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#yandere twisted wonderland
Hey, so your Tanjiro Reader post gave me an idea. And I just wanted to leave it here, and you can write something if you like it.
But I just thought of a Gyutaro Reader, who gets dragged into Twisted Wonderland with her Daki like little brother.
Just the yanderes falling in love with Reader and trying to court her (in their own obsessive ways), but dealing with her bratty little brother who hates the idea of anyone dating his big sister.
This could be due to Reader being deemed ugly in their previous world, Daki is afraid that the yanderes are just leading Reader on with the intention of humiliating her. Or Daki just hating the idea of a boy stealing Reader away from him.
My rant's over now. I hope you have a great day/night! Keep up the amazing work!
Thanks for the support! 🖤🖤🖤
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Gyutaro Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland
Falling into their world with your little sibling in tow, it’s hard to believe others could look past your demonic self and shortcomings. Your little sibling’s idea of protection garners on who will actually survive their initial purge of people they consider to be faking it. If they do then your sweet sibling makes a point to beat them so close to death they’ll have no choice to be honest:
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Rook Hunt
“(Y/n)’s beauty is unmatched! I wish to serve them everyday!”
“Lies! You’re fast but not fast enough! If you can survive my sash’s capture than maybe I’ll let you have a chance!”
If Rook cheerfully returns to see you with multiple bandages he’ll just say ‘labors of love’
Your sibling is suddenly a lot less critical of the cursive love-letter
“If you do want to date him I guess that’s okay…but if he hurts you we eat him.”
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Kalim Al Asim
“What?! How dare you so openly continue to lie about your affection!? I should tear you to shreds right now!” 
“But I’m not lying. I love (Y/n) with all my heart!”
Call your sibling materialistic but she realizes how quickly he pays for things that you mention you like
Or paying to take you on not-so friendly hangouts
But even without that his beaming smile and honesty make them harder to interrogate
And then there’s Jamil
So they might let their guard down
If only to turn around and snap his neck when his bodyguard’s not there
Too bad he’s oh so diligent
And Kalim is far too persistant
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pomupom · 2 days
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“ ...what have you done? ” / “ what i needed to. now come, i’m taking you home. ”
jamil viper ౨ৎ yandere event. 2.4k words.
warnings : yandere content, manipulation, mind control (use of “snake whisperer”), reader is a bit naïve, kidnapping / imprisonment, bit of canon divergence (no octatrio, everyone has met before book 4), mentioned drugging (but no actual).
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you knew jamil as hardworking and diligent, as mindful as the sorcerer of the sand himself. but more than anything, he came across to you as perfect — a mistake from him was unheard of, though he didn’t achieve above average, it was consistent and clean, as if the mark was his intention from the start. and though you tried to not speculate into others’ lives, you wondered if he was holding himself back — kalim was your friend more than jamil was, but you could see the skill of his work, as if every step was written on the back of his hand, or engraved into his mind (you would bet of the latter being the case for jamil). with the way kalim spoke of jamil, from his cooking to service and responsibility, you would’ve thought he was the perfect man – and, in a sense, you felt correct in your assumption. it felt refreshing after all you’d been through, from heartslabyul to the more recent octavinelle, you weren’t dealing with the artful azul, nor the meticulously cruel leona — simply with a boy as bright as the sun above, and his dutiful servant (along with grim of course, but everyone knew you could never rid yourself of him).
but as time went on, your focus became less on kalim and being around just as his friend, and more on jamil — mostly, he stood around, fetching whatever was needed, and bringing things that weren’t even said, only thought. while grim was living on cloud nine, almost in a food coma every night you spent at scarabia, you studied the behavior of your new friends – after three overblots nearly back-to-back, it was better to play it safe, than to be stuck fighting yet another student with a tragic past. but, you did learn a few interesting things — one being that jamil didn’t get beat in anything, he let himself get beat, at least as far as you could tell. with the way kalim pushed off studying, falling asleep sometimes or other times making excuses for it to end, there wasn’t a world in which he was beating jamil (though you felt a bit bad about saying such, he had plently great qualities, academics just weren’t one). and you knew that jamil thought of himself as better than those around him (which, in some regard, he was), the slip of a scowl gracing his otherwise calm features when grim bragged about his greatness, telling jamil that he did truly belong beneath him — you rolled your eyes with his remarks too, so you couldn’t blame jamil for that time. and you wouldn’t have thought more as you did if that was the only instance.
but there was always something that lurked within the grey horizon of his eyes, the blank color hiding all sorts of devious schemes — usually, they appeared quiet. a dulled tone that felt they could even lure people into a trance if they weren’t careful. you watched the way they would narrow when kalim starting spouting nonsense again, or the way they widened, as if they would swallow everything within sight for the shock. you admired him for how wonderful he seemed, and feared him for the exact same.
you started to feel yourself become lost around a week into the scarabian stay — days muddled together, and their memories blurred, haze seeming to cloud not just your mind but some around you. kalim, for example, seemed to forget his harsh behavior – was he stressed as jamil speculated? was he letting the talk of jamil being a much more suited leader get to him? you worried, and worried, until your mind ran blank and the next day it seemed like you’d just fallen asleep when trying to recall. grim worried too, about you more than kalim, constantly saying things that your ears stopped picking up — it felt like the ocean had filled them, the direbeast’s voice drowning within the waves that pushed away any sound from reaching your ear drums. it was frustrating, you thought, but you never felt anything except calm and ready, as if your heart was quelled with whatever your days had been spent on. it made you wish you’d forced grim back to ramshackle instead of getting drawn in with him by jamil’s inflation — you never thought you were doing anything spectacular, but jamil’s words lifted you up and made you feel as high as the gods, he must’ve gotten quite good at that like everything else.
was there something drugged in your tea and food? some kind of enchantment that made you forget your days? you wanted to know, and that led you right to him — soft (mainly from your exhaustion) eyes spilled their tears right in front of him, a warm arm moving up and down, along the pattern of it’s rubs, your pretty lips spilling their fears to him as you begged him to help — you’re so smart, you told jamil, i know you could help me, that you could help us. while it was quite flattering seeing the little doll waltz into his palm, caressing his ego with honest compliments like they were soft kisses to his cheeks, he simply cannot do that. you heard kalim, didn’t you? this is for the sake of the dormitory, to leave these embarrassing failures of being anything but first behind, he can’t just “help” this ... but you, little doll, jamil could definitely help you out of this mess. how tiring it must be, he’s so very sorry for unintentionally bringing you into this mess. and jamil’s sure grim’s done nothing but whine and yap, more of a mangy mutt than a weak cat, would it be better to stay with him?
