#yandere the goldfinch

[reareaotaku]

Run Away

Summary: Boris has taken a weird interest in you and you're not sure why Pairings: Yandere! Boris Pavlikovsky x Reader [Slight! Theo Decker x Reader] [Trigger/Content warning/Notes: Summary might be a little inaccurate.] I really enjoyed writing this

Boris liked you, like a lot. You were so different from him- nice, respectful, happy, and you had loving parents. He wanted to be like you so bad, because he craved loving parents. Maybe it was jealousy that caused him to lash out on you, but he hated this feeling.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you, but you ignored it. He was new to the school and the country, so you just assumed he was struggling to adjust. You didn't mean to be judgmental, but a part of you knew he was bad news, and you didn't want to get dragged down with him.

When the teacher's back was turned, you decided to finally turn towards Boris and side-eye him. Unluckily for you, he was also looking at you, so you made direct eye contact with him. It was the kind of eye contact you couldn't break- You were drawn to it like a magnet and your eyes burned from the urge to blink.

You finally looked away when the bell rang and packed up your things.

---

"Who are you looking at?"

Boris doesn't answer Theo. His mind was on Y/n and Theo was on the back burner. Theo realized he was being ignored and followed Boris' line of sight to see you eating with some friends.

"Oh, Y/n? Do you like her?" Theo asks nonchalantly.

"Like her? О, ни на одном языке нет слов, чтобы описать то, что я чувствую.¹" He sighs, leaning on his hand. He was enchanted and it was to late to drag him out.

Theo rolls his eyes before sighing. "You know I don't understand what you're saying..."

Theo's voice bleeds into the background as Boris' continues to watch you. He was hoping you could feel his stare and knew it was him.

---

You sighed, slamming the book shut. You leaned on your hand, before tapping your pen on your desk. You slowly blinked, clicking your tongue. Suddenly, there was a tap at your window. You quickly looked back, before hearing the tapping again. You slowly get up, before heading towards your window.

You slowly pull up the panel before looking out at the dark night. You try looking out, but it was to dark, so you turn around to get a light- Until you hear your name-

"Y/n!"

The voice was vaguely familiar, and you turned back out to your window. "Hello?"

"Y/n! Come down."

Your brows scrunch together as you try and look to see if you can see who's calling to you. "Who the hell is that?"

"It's Decker! Theo Decker!"

You slightly jumped back as you tilted your head, "Theo? Blonde guy with glasses? What are you doing at my house?"

"Just come down- Please."

You sigh, before shutting your window and putting on a robe and house shoes. You slowly open the front door, trying to be quiet as possible as you looked towards where Theo was standing on your walkway.

"What are you doing here? My parents would kill me if they saw a boy-"

"I know- I'm sorry, but I need your help-"

You groan and look back at your house and then up to your room- Your warm, cozy room. "Fine. Whatever."

---

You stand awkwardly in Theo's bedroom as he packs a bag. You look over at Boris, who was already staring at you. You feel a heavy tension, so you look back at Theo.

"You know, Theo, I'm still a little confused why you asked for my help- We're not... well, exactly best friends."

He doesn't look back at you, just closing the zipper, "Your dad's a cop, right?"

You roll your eyes, "So I've heard. He never shuts up about it."

He finally looks back at you, "And you hate your dad, right? You'd enjoy rebelling against him, right?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"I'm running away and I don't want anyone coming for me."

"You're running away. Why?"

Theo groans, before looking over at Boris for help, but he [Boris] didn't see his friends looked. He was too focused on something else; Something much better. Theo rolls his eyes, before looking back at you. "I can't... I can't stay here. It's complicated."

"How complicated can it possibly be? If you want me to help you commit a crime, you better tell me why or at least where you're going- You know, just in case."

"New York-"

"New York? That's all the way across the country! How do you plan on getting there?"

"It doesn't matter," He sighs, "Just know... I'm getting there."

"Why New York, specifically?"

"That's where he's from."

You finally look at Boris, nearly forgetting he was there, "Right... I get that, but like- It's so far away. What is waiting for you there is my real question."

Theo sighs heavily, "You just have to trust me."

"I barely know you and you're asking me to commit a misdemanour contributing to delinquency of a minor. If I was 18, that would be a felony."

"Good thing you're not 18."

You turn towards Boris, giving him a dirty look. He shrugs and you hear Theo groan, yet again.

"You don't have to do anything- I just, want you to... possibly give him inaccurate information," He gives you a pleading look and you sigh.

"Fine..."

Theo smiles, but you hold your hand out.

"BUT-"

A frown starts to grow on his face at a condition being tied to your promise.

"You have to call me when you get there. If you don't call me in at least 3 months, then I'm going to assume something bad happened and tell my dad."

"Fine!" He holds his hands out in surrender, "I'll call you."

"Okay, I won't say anything." You turn towards Boris, "Are you going with him?"

It seemed you weren't the only one wondering about that.

"And miss that face, who'd want that?"

You roll your eyes while shaking your head, "Well, I hope you find whatever you're looking for, Theo."

"Thanks Y/n."

---

"So, why is he really leaving?"

Boris looks towards you before frowning. "To skomplikowane."²

Your brows scrunch together as you stop walking. He notices and stop as well, while looking back at you.

"Why did you stop?"

"What did you say?"

He smirked, before etting out a small laugh. He tilts at you, making direct eye contact, "Nie jesteś dwujęzyczny? Myślałem, że jesteś jednym z tych mądrych Amerykanów. Ci, którzy mówią więcej niż jednym językiem; Nie ten głupi amerykański stereotyp."³

You groan before glaring at the male, which just causes him to laugh again. "I don't know what you're saying. Whatever language you're speaking, I don't understand."

His smile grows as you continue, and you frown when seeing it.

"Oh, you're doing it on purpose. Speak Russian- I understand that."

"No. I like messing with you. Łatwo wpadasz w złość i to jest zabawne."⁴

You sigh, but ultimately decide to drop it and just shake your head. "Whatever." You click your tongue, before looking at the ground, "Are you leaving with him?"

Boris frowns, for the first time, before tilting his head to get into your vision, "No."

---

A loud ringing sounded throughout your house, causing you to groan and cover your head with your pillow. You thought if they really wanted to contact you, they'd call again. The phone suddenly stopped and you sighed in bliss... Until it started to ring again.

You groaned, before getting up and heading downstairs, picking up the phone, "Hello?"

"Y/n."

You were taken a back when hearing Theo's voice. You had nearly forgotten about him, but now it was flooding back to you. "Theo?"

"Yeah," He laughs on the other end, "Yeah, it's me."

"God, I nearly forgot about you. You got to New York?"

"Yeah, I did."

"How is it?"

You can hear him sigh and you imagine he probably closed his eyes as he spoke.

"It's incredible, Y/n. You'd love it. You should come up here some time- Boris, too. Speaking of Boris, have you heard from him?"

You click your tongue, before looking at your couch, where said male was knocked out, "You know... It's funny you mention him."

---

Oh, there are no words in any language to describe what I feel.

It's complicated

Are you not bilingual? I thought you were one of those smart Americans. Those who speak more than one language; Not that stupid American stereotype.

You get angry easily and that's funny.

[finniebae]

Yandere! Boris Pavlikovsky Headcanons

TW: Suicidal Thoughts/Actions/Threats

You have your hands full with him

He speaks to you in a strange language that you don't quite understand

Actually- he speaks to you in multiple languages; None of which you can understand

He likes when you get frustrated

"Why can't you just speak in English?"

"What's the fun in that, doll?"

He usually speaks in another language when he either doesn't want you to understand what he's saying or when he's being vulnerable, but is also scared of you judging him, so he speaks in his native tongue. Vulnerable= Native tongue/ Wants to annoy you= Polish

You start to learn some of his words, especially the ones he uses frequently

You decide to try and at least learn native language and maybe later Polish

Imagine his surprise when you respond back to him in his language

He was taken by surprise and flustered

But then he was angry, because how long have you been able to understand him? He feels like you've made a fool out of him

You have to reassure him that was never your intention

He was still mad, but then there's a slight part of him that finds it kind of hot when you speak in Russian- Though with your American accent, it isn't perfect, but still kind of hot

He'll begin to innate conversation in Russian just to hear you speak it

^ Gets upset when you respond in English

Teaches you Russian Nursey Rhymes/Stories/and songs, just so you can repeat them to him

He doesn't have many women in his life, especially ones that care about him/look out for his better interest, so when he does something bad and you reprimand him ["You could have gotten hurt! What were you thinking??"], he's confused. You care about him? The thought never occurred to him that someone would actually care about him

He holds you extremely close to his heart

You are the only person who could hurt him and the thought scares him. You mean so much to him and he's afraid of you finding someone better

Will threaten to off himself if you ever leave. He knows it's evil, but he can't lose you. He needs you. He loves you

[froggywritesstuff]

yandere!boris pavlikovsky hc's

ship/pairing: yandere!boris pavlikovsky x g/n!reader

fandom: the Goldfinch

request: @racheldreamsworld: Can you do a yandere boris Pavlikovsky from movie goldfinch headcanon?

warnings: yandere, unhealthy and toxic relationships, obsessive behaviour, stalking, mentions of cigarettes, pressuring into to doing drugs, emotional blackmail, mentions of addiction, mentions of suicide, guilt tripping, non consensual touching (not explicitly sexual), there's a lot going on so please let me know if I've missed any warnings

word count: 460

A/N: i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

as soon as he saw you, he immediately became obsessed with you

though near the beginning of his obsession, he tries to be quiet about it

he follows you wherever you go

if you're eating lunch, he's sitting beside you

he walks you to your classes, silently bidding you farewell

when you ask him what his deal is, he nonchalantly introduces himself and claims to be your friend

he does not care how he gets it but he needs your attention

so he is definitely satisfied when you just stare at him with a confused expression and try to distance yourself from him while he walks beside you on your way home

speaking of which, once he finds your address, nothing is stopping him from stalking you

you're relieved when you find him not at school some days, unaware that he skips school to go to your house and look through all your things

you don't question it when you come home to one of two of your shirts on the floor, thinking it's because you were in a rush that morning

you are a little weirded out when said shirts and your pillow have a slight scent of cigarettes and something else you can't put your finger on

eventually you grow more and more paranoid as you find more and more things out of place or missing from your room

when you gather some courage, and ask Boris why he's so adamant on following you everywhere, you're more than surprised when he asks to be your boyfriend (though the way he words it makes you feel like you don't have a choice)

will threaten to kill himself if you try to reject him

like no hesitation, he thinks it's the only logical response

he guilt trips you a lot of the time 

you can't talk or hang out with your friends without hearing Boris getting pissed at you, mumbling about how you'll leave him, just like everyone else does

he’s always inviting you over to his house

meaning if you don't want an earful about how bad of a partner you're being by not wanting to spend time with your boyfriend, you hang out at his house a lot

he pressures you to try some of the drugs he has

he wants to get you addicted so you'll want to go to his house more and he can keep you from everyone else

and sometimes when he gets you high, you're much calmer around him, and he can be way more touchy with you, so that's always a plus

acts like you're the cure to all his problems when in reality his coping mechanisms and the way he acts around you are the cause of his deteriorating mental health

[hopelesswritergall]

Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for Boris pavlikovsky x cutecore fem reader? Or miles Fairchild x cutecore fem reader headcanons? I’m fine with either one if you want to,have a lovely day!!<3

Alright I’m writing this in one sitting please bear with me… let me know if you find grammar issues. English isn’t my first language and I want to learn!

