel ngati kam–”
“We are not mated, Neteyam! We fucked. Mindless, hot, means-to-an-end-to-get-off sex. That’s it! Get that through your thick skull,”
He’s watching you as if in slow motion. You turn, stomping away from him as you start to head back into the forest and his brain feels like it’s going a million miles an hour. You’re mates. You are. You have to be - there’s no other way to explain the way he feels about you. The love and utter devotion he has for you. The need to be near you always - looking in your eyes, touching your skin, hearing your voice and the way you’ve always sounded so sweet saying his name. Eywa has blessed your union and he doesn't understand why you don’t feel the same way. Can’t you feel the same inescapable pull that he does? How your soul is tied to his in a way that surpasses even that of tsaheylu?
He reaches out to grab you before you get too far, fingers wrapping around your upper arm. Your own arm flies out around you and the sharp sound echoes through the forest and his sensitive ears before the pain registers on his cheek. 
He’s never seen your eyes so wide before, crazed and panicked as you stare back into his equally shocked amber ones. Your hand is shaking, still raised in the follow through of the slap. The force of your smack is still heating up his cheek, and if he can feel it as much as he is now, he’s sure your hand is probably tingling. 
Any other time he would check you for injuries. You’re so much more fragile than him - you could really hurt yourself if you’re not careful. But you just hit him. Your mate. The man that loves you more than anything. He’s frozen, body cold and not knowing how to react. 
Don’t call me that.
Anger floods through him again. This was Oäpon’s fault. He tricked you, seduced you somehow - out from right under Neteyam’s nose. He should have killed him. 
We are not mated.
You rip your arm out of his grip, wide eyes locked on him as he straightens his body, unfurling out of his crouched position as he rises to his full height. The shadow his body creates over you sends something primal through him. The darkened image of him completely overtaking your tiny figure makes him hungry. Possessive. 
Just sex, Neteyam. That’s it.
He won’t let that worthless skxawng corrupt you anymore. You’re the love of his life, his tanhì. You’re just confused. You’re not thinking clearly. 
You don’t mean it. 
He feels like if he concentrates hard enough, he can hear the sound of your heart racing. Or maybe it's his own, the frantic thump thump thump thump thump of his heart pumping rushing blood into his ears and making him feel like there’s static in his brain. 
When you turn to run, he’s not even shocked. His pupils dilate until there’s barely any color left, predatory gaze marked onto your back as you sprint into the dense Pandoran forest. Everything is so clear to him now. You’re testing him, wanting to see how loyal he is and how far he’ll go to keep you. You’re a beautiful woman, of course you’d have options. But you chose him for a reason, and now you want him to chase you - to prove himself a strong and worthy mate.
You want to play hard to get? Fine. He’ll play. 
He’s a natural hunter, an apex predator - and you, tiny human, have just become his prey. 
It might be fun to hunt you again - sometime in the future when this is all behind you. He’d be sure to make it as fair for you as possible: give you a head start, maybe allow you to rub some mud on your skin to hide your scent just to drag out the game a little longer, give you ample time and resources to find a good hiding spot where you can sit and try to listen with your not that great human hearing for any sign that he’s creeping up on your position. He’d wrap his arms around your waist when he inevitably finds you, smug grin tugging at his lips when your giggled shrieks pierce his eardrums as he pulls you from your oh so clever hiding spot. And then, he’d claim his prize, tearing your clothes from your body right there wherever he found you and fucking you until your giggly shrieking turns into blissful moaning. 
This isn’t fun. It’s not a game. And your headstart is dwindling rapidly. You’re racing through the forest, running as fast as your feet will carry you. He can hear your heavy breaths, the sound of the ground crunching under your clumsy feet. He can smell you, the scent you’re leaving behind in your rush is a direct trail back to you for him to follow. 
He doesn’t need it. He never lost sight of you. 
One of his strides equal close to four of yours, and he covers ground quickly as he closes in on you. He catches you only a little further into the forest than where the chase started and you scream as he tackles you to the ground, the force of his momentum completely knocking you both off your feet. He doesn’t let you touch the ground on the fall, twisting his body enough to take the brunt of the impact. The action still leaves you breathless, dazed for a moment before seeming to come back to yourself and struggling to get off from on top of him.
His hold around your waist is secure and he uses the anchor he has around your waist to throw you on to the ground beside him before climbing on top of you and pinning both of your hands above your head with one of his. 
“Get off me!” You scream, body struggling underneath him, hands pulling in his unrelenting grip as you try to get free, but you can barely move under his weight. “Get off me, Neteyam! Get off, get off, get o–”
His free hand latches around your throat, your words dying on your tongue as his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. 
“Quiet!” He hisses, baring his fangs. “Be quiet!”
The aggressive display makes a small whimper rip from your throat and he can feel the vibrations tickle under his palm. You’re not quiet though, you never stay quiet - ever the talker that you are. You’d talk his ear off if you could. The only time you’ve ever stayed quiet is when you avoided him, and he refuses to let that happen again. 
“Neteyam, please,” You whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re scaring me. Let’s just relax and talk about thi–”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” He growls. “You’ve said enough already, don’t you think?”
He releases your hands, grip on your throat loosening and moving down slightly until it's just a singular hand pressed against your chest to keep you pinned. Your hands immediately latch onto the large hand, one of your own clutching the back while the other curls around one of his long fingers. He feels how you pull at it, trying to get it off of you - and he knows how much harder you could be trying right now if you wanted to. 
He lowers his face to yours, inches away so that his breath fans across your skin as he speaks. “You like to talk, but you don’t like words. You’ve made that clear. My words mean nothing to you.” He can feel how your quick breathing puffs against his face too, the warm air caressing his cheeks. “You need actions - a visual representation of my devotion to you. I see that now.”
In a flash, his hands are balling into her t-shirt, pulling roughly in either direction and the thin material gives easily under the pressure. You gasp as he rips your shirt down the middle, the torn fabric falling on either side of your body as he does the same with your bra with a quick snap of his wrist. 
“What are you doing?!” You shout, but you can’t fool him now. He’s grown tired of your games and your body can’t lie to him. 
“Don’t worry, yawne. I’ll give you what you need,”
The sound of ripping material echoes through the otherwise peaceful forest. Your shorts require just a bit more force to tear, but it’s barely a percentage of his full strength so the fabric comes apart at the seams easily leaving the ruined bottoms still around your waist and thighs, but a large opening right at your center. A rumble of satisfaction builds in his chest when he smells you, the first scent of your arousal permeating the air around you. You gasp when he rips your panties too, leaving nothing left of the light blue material but the thin elastic around your limbs and hips. 
His mouth waters at the sight of your pretty pussy, bare and tempting and already getting so wet for him. 
“Fuck,” You whimper, arms splayed out beside you, fingers gripping into the moss covered ground. 
“You like it when I’m rough, huh?” Neteyam teases. “When I’m demanding and just take what I want from you?”