jamil knows if it was you in there, you’d of turned down his offer almost instantaneously — but it isn’t. back to fitting the name of ‘doll’, your nothing but an obedient object to do your ‘master’s’ bidding. there’s a certain rush that comes with this, training his magic as he keeps you under the spell of the snake, will you be able to piece together who has done all of this when you realize your memories have gone missing once you encounter him in your day? jamil certainly hopes not, everything about you is truly perfect for him, and this is the only way to be certain you’ll end up his — your naïve little brain that does nothing except adore him, rather than begin to fear. you’ve observed him so much, but you think everything about him is lovely, not troubling. and to trust him with this rather large issue of memory loss... hah, jamil can’t tell if it makes him want to laugh from amusement or smile with glee knowing you hold him so highly. if only the rest of the world had too, if only there hadn’t been shackles attached since before he was born. a cruel reminder that he can only be great within the presence of others’ minds, not in the real world.
he still remembers the day of orientation, when you and your destructive furball had demanded entry to the college, little rumours already spreading like wildfire from the destruction your little trio had caused you — he related, in a way. much less on the destructive scale, but possibly even more so on the troubling. “the magicless prefect of ramshackle dorm” was the name on everyone’s lips as the weeks passed, from riddle roseheart’s overblot, to little troubles that you’d been involved with during daily life, you didn’t interest jamil at first, but you certainly did now – and, thankfully, kalim also seemed to want your friendship. a perfect excuse, trailing him like jamil was trained, he would get to know you before he even gave you his name.
and though the time of every effort was perfectly planned for any outcome was steep, it seemed to all be paying off in the end. from your continuous growth, making you more comfortable in this school life, to your inevitable (temporary) joining of scarabia, jamil’s plan was coming along swimmingly — only another small step until he reached the finish line, the little goal of taking you over completely. he wanted to make it so you thought of him as your ‘master’ even when free from the spell, your sweet gaze only for him without complaint. jamil can picture it now, and since he’d met your loveliness, the way he’d hold you close and tight — a grip so strong, keeping you tucked into his chest, your sultan cooing at you as the appointed servants quailed in the face of his possible wrath. it would be a perfect life, all jamil needed was for you to agree. at this point, what more could you have to lose? wouldn’t you rather have memories (though bad), instead of keeping a blank mind for the rest of your days?
jamil decided he’d give you the false security of choice — never would he actually let you have the option of you not being his. why give someone the option if you don’t want them to make that choice? but you didn’t need to worry your poor, stupid head over that as you pondered this dilemma. being nothing but a mindless puppet, moving along to jamil’s will, or play pretend in a world where only he would exist in your eyes. you had a sense for that, it seemed — but not for much else. after all, if you had, you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation in the first place. all alone, your little grim nothing but a prisoner now, kalim’s mind long lost as he tried to piece everything together with you, every last one of you were complete, utter fools. falling so clumsily into his trap, defenseless to each scheme that played out perfectly. and what was even more wonderful than watching all these birds of the idiot flock fly together, was your confident defiance, only for it to be squandered moments later.
you came to him, your beautiful face wretched by the expression of anger — exclaiming how you were done with his games, that you were tired of him toying with your mind like it belonged to him. of course you’d say that right now, little bird, scared for those pretty wings to get clipped, to lose your precious freedom – how jealous jamil was of you to be able to even think that. the wonder of freedom, something that he’ll never be able to have, nor experience. such a luxury wasn’t available for people of his status, the low-life, bound servant. he supposed it was only right for you to think like that bastard kalim — “let’s talk it out, let’s have a big feast and put all this behind us”, and whatever other nonsense he tries to make into reality. for jamil, it’d always be impossible for this to be ‘behind him’, an escape from this life wasn’t possible unless the asim family as a whole was out of it.
ink as black as night poured over him, clothing transforming into a look of something which suited him — a sultan. the one in complete power, snakes escaping from underneath his turban, craze clouding over his eyes. and here you were, pushed into his grasp by those under the spell of the snake’s whisper, your own clothing changed in a second one his hands graced your body – covered in cloth of teal, akin to the princess of the story, you’d be a similar royal by his side. magicless, you were just as useless as she, but nonetheless charming in your own respect — blotted lips pressed against your hand, he chuckled as you pulled it away the second jamil let it slip from his grasp, would you try to raise it against him? doubtful, but he wouldn’t lie that a fiesty nature would turn him away, quite the opposite really.
many preparations were to be made — and the first would be sending away that damned al-asim. your eyes widened in fear as jamil had him brought forth, tears staining the cheeks of your (soon-to-be former) friend as he begged jamil to rethink all of this. money, freedom, titles – he could have it all! kalim would give it! but the satisfaction of your horror, and the satisfaction of finally ridding himself of this lifelong pest was much too tempting in this state of mind — he’d send kalim packing on a one-way trip to the ends of the world, the parting words of, “so long, ex-dorm leader kalim!”. yes, jamil would finally be free – free to have you, and free to have any and everything else he wanted.
...what have you done?
it was your turn for tears to fall, hands balled into fists to push against his chest, but his arms held you tight — snake’s tongues flicking against your ears, hanging off the end of every ‘s’ jamil let out, as if they were a part of him. just as he pictured, this was, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world even when he would own it.
“what i needed to. now come, i’m taking you home.”
your home wasn’t here. there wasn’t a place in this world you belonged, let alone with the monster holding you now. you shook your head, repeating this thought to him, only for his mocking laughter to ring out again — maybe if he wasn’t here, you’d be forever lost in this twisted wonderland, but with jamil you had your place of belonging; the spot right by his side.
and how weak you felt being unable to do anything about this. dragged along by jamil, endless servants crowding around the two of you as you made way to the dance floor — you’d celebrate tonight as the start of your lives. not simply just together, but as truly living. no longer under the thumb of those wealthy, brainless dimwits, and you no longer stuck being lost and lonely. no, you’d always be with jamil, never would he let this reality fall into being just a dream once more.
jamil was calculating, cruel and patient, taking you apart one by one. that was the true nature of him, a simple disguise shown to fool you, as well as those who surrounded him. simpletons, you all were, if only you had been more mindful, maybe then you wouldn’t have fallen into the pit of a viper.
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merakiui · 2 hours
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the birds and the bees.
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yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.
The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…
But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.
Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.
“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”
You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!
“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.
“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”
“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”
“And what was it you’re studying again?”
You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?
“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”
“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”
“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”
“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”
You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.
Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”
“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”
“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”
Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.
But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.
“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”
Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.
On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.
“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”
“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”
“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”
Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”
“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.
Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.
“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”
“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.
In other words, a scent you associate with misery.
You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.
“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.
He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”
Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.
“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”
“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”
You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 
So stiff…
“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”
Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”
“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”
Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.
Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.
“W-What’re you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No?”
“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”
“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”
“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”
“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”
“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”
Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”
“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”
“What?! But you—”
“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”
Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.
“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”
With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.
“Sounds about right.”
“And you’re so experienced?”
You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”
“I’m not a mama’s boy!”
“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”
“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”
“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”
“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”
“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”
Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.
“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”
“R-Review? You don’t mean—”
“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.
“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”
“You can call them what they are.”
Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”
“You know the word, mama’s boy.”
He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”
“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”
He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”
You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”
“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”
“Mhm. Good job.”
He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”
“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”
Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.