General Taglist: It’s quite lonely here……

TW: mention of fighting, bloody nose, bruises. Yandere tendencies

Meeting him

Alright Boris and a girl who wears mostly pink. Unlikely combination but it’s true.

You were the stereotypical girly girl. Pink? You loved it. Lipstick? Pink. Clothes? Pink. Notebooks? Pink. Hell you were almost like barbie and had a pink mood.

You were doing pretty good in school and kept your grades up. Boris on the other his grades were sinking faster than the titanic.

There was a group project coming up for English. You have to read a book, present and write an essay. This would be the chance for Boris to get his grade up.

“Hey Theo! Come on man, let’s do it together!”

“Unfortunately Mister Pavlikovsky, the groups will be decided by me.” Miss Clarence spoke.

Boris sunk back into his chair, well if he isn’t with Theo, he isn’t going to do shit.

“Hmmm. Let’s see. Boris you will be paired up with……. Ah of course! Y/N!.”

Y/N? Who the fuck is that?

Boris knew he should know the face that belongs to the name but he doesn’t.

Suddenly his vision is filled with pink and he nearly has a heart attack.

“Jesus woman, don’t you watch where you’re going?!”

“That’s a way to introduce yourself. I’m y/n! We’ll be partners for the next project”

Aww hell no. He couldn’t.

“Miss Clarence. Is there anyway we can switch partners?”

Getting to know him:

It was week 3 of the project and Boris hadn’t done much yet. You decided to play a game so he would do stuff and he would get “rewarded”, almost like a child or dog..

“Alright Boris, for every 5 sentences you write, you can ask me a question! That way we can get to know each other!”

“And why should I do that? I can just let you do all the work.” He crossed his arms and leaned back

“Otherwise I’ll only hand in my part and you’ll fail. Don’t think you’d wanna do the year over again, do you?”

He grumbled a bit before writing, he finished the first sentences pretty quick. “Fine, Uhm what is your favourite gift to receive?”

“Oooo, great question!! I love teddy bears, flowers or books!! But I love every gift that someone put effort in.”

You guys talked for some longer and Boris, not wanting it, felt more of a connection. He really wanted to fall through the floor.

Some things during the relationship:

Boris once got into a fight with Mark (only the OG’s will remember my hatred towards Mark) because Mark insulted your clothes. Was it worth the trip to the hospital to check out his nose and knuckles for? Yes. Everyone that makes you cry deserves to rot in hell.

He steals you little stuff from the stores. He will often give you a bracelet or a flower. You even got him to make a flower crown together. You had to swear to not tell anyone!

You guys watch a lot of television together, a LOT

He is very protective of you, always asks what colour you want something in, despite already knowing the answer deep down..

[kitanaijin]

feathers in the attic | freakebana | part i. | blueberry trainwreck >> blackberry kush

yandere keigo takami x reader, goldfinch. words: 4567. explicit content. 18+ MDNI

He longed for a world where heroes had too much time on their hands.

No one knew better than his wives how he’d rather spend his days.

please be mindful of the ample warnings as we're all responsible for curating our own fandom experience✌️ this chapter contains neuro spice, chronic pain, non-consensual fingering, degradation, involuntary & forced orgasms, physical abuse, throat fucking, enforced sobriety, and mention of the breeding plot within the harem.

“Would’ve made a hell of a name.”

Lazing over a bed of flannels and plumage, you flip through the well worn pages of the magazine until you’ve found it.

You can still remember when an idol graced the cover. It’s an old issue from 2018 with a midsummer run, scratched to ruin ages ago. The full shoot was left virtually untouched along with the accompanying article. 

She’d posed so pretty, selling her story to perfection. Not that you could fully appreciate what she was promoting.

These types of interviews tended to lose their impact, dated as they were. 

No intimacy. No stakes or connection. No urgency in your step to rush to the nearest theater to support the little girl with a dream.

The farthest you could take yourself was the toilet.

Not quite the Library of Alexandria—but oh, how the loss of context tore you apart.

Within the confines of these four walls, time was a construct at your most lucid… a prison when you were dragged past the depths of your dark and twisty recesses.

The nights he’d sweep your broken body from the floor. Hold you in his crimson embrace and manhandle you to his whims. When all the fight left your lungs so you couldn’t even scream, let alone tell him no.

He stole your name twice over in a swinging pendulum of perception; Goldfinch for times you were his sweet girl… Bluebird when you were less than pliant.

It bruised him to see you scorn his affections, so he called you in kind.

He’d pin you down. Pry you apart. Fuck himself into your cunt and soul, leaving you a mere ragdoll to his desires.

You’d only ever been what he had demanded of you.

He wanted a victim, you could damsel with the best of them. This was a show that would go on with or without your approval.

He’d feed you. Rape you. Dry your tears.

Anything more than that, he can stand to spoil you.

Could’ve been hours before you’d feel him leave your side. Days, even. You’d hardly know the difference—only that his side was barren, cool to the touch as you washed a hand over the sheet… 

Here one minute, gone the next. Pain emanating and all your own.

Without the organic warmth of sunlight on your cheeks, you’d never feel the day break for yourself.

He took everything from you. Your power. Your will. Your life.

The room was set to a constant low light, controlled by the flick of his wrist and a tablet. 

Never natural and never enough, same as every inch of every room of this godforsaken place. A damn menagerie, down to the fucking temp. 

dry heat so you won’t catch cold… fans in the warmer months. 

He kept you maintained. Albeit depleted in your current state, but no one was about to accuse the bastard of neglecting you.

If they ever found his nest, that is.

Would it matter?

                         Would they care?

White knuckles hold the spine as the water bottle at your side loses the last of its tepid edge.

You can’t think about it. Mainlining dopamine where you could manage would have to get you through the worst of it for now.

Vivid colors punch a sigh from your lips, even muted in the dark like this. More than satisfied, you’re relieved. Manic thoughts swirl that someday he might deem the material obscene. He was a jealous man, mercurial by nature. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for him to tatter disagreeable content beyond recognition.

Maybe leaving the article unmolested was a gesture on his part, a bygone offering.

Perhaps he’d just overlooked the whole thing. It could mean nothing.

Fingers graze the gorgeous arrangements until you can match the scent into your mind and memory. Citrus and pome. Florals you haven’t thought to conjure in years. 

Freakebana.

You take your time tracing the header with a wavering touch before devouring the article.

Composition. Purpose. How to style your very own lovely item.

In another life you’d be all over this shit. You and your quirk.

Don’t think about it.

It’s a striking contrast that never fails to overwhelm you…

Sensual. A serenity that follows the warm blush of anthurium piercing the understated pears. Surreal. The next image featured a bit of Queen Anne’s lace and soft peonies over an orange. Vulgar.

The dissonance of rotting fruit and lush botany was breathtaking. The writer was on the fucking money in the best of ways. 

You had some trouble placing the last of the flowers through the hurricane wreaking havoc over your joints and muscles. Breath catching, the aches come roaring back.

You’ve passed the eye of the storm.

Just as well, you’re wrapping on your daily indulgence anyways. Spoil yourself now and you risk the brainrot of whatever envy you’ve got waiting in the wings.

You tuck the magazine under the mattress with a frown.

“Seriously.” Falling back on the mattress, you set the heels of your hands over your eyes. “Like taking a shower and having that perfect comeback all those hours later. So goddamn irritating.”

A voice cuts through the vent, where her wall meets your ceiling. “Never took you for the hero track.”

“Never said I was.”

You hone your focus on the neon numbers at your bedside, blinking away one hour to the next. 

The clock reads five fifteen. He’ll be darkening your doorstep soon enough.

A distant cry tickles your eardrums. You curl in on yourself, tremors washing over you with a groan. The contractions in your belly spread like a wildfire of pain past your thighs and calves. It’s all you can do to pull the sheet over your shoulders and bury yourself deeper.

Five thirty.

You’d thought to ask if she heard anything on her end but Magpie had long grown quiet in the room beside yours. It’s all you can do to force your bloodshot eyes open.

You have to stay awake—you can fall apart when he’s taken to the skies or buried six feet under.

Five fifty… 

Before sleep can take you, a near melodic taps hit your ears; the sweeping fingers of a key code just beyond your reach.

Keigo lets himself inside, his feathers shutting the door faster than you can think to act.

Not that it matters. You couldn’t fight him off if you’d been training from the start of your confinement.

Your eyes remain locked on the time. Jaw tight, you commit to refusing him.

Five fifty one.

He’ll be late if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up and get face time with every wife. There was a ritual to these things. 

Timing had to be down to an art form otherwise the fastest man would have to be late to the day job. Usually a punishment or two. 

Hate to do this, he’d say. Lies spewed past a tight jaw and a strained cock. 

Rather than present a front of urgency to the fact, he only lets out a long suffering sigh at the sight of you.

You hear his voice before you ever make his face. 

“I know you’re awake.” You tense under his avian gaze. “Was it another bad one?”

He drops the tray of breakfast and meds on a dresser you’ve always found woefully redundant. Then he’s crossing the room, shameless in his liberties over the unclaimed space.

The mattress dips beside you. His body runs flush against your back as an unwelcome touch traces shapes over your belly.

“Finch…” A plea on his lips, a warning to your ears. “I’m sure you don’t want to make a bad time worse. You know the kind of stress I’m under. C’mon, Songbird. You gotta give me something.”

Silence begets silence. He frowns in the darkness, ever waiting on a poised reply from his captive bride.

“Tell you what. You talk to me. You behave, I’ll see what I can do on my end,” he coaxes with his fingers carding through your hair. “We can have family game night. Maybe a movie?”

“So generous,” you rasp.

He hums into a modest shrug, pressing a kiss over your shoulder. “I thought so, at least.”

Smug fuck.

“You still have Starling on the suppressants?”

His wings posture around you reflexively. You have only a second to relish in the chaos before his grip is tightening. He pulls the hair he’s buried himself in. 

“I thought you were gonna be a good girl,” he accuses.

“That was your mistake… You’re the one who wanted me to sing.” Spite bleeds from your lips like a curse. 

“Really now.” He quirks his brow, almost impressed. “You know what, fair play.”