You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the way he can see your pussy’s responding clench is damning to your denial. 
“I remember now,” Neteyam’s hand slides down your thigh and caresses your calf, long fingers wrapping around your leg as he presses a nipping kiss to your ankle just above your sock. “You loved how I shoved you down on the ground that night. It made you gush in your pretty little tewng, didn’t it?”
“S-shut up,”
“Hm, my muntxate likes being handled roughly, doesn’t she?”
Your response is a shocked squeal when he snatches your hips, hauling you up off the forest floor, the quick snapping of moss ripping from the ground as you’re abruptly pulled upwards. Your entire world is turned upside down as Neteyam dangles you like prey in front of him. He throws your legs over his shoulders and wraps a secure arm around your stomach to hold your lower back to his chest. The other hand holds onto your thigh to make sure to keep you spread before him as if you had any chance to wiggle away. 
A choked sob rips from your throat as your hands reach for the ground, blood rushing to your head as your fingers stretch as far as they can trying to get leverage and hold yourself up. Your fingertips only just barely graze the soft green. 
Neteyam groans as he enjoys the sight right in front of his face. You’re spread open for him, pussy perfectly framed by the destroyed fabric - dripping and glistening in want against the dimming sunlight despite yourself. He can see how you subconsciously contract and clench it, hole practically begging him to fill it with his tongue. He wants to bury his face in it, suffocate on your smell and taste until it’s all he can think about. 
So he does. 
He digs his face between your legs, tongue lapping at your folds like a man starved. He is. He didn’t get to do this your first time. It was too fast, too desperate. He couldn’t control himself with you. Everything about you calls to him like a siren, luring him in with your beauty and light. You dragged him down on top of you that night. You were already open, you told him - had fucked yourself with that fake cock he had found hidden in your drawers during an impromptu hangout in your bedroom at the lab. You still felt suffocatingly tight when he pushed in, but he had been grateful that he didn’t have to wait.
He had waited so long for the chance to be inside you that he felt like if he had waited another second without you he would have exploded. 
Your back arches as he licks up your slit, moaning loudly as his textured tongue slides across your clit. 
“Oh my god,” You gasp out, hands forgoing reaching for the ground and finding purchase on his thighs instead. “Neteyam, f-fuck,”
He hums in response, his tongue targeting the sensitive bundle of nerves, sliding and flicking relentlessly against the small bud as your moans and gasps get louder and louder. Your sounds are driving him crazy, the taste of you on his tongue setting every one of his nerves on fire. His cock is already hard, already working its way past his wet slit and tenting in his tewng. You taste so good, so perfect for him. He wonders what it feels like for you, how good it must feel for you to be writhing in his grip now, so vocal for him in your pleasure that your voice is already starting to sound a bit raspy from use. He bets his tongue feels better than any other man you’ve ever tried, the texture of it foreign and unique and unlike anything else you’ve ever had before. 
It will be the same way for him too, he’s sure. He’s dreamed about it, fantasized and jerked off to the thought of your tongue, soft and silky, running up and down his cock. You’d torture him with it, be teasing and delicate in your licks, alternating between those featherlight, barely there teases against his lavender tip and firmer strokes down the base of his cock. 
Your nails are digging into the meat of his thighs as he wraps his lips around your clit, panting breaths telling him yes, right there, Teyam, fuck, fuck, yes as your hips try to hump against his face. You’re right there, right on the edge, ready to fall over it with just a little bit more.
But he stops, reveling in your frustrated groan as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked core. His intense golden eyes meet yours when your head forces its way up, raspy voice whining a desperate ‘why’ as you feel your orgasm slipping away from you. 
“Tell me you’re mine,” He demands. He needs to hear you say it. 
“Teyam…” 
He can’t bear to hear you deny him again. Can’t handle hearing you say the words that make him feel like his heart has been dunked in acid.
His lips latch onto your clit again, sucking harshly at the tiny bud and your words cut off with a gasp. He works you back up, your head falling back as he nips at your clit with his sharp teeth before licking down your slit to circle your entrance. You’re so tight, so so so tight around his tongue as he pushes it in. You clench around the wet muscle and then somehow clench even tighter when the hand gripping your thigh reaches over to rub firm circles on your clit.
“Teyam, oh god, Neteyam, please!” You beg, thighs squeezing his head as they try to force themselves closed. “I’m gonna cum. Please,”
You wail as he pulls his mouth away again, your hole clenching around nothing as your orgasm dissipates again. 
“Say it,” He feels your whole body shiver as his words breathe hot air on your sensitive cunt. “You’re mine. Say it, y/n,”
You sob, frustration evident in every sound and twitch your body makes. You’re trying to lift your head again, looking up at him from your spot dangling below him like a puppet, and he wonders if all the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is getting to you. 
“Say it,” He repeats and then digs back in, the flat of his tongue roughly swiping over your clit before latching onto it again.
Your legs kick as he works you up again, overstimulated pussy throbbing as he plays you like an instrument he’s known for years. His cock is throbbing too, desperate to be released from the confines of his tewng and shown some attention. He wants so badly to push inside your soaking hole and feel how it’ll grip his cock within its slick walls. 
“Neteyam, please!” You cry, and he knows you’re so close, right there again as he hurdles you back towards that just out of reach edge. He doesn’t stop the suction of his mouth. You’ll say it, he knows you will. You’ll say it because if you don’t, you won’t get to cum. He’ll keep you here, upside down in his unrelenting hold until you pass out from exhaustion before he’s going to let you go without saying it. 
You’re a stubborn brat. He can see as he looks down your hanging body that you’re biting your lip. You want to say it - you’re just being stubborn. He sucks harder on the swollen bud, free hand smacking your hip and your asscheek just hard enough to make you cry and gush further on his tongue, the remaining remnants of your clothes doing very little to muffle the sting. 
“Okay!” You yell. “Okay, okay, Neteyam! I’ll say it! I’m yours! Please, please let me cum!”
The words make Neteyam’s chest tighten. Finally. Finally, you’ve admitted it, and the excitement from the admission urges him to lick you faster. He’s sloppy and greedy as he eats you out, overeager and face wet to the point of dripping as he devours you for all you have. You cum on his tongue with a choked scream, hands reaching up to grab desperately at his arm encircling your waist, nails digging into the cerulean flesh as your back arches and your thighs clench tightly around his head. 
He swallows everything you offer him, lapping up your juices like his favorite most treasured treat, before placing a protective hand on your back to steady you as he lowers you back down to safety.
“Mawey, yawne,” Neteyam coos, gently brushing away a few rogue pieces of moss stuck to your sweaty forehead. You’re still panting, exhaustion creeping over you as your eyes glaze over and threaten to close. The oxygen tube had unhooked from around your ear at some point during your experience upside down. Neteyam guides it back around your ear with careful fingers. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Keep being a good girl while I fuck you, yes?”