“And this?”
“Your vagina. It’s where—”
“What’s the other word?”
Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”
“So what?”
“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”
“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”
Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”
“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”
It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”
You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”
“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”
“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”
“Even a rose?”
“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”
Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”
“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”
“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”
“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”
“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”
“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.
Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”
“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”
“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”
“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”
Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”
Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”
“You’re beautiful.”
Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”
“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”
You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”
Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.
“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”
You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”
“Desperately?”
Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”
“I haven’t asked for that yet.”
You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”
“A shame.”
“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”
“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”
“Okay?”
“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”
“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”
“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”
“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”
“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”
Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.
“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”
Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”
Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”
Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”
“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”
Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.
“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”
“Lying’ll do that.”
“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”
“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”
Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.
Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”
You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.
“Not bad. You’re getting there.”
His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.
“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”
“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.
You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.
His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”
The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.
“Why?”
“I… I’d like to get to know you.”
“Me?”
“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”
“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”
“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”
Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”
“You know which one.”
“You could be the one to close it.”
You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.
“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”
“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.
“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”
“What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”
“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”
“Oh…”
“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”
Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”
You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”
Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”
“What?”
“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”
A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”
“I have a name, you know.”
You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”
Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.
“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.
Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”
“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”
“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”
Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.
“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.
The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.
“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.
Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”
“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”
Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”
“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”
“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”
“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”
“No, not that. Outside of this.”
“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”
“I…do.”
“So spend time with them.”
Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.
“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”
Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.
“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”
“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”
You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.
“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”
“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”
“Thanks, Riddle.”
Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.
In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.
The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.
“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.
He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 
“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.
Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.
Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.
— — —
Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.
“Pardon my intrusion.”
You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”
“Is that right? I assume all went well?”
“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”
“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I don’t doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”
“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.
If only she knew.
“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”
“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”
You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”
“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.
Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.
It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.
— — —
From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.
A tiny smile tugs at his lips.
Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.
And you’re just perfect.
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can someone request me twisted wonderland stuff because i wanna make shit bu i am in a writers block at the moment and i have a book to write so please send me anything i won't judge it too much, only a little bit. i don't care if it is a ship, x reader, headcannons for characters, an au you want me to make, just give me anything at this point.
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yandere-wishes · 4 months
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Normal People: "Why did u start writing Yandere content?"
Most Yandere Authors: "I wanted to express my dark desire for a forbidden romance through a creative medium. Forgoing social norms to create a love that is most cruel yet utterly true. To appease the lethal love that lays dormant within my bones, rattling me with its yearning for freedom. To show the world a love that is hideous, dangerous, yet wholly profuse. The sort of love only found under a moonless sky. A romance that can kill and heal with the same hand. To fashion ballads of broken hearts and damaged minds trapped in a waltz of shimmering hearts."
Me: I want to get kidnapped so I won't have any responsibilities.
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simpingseafood · 5 months
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"You will never return to your world…"
Bad ending
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mellowwillowy · 2 months
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"Stop the wedding!!"
So you get to see NRC food fighting RSA in the end lol Yan! NRC vs Yan! RSA x GN Isekai'd Player (Self-aware)
All the people inside the cafeteria turned their attention to you, an isekai'd player.
"(Name)!!" Idia beamed in tears, finally someone saving him! ... wait, someone? Oh no no no no! You are not just 'someone'!! Why did he even bother troubling you to this extent? He should have just kissed the bride!!!
"Make it right in time, you got me, Ace?" "Thank you for kicking me like a barrel toward the ghosts, pal," Ace replied dejectedly but posed no annoyance at all.
"Potato, since when do you have the funds to get yourself such a nice suit?" Vil questioned as he inspected your overall. The makeup and hairdo were not done to the utmost perfection but he can let it slide because anything on you equals absolute beauty.
"Oh, this? So you are smart enough to realize Crowley won't cover MY suit! I mean, he was trying teeth and nails to not let me join Ace and Co!"
"At least he does something right for the first time," Leona added. "White suits you though I thought you'd surely go with Black as usual?" Trey cocked his head to the side questioningly.
"Look, this is what Neige lent me. And all his attires are almost pristine white! I'm telling ya'!" At that statement, you saw Vil twitch despite not being able to move, he must have been very pissed at the mention of Neige's name alone.
"Originally I planned on taking Cheny'a's but I realized how eccentric his taste is so I decided to go with Neige. The RSA students are kind enough to assist Neige in tailoring it to my size too! Got them right in time before Crowley could shoo me!"
"Dude, even the RSA knows how to respect them, I don't know if I should be angry or nah but it certainly leaves a bad aftertaste seeing them wearing what RSA makes for them." Cater whispers something to the person next to him, inaudible to your ears.
"What do you say if we steal the suit and then burn it down in front of them after we are done here? I'd like to give them a nice thank you hug too while we are at it." "And we should leave them some of my... flowers collection too. This alone should be enough to show our gratitude right?"
"I'd say we should try giving them a proper form of token of gratitude too, how about Master Lilia's cooking?" Sebek added with a grin, he had his fair share of Lilia's cooking to the point he'd like to share it with the others.
"Oh? Then I'd have to make sure to add extra 'love' into it." He replied, this time intending to poison people so its horrifying taste was multiplied at natural without him realizing it.
"Wait, why would we even bother giving them a handmade cooki-" Jack was immediately silenced by Cater's eerie smile. He had his fair share and he knew they meant nothing well from it at all.
"Hey Ace, do something! Stop throwing all your work on prefect!" Deuce yelled by the sideline, ready to chew his ears off.
"I agree, you shouldn't let someone magic-less handle this handful situation alone, get a hold of yourself right now will you, Ace?" Azul scowled and started to usher Ace into work.
"Dude! Now all of you are cornering me?" "You haven't finished, Ace?!"
And Riddle's voice was all it took to make Ace cowered like a puppy. Rook shook his head in disappointment, this had taken way longer than the original gameplay.
"Hurry! We should wrap things up as though we are changing a dirty tablecloth into a new one!" Epel yelled out rather... unique lines. Was he trying to be as poetic as Rook? If anything, both Rook and Vil said nothing regarding this.
"Riiiiighhhhtttt, I'm kinda checked out now, to be honest." Idia's eyes immediately widened, not you too?!
Just before the other could chant another "Smooch the bride", you immediately lunged toward the bride. All those gym class training paid off! Basically, this and that until the ghost inflated.
And instead of Rook ordering you and Epel around, you took the steering wheel before anyone could. "Move yer' ass you glorified wood logs! Move move move!"
The lucky person is the person who gets to feel you dragging them. Absolute win!
--
"Urgh, I'm so gonna have phasmophobia now." Idia rolled his eyes as the ghosts departed but to be honest? He was happy to see you barging into the cafeteria like a knight in shining armor for him! (It was mostly the others fighting lol)
Idia was taken by surprise the moment your hand smacked his back. "Would you look at it, the star of the show, a handsome groom adorned in black! You look positively breathtaking, senior Idia."