Drawing your head back for a torturous moment too long, he keeps you in those eyes right there with him. Molten and tragic—fixed solely on you. 

You catch your breath in the pillow, heaving into a series of coughs.

He passively regards you as the strewn feathers do his bidding. They haul you from the mattress, raising you up with ease. Remaining on the bed, Keigo knocks both wrists under his neck to lean on. 

Hands above your head, he has you bound and restrained midair. You watch the idle plumage sharpen in your periphery. Only two.

You can’t muster the fucks it would take to panic… Never mind the pleas to get out of this. 

The aches are ever present, blossoming upwards now. It grounds you, pins you to the moment as the feathers keep you locked in place. 

“Here I wanted to have a nice breakfast with all you pretty birds on my day off,” he grouses.

“The pain I’m in is killing me. Day in, day out. You leave me to wither and rot without a thought to my suffering. Not me, not any of us.” You’re absolutely raging beneath his phantom hold. “Fuck your day off.”

The blades move closer. Just a nick in the right place, that’s all it would take to end this nightmare for you. There’s nothing else for him to take.

“As much as I appreciate your blessing, I was already planning on it.”

One slice. And another. A mere whisper of cloth that leaves your breasts exposed.

Both straps of your silken nightdress come undone on his order. They turn the remaining scraps to ribbons until you’re completely nude for him.

Rising from the bed, his wings bristle ever so. 

Keigo takes his time sauntering towards you. Rounding the bed, he pops a grape in his mouth. It only takes one fallen feather trailing behind him to swipe pills from the very same tray.

“Not like either of us have anywhere to be. Why don’t I make you really sing, hm?”

Close as he is, you find yourself flinching. His calloused touch ghosts across your skin, breath fanning in tandem over your cheeks.

“What d’ya suppose I’m gonna find when I get down there.”

“Drop dead,” you curse.

Your head is knocked back into the wall before you even register the slap. A practiced hand slips inside your mouth to silence you, taking his time fucking you with his fingers. Never once does he break stride with the hand that keeps time over your pulse.

Your cheek burns. His fingers gag you as he smothers the sounds of protest at your airway. Emboldened by the sounds at his fingertips, his breath stutters over your cheeks as he ruts desperately against you.

He releases you. Presses on, low as he dares to tread in these little hours.

Down your chest.

Past your stomach.

Quick as a flash, he pulls himself from your mouth leaving a trail of spittle that runs down your chin. The absence leaves you fighting for your life, choking on air one minute and a scream the next. 

Deft fingers bite into your throat. You groan, arching into his touch.

“Tell me why you’re so interested all of a sudden,” he bids. “Couldn’t possibly be out of concern for me…”

You want to tear away from him. Claw his skin, his eyes. Those feathers aren’t granting you any favors—palms bleeding stigmata, their loyalties remain solely with the master who controls them.

You’re in a losing fight with the pain.

You’ll have to ride this out until he kills you or tires from the game. Fuck this and fuck him.

“Star…ling,” you grind out.

A weak swing of your legs is thwarted with ease. 

He loosens his touch some. You hurl your answer at him while there’s a fraction of a chance he’ll leave you alone.

“Lend me her power or up my dose… I don’t care, just give me enough to end it.”

This gives him pause. He hovers over your collarbone. You watch him swallow.

“I can’t live like this anymore,” you sob. “The pain is unbearable and you’re not letting me heal myself. No sunlight. No relief. I can’t sleep unless you put me under and it’s never enough. It was for me, Keigo.”

He sends for a feather to fetch his whims. Rests the heel of his waiting hand against your mons.

“That’s what you’re going with?”

You hang your head. “It’s the truth.”

His lips lock around your aching nipple just as he dips inside you.

He spreads your thighs, appraising your legs with a scrutinizing eye and a wandering touch to match. You’d scream if you thought it would help.

Keigo slots your legs over his shoulders. Sucks a bruise into your thigh, cups your cunt. You jolt into the assault.

Slow to start, he presses down and teases you with his relentless strumming. His middle finger laps your juices, fucking them deeper into you every time.

Thighs shake. Your stomach tenses, bracing for the forced release. 

His wrist twists in quick succession. It’s all you hear. He latches on your clit, a steady staccato of tongue and teeth with his forearm shining with sweat and your own wetness.

Your breath catches on a wail, riding the orgasm for all it’s worth. The last of your release comes pouring out of you, stuttering the last of the stream all over his face; a shining testament to an evil man who knows just how to give migraine-shattering head.

The hormonal gremlin that haunts your attic almost wants him to fuck you. Best taken as a sign you’re ovulating… better to stay away.

It’s like he can smell the apprehension on your skin. His eyes stare up at you in the dark. Not in awe, rather a cautious advantage.

Ever the predator, he watches and awaits the moves of the prey.

You’re still a writhing mess on his tongue. If you could bury yourself in his hair, you would bear down with a white knuckle grip and a piercing cry to match.

Your arms tingle in the restraints above you. “Keigo… stop.”

He does so. Pulls away from you entirely. 

You slump to the floor. A groan, “Keigo—what the fuck?!”

The scruff on his chin glistens in the low light. He smiles down on you, aglow as an angel. 

Even Lucifer had wings before the fall.

You flinch when his palm reaches your jaw. It takes you by surprise how gentle, how earnest it was. Almost reminds you of the beginning.

Never enough. Not really.

Of course you knew who he was. Hawks was renowned on and off the job; a top hero during business hours and a notorious playboy after dark. He frequented your flower shop when you were earth side.

Still, he never touched you. He didn’t have to when he’d been grooming you from the start. 

You came. He called. Service with a smile, even with eyes locked on the scene of him devouring the deepest parts of you.

He left you to your own devices for the most part. One day you got a little too familiar, too comfortable with the back and forth, letting it slip that you’d been living with chronic pain for years. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have reassured him that your form of management is often self medicated, supplied by your plant quirk… 

But he looked so sad. 

Little did you know the ammunition you’d be giving him. A warrant signed by your own hand for a drawn out death, long and tortuous.

Coming to, you gag around him. 

“Take it,” he demands. “Shut your whore mouth and take it.”

He’s got a fistful of your hair and you can’t get a breath in while you’re warming his cock.

You push on his thighs but he only tightens his grip, pulling you flush against him.

He stutters above you and then slows.

Stays still inside you, caresses the bulge taking purchase down your throat.

One roll of his hips. Then two to follow. He came on your tongue before he could see to the third.

“Don’t you dare swallow yet.” He twists your nipple, further scrutinizing you as he nods towards your quivering lips. “Open up, let me see.”

You do as you’re told. In the dark like this, you don’t have the luxury of foresight. You could never have known that he had you where he wanted; primed with a grape and your cocktail of pills and vitamins.

He takes the grape in his mouth, tracing your pout with his thumb. After a few moments pass when he drops a languid pool of spit over his come. You choke on the intrusion and are afforded no time to recover. He presses two tablets on the pile before making you take it all. 

Palm across your mouth, his thumb caresses your throat. He’s got his fingers censoring you, guiding you.

You swallow with a retch and grimace before taking the rest.

He watches, expectant. Keigo snags a circular style, day of the week pill dispenser from an errant feather. Snaps the lid open and presents you with your haul for the morning.

“Go on,” he urges.

You present your palm to him… It dawns on you both that you were bleeding still.

“Damn it,” he scoffs. Runs off to a trunk in the corner and comes back with first aid. Regards the blood with a rough double take. “Fuck.”

“If it’s really that bad, maybe you should stop doing it. Food for thought.”

He turns your hand over, alcohol wipe in hand. Doesn’t give you any countdown, just starts scrubbing his scene.

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Son of a bitch…”

“Do you want the vitamins or not?”

“Are they going to put me in a good mood?”

“Ginger, garlic, and elderberry… mostly immune boosting. Best I can do. You know how I feel about you girls and drugs.”

You watch him, incredulous. “And just what does your little philosophy have to say about forcing sleeping pills on your wives so you don’t have to worry about them keeping up, hmm?”

“Finch, you’ve taken your punishment like a good girl.” He nurses his temple where he’s bound to have a migraine as well. “You can take a day off from being a brat, for once.”

You catch him in the low light. Seems he’s nursing a bruise to match. Onto your own scrutiny, his feathers cut you down before the gripe can draw breath.

His attentions never leave the work. 

You pry your hand away, cradling the wound with a hiss. “It’s aftercare for me to watch you squirm, dickless.”

“Is that so…” Keigo sounds almost bored. He rolls his eyes, turning up the brightness of the room. “Well today it’s gonna be antibiotic ointment and gauze pads because someone decided to waste time with an attitude.”

Keigo dresses the wounds without dictation. You allow him his silence until an intrusive thought has you groaning.

“What is it now?”

You shake your head. “I can’t. It’s really bad.”

“Say your peace, Finch. I’m only one man and I have all of you to get through.”

You reel back with a wince, more hurt now than the slap across the face earlier.

The hand hangs limp in his own, touch matching his ever softening tone. 

“No. That’s not… fuck.” A biting sigh. “I’m sorry. That’s hardly fair… How’m I supposed to call myself the fastest if I can’t even hack time management with my family.”

He returns his attentions to the inflamed palm. Draws you to his lips, all adoration.

“You know you can come to me with anything.”

And now he’s just gaslighting you.

Fingers splay across your neck and jaw… forcing your gaze, forcing your intimacy.

Your eyes well with tears when there’s nowhere to hide. He steals them away with a frown, lingering across the bruises that betray your sleep deprivation.

“Why are you crying?”

You push him with barely any fight left. “Please. Just go.”

As you thrash to get away, he can only fight to hold you closer. The pain spikes in an unforgiving swipe across your abdomen. You whine into his shoulder, shuddering into his arms.

He cradles your head to his chest with a soothing rock. Feathers run down your arms and back, all forgiveness. 

“You know what would help…”

He’s the devil at your shoulder. You are fully aware of what he’s about to say.

“A baby won’t begin to fix this,” you break down. He has to strain to hear, this you know. “…won’t fix me.”

The warmth of his kiss bleeds under your skin. He thrums a gentle rap against your arm, just waiting for you to settle.

He shushes you, flying over his crimson helpers for an assist. A damp cloth. Dragon balm. Some medicinal chaser that tasted more like sewage runoff than remotely helpful.

Keigo carries you back to bed. He lays you down, spreads you out. You wince as he cleans his mess. Mercifully, you can’t see him. But you hear him. Feel him.

You make the sounds of him rustling with the cap. It’s mercifully warm on your abused muscles before the cooling menthol hits.

“Tell me the name.” Your blood runs cold as it registers what he’s asking of you. 

He must’ve gotten to Magpie during their conjugal. Shit.

You swallow when he serves the crumbs anyways. “Little Birdie told me that our beloved Blue had heroic aspirations of her own, once upon a time.”