Your eyes widen at the mention of fucking, shaking your head slightly even as the full bodied shivers of the orgasm’s aftershocks continue to wrack your body. “N-no, Teyam. C-can’t take i-it.”
Neteyam smiles, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss against your lips. The feel of your lips on his is almost enough to make him cum. He’s so worked up already, so high off the taste of your cunt on his tongue that all it takes is the loving press of your lips on his and he’s a second away from exploding in his tewng and ruining the fun. 
“Yes, you can,” He says against your lips, his sharp teeth digging into your plush bottom lip just to hear you whine. 
Last time he fucked you, he took you from the front. It was love making, a bonding of two souls coming together as one - a spiritual experience filled with panting breaths, eye contact, and the passionate coupling that comes with mating with the one your heart belongs to. 
You don’t deserve that right now, not with the way you’ve hurt him - made him work for the love that should have been given freely. The things you said can’t just be forgotten. You need him to prove his worthiness to you? Prove his loyalty? Then fine, he’ll do that by giving you exactly what you deserve.
You yelp when he flips you over on your stomach, large hands grabbing your hips and hauling them up so your ass is in the air and on display for him. The remaining fabric of your shorts still cover nearly half of your ass, but the little coverage does nothing to diminish the amazing view. You try to push yourself up with your arms, but Neteyam is quick to shove you back down with a hand on the back of your neck. 
“No, no, tìyawn,” He says, running a large hand over your exposed ass, his fingers teasing along the creamy slit of your pussy. “You said you’re mine, so let me see what’s mine.”
His teasing fingers find your hole and his teeth dig into his lower lip when he sees your thigh start trembling as he circles your entrance with the pad of his finger. You like it rough, he has to remind himself. You’re a human, so delicate compared to him that he naturally wants to be gentle with you. But that got him nowhere, it got him ignored. You respond to roughness, passion, him taking charge - so he doesn’t give you any warning before he’s plunging two long fingers inside you all the way to the knuckle.
You scream, slick walls squeezing around his fingers, your own hands once again ripping at the moss below you. The scream is agonized, oversensitive and pained from your earlier edging and orgasm. Your thighs are shaking, desperate sobs erupting from your throat. But the way you’re pushing back against him, rocking back against his invading fingers trying to get them deeper inside you tell him everything he needs to know. 
“Look at you,” He coos. His fingers start up a steady rhythm, thrusting inside you with purpose as he stretches you open. “Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?”
Your moans are muffled against the ground, cheek pressed firmly against the moss from his hand pinning you down by his neck. You ignore his question, too lost in trying to push back against his hand and make him fuck you faster - so he rips his fingers from your gripping cunt, drops of your wetness flying from the force of his retreat, and his large hand lands harshly on your backside. 
You howl at the smack, the sound of the slap against direct skin this time cracks through the forest like a gunshot. 
“I asked if you’re my whore,” Neteyam repeats. It’s not as romantic as ‘I’m yours’, but still just as important. 
“Yes, Teyam,” You whine. “I’m your whore.”
“Just for me, right? Only my whore,” Silence again, but your hips are still wiggling and searching for his fingers, so he rewards your silence with another sharp smack. “Say it, yawne,”
“Fuck!” You cry, ass feeling like it's on fire even as more of your slick drips down your thighs. “Yes, yes! Only for you, Teyam. Only for you,”
“Good girl,” Neteyam purrs, and you’re rewarded this time with his fingers sliding back inside your aching pussy. 
He stretches you out on those two fingers, alternating between scissoring them inside you and curling them to rub at that special spongy spot that makes you squeal and see stars. He contemplates adding a third, but decides that he wants to finish stretching you out on his cock instead. 
This time when you cum, it's less of a scream and more of a deep guttural groan that comes from deep inside you. It’s wetter than he expects it to be when you squeeze around his fingers, and the sight of your slick dripping from your mound onto the forest floor beneath you makes him feel absolutely feral. 
He lets go of the back of your neck and pulls his fingers from your abused cunt. The wet fingers work frantically at the knots on his tewng and he feels like he can’t get the fucking thing off fast enough. When the knots come undone and the tan material flutters to the ground, he breathes a sigh of relief, thick needy cock springing from its confines to slap against his belly. 
When he focuses back on you, your exhausted body is already trying to curl in a ball, eyes threatening to close as sleep calls to you. No, Neteyam thinks. He’s not done with you yet.
He flips you back on your stomach, pulling your hips back up high so they’re flush with his. You both groan as he rubs his hard cock between your folds, the tip nudging at your swollen clit. Fuck, you feel so good, pussy feeling like silk against his aching length. His eyes are locked onto where he’s lining his head with your entrance, watching in awe as he nudges himself forward, your greedy hole welcoming him in like you’ve been doing this forever. He can’t control his sounds, grunts and moans of pleasure echoing loudly through the trees as he sinks himself inside your slick walls. You’re so tight, even with the amount he’s stretched you out already you’re still so tight. But you stretch around him like you were made for him, made to take his cock into your depths - like your insides already know the exact shape of him and welcome him back into their warm embrace.
You whimper as he fills you up, back arching and hands clawing at the ground like you’re both trying to get away from him and closer to him at the same time. 
“I fucked you so good, didn’t I?” He gunts, pulling halfway out of your gripping pussy before slamming back in, relishing in the tortured moan it pulls from you. “That night by the fire. Made you cum so many times, over and over again until you were so cock drunk you couldn’t speak.”
He pulls out again, just a little further this time before thrusting back in. He does it again, and again, the rhythm hard and unforgiving and he pulls your hips closer to his. In the back of his mind he fears that he’s being too mean, too rough, but your gasping hiccups and blissed out sighs contain any worry. This is as much for him as it is for you anyway. He’s allowed to be selfish. 
“You’re always so talkative,” He pants. “Where’s that pretty voice now, huh? You were so talkative that night, just endless pleas of my name falling from your gorgeous lips. Like music to my ears. I wanna hear it again. Please, yawne?”
“Mmh, please,” You whine. “Please, Teyam,”
“Please what?”
“Faster,” You beg. “Fuck me faster,”
Who is he to deny such a sweet and pretty thing?
He leans forward, body curling over yours to cover you completely, one of his hands grabbing yours and linking your fingers together as he presses them both against the ground. His other hand is still on your hip, using it as leverage as he fucks your puffy pussy faster, the tip of his cock barreling against your cervix with each snap of his hips. 
He can feel the knot on the base of his cock swelling, the large ball of tissue nudging at your entrance with each thrust. The instinct driven part of him urges him to push harder against you, to force the knot against your tight hole to see if it will fit. 
He didn’t knot you that night, not wanting to risk hurting you or getting you pregnant so fast with such a new relationship. He came inside you with his fist wrapped tightly around his knot instead. Na’vi bonds are forever. Human bonds . . . now he’s not so sure. He’s not willing to risk it anymore. He’s going to bond with you in every way he knows how. 
When he feels his orgasm creep up his spine, he lets instinct take over. His grip on your hip tightens, thrusts halting as he presses the enlarged ball against your soaked entrance. 