"Eep-! Oh no, they have graced me with their words that are enough to deafen me! What should I do? How should I show them just how grateful I am to be even considered by them???"
"What did you say? I couldn't hear you really well." "Well, brother said that-" "N-n-no! Nothing! I uh... am thankful... for your assistance." He answered bashfully, his hair tip turned into a shade of pink.
"Now now potato, it's time to change, wearing that must have been uncomfortable right?" Vil immediately pulled you away from the pink introvert. "No...? Neige said that it's meant to be comfortable and it's true!" "Well, we have something even wayyyy more comfortable for you, shrimpy! Come on now, let's take it off and dress you up in something else!"
--
Lilia was leading everyone with a basket of something, a speaker in one hand and Neige's suit in the other hand, "Hey you RSA whippersnappers! Get down!"
The head mage was coincidentally away that day and it allowed the NRC students to lead a protest in front of the academy's gate.
Lilia threw the white suit onto the ground while Leona whistled, signaling Rook to shoot an arrow of fire toward it like an Olympic grand opening. (What a duo.)
"Yeah! Eat this you good for nothing!" Cater and Ruggie immediately took out the pie from Lilia's basket and threw it right onto the students' face. Kalim was generous enough to sponsor lots of baking materials for Lilia with Jamil assisting with the baking. It was badly burnt but still hard as a rock.
Cheny'a was careful enough to avoid Trey and Riddle while Vil was feeling rather generous in feeding Neige~ Oh, and Malleus is always bullseye in his shots, hitting everyone down in no time. He was pretty pissed (sulking) that he was not invited to join your fun. Silver was not being merciful too, he didn't fall asleep at all during this whole thing!.
Rollo was feeling rather grateful but also sad that you did not come to him to ask for his help :( And Crowley just watched everything from the sidelines while praying that nothing bad will be sent to him after this. Well, he's happy with how bright his students are.
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shiny-jr · 4 months
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from POMEFIORE
- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 
- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.
- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.
- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.
Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia
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Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.
It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.
To my darling player,
I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.
All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.
I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.
I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.
The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.
I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?
I would kneel down to no one else.
There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?
Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.
Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.
If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.
I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...
I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.
Yours,
Vil Schoenheit
The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.
They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.
"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.
But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.
For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."
"Boring, huh?"
Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.
Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.
Trickster,
It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.
To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...
I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.
I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.
Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.
Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.
I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.
But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.
So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.
Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.
My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.
My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.
Should you need me, I will be there.
Yours,
Rook Hunt
There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.
Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.
In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.
And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.
Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.
"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.
"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."
"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.
In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.
Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.
The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?
Dear Player,
If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.
Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.
The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.
Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.
Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.
Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.
I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.
If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?
Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.
Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.
I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.
This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.
All you gotta do is talk to me.
Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,
Epel Felmier
2K notes · View notes
yandere-daydreams · 2 months
Text
Title: Dragon On The Tower Roof.
Pairing: Yandere!Malleus x Reader (TWST).
Word Count: 4.2k.
TW: Fantasy AU, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, Mentions of Injury to Reader, Implied (Consensual) Sex, Possessive Behavior, and Manipulation.
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Malleus met you at the base of his tower.
With a single movement of his wings, he descended from his perch and landed in front of you – placing himself between you and the stone behemoth. Had you been a more imposing figure, a knight or a prince or the general of some distant army, he would’ve cut you down the moment you entered his valley, but your only armor was a thin rucksack tunic and your only weapon was a rusted sword – the tip of its chipped blade currently planted in the ground as you struggled to keep yourself on your feet. He could smell blood on you, although he couldn’t be sure if its source was the jagged, poorly bandaged wound on your calf or the dark stains painting your humble clothes. You were clearly not a knight, much less a prince, and if you were a general, your army had abandoned you long ago. Altogether, you were not the most intimidating nuisance he had ever had to dismiss. He might’ve been grateful, had you not been a nuisance at all.
In the past, his visage alone had been enough to make even the bravest adventure abandon their quest, but your weary eyes only glazed over his black-scaled wings, his spiraling horns, the slit pupils of his unnaturally green eyes. You acknowledged him with a slight nod, putting more of your weight on your makeshift aid. “I believe I’m here to slay you, dragon.”
His greeting, likewise, came in the form of a bowed head, a narrowed gaze. “And to rescue the prince, I assume.”
You shrugged, the gesture alone threatening to cost you your balance. “I’m sure they’d prefer if I didn’t. I think they’ve got someone else for that – a lord, or maybe a king. Someone more befitting than a filthy criminal, surely.”
At that, Malleus felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Novelty was rare, this far into his everlasting life, and he could not say he’d ever had a prisoner sent after his head. “What sort of crime gets you sent to the lair of a monster?”
You brightened at the question. “Thievery,” you answered, pride overshadowing your exhaustion. “I could either face you or let them cut off my hands and, well, I find those to be quite essential to my burgeoning career.”
This time, you earned an airy laugh, a reflexive flick of his tail. He took another moment to evaluate you before speaking. “You are tired, thief.”
It wasn’t a question, but you answered regardless. “It was a long journey. You aren’t an easy monster to reach.”
“And injured, presumably by the fangs of some great beast of legend.”
“Right again.” You paused, then added, “If there are any legends about wolves, I mean.”
“And hungry.” Your smile fell. When you failed to respond, he went on. “May I invite you to share a meal with me before our battle?”
He watched as you swallowed, as you straightened. Your sword was pulled from the ground and allowed to hang limply at your side as you stared up at him with such a hopeful expression – his heart, had it not been so terribly calloused, might’ve broken at the sight alone. “Well,” you started, your humor gone in exchange for pure, unabashed desperation. “I suppose I can’t refuse such a kindly offered invitation.”
With no further conversation, he stepped to the side, raising his staff to the tower. After only a moment, the endless cobblestone pulled away to reveal a simple, wooded door – already open and awaiting his entry. Smiling, he motioned for you to follow him, and without protest, you obeyed.
~
You ate, to put it politely, like a starving animal.
There’d been an attempt at decency when you first sat down at the opposing head of his banquet table, a gallant effort to make use of the flatware arranged into neat, never-ending lines on either side of your plate, but what little energy you had for such pleasantries was depleted quickly as your attention was dedicated entirely to the whims of your empty stomach. Countless other dishes decorated the table – ranging from fine delicacies fit for the pallets of kings to common staples even the lowest of peasantry would’ve been familiar with, but Malleus was content to nurse a goblet of dark, herbed wine as he watched you bask in the feast.
Only after you’d gotten your fill did you seem to remember that you had company, your expression taking on a sheepish note. “This is what they brought me to trial for. Trespassing, I mean,” you began, and Malleus hummed in acknowledgement. “It was a baron’s manor – not quite a castle, but close to it. I heard he had the most beautiful gardens on this continent, and at the time, it seemed unreasonable to have to wait for an invitation just to take a look.”
“I thought you were a thief?”