His touch roves over your legs to start, working the product into the meat of your thighs. He waits for what must feel like ages in his eyes… but it would never be long enough for you.

“C’mon. You’re really not gonna tell me?”

“Expect an answer, you’ll have to stop talking at some point,” you grouse. 

Your breath catches on a strangled wail, meeting no resistance when he flips you.

“Quit your whining,” he snaps. “It’s all I ever hear from you. And fuck me for trying to make this marriage work, right?”

His touch is unrelenting. Prying the tension from the source, spreading his fingers over your lower back.

You try to reach out to him. Make him stop. Bat him away. Fight.

A feather nicks your hand away with the swipe of his whims.

“The name, Blue.” It’s not a grounding request anymore. “You give me the name, this all goes away.”

Starling flashes in mind and memory. If you could sleep, if you could dream—

“Freakebana!”

You curl in on yourself, pushing him with what little strength you have left from this ordeal. With any hope, your pride would be toll enough for him. 

The one thing you had, gone in an instant. Precious and private, thoroughly yours. Now it was known to him. Sullied by his acknowledgement. He could twist your comfort and make it ugly—could do whatever he wanted, really.

Keigo was no stranger to it. This would be the least of his atrocities.

He nods to himself in quiet concert, seemingly mollified for now. Keigo leans beside you and presses a kiss over your bruising cheek. His idle touch traces the thrumming pulse before throwing the baby out with the bath water and simply scent marking your whole arm.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your wrist. 

When Keigo rises from the bed, you keep yourself small. He crosses the room to the dresser. Out of the drawer and into his arms came the clothes meant for you.

You must have been a sorry sight if he’s dressing you in his boxer shorts and cotton undershirt over the negligée.

Again, woeful redundance. He’d disposed of your clothes in the first week, imposing a preference for nudity and teddies. What little he keeps on hand for himself, the only times your husband is liable to share are rare moments such as these.

Toe to toe, back to back.

He’s more patient coming back to you.

Two arms in each hole, ever minding your head as he finishes with the well worn v-neck. Right leg and the left until you’re left to your relative comforts.

“Just… I want you to think on it, yeah?”

You furrow your brow. “If this is about the fucking baby—”

On hands and knees, he remains unabashed in his desires. It’s an old tune, one he’s carried for years now.

A baby will cure your pain. A baby will give you purpose. A baby will soothe your broken heart.

Each and every argument has been run into the ground. He doesn’t need another mouth to feed, let alone want one. The others had been thrust into the position, far before their time or consent.

You were one of two holdouts, yes. But as ever, he remains a slave to his instincts. There were fledglings in his care and he craved their unborn siblings. 

“I don’t want to fight,” he sighs. Scrubs a hand across his face like he actually believes it. “I just need you to know there’s an out for you. One that would make me very happy.”

You restrain yourself.

You let him kiss you.

You feel him leave your side.

Only when the door shuts behind him do you give yourself permission to fall apart.

Head pounding, pulse racing, a death rattle crawls from your lips. 

The neon lighting bares down in an obtrusive vermilion that burns your eyes, ever the voyeur to your utter destruction.

[kaylinlmfao]

Welcome

My name is Kaylin, I'm 19, and I'm in love with Ethan Landry. I love to read, write, and bake. I'm bisexual and single.

This is pretty much just my rules and fandoms. My masterlists for different fandom's will be on this page. This is mostly a smut blog. Minors DNI. If anyone needs someone to vent to, message me. I'm here.

I only write fem or gender neutral reader

Fandoms and people I write for (starred and bold is the main fandom I am in at the moment but you can still request others!)

Masterlist in progress I promise

*Scream - Ethan (fucking love of my life I love you so much ill write anything for him I swear), Tara, Sam, Mindy, Anika, Chad, Quinn, Kirby, Sidney, Dewey, Gale, Billy, Mickey, Stu, Tatum, Amber, Jill, request others

Outer Banks - JJ, Kiara, Sarah, Topper, John B, Pope, Rafe, Ward, request others

Shameless - Lip, Fiona, Carl, Debbie, Ian, Mickey, Mandy, Veronica, Kevin, request others

The Hunger Games - Young Snow (fucking loml number 2 fr), Katniss, Gale, Johanna, Finnick, Peeta, Haymitch, request others

The Turning - Miles

The Goldfinch - Theo, Boris, request others

Ginny and Georgia - Maxine (fem reader only), Georgia, Zion, Paul, Ginny, Abby, Marcus, Norah, Brodie, Hunter, Press, request others

IT 2017 - Eddie, Richie, Bev, Bill, Stan, Mike, Ben, request others

MCU - Wanda, Natasha, Yelena, Kate, Val, Agatha, Scarlet Witch, request others (I'm a little hazy on the boys)

The Umbrella Academy - Five (loml number 3)

Decendants - Mal, Ben, Evie, Audrey, Uma, Harry, request others

Teen Wolf - Stiles, Void Stiles, Theo, Scott, Liam, Lydia, Malia, Brett, Kira, Allison, Kate, request others

Harry Potter - Anyone just request

Celebrities - Billie Eilish, Finn Wolfhard, Sadie Sink, Millie Bobby Brown, Jenna Ortega, Sturniolo Triplets, Maya Hawk, Ethan Hawk, Elizabeth Olsen, Dylan O'Brien, Thomas Brodie Sangster, Holland Roden, Eminem, request others

American Horror Story: Tate Langdon, request others

Do Revenge - Max, Eleanor, Drea, Tara, Russ, request others

I'm open to writing anyone and anything from these fandoms but you can also request things from other fandoms not listed above. I may have to watch the show or scenes before writing, but I will complete all requests, questions, imagines, oneshots, drabbles, and series based off of your request. Just request it, let me know what you want, and I'll do it

What I will write

Smut. This will mostly be a smut blog so please, minors DNI

Romantic/Platonic Headcannons

NSFW/SFW Headcannons

Yandere (my fave thing to write)

Angst

If whatever you're thinking of isn't on the list, that's ok. I don't have any hard no's so just request and I'll decide if I'm comfy writing it. Thanks. Feel free to request if you have an idea that you'd like to see be written! Also, if you'd like, you can message me for whatever! :)

[kaylinlmao]

Please, I’m on my knees begging for you to write a thing with a yandere Boris from the goldfinch where the reader breaks up with him for beating someone up and then like what happens after the break up (seriously though no pressure)

Doing this as an imagine. Just because I can. Aged up to 18

"YOU CAN'T JUST FIGHT EVERY GUY THAT TALKS TO ME!" you yelled. "WHY THE FUCK NOT?" "OH MY GOD BORIS! YOU ARE SO TOXIC! WE'RE DONE! DONE!" I yelled grabbing my pre packed bag and leaving. "Wait! принцесса! Don't leave!" "No!"

I decided to move back in with my mom. She lived about 60 miles from here. I drove there and knocked on her door. "Y/N? Hun, what happened?" I was crying as I told her everything that happened. "And then he walked out with blood all over and bruised knuckles!" "I'm so sorry baby. He wasn't good for you anyway. You can stay here as long as you need. But I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" "I'm leaving for Europe tomorrow morning and I won't be back for two weeks. I'm going as a gift from your father. The house is already stocked with food and ill leave you some money. Ok?" "Ok." I went back to my old bedroom feeling a rush of nostalgia. I'm glad I came back.

One week later

There was a loud knock on the door. It must be the grocer dropping off the groceries. I went to open it and Boris tumbled in. "Малышонок! Are you ok?" "What do you mean am I ok Boris? I can live without you, you know." "Oh принцесса. You don't even know any of it." I rolled my eyes. "Go home, Boris. I don't want you here." Yes, you do!" He said, starting to throw things. "BORIS STOP! Stop." He knew that was a trigger for me.

I started crying and sat on the couch. "Oh come here принцесса . I've got you." I cried harder and as I was drifting off on his lap, I heard him say, "ты мой навсегда, маленький.

Малышонок: baby, baby girl

маленький: little one

принцесса: princess

ты мой навсегда, маленький: You're mine forever, little one.

Hope you like this! Thanks for requesting! Ill work on the rest of the requests tomorrow. Love y'all! :) -Kaylin

[dollywony]

MASTERLIST—

☁️— fluff

🧸— angst

☕️—yandere

🦢— headcanons

if anything is yandere they are aged up!!

—stranger things

mike wheeler:

thief 🧸

until the end 🧸☁️

bet 🧸☁️

step on me 🧸

—it/it chapter 2

no one yet! inbox is open ★

—ghostbusters: afterlife

no one yet! inbox is open ★

—the goldfinch

no one yet! inbox is open ★

—the turning

miles fairchild:

so pretty ☕️

meant to be ☕️

[xx-sleepybunny-xx]

!!!NO LONGER ACTIVE ON TUMBLR!!! GO CHECK OUT MY AO3 WHERE I WILL CONTINUE TO POST MY WORKS! SAME USERNAME Hello and welcome to my blog! I will write for

Stranger Things

Harry Potter

IT

Demon Slayer

The Devil All The Time

My Hero Academia

PJO/HOO

The Goldfinch

Marvel

The Turning

Attack on Titian

SPY x FAMILY

Romantic Killer

Jujutsu Kaisen

Fruits Basket

Scream

Hunter X Hunter

Call me Amethyst

I do requests!

I will ALWAYS write and finish ANY requests I get it will just take TIME! So please be PATIENT with me! :)

Rules:

Will do ✅

Any character (from the respected fandoms that are listed)

Yandere themes (love to write yandere shit)

Fluff, angst, smut

x reader insert (this is what I'm best at fyi)

Poly relationship (only three)

Light smut (not extravagantly detailed smut bc idk how to do that)

Pretty much anything at this point, like I don't even care tbh

Won't do 🚫

Rape

Ocs (may write one if it's a request)

Incest

---------------------------

Lists for all my multi part works

The Big Red Wolf

Crazy Little Demon Boy

----------------------------

I think that's all for now have a good night/day.

[reareaotaku]

boris nsfw headcanons pleease

Oh??? BET

Freakyyy

Wants to tie you up. Keep you bound as he does things to you- But don't worry, he won't be the only one having fun

Calls you a whore and a slut in his mother language and seeks joy when you don't realize he's insulting you

He does want to prove to you that he's worthy. Wants to please you so that you're screaming his name. It boosts his ego

Sex is his way to keep you. In his eyes, if you're both happy you won't leave

He's insecure, so he wants you to reassure him that he's doing a good job

Really good at giving head

He knows how to move his tongue just right and suck on your clit. When you pull his hair, shoving him deeper, he couldn't be more thrilled [He's just as skilled with his fingers, too, because it'd be waste if he wasn't]

He's pretty rough and tough and if you want him to be slow and sensual you'll have to ask

He's a switch, but more dom leaning

He wants you to submit to him

Pretty handsy too

He always needs to have them in something- Touching you everywhere

He just likes to grab and grope; Nails digging into your flesh just as yours dig into his back

[froggywritesstuff]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐯𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐯𝐬𝐤𝐲

Safe | Boris Pavlikovsky x aromantic!g/n!reader (platonic)

Yandere!Boris Pavlikovsky x g/n!reader

don't hesitate to request any character/ship you'd like :)

DO NOT PLAGARISE, TRANSLATE, MODIFY, OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM

[hopelesswritergall]

UGHH I JUST WATCHED THE GOLD FLINCH AND I LOVED BORIS CAN I HAVE A YANDERE BORIS X READER?!? <3

Boris pavlikovsky blurb

A/N: I know this is more centered with Theo but I hope you still like it! This will probably be my last work for 2 weeks orso as I'm going on a vacation. You can still send in requests I'll just not respond very quick.