You gasp, whimpering as his knot stretches you more. “Oh god, wait, wait,”
But it's too late. With another determined shove, the knot pops inside you and he has you trapped, locked on his cock until time decides to free you. 
“Neteyam, i-it’s too b-big,” You whine, shock evident in your voice. “Hmh, so full,”
Neteyam plants soothing kisses on the back of your head and neck, the hand on your hip smoothing around your belly to caress the large bulge of the outline of his cock in your stomach. “I know, tìyawn. I know. It’s so much, but you’re doing so well. Just a little more for me, okay?”
He can’t thrust now, can't even so much as pull out an inch now that he’s locked inside you. So, he makes you do the work. He keeps one hand on the bulge in your tummy, the other hand coming down to rub relentlessly at your throbbing clit. The stimulation makes you keen, pussy clenching and tightening around him and working his aching length with your wet walls. 
His fingers on your clit are your undoing. He barely hears any noise from you as your orgasm hits, but this time he’s able to see the side of your face as you come undone. Your eyes roll back into your head, mouth opening in a silent scream, but it's like all the breath has been stolen from your lungs. Your body tenses, muscles shaking through the overwhelming pleasure, and he feels as much as he hears how you gush and squirt all over his teasing digits and the ground below you. 
He moans at the sight, the feel of your pussy clenching around his length and the wetness from your orgasm on his fingers and cock makes him tip over the edge. His orgasm crashes through him, tearing him apart as he spills himself inside you. His cum paints your walls, and his knot makes sure to keep every single drop of it inside you. 
Neteyam collapses next to you, shaking as the aftershocks roll through him, and pulls your limp body safely against his. It will be at least an hour before the knot’s swelling goes down enough before he’s able to slip out. You let out a moan of pain as the knot pulls at your entrance as he adjusts you, but he sushes you.
“Relax, ma yawne. I’ll take care of you.” He coos. “Oel ngati kameie,”
You don’t say it back. You don’t even hear him, already dead to the world as your exhaustion finally catches up with you. 
It’s okay. He knows in his heart that one day soon, you’ll say it back.
Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @quicktosimp (cause you said you liked yanderes)
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throwaway-yandere · 1 year
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"If the pedestal is beautiful, then the statue must be even more beautiful." (Yandere!Zhongli/reader)
a/n: I do not regret this one bit. while i do feel bad abt yaoyao's suffering, at least i wrote something unhinged again + it aint a zhongli fic without me referencing proverbs lMAO--
unreliable synopsis: “(Y/n) must be a really important person if Rex Lapis made them a statue, right?”
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Yaoyao found a realistic statue inside Mt. Hulao.
As she was exploring the area with Qiqi to find herbs, Yaoyao discovered a secret domain that was only accessible to children her size and smaller creatures like Yuegui. It was horribly muddy and extremely narrow. She wouldn't go there on purpose if she hadn't fallen inside after exhausting herself trying to climb a hill just for a stem of violetgrass.
She anticipated a dense mixture of dust and fog inside the cave, with layers of spiderweb adornments, but it was unexpectedly unscathed with the typical filth that embellishes a place over time. The table was piled high with multiple apparatuses that she was unable to identify, but its aesthetics screamed that it was an adeptus' prideful handiwork. Despite not being refused entry as most adeptal abode should do, she came to an unspoken conclusion that this must have been an adeptus' place, and her curiosity grew by the minute when she noticed a life-sized statue sitting in the middle of it all.
Yaoyao was unable to take her eyes off it as a halo of soft yet lurid orange light enveloped it. The statue wore a brown hanfu that was encrusted with citrine jewels fashioned into dragons and the Geo element's symbol. Their clothes looked ruffled on areas near the waist and thighs as though it was frequently hugged and touched around those parts. But what Yaoyao couldn’t forget the most was their black earring with a white tassel that hung on their right ear. She can't recall who she saw wearing that earring when she first saw it, but she had certainly seen it before.
Admittedly, the statue was nearly perfect if it weren’t for the fracture the child had caused upon bumping into it. Yaoyao would have mistaken it for a real person and apologized if it weren't for the diaphanous and stony texture it possessed.
Still, the farrago between real and fake stirred around the lost child’s head as if it was a major dilemma. She swears she had seen that earring somewhere and that chipping its pointer finger off the statue was an inexcusable and grave mistake. Was this statue designed after someone in history or a character from those fictional tales Master loved to talk about? Yaoyao couldn’t decide which is a likelier story, but she certainly didn’t want it to be the former.
In addition, what made it eerier was the anticipation of calamity on their face. It’s a look not at all visible. The majority would undoubtedly dismiss Yaoyao's perspective and assert that the monument exuded a stoic aura. But if such were the case, why does she see the look of a rabbit about to flee in their eyes? The statue’s face exhibited a great firmness that declared that it wasn't as it appeared on the outside.
The statue looked like it was fearing for Yaoyao’s life after what she had done.
To avoid amplifying her trepidation, the young girl focused her attention elsewhere. Near the statue laid a red baize-covered table full of tapestries and books Yaoyao could only reach by tip-toeing and underneath it was stacked with clothes, herbs, vulneraries, and letters without indications of the sender or addressee’s name. If so many offerings were being made, then someone really cared about whoever this statue stood for. A commendable devotion considering how the last letter was only dated about two days ago.
Whoever this statue was and whoever maintained this shrine must’ve mortified a penchant for humorous literature and scientific breakthroughs. It would've been a strange combination if it weren’t for how everything was aesthetically arranged. It was obvious that the domain was kept immaculate out of love and adoration. Under the watchful gaze of this statue, philosophy and science had united into one entity, and Yaoyao was positively enthralled.
However, it was a seasonable night and due to the touch of Nyctophobia children inevitably have, Yaoyao couldn’t tell the murky difference between excitement and fear as she quickly stumbled out of the cave. 
When Yaoyao came back the following week after a busy lantern rite, the domain’s opening vanished. She brought Qiqi along and attempted to show her in quailing distress that asked for confirmation that should’ve been a hole in that wall— but Yaoyao was only met with the zombie’s catchphrase of: “I’m sorry. I forgot.” 
There was no reinvasion of the cave's darkness. Not a single hump was left to indicate that something was concealed behind it.
And that led to Yaoyao hunting a certain “illuminated bird” down.
——————
“Aunty! Aunty!”
“Must you grate One's ears with your incessant shouting, child?”
The bird continued to coast on its two legs while Yaoyao halted in her tracks, gasping for air. Although Yaoyao found it excruciating to attempt to keep up with the adeptus' quick treks in the mountains, it was obvious to any outside viewers that the crane was being merciful with her slow and tiny steps.
“P-Please stop aunty! I-I just want to ask a few questions!”
Cloud Retainer sighed and did as commanded.