“You must have the wrong person. I’ve been many things, but never a thief.” You leaned back in your chair. “I’m afraid I’ve always been too tender-hearted for that kind of thing. I could never stand to insult my hosts.”
“Such a considerate guest I have,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose I won’t have to worry about being robbed blind if I let you stay the night, then.”
You shook your head, feigning ego. “I would never, dear dragon. Your reclusive prince, on the other hand—”
Whatever you might’ve gone on to say was swiftly replaced with a sudden gasp as every torch within sight burst into a pillar of vicious emerald flame, casting the dining room in a blinding, sickly green before dying out just as abruptly as it’d erupted. Malleus let out an exasperated breath, bringing a hand to his temples. “My apologies. My patience has grown—” He cast a wayward glance toward the ash now seared into the stone walls, the ceiling. “—thin, over my time here.”
You allowed a beat to pass by in silence, then another. “Your prince,” you said, finally. “Is he important to you?”
“I can think of nothing I value more.” The answer came easily, even if the intensity of his sentiment surprised him. “An old friend asked me to ensure his safety. I’ve performed my role dutifully ever since.” The taste of blood rose into the back of his throat, but he drowned it out with another long sip from his goblet. “They used to send entire armies to reclaim him, then lone knights, then the occasional adventurer. You might be the first human to come seeking my head in two or three decades.”
Your smile took on a shy lilt, your eyes drifting to the table. “I wasn’t really supposed to come after you, either. Most people just take it as an exile, but they gave me a sword, and…” It was your turn to laugh, now, to be surprised with yourself. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought, even if I don’t get to rescue any princes, it could be nice to see how much of the fairy tale is true.”
“And you’re satisfied with what you’ve found?”
“Not entirely,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I met you, dear dragon.”
After some hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and closed the distance between you. You stiffened, your gaze flitting blatantly toward the sole exit, but you didn’t attempt to flee as he pulled the closest seat in front of you and fell into it. “May I see your leg?”
You were far more than reluctant, but complied. The material of your travel weary trousers was pulled above your knee, the strips of fabric you’d attempted to fashion into bandages cut away with his own pitch-black talons. The wound was worse than he’d assumed, more severe than he assumed. Ragged skin stretched from your knee to your ankle, harsh puncture marks littering what little flesh was still in-tact. The stress of your journey had prevented the brunt of the damage from healing, and even without the use of his advanced senses, he would’ve been able to feel the heat radiating off of your skin, the first signs of infection beginning to set in. You were lucky you’d made it to his tower before the fever spread. His territory was cruel to the most resilient of creatures, and you seemed far from resilient.
“I have a salve in my collection that should aid in your recovery. That, paired with a few days of bed rest, should have you on your feet again in a week’s time.” Not a lie, but not far from one, either. He’d mended worse with a snap of his fingers, but there was no reason you should have to be burdened with such knowledge. “If you can find it within yourself to share a roof with a monster and delay our duel yet again, I can provide room and board while you recover.”
Your laugh was bright and strained. “You’re terribly kind to someone who came here to take your life.”
“And you’re very trusting of a creature who could easily end yours.” He let his pointed claws scrape over your bare skin, prolonging his evaluation. “Think of it as a show of my gratitude. My time here is well-spent, but tends to pass slowly. Visitors, whether benevolent or malicious, help to color my days.”
“Then I will have to be the most colorful visitor you’ve ever had,” you chimed, your grin renewed with fresh vigor. Clearly, you were not the type of mortal who could go long without a task. “I’ll make you wait on me hand and foot and bend to my every whim, until the thought of encountering another human being makes you sick. When I’m done, there might even be a dragon in this tower worth slaying.”
His only response was a steady nod, a low hum. He stood and, in the same motion, hooked one arm under the bend of your knees and another around your waist, lifting you into the air before you had the chance to so much as think to pull away. Instinctually, you attempted to re-balance yourself against him, and Malleus couldn’t help himself – laughing as he pulled you to his chest. “If I am to dote on you to the point of sickness, then let me start now. You’re in no state to walk on your own.”
You opened your mouth as if to complain, but anything you might’ve said was deemed too unimportant to warrant the effort. Your smile softened, your eyes falling shut as you rested your head against his shoulder. You lingered there, quiet and content, as he carried you through the halls of what would come to be your home.
~
Your prescribed period of bed rest came and went. Your bruises healed, then your leg (although you still tended to limp during particularly heavy rainstorms), and your exhaustion was replaced by a buzzing sort of restlessness. He never asked you to leave, and after some time, you seemed to stop expecting him to. You spoke rarely of your past (aside from the ever-changing series of events that led you to his tower, of course) and never of your future. When Malleus was in one of his more indulgent moods, he allowed himself to believe that, when he did catch you looking in his direction with such a glimmering worry in your eyes, you weren’t afraid of him, but of the possibility that he might send you away.
Despite your claims of spoiled houseguests and encumbered hosts, he was only driven to near-madness once while sharing your company. It’d been shortly after you instated yourself as a resident of his tower, rather than a fleeting visitor, and took to exploring your new dwelling without reservation. It’d been his own fault, really. He’d forgotten to warn you away from the upper wing, to resketch the protective runes he’d long-since allowed to fade, but such rationality had escaped him as he stood in the doorway, his mind empty and his eyes trained on your kneeling figure. He watched, paralyzed, as you raised a hand, reaching towards the marble slab, and then he was behind you – the points of his talons grazing the skin of your throat before he managed to restrain himself, curling his fist around the collar of your shirt, instead. Without warning, he hauled you off your feet, ignoring the half-choked shriek you let out in response.
His eyes fell to Silver, searching for any signs of harm, of disruption. Of course, Silver was unchanged. His colorless hair remained fanned over his velvet-cushioned pillow, the silk sheets and hand-stitched quilts still folded neatly at the foot of his bed – waiting to be put to use when the weather turned in autumn. Malleus took a moment to observe the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle movement behind his closed eyes, before letting out a breath of relief and turning to you. “I don’t recall giving you permission to enter this chamber.”
“Sorry, I— I was just looking around, and I saw the flowers on the door—” Silver’s own craftsmanship, preserved from the ravages of time by Malleus’ spell work. He’d painted them as soon as he was old enough to hold a brush, along with matching murals on his bedroom walls that hadn’t survived the passing ages. “—I got curious, that’s all. Is this the prince I was sent after?”
Malleus set his jaw, straightening his hunched posture. “…it is,” he answered, eventually. He let go of your collar and let you stumble onto your feet. “His name is Silver. I never knew him by any titles.”
Malleus’ gaze shifted to you, but your eyes remained fixed on Silver. “He’s beautiful.”
Despite himself, he felt the edge of his lips turn downward. He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you seemed to recover from your daze, turning to face him with a hopeful smile. “Do you know when he’s going to wake up?”
Malleus felt a coil of heat form in the back of the throat. The taste of ash laid heavy over his tongue, but he swallowed back his guilt and forced himself to respond. “In another hundred years, perhaps,” he mused, his tone melodic and detached. “There’s no known cure for a curse like his.”