Boris would never leave you alone for reasons of course.... But this time you managed to somehow create a opportunity to spend a day with Theo alone. Theo was your best friend since kindergarten and he was the reason you met Boris. Don't know if you should be happy with that or not. You guess you should thank him because you met the love of your life but also someone who gets a tad overprotective. You being you, you're completely oblivious to the yandere tendencies. Not noticing the way the people in school would look away from you if you entered school. Because Boris threatened to cut their arms and poke their eyed out. Just normal Boris stuff. :)

But the day with Theo! You were so excited for it, finally spending a day with your best friend. The reason Boris would allow this is because he has to go to the city to get who knows what. Might be something illegal might be just plain t-shirts. Who knows? So he left you with Theo trusting him that he would let no harm come to you. He had to swear he would protect you which honestly Theo thought was a bit much since you were just going to watch some movies with popcorn but sure, if it made Boris feel better he would swear to protect you.

It wouldn't be a nice yandere story without someone trying to take the reader away right? So here enters Levi ( no mark this time, proud of me?) he tried to talk to you at school and after school but 1: Boris always was there to tell him to fuck off and 2; not only was he always there Boris visited him afterschool one time to teach him a lesson. Nobody gets unharmed after trying to talk to you. Which you didnt know of course. Can't risk losing you. So Levi found out about the movie day cause Theo couldn't keep his mouth shut and decided it would do no harm paying a little visit right? WRONG

When Theo made the promise he meant it.

"Theo! What movie next?" You shouted to him when he was getting snacks. " Uhm something action?" He yelled back. "I'll look." As soon as you said it the doorbell rang followed by a knock. " I'll get it Y/n you pick out the movie." Theo quickly said as he didn't know who would visit him. He wasn't really the one who would have guests over other than Boris and sometimes you. When he opened the door and saw Levi standing there with a smug smirk he knew enough and when he tried to enter the house he crossed the line. So yeahhh. Theo acted fast and punched him in the gut and closed the door so he couldn't get in. Walked back to you as if nothing happened. When Boris did come back and Theo told him let's say if anyone knew it would be a lifetime in jail.

[wwwurbunnygrldotcom]

Young Boris Pavlikovsky Imagine

California 2:27 AM

(UNEDITED)

     My tears ran down my face, hot and salty, crashing down on me just as my week has. I had been so strong up until this moment. I kept away my temptations and bit my tongue to prevent me from thinking of him. He wasn't good for me, all the drugs, the alcohol, the stealing, he never benefitted me. It’s been 5 months since I’ve last spoke to him, I’ve been 5 months sober.

      So I disappeared, I completely ghosted him and left without a trace. My aunt gave me an opportunity to leave Nevada and head towards California to clear my head. I changed my number after moving schools so It would prevent the midnight calls I'd receive daily. Though every time I answered he never spoke, never cried, never dared whisper anything. He just breathed, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, all into the microphone. I’d spend a couple seconds just closing my eyes and listening, because even then just for a second I could pretend he’s still here holding me. I suppose living out this delusion in my head felt better than facing reality. 

       It completely shattered my heart. I'd cry and scream at night because seemingly, the night time was the worst time to be alive. The burning in my chest was so excruciating that sometimes it never felt real, I think that was the worst of all. I couldn't tell if I was losing my mind or if I was eternally bleeding.

       The only thing that would calm me down was smoking Ashton cigars, the same ones he would light right after sex . I still remember our Friday nights filled with strawberry vodka and tobacco, and how his hands would still linger even after we both were satisfied. It made me feel like an oasis to a dehydrated man, he was never satisfied with one touch. 

      The room was dosed with smoke, covering our vision. making the sensation of touch, hearing, and smell oh so more powerful. As the light would dim down he would wrap himself closer and closer to me, the whispers of admiration and praise would swarm my senses. 

      Those were the nights I craved most when I was this vulnerable. During one of the phantom calls I had written down his number just in case I truly needed him. I think I need to use my one way ticket. 

      Typing in the exact numbers of his cellphone was almost as anxiety ridden as hearing the repetitive humming sound that followed after. Maybe 3, no more like 4, seconds had passed before the humming had stopped and so did my heart.

      “Princess?” A Ukrainian boy spoke out, his breath hitched as the last syllable fell out of his mouth. 

      Did he recognize me by my breath?

      “I need you. Please.” I completely broke down and lost all composure I was even attempting to hold. A sob escaped my mouth before I could hide it, the tears running fast down my cheeks. 

      “Shh, don’t cry little one. I’m on my way. I love you” He responded lowering his voice, getting down to my level. He always had this way of reaching a point of myself no one else could have. 

      Before I could even respond he had shuffled around his room and hung up the call.  As desperate as I had seemed before it all started crashing down on me, I'm starting to regret inviting him back into my life. Was this a mistake?

hehe I hope you all enjoy!!

[kitanaijin]

feathers in the attic | freakebana | part ii. | << blackberry kush >> stargazer myrtle

yandere keigo takami x goldfinch. wordcount: 5016. explicit content. 18+ MDNI

Keigo gives you a treat.

please be mindful of the ample warnings as we're all responsible for curating our own fandom experience✌️ this chapter contains neuro spice, chronic pain, non-consensual hand jobs, degradation, involuntary & forced orgasms, physical abuse, thigh riding, enforced sobriety, and isolation.

It’s hours before you move. 

You rise to your knees, hissing as you drag yourself into child’s pose. The stretch is hell but a necessary evil. 

Magpie doesn’t let you rest though. She just has to poke at the damn scab. “You alive over there?”

Bruise kissed thighs in your face like this, you’re not ready for words.

Joints and muscles long atrophied sing a symphony gone wrong; denouement of your suffering.

You push up to stand on shaking ground.

It’s too much, too fast… static tickles your vision as head rush takes effect. You make it as far as the wall before your back is screaming for relief. 

Hard like a rock, cold as stone. You sink to the floor with little trauma or ceremony.

You wince under the light, shielding your eyes with open palms facing the heavens.

The shirt that once hung so loose on your bruised body now clings to you like a second skin. Clammy with sweat and flushed like death, you imagine you’d looked more like the Pale Man than the bride of a top hero.

Delirium calls to you like a relentless boyfriend you’d block if you could.

…ring…ring…

                       …ring…ring…

                                               …ring—

The gold band lying dormant on your dresser mocks the sentiment. You feel the weight of its intrusive presence as if the little bastard never left your finger and curse your brain for marrying the connection.

Your touch ghosts along your brow, eyes finally adjusted to the midday’s artifice. The walls, back to their regularly scheduled palette. 

Let there be eggshells.

A measured sigh.

“He has the day off,” you comment.

“Figured that out, huh.” She hums, mostly to her lonesome. “One of the chicks. He’s taking Barbie out of her box as we speak.”

Your brow furrows. Keigo didn’t like his girls away from the nest, not if he could help it. He kept things pragmatic, simple.

One at a time and only for the most emergent of circumstances, he’d devised a profile of his perfect kept woman. Wig and scarf. Sunglasses and face mask. A wide brimmed hat to obscure what minimal identifiers remained.

It was a calculated risk, even with the gag order in place. No wonder there was such a sharpened edge today.

“It’s not serious, right?”

“Who’s to say, honestly.” She lets out a noncommittal huff, a nonverbal you know as much as I do… “I haven’t talked to Starling since the baby shower and she never got around to telling me what a bris was.”

“Means circumcision,” you hear yourself say. It’s as instant a response as it was an incredulous one. 

It’s no small feat, maintaining any semblance of yourself in this place. You don’t even know her real name.

From the times you’ve spoken with her, Starling’s faith is her lifeline… one of, you should say. 

Shortly after your abduction, you’d found an unwitting sister in sobriety. You never got the closure of a final hit as the pair of you would commiserate on, given half an opportunity.

Choice is a luxury afforded to few. An unsustainable resource never meant to survive captivity.

You can have it all, baby bird. Everything you want and more for such a low asking price.

He says he’ll give you the world if you just give in to him. His wants, his needs. True to form paradox, considering he’s the one with the keys to your cage.

A shaking smile carves a path across your face. You find yourself with something close to relief despite the devastation pooling in your belly.

“Good for her.”

And you mean it.

The lights go down a touch. Your eyes narrow on the clock by your bedside only to read a measly 16:30 staring back at you.

If he follows through with his threats of family time tonight, you’ll be sure to tell her. It won’t be long until you have your answer.

“You reading contraband over there?” she asks innocently enough.

“Just thinking,” you murmur.

“Hmm…”

Ignoring her for now, you focus your intentions on getting back to the heap of covers laid before you.

You stumble. You crawl. You move on shaky ground, limbs absolutely raging at you.

Push to failure. You’d heard that in a remote workout class once. Here you are, still pushing… still failing.

One minuscule inch after the next until your arms give out under you. Your head meets the pillow, eyes falling shut as you catch your breath.

You let yourself doze, drifting into nothingness.

It’s dark in your swirling subconscious. No color, no dreams. Just you and your pulse; an erratic staccato in your ears. 

Monkey mind has your cravings appear to you every so often. Sticky and sweet, not unlike candy. You can practically smell the buds materializing in your palm—oh, what bliss.

With friends like these, can you truly call yourself lonely?

Of course… you’d never be alone in this place. Not with the memories to keep you company.

You miss your dog.

You miss your patients.

You miss your family, your friends.

You miss your Quirk.

Like a dying star, embers of your fury had long since burned up and died inside you. Only the vestiges remain.

out of sync, out of time. 

You only catch echoes of the blaze so often. Just enough to see, never so much you can bank on its light to keep warm.

Glimpses are few and fleeting. Your blood boils with it every time he drags you out of the box. You feel it when you refuse him.

Self preservation keeps you bound where the pain receptors firing off prevent you from lashing out how you might have in the past. You’d learned the hard way that with no way to revive yourself, life was better for you by keeping sweet.

Back when you still had full range of your Quirk, it was easier.

You could say no. Kick. Scream. Spit your vitriol, really get your licks in. But your husband was nothing if not a generous man… Keigo gave as good as he got.