After letting her describe the location and what she had seen inside it, Cloud Retainer nodded in the affirmation that what Yaoyao experienced truly happened. Yaoyao felt triumphant when the adeptus did not dismiss her babbling as some silly delusion, but she was unable to completely express it when she noticed a glimpse of sadness in her eyes.
“Of course it was real. One knows that location quite well, but One was never permitted to enter. That statue you spoke of would be none other than Rex Lapis’ depiction of (Y/n), the Wayward Pharmacist.”
(Y/n)?
Softly, the adeptus continued, “oh, (Y/n)… One remembers them rather fondly.”
Cloud Retainer did not raise her chin or adopt her customary condescending tone. Instead, her message matched her voice. Yaoyao was not the least bit confused by this sudden shift in demeanor.
They both know that name.
After all, (Y/n) (L/n) was Streetward Rambler’s first human disciple.
Yaoyao never inquires about (Y/n) with her master. All of Madame Ping's disciples were aware that they shouldn't broach the matter. Grief swarmed against Streetward Rambler so frequently that she bathed herself with distractions to wash away the acuteness of such regrets. She had done the most of what she could to relieve certain difficulties she had over the years, including mastering inventions and raising mortal children. While the majority of these were in her favor, the final diversion was less successful. 
How can it not be painful when Streetward Rambler always sees (Y/n)’s old cheerful and ambivert nature in Xiangling and Yaoyao's eyes?
This was a rare chance to learn more about (Y/n) than just the faceless figure that her Master frequently likens her to. Madame Ping only ever briefly narrated (Y/n)’s deeds. Yaoyao relied heavily on individuals around her for her adepti history knowledge because she wasn't book-learned enough. Hence, inflicting a sense of confidence that she did not fully possess, the child continued to inquire.
“What were they like, Aunty?”
“You must understand how broad that question is.”
“Oh, r-right. Sorry!” Yaoyao sheepishly laughed. “I wanted to ask what was their personality like. Did they have friends? Or, well, what did they do?”
“(Y/n) was…” Cloud Retainer chuckled. Yaoyao couldn’t see a smile, but she heard it from her laughter. “—an obnoxious human.”
“E-Eh?!…” Yaoyao trembled. “S-Should I be worried that Master always compares me to (Y/n), aunty?”
“What nonsense— of course not. Take such compliment with high honor!” The bird towered her gaze above Yaoyao, clearly offended. Effectively, it seemed as if Yaoyao’s needless worries kindled afresh the snobbish Cloud Retainer everyone knew of. “There are only a few humans One regard as almost equals. Their obnoxiousness is what makes them wholly endearing and wholly human. If there was one true flaw One would nitpick out of all their traits, it would be their inherent obsession with longevity.”
Cloud Retainer shook her head. “Rex Lapis often debated with them over this, but (Y/n) was a stubborn mortal. Many occasions led to them being confined in a miniature domain that he keeps in his pockets. We did not agree with their dreams of becoming immortal. But other than that? (Y/n) was a humble loyalist.”
Yaoyao was inclined to believe that she was right because there were a few biological research sprinkled across the statue's domain. She had even read portions concerning Inazuman beliefs regarding stress and "ikegai" which might be related to a human's lifespan.
“Rex Lapis liked them despite arguing with him a lot?”
“Why, if you were there, you would see how adorable they were whenever they deluded themselves they could win a debate against an Archon,” the bird quipped humorously.
"Immortality had always been (Y/n)'s goal. One often told them to not be afraid of death or die worthlessly, but they never listened. They even tried to curse themselves to accomplish this, and astonishingly, they almost succeeded if it weren't for the Conquerer of Demons' unsleeping vigilance while acting on Rex Lapis' orders. The Archon always has an affectionate expression on his face when they pout over his interferences. One would have jokingly said that her friend is in love with a mortal if One didn't know any better."
“Wow…” Yaoyao covered her mouth with her tiny hands in awe. Neither of them seemed to realize that something was incredibly off about that ‘fun tidbit’. “(Y/n) must be smart if they constantly got Rex Lapis’ protection!”
“Indeed they were— were you doubting One’s abilities?! Had One not said they were close to One’s competency?”
“Ah, right.”
“They were an obnoxiously hard-working individual. Grinding their bones in hopes to grant impediments as a rival to Guizhong and I’s intellectual plays. (Y/n) lived a short life filled with effort and virtue, it is to no one’s surprise that Rex Lapis had conceived a great liking towards them,” she mused.
“Rex Lapis nearly caved and made them immortal at one point. However, he changed his mind after finding out (Y/n) had a human lover…” Cloud Retainer closed her eyes. “Perhaps that was an act of mercy. An Archon’s goodwill so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the fate of grieving for their beloved for all eternity.”
If only she knew the truth.
“They must be really important if they got a statue,” Yaoyao tilted her head, emanating a soft chime from her bell accessory. “Master only said that they were very kind and that they had a lover with green hair, and—”
“And?”
The adeptus was interested to learn what her old acquaintance talked about (Y/n). Did the grandmother compliment them on how cute they were? How, in essence, they were one of her greatest sources of delight and pride? Before Streetward Rambler took up the name “Madame Ping”, these were the typical musings she had over tea with both her and Guizhong. In a sense, Cloud Retainer merely pressed the question because she missed these times—
“And that they had a nice big family around Qingce Village! Two sons, one daughter!”
Cloud Retainer made a choking sound.
Impossible.
“Family?! Goodness gracious, it seemed Streetward Rambler has turned into quite a fabulist over time,” Cloud Retainer shook her head. “No, (Y/n) (L/n) unfortunately did not produce such a legacy.”
Legacy?
“I’m so sorry, I don’t get it, aunty. What do you mean?”
“They did not leave a child for me— for us to look after.”
Cloud Retainer cringed at her uncontrollably bitter tone. There was a point in her life where she cursed (Y/n) for this. Death was not something they can control— yes— but she used to be an ignorant fool who did not respect (Y/n)’s decision to never have children. Perhaps, in a way, this was because she wanted to see a new generation of like-minded people like them, but she will never forget the uneasy looks they gave her whenever she launched into one of her rants.
They may have been Streetward’s disciple but to Cloud? She was like their true mother. Much like most mothers of the old generation, she selfishly wished they left behind even a non-blood related grandchild for her to rear after (Y/n)’s name.
“They… have gone missing. They did not die with a family of their own— we did not even find their corpse. One does not know why Streetward Rambler would tell you that.”
“Oh… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know... It must’ve been a sad loss for the adepti and everyone else.”
Cloud Retainer only looked away.
“There was no pecuniary loss for us when it had happened, sure,” she said. “But yes, it was indeed a sad time for the adepti to lose both Guizhong and (Y/n) at the same time. There could’ve been a new province of knowledge and ventures— these virtues of arts were never grasped because death had stolen their privilege of penning down their strange yet wonderful conjectures.”