A phantom of disappointment flickered across your expression, but it was suppressed quickly. Rather, you turned your attention outward – to the heavy, woven curtains draped over each crystalline window. “Will you help me let in some light? I hate to insult your taste, but it’s terribly depressing in here, and—” You brightened, taking him by the sleeve and tugging gingerly. “We don’t want his highness to have any nightmares, do we?”
With some reluctance, Malleus nodded. “Light, but nothing else.” When you failed to acknowledge him, he caught you by the wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure for your smile to falter. “Light, but nothing else. Do you understand?”
Your eyes darted back to Silver, but only for a moment. He was thankful for that – for your restraint. A second longer, and his true nature might’ve overshadowed his better judgement. “Of course, dear dragon. Nothing else.”
He inhaled sharply, then let go of you altogether.
It was a choice that, in the approaching months, he would only come to regret.
~
“This is what they banished me for, you know.”
“This?”
“Yes, this exactly.” You propped your chin on his chest, positioning yourself to more easily card your fingers through his hair. He let his eyes fall shut, basking in the warmth of your affection, of your bare skin pressed into his. Your clothes laid discarded on the grass around you, one of his wings bent and raised to shield you from the harsh light of the setting sun. He would have to get you back to the tower, soon. He’d always been indifferent to the deadly chill of night, but you – in your precious, delicate mortality – were not so durable. “Actually, not quite – I don’t think I ever made it to this part. It was the first time I’d ever attended a royal ball, and I happened to dance with a young lady so breath-taking, I couldn’t help but drop to one knee and dedicate my heart to her the moment our hands touched.” You sighed, feigning remorse. “Little did I know that she was the princess that ball was being thrown for, and so moved by my passion, she refused to let me out of her embrace until I agreed to marry her. Of course, her father – the king, as the fathers of princesses tend to be – couldn’t have that. It’s a shame, really. We would’ve made a gorgeous couple.”
Malleus pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. “And what does that make me? The next scorned lover of a silver-tongued rouge?”
“Oh, no. If you asked me to marry you,” You propped yourself up, pressing a kiss into the curve of his jaw. “There’d be nothing in the world that could stop me, dear dragon.”
Your hand fell to his cheek, and wistfully, you lulled him into a kiss – shallow but lingering, punctuated with a playful nip at his bottom lip. You pulled back with a smile, another quick peck to his cheek. You moved to say something, but he interrupted you, as mournful as he was to cut off such a precious moment so callously. “I found your wildflowers.”
Immediately, your expression fell. “I made sure not to—”
“I know, beloved, I know.” You knew better than to lay a hand on Silver. Your small bouquet had been left on the corner of his bed, another additional chain of asters and lavender braided into one of the longer strands of his waist-length hair. As much as he wished he could say he was only concerned for Silver’s well-being, it wouldn’t have been the truth. Something else, something darker, had accompanied the discovery – something it would be better for you to stay ignorant of. “We’ve talked about this. Silver is vulnerable, in his current condition. Even the simplest luxury is an unspeakable risk.”
Your shoulders dropped, your body going slack against his. You bowed your head, burying your face in the dip of his shoulder, and despite his frustration with you, he didn’t push you away. “I’m sorry. It just feels so cruel to let him suffer alone.”
“He’s never been alone.” His tone was more curt than he’d meant it to be. “He’s always had me.”
“I know, but—” He expected you to raise your hair, to flash him that brilliant grin. Instead, you only settled against him, speaking softly into the crook of his neck. “He just seems so sad.”
Malleus took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut.
Then, before he could let himself think better of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist. In one fluid motion, he turned you over – leaving you on your back, one of his knees planted on either side of your waist, your form tucked safely underneath his. His kiss was less gentle than your own – that deep, aching sort of hunger overwhelming his cautiousness as his tongue raked over yours, as he groaned unabashedly into your mouth. You returned his affection emphatically; your fingers soon knotted in his hair, your eager touch preventing so much as the thought of distance between your body and his. Because there never would be distance between you and him. Because there was no reason you should ever have to be taken away from him.
Hours later, when the last traces of light had faded and the stars were painted in swirling patterns across the sky, he would carry you back to his tower – unconscious and pliable in his arms. That would be the first night you spent in his bed, and as he laid there with you, he couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be if you never left.
~
The runes carved into Silver’s door were redrawn, Malleus’ enchantments refreshed, and your bittersweet sympathy slowly rotted into a distinctly bland melancholy. You didn’t speak of him (Malleus could only wonder how you ever managed to speak of anyone when so many of his marks so often decorated your skin), but he noticed new scratches around the well-rusted lock on Silver’s door, caught you braiding chains of daisies and crowns of marigolds with no intended recipient in mind, and at night, you tended to slip out of his hold and wander. Sometimes, he waited for you, lying awake as you hunted for whatever solace there was to find in the empty halls of an ancient tower. Most nights, tonight, he chased after you.
He found you in a window near the tower’s highest room, laid across the wooden sill, your back propped against the empty frame. He didn’t ask to join you – wordlessly lowering himself to the floor at your feet. As if by reflex, your hand fell to his horns, your thumb tracing over a particular ridge near the base as you broke the quiet. “Have ever told you why I’m here, dear dragon?”
Countless times, but he still played along. “Who has my heart been stolen by today, beloved?”
“A murderer,” you said, hollowly. “And not a particularly clever one, at that.”
He waited for you to go on, to spin some elaborate tale of love and loss and betrayal and poor humor, but you only lapsed back into silence, your gaze turning back to the pitch-black valley. He watched your vacant expression for a moment, then another before letting his eyes fall shut and resting his cheek against your thigh.
~
Malleus had expected there to be more anger than this.
You were in a similar position to one you’d taken the first time you stumbled into Silver’s chambers – kneeling beside his marble bed, your ever-weary eyes fixed on the unknowing object of your adoration. The only difference was that, today, Silver’s hand was raised to your lips, now slightly parted in shock. He didn’t have to guess at the source of your astonishment. In front of you, Silver was sitting up. His posture was unsteady, his eyes barely open, but the obvious was undeniable.
He was awake.
To think, there was something of merit to Lilia’s stories of true love after all.
Rather than anger, rage, pure and undiluted fury, an odd sort of calm settled over his blank mind as you snapped in his direction. Your astonishment turned to horror in an instant. “Malleus, I didn’t— I was only trying to—”
He put you out of your mercy quickly. He raised his staff and, propelled by some unseen force, you were torn away from Silver’s bedside and thrown against the nearest walls – the force of the collision far from fatal, but enough to leave you limp and unconscious. With your safety ensured, he stepped forward, approaching Silver. He was awake, but only just. So many decades of uninterrupted sleep would not be so willing to release him from their taloned clutches without a struggle, and there was a certain dream-like lull to the way his eyes skirted over the limited scenery before settling on Malleus, his features immediately softening in relief. “Malleus?”