When he came to collect, he was all smiles and false promises. Hands spread wide in surrender, eyes shut so as to hide his intentions from you.

You’d seen the monster poised to strike. You saw him. This left you exposed to his gaze just as much.

He was on your body until you were both bruised and bloody. He’d leave you a mess on the floor, come still leaking from your abused cunt.

But you could still heal yourself. Your ideations, your pain. Even helped keep your period from dipping out on you.

Your buds were dwindling, locked away in this state of chronic denial. Keigo couldn’t keep you from using your power… he could only mitigate your growing impotence.

No sunlight. No hope… but no less yours.

He didn’t wait long to implement the changes.

The lights. The temp. The meals meant to dull your senses, cloud your mind.

That was ages ago. You have no idea how long it’s been since you had a decent smoke.

When he took away your only means of escape, he figured he didn’t have to worry.

Depression’s a bitch but it keeps you pliant enough. You sleep the day away so it’s not like he has you strapped down to keep from hurting yourself.

When you crawl your way out of the hole back into the land of lucidity, the shame spiral starts anew.

They return as quickly and as violently as they’d left you, the remorse and hindsight unwelcome but not unfamiliar bedfellows. Not the type of foursome he preferred.

Tough shit, you’d lament with a room temperature water bottle shoved between your thighs. ‘I want,’ never gets.

You curl deeper in on yourself, hair a splayed mess across the pillow.

An inky haze overwhelms your field of vision, the cold static threatening to blind you as you find yourself awake in his arms. You shut your eyes, praying for a better outcome when you wake for real.

Five more minutes…

“Are you ready to try this again?”

Despite yourself, you bury your face against his chest. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to seven,” he says softly. “We came in twice to wake you but you were dead to the world.”

Dread pools in your belly. You didn’t have to ask to know.

Without so much as a word, he drags you up into his iron hold. He’s already got a change of clothes for you.

He strips you down, sans protest. The shirt and drawers are near freezing as he peels them from you if your shivers are indication enough.

You’re sure your discomfort only serves as an added bonus for him.

The feathers are already gathering the necessary components for a bird bath: soap and oil, a wet cloth and towel. Pale pink basin. He’s still not talking, even as he cleans you all over again.

Your gaze is hard, staring at the constellations kissing your thighs. He runs the cloth over the bruises. You’re not surprised when they remain, no… but it doesn’t stop your face from falling.

He catches you, eyes ever forward on the task at hand. Washes you without comment or complaint. Your legs. Your stomach and tits. His touch runs feather light past your arms and shoulders. You feel the water trickle down your spine.

“I don’t understand you,” Keigo sighs.

“What’s not to get? They’re ugly.”

Raising you up to dry your back, he shakes his head. The bastard actually has the audacity to scoff at you, “I’m the only one who gets to see them. Move downstairs tomorrow, it’s not like the girl’s are gonna judge.”

“Just forget it.” You rest your head on your knees, hiding your exhaustion.

This gives him pause. His hand reaches for your forehead and you barely suppress a wince. 

“You don’t have a fever,” he notes, all skepticism. “Is this the endo?”

“Please… just stop.” 

You’re hardly a fair match on the best of days. You try to shrug away from his touch but he’s damn persistent tonight; he thorough workup, flipping the back to examine your under eyes and jaw for any distress. A true credit to his training and rank.

How seamless he resumed as if nothing’s happened the last four years. All sins forgiven. Hawks, the Deliverer.

His golden eyes don’t betray his true feelings, never so much as wavering. Voice gentle… hospitable. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

The voice. The face.

This was the man you’d loved once. He, alone, who saved your life and kept you safe. Who stayed with you and cared for you. 

Dried your eyes. Heard your fears.

He listened. You gave him all. 

…you trusted him.

but it was all just a lie…

Your breath catches and you have to turn your face away from him. You bat him off of you, brows furrowing as you resist his touch.

You grouse, “I’m not sick. You want me to be good and I don’t want a fight, okay? I’m tired.”

The way he looks at you like he wants to push the issue… But he backs off at the last, thinking better of it. Lets you be for now.

After drying the rest of you in resumed silence, he helps you to your feet. 

You cling to him, desperate not to fall with your white knuckle grip on his shoulders. He puts you in a silken sage set; puff sleeve blouse and jogger bottoms. 

Another round of dress up darling and you’re absolutely spent. It’s mercifully loose on you. Dry and clean, that’s all that really matters. 

You knew by now if he was more than capable of rocking your shit at a moment’s notice… he could turn your clothes to ribbons and take you in any number of unsavory ways.

It never matters what the girl’s fucking wearing. You do not exist for public consumption.

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair, plaiting it how he used to. His touch wanders across your scalp, your neck…

Your skin is on fire. You’re anywhere else. 

Whether it’s aftercare or grooming, you don’t put much stock into the inner workings of his particular brand of intimacy.

Once satisfied, he looks down on you and gives a nod of his approval. “Let’s go.”

He takes you by the arm, all but dragging you past the vaulted threshold. It’s near impossible to keep up with his stride without tripping over yourself. 

You won’t be caught complaining tonight, even with your body raging like this.

With every passing step, it’s all too apparent how Keigo is setting you up to fail. Goading you into reacting against him; any tangible excuse he can sink his teeth into, dead set on justifying a punishment.

It doesn’t fucking matter. You were getting out of the room today if you had to walk through a trail of broken glass with a makeshift gag down your throat to seal your silence.

You let out a muffled groan behind your sleeve. Your eyes are no nowhere near accustomed to the external light the rest of the house provides. It never goes beyond a level detrimental enough to accommodate any number of Quirks at a time.

Nightingale was the first to defect.

She was a nurse before all this. You’d never met her before all this, yet found yourselves intrinsically linked by way of your healing Quirks.

She had already been here seven years from the time you’d arrived. 

You knew he kept her as deprived as the rest but never close enough to know how.

You’ve had exactly two interactions with her through the vents. She’d only been present during a handful of the rapes.

He knew you were too smart not to manipulate the situation and preferred to keep the pair of you separated.

Birds of a feather…

Carried two babies to term. Twins. A boy and a girl, you’re told they’re nine now.

And you understood. She had to be with them. A creed echoes among you, sisters bound by tragedy and rage: no one among you is complicit.

You remain blameless as the rest.

Starling had been here for well over a decade. American. No one quite knows why she had business in Japan, for University or work.

She hasn’t known life on the outside for almost eighteen years.

Her Quirk was some real Neil Gaiman shit, granting the wielder dominion over dreams. When Keigo’s not depriving her of sleep, Starling can disappear within herself at will to whatever freedom she so chooses.

She gave you hope that there was life after this.

He’s bound to slip up some time, she swore to you. And when he does, we’ll be there… but you have to hold on to watch with me, yeah?

The promise of vindication was the high you’d been missing for so long. Countless nights spent talking and planning.

It was never going to last.

One botched escape attempt was all it took to shatter any illusions you had of leaving him. Keigo clipped the wings of your dreams and took her along with them.

She wouldn’t have forsaken you if she had one iota of agency to her name… would never have had to if she had her own.

She’d known you. She had loved you.

Something died inside you the day he sealed her away for good. 

All you had now was Magpie, the lone hold out.

Virtually Quirkless but sings like an angel. Or… she did, back when she still could. 

He wrecked her voice ages ago through seven grueling years of misuses and abuses. 

When she speaks to you her words are ground with mortar and pestle… Alcohol and mirth coat her tongue, you don’t need to see her to know.

But you would. You’d see her today.

You’d see them all. 

Keep your mouth shut. Eyes forward, breath steady. One step at a time and you’ll see them so soon.

He stops you, hands on either side of your shoulders. They’re firm, warm as they hold you there with him. Keigo slips some errant feathers under the door in preparation for his arrival, but otherwise his attention remains solely on you.

Those brilliant eyes flash in warning, his wings bristling with a barely concealed tension.

“Are you gonna be my good girl, Finch?”

He was encouraging. More so than the commute suggested… but his smile never wavered, never touched.

His grasp was hardly enough to bruise you. You’re not sure why it did.

A nod. “Please,” you beseech him.

“I taught you better than that.” He takes your chin, leaning in extra close. Lips hover over yours, smelling strongly of clove cigarettes. “I know you know how to ask.”

You ball your hands at your sides, all tempered rage.

“Clock’s ticking, Blue.”

A trembling hand reaches for the gray sweatpants he dons. You can feel his emanating  heat already. 

“Keigo,” you start. “Will you please let me join the others?”

You hear the telltale pop of fabric as you dip beneath his waistband. Your grip is clumsy, unmotivated.

“I can be convinced.” His eyes fall shut, never betraying his true ire.

He releases your chin in favor of forcing your pace on his cock. Threads his hand around yours, he pumps himself again and again.

“Please, Keigo…”

“You’re not leaving,” he snaps. A single hit came raining down on your already bruised ass. “Don’t you dare stop.”

You wince on your untried feet, rocking into him. Thigh to thigh. Knee practically parting yours.

An otherwise unoccupied hand in his hair, you kiss a path along his jaw. He quickens the lazy drag, cock so hot in your hand. His hips fuck into you. All you can do is pray he gets on with it and comes soon.

And you know just what’ll take him there.

You lick your lips, swallowing your pride. Your breath stalls by his ear as it comes out a rough order. “Daddy… please.” 

His breath hitches and he shudders into you. The hand on your ass buries all five digits, enmeshing them in your hair, fusing them to your scalp.

owns the kiss. steals your breath.

stole your life. signed your death.

Your legs part for him when he knocks them apart and bullies you into the wall.

“…nhhh…”

He releases your hand, pinches your waist under your billowing top. 

You’d felt his fingers spread over your side; touch roving, guiding. 

“You can get off with me here or we can go back to your room.” When he says it, his voice is harsh as the breath that fans across your cheeks. “Your choice.”

Your choice without a choice.

Easing onto his mass of thigh, you do as he says. You bury your face in his neck. Undulating your hips, you force your drive into gear. Ride him. Chase the high.

don’t struggle and he won’t hurt you…

…be sweet and small, and all will be yours.

He wrenches the fist in your hair; drawing you back, making you cry out. Pleasure spikes, despite yourself. You grind in earnest.

A lude groan echoes from his lips to your ears. “Close,” he warns, pace stuttering in your hand.

You’re working his shaft over until your wrist is practically seething at you. 

It’s the slap that sends you over the edge for him. Not loud or keen. More quiet, tumultuous. A sharp gasp as a prelude to disaster, then the blinding shame of immediate clarity.

You hadn’t even felt him drop your head. 

He falls after you, come spilling onto your fingers.

Breathes out a satisfied sigh watching you fish yourself out of his pants. Presses those lazy lips into whatever skin he can reach, wiping his come on the fabric.