“Time and time again, they had failed to accentuate any alterations in their mortal structure,” she continued. “While others sought out their writings regarding their enlightened art pieces, few looked for their progress on human mortality. One only remembers a singular human who came to find (Y/n)’s transcendental medicines. One believes his name was Baizhu. If One’s explanations were inadequate, perhaps you must seek him instead.”
Yaoyao perked up. Well, that’s lucky. She was just about to head to Bubu Pharmacy to look for the pharmacist later.
“Ah, there you are, Yaoyao!!!”
Out of the blue, Ganyu and a face unfamiliar to the adeptus disrupted the scene. This human had indigo braids wrapped up in a tight bow for hair and amber eyes. Had it not been for Ganyu and a cute little bear clumsily climbing the stairs behind her, Cloud would’ve left immediately.
“Marchosius, it has been a long time...”
“♪~?”
“Woah… Is that Cloud Retainer, Ganyu?” The unfamiliar human gawked.
“That is that. One will no longer entertain questions. One shall take their leave at once.” The adeptus did not waste another moment upon noticing Xiangling’s curious gaze. However, Cloud did give Marchosius a look of respect before taking flight.
The little girl frowned.
“Yaoyao?”
“Oh, sorry,” Yaoyao smiled forcefully. “I just remembered I didn’t get to ask her the most important question.”
“Hmm? What question were you going to get an adeptus’ advice for?” Ganyu placed a hand on her chest. “Perhaps I could help? I may not know all the answers, but I do have some connections.”
“I’m just curious…”
Yuguei jumped off the basket as Yaoyao hastily removed it from behind her. The smaller adepti treasure leaped over her head and peered attentively over as if to assist her in locating the object she was seeking. When she did grasp it, she did not do so carefully. Instead, she held it out like a young child showing off a crayon during show & tell.
Ganyu and Xiangling’s blood ran cold as the child presented them with a dismembered finger.
“Ganyu, do statues made by the adepti bleed?”
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Hi! Can i ask for a self aware twst when the reader surprises adopted Silver as their son. Like just pointing at him and saying 'you are my child now' with Silver, Lilia and Sebek. Hope you have a good day!
Hehe. Anon, you know what you are doing. In fact, I would say you even want the chaos. And for that I love you come here so I can hug you.
Self-aware au
I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!
WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Diasomnia chapter spoilers (Lilias part, maybe Sebek), religion, violence, isolation, kidnapping, obsessive behavior
Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Silver/Sebek Zigvolt-Adopting Silver
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Oh ok. Cool cool coolcoolcoolcoolcool
Well, at least that one room dedicated to you in the form of an altar can now be used for more practical uses (finally)
When Lilia heard you say those words and point at his son, he fell from the chandelier he was dangling from
Not only did he have to navigate through not accidentally telling his son that he was the blood related son of an enemy general and that exactly this general killed Malleus mom
But also that he had now a second parent that also happened to be god
Mhm totally normal
Conversations to strangers about his family were already playing out like this in his head:
Hi, I am Lilia Vanrouge, yes the one in your history book, this is my son Silver, yes he looks like a certain knight, and my lovely partner and also parent of this lovely human, yes, FU**ING GOD THEMSELVES
Ah yes, sitting in church will totally not be awkward after this
Bro legit sits you down with a pen and paper, asking you to sign the marriage certificate
Asks you what flowers you want to have on your wedding. Doesn't matter if you are a woman, man or identify as something else, he is planning that
Also has already planned out how to get you into the Valley of Thorns without anyone noticing
Because no matter how devoted he is to you, he will always be too greedy to share your attention with someone else
You could have said this as a joke or some other protective instinct towards the silver-haired male but all that man's father hears is a marriage proposal
Lilia is just happy that you feel some sort of positive way to his family member (makes things easier when you are stuck in that cabin)
I mean, he did see Silver as a present from you, a child meant to bring him back to the light after being so long in the shadow of war
And now the three of you were together! How lovely!
Which would mean that you planned this all along. Dear Overseer, if you liked the idea of you being a family you could have just told him so
He will be the best partner to raise a child together you could dream of
And should someone dare to interrupt the perfect, peaceful life you three (plus two more) had, he wouldn't mind swinging that sword again
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Wait what?
What do you mean with that?
Are you sure you want him to be your son? Really?
Apparently he was not the only one surprised since he could hear the thud of his father falling to the ground behind him and Seek screaming somewhere behind him
Be prepared for a silver haired knight to look at you with the biggest puppy eyes and ask "Do you really want me as you son?"
Critical hit! Someone call a doctor. I think the Valley of Thorns god can be killed by cuteness
After that he is glued to your side (even though you have to part sooner or later since he is not living in Ramshackle)
One morning you woke up to the guy standing there with some food being like "I made some food."
Like where the Heck did he even get the keys for the dorm? (He broke in through a hole in the ceiling)
Silver always comes running to you whenever he does something and wants praises
Once he was best in one of his classes and he stood there with the report like he could turn into a dog and get headpats from you any second
But, as I am sure you are aware of, this is a blog with yandere themes and we have to say goodbye to the fluff at some point
That sword training comes in handy is all I'm saying
I mean, he has probably enough strength to break someone's leg with his bare hands by simply applying some pressure
And that one Diasomnia student that tried to take his son-status away from him was found again in a not-so-compatible-state-with-life kind of situation
I'm letting you imagine what happened
Like Lilia he is ready to burn everyone who dares to interfere with your little family
The forests of his homeland are pretty though so no need to worry about the appearance of your surroundings once they bring you to your new home (who needs social interaction anyways?)
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A second of silence
And then the screaming started
“OH HOW KIND OF OUR OVERSEER! TO SHOW A MORTAL THEIR KINDNESS AND CARING SIDE!”
Seek would be lying if he said that he wasn't surprised
You, aka the Overseer, aka some higher being, AKA GOD, were known in the Valley of Thorns to be kind and caring, yet also distant and never approaching others directly
But then you literally adopt someone, making that person someone in your inner cycle?
Well, if Sebek knew one thing then that those Priests were going to have a crisis as soon as they learned about this
Totally not jealous
He would try to get closer to you since, apparently, you did allow others to get close to you
But he was happy as long as you were
After all, he was now the (not-so-official appointed) shield of the Valley of Thorns, something he got passed on by his grandfather
So of course he couldn't be family with you
That didn't mean he couldn't “help” you
Someone intruded on that dinner you had with Lilia and Silver?
Ouch… that punch must have hurt
Whenever Silver or his Father had to interfere because someone else came too close then they were some incredibly slick (looking at you Rook) or lucky person
Don't let his loud mouth fool you
This crocodile has done unmentionables in your name in order to make things easier for your new found family
For what? Oh you know, becoming his neighbor back home… forever
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lovverletters · 2 months
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Been waiting for this lol
*Ahem* I introduced Yan husband! Finally, after years of waiting and stalking and murdering (if that's cool), he finally has you! He worships you every day and reminds you how lucky he is, and he tells everyone how he's so lucky and how you're perfect!