“I’m here.” Malleus allowed himself a small smile before bringing the end of his staff to Silver’s forehead. “You can rest, brother.”
There was just enough time for the edges of Silver’s lips to turn downward before he collapsed back onto the marble slab. Malleus would arrange him later on. For now, his attention turned to you.
He gathered your crumpled form in his arms and carried you through the halls of his lonely tower, before stepping into the clear air and fresh heat of the valley. He laid you in the tall grass and, after taking a moment to appreciate your peaceful expression, brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek tenderly. The spell came to him instinctually, but he took his time, mourning the loss of your time together with each mumbled word. That was a silver-lining of immortality, though. Infinite time allowed for infinite repetition, and he couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to fall in love with you again.
When he was done, your eyes fluttered open, a smile quickly finding its way to your lips. “Hello, dragon.” You gazed darted to either side nervously, your mind struggling to catch up with your clever tongue. “I would love to introduce myself, but it’s the funniest thing – I can’t seem to remember what I’m doing here.”
He bit back a smile. You tried to force yourself into a more dignified position, but barely managed to get an arm underneath you before pausing, wincing, reaching for the back of your head and coming away with blood smeared across your fingertips. Malleus did what he could to hide his delight.
“You’re a thief. You injured yourself attempting to scale my tower. It was an impressive effort, but tragically unnecessary.”
This time, he couldn’t hide the wide, simpering grin that came to rest across his lips.
“I was always going to invite you inside.”
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tiyoin · 2 months
Text
📍pt 1 | pt 2.
no thoughts just thought about twst’s other mc
you were friends with yuu in your original life. two halves of a whole.
but you were shyer when it came to new people while yuu was more out going. so you couldn’t help but watch enviously as yuu started getting friends- a lot of them- right off the bat.
of course you were still best friends, always making time for each other no matter how hard it was to.
once a week you and yuu would spend the whole day together no matter who you ran into.
ace and deuce? great! they joined the party! but you wouldn’t even look at them nor talk to them out of pure anxiety.
of course you’d talk to them if they spoke to you first. have a little wave everytime they greeted you.
it took you 1 monthh to be able to be able to greet them on your own.
or! if the infamous leech twins were to interrupt your yuu time you would always cling to them as the two green giants would intimidate you.
didn’t help that you could feel their eyes linger on you either. your eyes always meeting theirs if they happened to say something that made you laugh out loud.
of course they picked fun at you for not talking, or barely talking.
“oh? y/n i didn’t know you could talk”
“ehhh, i forgot you were here”
was something you got on the daily. yuu would laugh it off and sling their arm around your shoulder, telling whomever about how much of a chatter box you were! always finished it off by cooing at you and saying ‘how you were shy’ around people, especially guys.
you were in hell to be fair.
although, you were able to make your own friends; like silver. you were the only ones not paired up for the joint potionology lesson.
silver because he was sleeping, and you because yuu was swarmed by their other friends and you went to the bathroom when he announced it was a pair up.
you had counted before and there was an odd number of people. so if you went to the bathroom everyone would have to pair up and when you came back you’d be able to work alone!!
sound proof plan right! turns out one of the leeches snuck into the class when they weren’t supposed to so your headcount was slightly off.
when you say next to silver you debated waking him up. looking to yuu nervously they shrugged, motioning you to wake him up.
but he looked so… peaceful. so you started doing the work on your own, like how you intended. you kept sneaking peeks at him as the minute hand ticked on.
crewel was too busy with another group (ace and deuce) to really bother with you or silver-
“oh-“
gasping, your head snapped to sliver’s as your startled eyes met his groggy ones. his eyes individually blinking as he yawned.
“are you-”
“we uh, got paired up for a project…”
he sat up right, clearly surprised as he looked around. seeing all the pairs hard at work, he looked at your chemistry set with guilt.
“i’m sorry for sleeping, i didn’t even know we were paired together. you could’ve woke me up”
you smiled slightly, shaking your head as you struggled to meet his eyes. “don’t worry about it, i was planning on working alone but counted wrong, and you seemed so peaceful that i didn’t have the heart to wake you”
he sighed, slouching over his seat “i appreciate it, but next time don’t be afraid to wake me up, okay?”
you nodded as you flipped the paper to catch him up.
it was nice talking to someone other than yuu for once. someone who wasn’t as boisterous and a handful. someone who didn’t have trouble follow them like a shadow. yeah it was different, but you’d take any different slice to mix up your mundane life.
you didn’t know if it was sliver, or an instant connection, but you both slowly drifted from the topic and started talking about sleep. your lack of and his overabundance of.
“you’re kidding?? you fell asleep on your horse?? i’m sorry- i shouldn’t laugh” your head threw back as you tried holding back your laughter. silver chuckled, cheeks and ears turning a soft peachy hue, he shifted his bangs between his thumb and pointer finger. silver was recounting the tale of when he fell asleep on his horse during an equestrian club practice, causing the horse to run off with him still attached.
opening your eyes a bit, you saw more than one person staring at you. matter of fact, it seemed like almost the whole room was looking in your general direction. instinctively, you shut your mouth and hunched over yourself as you cleared your throat. staring down at the paper, you erased a sentence before re-writing. your body felt like it was on fire as you bit your lip nervously.
fuck, that was humiliating.
“you should laugh more”
your eyes shot up to silvers. he had a slight smile as he looked at you through his bangs, he flicked his eyes down to keep writing which only lasted a moment longer as his eyes fluttered before he lifted his head.
“you always seem so… depressed”
“ouch” you grumbled, yet he kept going
“you wouldn’t be so alone here if you smiled and laughed more, believe me, you have a wonderful smile and a contagious laugh”
‘no shot he’s fucking rizzing me’ you gasped internally as you felt your cheeks get redder. you fought back the urge to fan yourself as you felt your clothing on your skin.
everything seemed too much, the lights, your clothes, the table, his eyes.
“are you okay y/n?”
you nodded, before quickly shaking your head as your breathing picked up.
1,2,3 1,2,3 you repeated to yourself as your fingers took alternating taps against your thumb.
“let me take you to the nurse”
“i-im fine, really, thanks” you blurted out, standing up before beelining it to crewel. even as your legs carried you swiftly through the isles, you felt eyes rake the back of your body, scan every part of your being.
lord you just wanted to burst out into tears. never late to the party, your vision blurred as tears threatened to slip from your waterline down to your cheeks.
change of plans, you walked past crewel who was busy helping yuu’s group to notice you quickly shuffling to the door.
opening it gently, you all but slipped through the crack. closing it softer than you opened it, you side stepped to the wall and just- breathed.
oh you thought it was cute breathing? HAHAHAHHA. wrong
gasping for breathe, you looked down the hallways. once reassuring that it’s all clear you speed walked down the corridor. you heard a door open behind you as you kept your pace, you didn’t know where you were going but you needed space.
“y/n!” your body jerked to stop, but you kept walking. you couldn’t recognize the voice and you figured ‘hey there’s probably like 20 y/n’s here, they’re probably not talking to me!’