You dismount, eyes anywhere but the dreamy expression he’s servicing you with. Cunt sore, thighs aching. You focus on what he’s done to you, not what you’ve done to yourself.

no ground to stand on… no hill to die.

Your gaze is lowered. Keigo leads and you follow without question or complaint. 

He looks down on you. “Do I have to remind you of the rules?”

“No.” You shake your head soft as your voice, “I just… Please let me go.”

A secret smile has your sights locked on the predator before you. He kisses your cheek, showing you inside without another word.

“Don’t let me keep you.” 

His gaze turns toward the audience behind you. It’s all you can do not to chase it, to go to them.

He leaves some plumage in his wake, making his excuses as he dips past the doors of the in unit bath. 

You barely had time to register the words… that you were actually here. He just waved the four of you off with a passing salute, then he was gone.

The snap of the close has you cringing, eyes brimming with tears. Then she’s touching your shoulder, pulling you into her arms.

Starling.

She still has the same smell, bless her.

You shudder on the contact. So warm. Gentle. “I missed you, you bitch,” you sob.

Your knees give a little and she lets out the softest of laughs in your hair. It took seconds for one set of mits to become two as another body rushed you as lightly as she was able.

surrounding you…

…supporting you.

“Let’s get you good, yeah?”

You nod into her shoulder, sniffling all the while.

It was an allowance, letting them move you as they were. More than a treat… a missive from on high.

Sisters in suffering. Your angels. Your wives.

The couch the girls sit you down on is plush. Velvet emerald. It barely seems real, seeing your girls in the flesh like this.

Eyes linger on the door. There’s someone missing.

“Magpie?” you beg.

Nightingale shakes her head solemnly. She stares at an errant feather. Though worldless, it’s all the intel you need just yet. Your head rests against her shoulder.

It was never meant to last.

Inaudible bursts come pouring out of you. Your face twists in pain but no sounds come out.

When a silent shudder passes through you and you’re no longer sure if you’re laughing or sobbing, it’s ages before you can call yourself calm.

“Star… I need to ask you something.”

“You know the rules,” she whispers. “No unpleasantness when he’s dropping eaves. Lighten up. It’s a bris.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You spread your hands. “You’re right. Mazel Tov.”

You felt yourself meld with the vibes on the couch. Let yourself pretend you were safe, normal. Just for one goddamn minute.

The knob jostles too early. Makes you tense in your seat. You hear him enter and you never have to see his face.

“Not enough time…”

Starling takes you by the hand, presses a kiss over your knuckles. “…Never would’ve been.”

Then you make the sounds. 

Feathers returning to their master. The swinging shriek of the door on its hinges. Cries from the baby.

The baby. 

You struggle against the tightness in your chest; breath bated as you watch him cross the room with his son cradled, skin to skin.

“Don’t let us interrupt,” he bids. Timbre a breathy singsong as he adds, “I’m not even here.”

You roll your eyes with a rough exhale before settling on Starling. She quirks a tired, incredulous brow. You bring her palm to your crown, lips a saccharine pout.

“Mama…”

“What is it, hmm?”

A sigh. “I really missed you.”

You felt her beaming. She knows the score.

She returns with a warm caress around your head that leaves your scalp tingling. Nestling beneath her touch, your eyes fall to a close.

“And what about Nightingale?” she teases.

“Couldn’t say for sure with children present.”

“Oi… Pack it up, Article 21,” he quips from his corner.

The glare Starling sends his way could stop time. Make you question every decision in your life that led you to this point, under her gaze. Utter disgust and contempt.

“You’re really asking me to make you cry right now,” she warns him.

“Then maybe I oughta send you to bed early.” He’s absolutely seething behind a curated layer of dulcet tones for the boy. “You take the baby. Finch and Gale can keep me company.”

“That’s not fair,” she rages.

He takes his time settling his son in the bassinet. It’s moments before he speaks. Seconds turn to minutes, lingering there. But you can’t find it in yourself to have regrets. No remorse.

Not until she pulls back from you to go to him. Keigo passes her, a satisfied curl playing at his lips.

He’s all too happy to take her seat. Not shy at all as he mirrors her touch on you, a facsimile of intimacy not meant for this place. 

You swallow your urgency to be free of him, remembering your promise to behave.

“Look at this face,” he praises. “Even the baby can see how filthy she’s playing.”

“Just because she doesn’t have to fake it with me doesn’t mean she’s plotting, you fuck—”

Cutting her down where she stands, he doesn’t spare her a solitary glance. Keeps you locked in place, all but daring you to look at the mess you’ve made.

Feathers bind her to his whims, same as the fingers taking purchase over your chin and cheeks. It’s going to show up by morning if he holds you like this for much longer. 

“Not fair,” he spits the echo as a grave offense.

The silence is deafening.

“Not fair… are you fucking kidding me? Really, I’ve already been more than fair here. You want concessions for nothing, that shit’s not going to fly with me.”

His touch only relents when you move to break it with a squeak. Pushes you down into the arm of the sofa, caging you in his triceps.

Heart rate spikes. Tinnitus roars in your ears.

“Keigo, let go.” Your voice is small but it reaches him well enough. “Please.”

Looking at him hovering over you, you see him staring back. 

Whatever monster this may be, you will always favor the predator who can differentiate his prey…

Scrubs a hand across his eyes. “Damn it, Blue.”

…at the very least, you could survive him.

Whether this fresh abuse has manifested from work stress or insecurities the day has wrought, that’s no good. But it’s a far better outcome than catching your fall in the web of a dissociative episode.

You know you’ll never get a true apology from him. You’ll settle for the lie of his sorry, knowing he’ll do this again and again.

Let him give you his tears. His care and ceremony. At this point you just want your low light and heating pad. 

You just crave the temporary lapse for now. The quiet break in the chaos. Sleepless nights with a pulsing scar bound to fade faster than the memories ever will.

He pushes off of the couch and snaps his attentions beside you.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her while I’m gone.”

Nightingale sits dutifully, never so much as lifting a finger during his little conniption. You both watch him leave with Starling and the baby in tow, under his wing.

They barely have the door open before she starts to shake on the far end of the sofa. She laughs until she’s on her side, wailing.

You watch for what feels like ages until Hawks turns on his heel, heading straight for her.

“What is it?” he demands, frantically looking her over. “What’s wrong?”

From across the room you hold Starling in your sights. 

She locks with you… 

You feel the breath shared. The moments lost in this time apart.

you feel her inside, feeding you, guiding you.

You materialize on craggy ground in the recesses of her mind.

“Starling?” you call, only to hear yourself in response.

Your softening gaze follows the stars behind her eyes. Lights up the whole space in a bleeding stream of stardust.

As you reach out to touch the stuff, it lights up. Tingly and warm, so warm.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she says, nearly so fond. “Sorry for the rush job.”

“I hope you know I wasn’t trying to pressure you back there.”

“You’re fine.” She takes the glowing stardust in hand and massages it into her palms. Starling nods at the empty spaces all around. “Go ahead, make yourself comfortable.”

You do so.

“Any idea what’s up with Gale?”

“This is definitely new,” she comments. “Up until thirty seconds ago, Nightingale hadn’t spoken… I mean, maybe going on six years now?”

Starling thumbs at your third eye, imbuing you with her Quirk. You watch her, watching you.

“We’ll talk soon.” She rests her forehead against yours with a wry smile. “Find me in the—”

Nightingale.

He slapped her across the face.

That’s what brought you right back.

Your eyes shoot to the floor. Head down, legs beyond trembling as your hands go to cover your ears.

“Starling, take Josiah back to the nest. Seems I have my work cut out for me tonight.”

No question. No story.

Just orders, orders, orders.

Treating you to the same reckless abandon he does his Fierce Wings. You’re all just things to him.

It’s far from news. You knew it. The others, too.

But between the flare up and his mood, it was one too many offenses to your peace of mind.

And just like that, your anger surpasses your fear.

The fingers that were so cold in your fallen tresses turn to white as you flex them in your lap.

in for a penny… 

“That’s how you’re announcing the name,” you balk.

“One more word,” he dares you. “Just one, Finch. I’ll make you regret it.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you beg.

Keigo is livid, practically simmering already. Still, he says nothing. Nightingale holds her face, hasn’t so much as moved from the floor. Starling remains at the threshold in abject terror.

…in for a pound of flesh.

“Fucking make me.”

[yang12e]

Yandere Xandra X Reader

Y/N POV

"Y/N, come down here for a second" I heard my father said, I put down my laptop and notes and walked downstairs. "What do you want", "Y/N meet Xandra, my girlfriend," he said and I see a blonde woman beside him, "hi, I'm Xandra, with an X," she said, "mhm, do you need anything else?" , "no", "ok, I am going back to my room and continue my works, bye," I said and walked back upstairs to my room.

When I was in the middle of drawing something, I feel like someone is staring at me, I looked up from my laptop and I saw Xandra standing on the doorway, "can I help you?" I ask while raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" she asks me, "drawing, can you leave, please," I said to her, and she continued to stare at me for five minutes and finally went back downstairs, I sighed in relief because I can't really stand strangers staring at me, she may be my father's girlfriend, but she is still a stranger to me. When I finally finished drawing, I looked at my watch and it's already afternoon. "Hmm, time really passes by when you are too focused in your work huh".

-Downstairs-

I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge to cook food for my father, his girlfriend, and I. When I finished cooking, I put the foods on the dining table and covered them up since I was not hungry, I turn around and nearly jumped because Xandra was standing behind me, she smirked and come closer to me while I back up to the wall, she pinned me to the wall and kissed my neck. "Xandra, stop!" I moaned when she finds my sensitive spot and bite on it, I pushed her off of me and sighed in relief when I find out that it can be covered with a scarf. "Playing hard to get huh," she said.

I walked upstairs to my room and went to my closet to find my scarf when the closet door was closed and locked inside and saw Xandra standing there "what are you doing" I said and she pinned me to the wall "relax Y/N" she whispered to my ear and bite on it while I bit my lip to conceal my moan, I crouch down and evade her while unlocking my closet door, and wrapped the scarf around my neck and went downstairs to the dining room and sit on the chair and wait for my father and Xandra, his girlfriend.

When my father sits down next to me, I figured that Xandra would sit next to him, but she sits down next to me, 'this won't end well, I can feel it', I thought to myself. In the middle of dinner, I feel her hand on my thigh and squeeze it, luckily I can keep my composure very well, my father doesn't comment why I decide to wear my scarf. When her hand creeps to the waist of my pants, I grabbed her hand 'stop it' I mouthed to her and only saw her smirk.

I immediately finished my food and put the plates in the sink and went back to my room. When I walked outside of my room, I was immediately pinned to the wall and I saw a syringe on her hand and she pricks my neck with it, not long after she did that I lost my consciousness.