Yandere! Husband
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A/N : Thanks for requesting! Hope you like it, 🌻 anon!
T/W : soft yandere, stalking, implied murder, non consentual photographing, stealing items, this is late asf
«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»
"Honey, do you remember how we met?"
[Name] asked their husband of 6 years as they flip through their old journal, reliving their countless embarrassing, bitter and sweet memories of their youth.
They had been sifting through the storage closet earlier when they stumbled upon a box containing their old belongings dating back from when they were still studying in high school until they got married to their husband, Derek.
"Of course I do, it's the day I met the love of my life" He says with a smile on his face.
"Psh.. you're so cheesy Derry" [Name] swatted their husband's shoulder playfully, flustered at his words.
"What? I'm being honest. Every moment spent with you is unforgettable" A dark glint was present in his eyes as he uttered his reply.
How could he ever forget the day he met his beloved [Name]?
«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»
Derek had been in his senior year of high school by the time he met [Name].
They had only recently moved to his hometown and enroll to the high school. He could still recall their timid expression as they asked him for directions, at that moment Derek brushed off the encounter as a one time thing.
He was graduating and they were a junior, he'll probably won't see them again.
Until Derek started to bump into [Name] more frequently albeit it being only a coincidence. [Name] would notice his presence and greeted him with a small wave everytime they pass by each other in the hallway or waiting in line during lunch.
Eventually, he finally spoke to them one day. It felt odd for him to be around them yet never uttering a single word.
It was the best decision he ever made.
"Uhㅡhey" Derek cursed himself inwardly for choking on his words.
[Name]'s eyes widened, spooked to hear him talk to them. They mustered up a crooked smile after recollecting themself to reply to him.
"Derek, hi. Sorry, I was on my phone that I didn't notice you behind me"
From then, something shifted in him. Their conversation faded into a white noise in his ears as his thoughts became fixated in [Name]'s voice.
He had heard them speak before but it felt different when they're talking to him. Their voice engraving itself into his brain like an earworm.
It doesn't stop there, their interaction expanded as their friendship blooms. [Name] would seek him out on subjects they were struggling on despite having other student who would eagerly help themㅡ his heart swells with pride knowing that it's him whom they're relying on.
Derek would also began inviting them to his football practice as an excuse to invite them for an ice cream laterㅡ and to also flex his athleticism in hopes of receiving praises from them.
He's not stupid, he knows that he likes themㅡ loves them. Maybe he had been a fool for underestimating his feelings for them.
It had been an unfortunate timing that he had never been able to confess to [Name] as his graduation passes and he was wrapped up with preparing for his higher education.
Those times away and distance from [Name] were hellish. Derek felt his sanity wanning with each day passes and his thoughts were constantly thinking of [Name].
What are they doing, Where they're at, Who they're withㅡ They don't have a partner don't they? They didn't replace me did they?? I'll kill that bastard who took my placㅡ
He finally cracked after stalking through their social media page and seeing the other student having grown close to them within months of his absence.
Derek decided that he's had enough sitting around in the sidelines with an aching heart. He'll make his move and insured that [Name] will be his.
«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»
"I then drove back to back from my university to yours for years until I finally had enough and decided to ask you to move in with me" He traced the picture they took on their first day moving into his house.
[Name] snorted and pinched their husband's cheek, laughing as they teased him.
"Silly, you, I can't believe you rent out an apartment just because you can't be away from me anymore"
Derek huffed and flipped to the next page, tracing [Name]'s photo as he always does everytime he sees it.
"I love you too much, it hurt's to not be around your presence. I feel like I was going to die with each hour passes without you"
"Mmh sure, how come you never died after leaving me everytime you have to go back?" [Name] attempt at poking at their husband again.
Only to receive an unexpected answer.
"I never left" Derek uttered. No elaboration whatsoever.
Silence follows after as the cogs in [Name]'s brain turn to process what their sweet stupid dork husband just said.
Derek closed the journal shut and stood up, planting a kiss on their temple.
"I'm going to prepare dinner now. You better come and eat when I call you before continuing your clean up! No buts and ifs, okay love?" He gave them another kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.
Come to think of it, Derek had re-entered their life at a time where their newfound friend tragically passed in a mysterious incident. [Name] had been devastated and clung to Derek for comfort before it eventually delved into them being in a relationship with the man.
Everything was perfect. Too perfect if they had to be honest. It's almost as if he had planned it.
They shook off the thoughts and continued sorting through the old boxes when one of the contents surprised them.
It was the items they thought they had lost or threw away. But how could Derek have it when they had lost it before they begun dating. The polaroids were also odd as Derek weren't around during their senior year when it was takenㅡ if the dates marked was correct.
"Honey! Dinner's ready"
They'll ask him about it later.
«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»
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violet-butterflies · 8 months
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❥︎ yandere! Dilf
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❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ drugging, stalking, delusional, doing things without consent ( male yandere! oc x female reader ) Click to see part 2 !
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It was a sunny afternoon when yandere! dilf finally finished unloading his and his son's stuff into their new home. Due to work and terrible memories from his past marriage, he moved into a different town with his son to start a new life. He was just beginning to unpack everything when someone knocked on his door.
"Hi! I'm your neighbor! I noticed that you were spending the whole day just unloading stuff so I decided to make you and your son some lemonade!"
The voice came from a woman who had a jug of lemonade on a tray with a couple of glass cups to pour the citrus drink into. Yandere! dilf couldn't help but smile at the offer as his muscular hands take the tray from your hands as he sent a pearly white smile their way.
"Thanks! I really appreciate it. I'm yandere! dilf by the way," he introduced himself while his son hides behind his leg "and this is my son."
"I'm (y/n)! Well then, I'll see you around neighbor!" (y/n) then disappeared back into their house which was right beside his. At first, yandere! dilf thought that he liked them because of their kind gift but it was only going to escalate from there.
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It really surprised yandere! dilf a few days when he met (y/n) again only in the most unexpected place. He was picking his son up from kindergarten when he realized that you were there, playing with his son.
"(y/n)? What are you doing here?"
"Oh! This is really such a coincidence! I happen to be your son's kindergarten teacher!" she explained with a bright smile on her face as his son came rushing to hug him.
"I was only playing with him since all the kids left already and I didn't want him to be alone for too long"
Yandere! dilf felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"I'm really sorry about that. I've just been swamped with work and before I knew it, I was 2 hours late to pick him up."
You sent the muscular man a sympathetic smile.
"No, I completely understand... Does this mean that he's with babysitters most of the time?"
"That's what My plan is but well... it seems like I'm finding difficulty finding any babysitters in this neighborhood"
"If you'd like, I can babysit your son on the weekends? I happen to need some extra money but, don't worry, I won't charge a crazy amount. We're neighbors after all," she offered.
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Ever since (y/n) offered yandere! dilf to be his son's babysitter, he only began seeing more and more of you inside his house. Yandere! dilf only expected you to take care of his son but you always seemed to go above and beyond. Sometimes, if the house was messy you'd try to clean it as best you could. Or maybe when you knew that he'll be home late, you'd prepare a simple dinner for both his son and him.
"Don't worry about it! Being a single parent must be really hard so I'll try to help you as best as I can!" That was always the kind of answer you would give when yandere! dilf feels bad for having you do all the housework.
Slowly though, yandere! dilf can't help but feel like (y/n) was acting just like a stay-at-home wife for him and he liked it. He can't help but daydream of situations where you were actually his wife. Situations where he was sharing a bed with you or taking you out on dates or sometimes to the extent of either their marriage or what their future children would look like.
Yandere! dilf might not look like it but, he was completely smitten. He was scared however of you finding out that he had a fat massive crush on you since he was at least 7 years older than you. This crush caused him to be obsessive and overprotective of you.
"What if she finds someone better? What if she is seeing someone?" Those were the questions that always made him have a small panic attack. He can't afford to lose someone so perfect; someone, who proved herself to be the perfect wife for him.
So, yandere! dilf would set up cameras in his house and ask you to babysit all the time. This would mean that he could always see you playing with his son through his phone and it always makes his heart swell with joy. He loved seeing how well you were getting along with the most precious little human in his world which only boosts the idea of how you were the only perfect person to be his son's mother and his wife. Not only that, but to take it one step further, he loved to buy you some treats or drinks when he gets back from work. The only catch is that they were drugged so you'd always end up falling asleep in yandere! dilf's house. (Y/n) never found it too odd though since you always connected it to you being too exhausted by playing with yandere! dilf's son all day.
(Y/n) falling asleep in his house was a big win for yandere! dilf too. The drugs that he used would make (y/n) fall into such a deep sleep it would actually be impossible to wake you up. This would mean that he can take as many pictures as he can and make you sleep on the bed with him before he has to move you to a spare room before you wake up to avoid suspicion. He loves it when he gets to snuggle your smaller body on his bed; a bigger plus if his son decides to join in. It was as if you three were already a picture-perfect family that yandere!dilf always dreamed of. His phone gallery is now filled to the brim with pictures of his son and you. His phone wallpaper is (y/n), there was a group picture of (y/n), his son and him set as his computer wallpaper, and there was a picture of (y/n) and his son in his wallet; acting like the perfect family he always dreamed of.
"Oh, good morning (y/n)! You fell asleep here again. Don't worry about it though! Here I made us all breakfast!"
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 7 months
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Perfect Family
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Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: Peter knows you’re about to break up with him. So what’s the next logical step? Get you pregnant, obviously. 
WARNINGS: Babytrapping; Toxic relationship; Birth control Tampering. 
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
--
Peter knows exactly what you’re planning, after all he knows everything about you. You’re his other half, his soulmate. 
That’s how he knows you’re planning to break up with him. When he found out through the messages you had been sending your best friend he couldn’t believe his eyes.
How could you ever want that? You love him, he’s sure of that. 
You’re always telling him you love him, before you leave for your college or when you’re about to go to bed. Even if it’s with a blank face, rushing the words out of your mouth before you walk away, without a sincere smile. 
He makes sure to keep an update on the messages, his heart practically skipping a beat when you reveal your plan to break-up after your first-year anniversary, just a few weeks away.  
Peter forces himself to remain calm and to act as if he knows nothing, keeping up with the caring boyfriend’s character. He can’t raise suspicion now.
If his plan works out, you won’t be going anywhere.
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“I’m pregnant.” you declare with a shaky voice. Peter stops, the plate falling off his hold and crashing into the ground. 
“Peter, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know how this happened, I swear I took the birth control pills every day, I never missed them!” you exclaim, twisting your hands in anxiety.
Peter looks at you, his face completely expressionless and you fear the worst. You drop your head, panic starting to grow stronger. Peter is going to hate you for ruining everything.
You’re about to ruin both of your futures, but his especially. He wants to go to MIT, not become a dad so soon. 
“I’m truly so sorry and I-” Peter runs to you, elevating you into the air and swirling around as he lets out loud chuckles. 
“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a dad. Fuck, that’s the best news ever.” he exclaims, carefully dropping you back onto your feet. You clean the tears with the back of your hand, a small hopeful feeling growing inside you as you look at him. He looks radiant, much happier than what you had predicted. 
“R-Really? You’re not mad at me?” you hesitantly ask. Peter fondly smiles at you, cupping your cheek. 
“I could never be mad at you for this. It takes two to make a baby. Besides, it was always part of our future plans, right?” he says, dropping the last sentence with a lightly sketchy tone as if he’s waiting for you to agree but you ignore it, it’s probably your imagination acting up.
You can’t be a single-mother, you already know you won’t be able to deal with it and your child deserves to have both its father and mother together in their life, it’s the least you can do.
You can’t abandon Peter anymore. 
You nod as Peter drops on the ground, pressing his head against your belly. Your hand instinctively goes to his head, caressing his brown hair and his hand comes to cover your own. 
“This is perfect.” Peter whispers, pressing kisses towards your belly, where your baby is developing. “You, me and our baby. A perfect family.” 
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m-ayo-o · 2 months
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nsfw ! 18+ this went kinda dark... yandere vibes, unprotected sex, kidnapping, "bunny" calling, breeding, baby trap. satoru x afab reader
Thinking of playboy Satoru who has his own pretty playboy bunny 🐇
You're simply his toy and he always calls you over at his convenience, uses your cute holes and leaves you dripping with his cum.
"It's my gift, to you, bunny, you should be grateful."
He sinks his fingers in your hole and makes you cum on his hand.
"You know how many girls want this?"
He convinces you that you're lucky but you know he's doing the same thing with so many other girls.
So you stop seeing him and act up when he calls you, pretending you're busy, sauntering off with your friends as if getting fucked by him wasn't the highlight of your life.
It pisses him off to no end. Handling rejection was never his strong suit. And someone telling him no, well, it's unheard of.
So he hunts you down and stalks you, pouncing on you outside your apartment and dragging you in, telling you if you dare deny him again he'll steal you away and lock you up.
You scoff in his face and tell him he wouldn't dare kidnap you. People would notice.
But he has a deadly glint in his eyes when he wraps his fingers around your wrist and takes you to his sports car that's parked outside.
He buckles you in, takes you to his penthouse apartment and ties you to his bedframe, where you lay tethered for his amusement so he can use your pussy as his pass time.
And people do question where you are, so he brings you out on his arm and shows you off with a massive rock on your finger, proudly announcing your engagement and that you'll be so busy with the wedding preparations that you'll hardly be able to see your friends or family.
And as the wedding approaches he takes you off your birth control and starts fucking you with the sole intention to breed you, satisfied that your tummy is full of his seed when you vow to be his.
He knows he's done it now. He grins and purrs into your swollen breasts, knowing that soon they will be spilling with milk for your baby, his baby, and he's finally satisfied that you'll never leave.
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satoru | m.list
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