When I woke up, I noticed that I was in a bed, and my neck was chained to the bed. When the door opened, Xandra stood there "you are finally awake", "what did you do, where is my father", "don't worry about that sweetheart, mommy will take care of you from now on" she said and walked to me and she got on top of me.

The rest is your imagination.

Done - E

We're bored - White

What should we do? - Red

Oh we know, let's hang from the ceiling - Gold

Okay - White and Red

*stares at E with a gleam in their eye* - Gold

What? - E

Join us - Gold

Fine - E

*hanging from the ceiling* - E, Gold, Red, and White

[cupsofsuga]

HEART TO HEART  ━ YANDERE BTS REACTION*:･。.

{⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{💐} ANON ASKED - “How would the Yandere boys react to Y/N be accepting to their Yandere self. Like she wouldn’t be mad at them and just be okay with it.”

KIM SEOKJIN

━━━ You imagine yourself as a ballet dancer, twirling for thousands to watch in awe. You imagine yourself at a ball, waiting for your prince/princess to swoop in and turn the night into a starlit memory. On this late September evening, you dance under dead stars, resembling a cherubic swan with a curse running through its veins. Bare feet against cold grass was blissful dancing under the spotlight of the moon, adding on to the purity of this evening. There’s glitter on your eyelids and a locket draped over your neck, cursive poetry that runs along your skin and cherry wine that stains your lips. And just for this night, Jin can feel gardens bloom within his chest. You are in every means an angel.

“This ring is stunning! I couldn’t imagine a better promise”. Laughter tumbles from your lips and if Jin could record the sound and keep the tape nestled in his heart, he would. This epiphany overjoyed him for what feels like the first time in existence. You continue dancing to whatever song played in the stereo inside your head as Jin watches and marvels for. For so, so long, his heart was only fragments of dust buried deep in his chest, but now that the moon can shine on the embers of your love, Jin can feel every ounce of pain dissolve into the dirt underneath him, only to rot 6 feet under, just like it deserves. From now until he dies, he can be purified by your illuminated presence.

“Y/N, please promise me you’ll never take this ring off until we replace them with wedding rings… Promise me, love. Please…”

MIN YOONGI

━━━ Tossed and turned within sheets, you ponder over yesterday’s events as the September sun rises. The faint scatterings of tears are still stained on your shoulder and the scent of apple orchards still sticks to your form. You are alone currently, no Yoongi to awake you wearing that adoring smile, but, then again, the loneliness of the bedroom is tranquil. Why must isolation feel so euphoric? That must stay as a question for another day as you crawl out of bed, beginning your search for your lover.

The echo of the clattering of pots and pans fill your ears as you enter the kitchen through the archway. You find Yoongi, surrounded by multiple batches of sweets wearing oven mitts stitched with flowers. He hears your footsteps, looking up to you with the deep-rooted, intimate smile which you’ve grown quite used to. It was reserved for your eyes only, after all. You’ve turned the boy soft, which he learned to embrace in the early stages of his infatuation. You see, as much as Yoongi hardened his heart so much it reminisces a brick, you enter his tunnel of vision turning all of his progress to sweet strawberry jam. You turn the bitterness of dusk into the luminescence of dawn, all with a simple smile you give him. You have now turned days holy for Yoongi.

“My Y/N! You’re awake! I made you all sorts of treats! Cherry pies to brownies, whatever you’d like, my love! I wanted to say thank you for accepting me for who I am... I love you... B-But, if you’d like, I-I can scrap everything and start new! R-Really, I can start baking whatever you want, Aether/Aphrodite…”

JUNG HOSEOK

━━━ The room seems to curl in on itself to where you can only inhale the bitterness of broken sobs and tears. It’s quiet, so, so quiet your brain can barely even fathom the horrid meaning behind the silence. You let Hoseok cling onto your form, letting him cry and beg, letting him simply embrace the unholy feelings within his chest. Tears echo liquid sunsets as they fall down his face. So melancholically beautiful, you think to yourself. He pours out his insecurities and sorrows like whiskey into a glass as you’re there to sit and listen, watch as the boy crumbles right before you. You give him unconditional support and reassurance which clears the smoky air into rays of sunbeams.

Checking in on Hoseok the next day, you find the inquisitively cheerful boy setting up to what appears to be a fort. Fairy lights and fluffy blankets (which are his favorite) coat the living room, the silent chitter-chatter of Cartoon Network characters echoing from within the fort. You watch him as he lives in his own moment for a minute before declaring your presence, cooing at the way Hoseok squeaks and jumps, right before smiling with the light of a million suns and racing to embrace your form. He keeps you at arm's length after the long lasting hug, taking the sweet moment to admire the human before him in all of their glory. Hoseok looks into your eyes like you had gifted him the stars and he has eternity to go stargazing. Hoseok looks at you like you're a human incarnation of heaven itself, and nothing feels purer than seeing the love of his life right before his very eyes

“I-I wasn’t quite finished, but, d-d-do you like it? I spent all night on it! I went to the store and picked out some snacks and… h-horror films, because I know you like those. Yes, they scare me, but I-I’ll be alright! As long as you’re right beside me… Oh! I also found some whiskey in the basement! Not sure if it’s any good, but, I can always go get some more! Anything for you, my light…”

KIM NAMJOON

━━━ Lying in the window seat, enfolded by blankets and Donna Tartt in your hands, you let your mind walk away from the words of The Goldfinch and to wander over the events from earlier that morning. The words of self-doubt were poisoned and the embrace shared afterward was bittersweet. Namjoon's eyes were tainted with fear and his hands begged for your touch. Skin to skin, heart to heart, you hear words turn to cries in a matter of minutes. You let the vulnerable man shake in your arms and hours later, you’re now alone.

Movement from the archway sparks your attention, finding your lover there with a questionable glimmer of ecstasy within his eyes. Namjoon’s cheeks are still rosy and stained with tears from moments before, but his eyes read otherwise. He’s wearing a smile of sheer infatuation as he steps closer, sitting close enough for your hands to touch. Now, you have a clear vision of his eyes. They’re submerged in sunlight, stained with sunbeams as they stare at you. Two sheets of paper are in his hands, right before he whispers with the delicacy of a fawn, “we’re going to Paris”. Your heart picks up speed, reading the tickets word-for-word to receive some sort of confirmation this wasn’t some sort of sick joke. You cheer with excitement, throwing the man into your arms as you squeal. You thank him over and over again, watching as Namjoon marvels over your happiness. God, does he love you…

“I-I wanted to say thank you… For everything, you’ve done for me. I cannot find words to thank you enough, Y/N, so… Take this… What better place would there be for us to visit other than the city of love? Only for you, my angel..."

PARK JIMIN

━━━ Insecurities tumble from Jimin’s mouth as he sits in dusk. The man was worried if he was the sun chasing the moon, waves chasing the tide only to be pulled back, but you reassured him in that sugary sweet voice that sounds like grass rustling under the sun that those were only ugly thoughts, that they are only false. And the way you speak sounds like lullabies as you shush him and tell him you love him. His eyes have dried and his heart is no longer heavy. Dusk turns to dawn and the rainstorms have cleared. Jimin is finally the calm ocean he prayed to be. Jimin is finally himself with no judgment.

Dawn awakens, you are embraced by expensive sheets. The sunbeams kiss your skin as you’re left to wonder, where is Jimin? Every single morning he is cuddled right by your side, desperate for another inch of your skin on his. Waking up alone was more than peculiar, hence why you’ve walked out of the bedroom when you normally sleep in for much, much longer. You find the petite man in the kitchen, seemingly deep in thought as he crowds a plethora of shopping bags, all with Gucci and Chanel logos plastered on their front. You speak his name, watching him nearly snap his neck once he hears your voice. Before another second passes, you’re engulfed into an embrace, one that doesn’t need words to say “I love you more than you’ll ever know."

“Oh, Y/N… God, I love you so much… You’re so lovely and warm and completely and utterly perfect!!! My heart can’t function with you around! I love you so, so, so, so much!! Please never stop loving me…”

KIM TAEHYUNG

━━━ With perfect harmony, perfection, and precision, Taehyung has nearly covered the once white canvas with an assortment of colors. Your cherubic face is drowned with shades of black, blue and red which all blend in one harmonious manner. The illusions and manipulations of specific colors bring out the luminescence of your eyes and the delicacy of your skin. He steps back to admire his work of art and sighs, hopefully, this will be enough to express his utter infatuation and make you accept his confession. You’ve written a letter back to him, expressing your admiration for his devotion and artwork, so you must accept him now, right?

You wait on the bench next to the Art Gallery, shown in the polaroid inside the envelope you received, waiting for his arrival. Your mind seems to reel back to previous events, fingertips tracing over the tears fallen on the written letter in your hands and the vibrant red ink which emphasizes the emotion taken place in Taehyung’s constant state of pain without you at his side. You don’t know the face of the man, only the emotions. You hear the quiet pace of footsteps and feel your heart quicken. The man who held an undying infatuation with you stands just behind you. Eventually, you turn, letting his features drown in your eyes. And, God, you’ve never seen a man that happy.

“Hello, my love... I-I had a plan for what I was going to say to you, but, it seems as if words have failed me as of now. Because of that matter, I decided to give you something. A-And I know this must be new to you and all well frightening, but I can assure you, my intentions are only pure… I love you with my whole heart, darling… Now, please join me...”

JEON JUNGKOOK

━━━ In the parking lot of the school, the kids' chatter has simmered down and the bells have quit ringing. Class was in session, but you and Jungkook have chosen to spend the hour on the hood of your car. September winds and the last few sunbeams of Summer embrace the boy as tears fall down his cheeks. Jungkook cries and alas you can see the bruises and cracks that stain his soul. He expresses his anger, guilt, confusion, self-blame and lies them on a silver platter for you to digest, which you respond with unconditional support all whilst Jungkook is left to wonder in an infatuating harmony. God, where have you been all this time?

The scent of baked goods and lavender fill your nose, calming you from your high heart rate. Walking into Jungkook’s house in the suburbs after seeing what secrets lie under the floorboards was frightening, but, you quickly shake yourself out of the state of fearful unconsciousness and remind yourself that your friend is vulnerable and needs you at this moment. With shaky hands and hushed sniffles, Jungkook leads you up the staircase and through his bedroom door, which was coated with rusted paint. His bedroom is like no other teenage boys. Piles of laundry scattered here and there, messy bedsheets, and what’s this? In the corner lies a few scented candles surrounded by what appears to be your face. Your picture is accompanied by a plethora of items you can’t find the meaning for. Pencils, rings, gum wrappers. What was the meaning behind this?

“I-I know this might be a lot to take in, but, these are all lost items of yours! There’s a bobby pin here, chewed pencil there and, my personal favorite, a flannel of yours that you left here…! I wish I could’ve shown you this sooner, but, I just love you so much and I-I-I get so nervous and-… I just love you, Y/N… So, so much…”