“y/n! wait up!!”
looking back, you saw a blob of brown hair quickly make its way towards you.
slowly, like a deer caught in headlights, you made your way towards the blob. it was probably yuu.
right you were, as the closer they came the more you were able to make out their features.
“hey” you greeted, waving awkwardly as they slammed into you, arms wrapping around you tightly.
you squirmed uncomfortably, yuu being perceptive got the hint and flung off you like you had a disease.
“profesor crewel gave me permission to take you to the nurse! of course i had to convince silver not to go with us, but he wouldn’t budge! so he’s coming with your stuff after class!”
why they were so preppy after you almost had a panic attack (almost??) annoyed you slightly, yet you couldn’t blame them. they didn’t know.
silently, you nodded and started walking to the nurse again. you couldn’t see it, but yuu was waving to the small group that formed by the door; the first years. yuu only followed you once they all were pulled inside.
the majority of the walk was spent trying to calm yourself down. yuu stayed silent, trapped in their own world to give you time to reflect.
you were about to grab the handle to the nurses office when you noticed yuu walked right past you and the door.
“yuu you passed it”
“i know”
“wait you were serious about going to the nurse?”
you shrugged, i mean, what else would you do? crewel would skin you if he found out you skipped.
“i don’t wanna be made into a coat”
yuu chuckled, motioning for you to keep walking with them. looking between an inching away yuu and the red, ‘nurses office’ spelled out on the glass door, your feet moved on their own as your hand lingered on the knob.
yuu cheered as they walked back to you before guiding you in the middle of the hallway. far from the nurses door.
“do you wanna talk about it?”
you groaned, fisting your hair as you remembered what made you spiral. slamming your hands into your face, you grumbled out a response. yuu leaned closer, jokingly telling you to repeat it.
“he complimented me”
yuu stopped walking, hands hovering your shoulders as their eyes asked for permission to touch you. nodding, you were met with a gentle impact of their hands on your shoulders as they lightly shaked you.
“you started crying cause he complimented you??” they laughed, going on and on about your ‘crybaby rizz,’ and ‘how he looked like a kicked puppy because he thought he said something wrong.’
“i- i wasn’t crying!” you argued, but you both knew that was a lie as you cried easily at things.
that wasn’t the reason though… you wanted to tell them, yet when you opened your mouth to tell them what really happened, your throat closed up.
it wasn’t he compliment, but the fact that everyone was watching you. every single pair of eyes in that classroom put you under a microscope and inspected you like an amoeba when you laughed.
and the fact that most of them watched you storm out of the classroom in emotional turmoil made you want to claw your eyes out.
you sighed, knees buckling as yuu’s hands kept themselves purchased on your shoulders as you caught yourself.
“are you sure that’s it? you can tell me anything you know” they looked so worried, brows furrowed, smile long gone from their face, and their nose was even crinkled.
but no matter how strong your throat was, it would never be able to withstand the flood gates that opened once yuu said those magic words. “it just… everyone was staring at me- and i mean staring. like i was an animal they’ve never seen before at a zoo! last time i checked i wasn’t a animal on display! it just made me really conscious about… well everything”
yuu’s head tilted in thought “do you know why they were staring? did you do something?”
“… i laughed”
“… you… laughed?”
you nodded
“wait i’m confused, why the hell would they all look at you then”
“RIGHT” you yelled out, the knots in your back loosening the tiniest amount. no matter hard you tried to wrap your head around it, you laughing shouldn’t have been such a spectacle. yet it was.
“i’m never laughing again- OR going to that class again, i cant, ill die” you hunched over, curling into yourself as you dig your palms into your eyes as you let out numerous groans and sighs. even shaking your upper body for added effect.
yuu chuckled, patting your hunched over form “well i think you should laugh more, only for me though! cause i like it when you smile just at me!”
you rolled your eyes, commenting how greedy they were, and how one could get the wrong intentions based on wh-
“no i want you to get the wrong intentions. well, the right ones for me anyways. i’ll let silver have you for a bit, but make sure you only smile for me, ‘kay!” their arm slid down your back before it found the dip in your lower back.
freezing slightly, your eyes slowly trailed from the floor to yuu. their hand laid there for a moment, almost like they were engraining how you felt under their touch in their mind, before they quickly moved their hand back up to your upper back.
keeping you in their grasp, they started yapping as you two kept walking down the hallways.
they didn’t bother to wait for you to talk
you couldn’t notice, of course, but while yuu’s hand was in the small of your back a certain someone from class had interrupted the moment.
yuu being yuu didn’t tell you, as they were already gone when you started walking again.
i wrote this on the toilet.
why does no one talk about how AWFUL it would be if someone with social anxiety got transported to twisted wonderland 😭
like i’d have ZERO friends, expect for 1 or 2 people cause DAMN
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Muichiro Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland You can Muichiro Reader the part 2 please can you do Riddle, Ace , Deuce , Cater , Leona ,Jack, Azul ,Jade, Kamil, vil , epel , Idia , Malleus , sebek , Silver I like to see that
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Muichiro Reader (2) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland
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Sebek Zigvolt
“YOU! HOW DARE YOU IGNORE ME!”
“...That cloud…”
“HEY!? DON’T IGNORE ME AGAIN!”
Sooner than he’ll admit he’ll dedicate his free time to getting a reaction out of you
Figuring out and being bothered by your floaty response
Why won’t you just acknowledge him
Please acknowledge him at all
He’ll chase you down with new attempts
Whether it’s insulting, yelling, and even his rare niceties
He gets nothing
Or maybe just not enough
Even when he bares witness to your impeccable swordsman ship
He’s absolutely ruined because you won’t look his way without love in your eyes
He’s not above yelling at anyone who gains more of an iota of your attention
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Cater Diamond
“(Y/n) you’re so cute, look this way for me!”
He enjoys your floaty and not-present personality
Your surprising sense of justice
He loves it all 
And he’s torn between sharing it and keeping you all to himself
So he’ll just work to sharing how much you belong to him
You won’t refute when he asks for your hand
Or when he offers to feed you
He adores the way others will assume how the world will accept that you were made for each other
All he needs is for you to one day fall in line
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lovelybrooke · 3 months
Text
Third-years reactions to reader wanting to leave
Sorry this took forever, I've been relaxing with my family, but it's here now, so enjoy. Also, tell me if you want a separate post for the staff, I'm willing to do one.
First years---second years.
Trey
Trey figures out you're thinking about leaving when Riddle comes to him in tears. It was the first time since his overblot that he saw him so distraught. He honestly didn't know what to think, since he was too busy trying to comfort his friend. When he finally got time alone, he was truly just confused. Why would you want to leave? He knows you've always wanted to go home, and that you've been working on it for a long time, but does that really mean you have to leave? You have a good life here, friends, people who care about you. Leaving doesn't really seem like the right option. He's not as erratic as some of the others, but he definitely goes through some emotions. Mostly confusion, then anger, then understanding. He gets why you want to leave, this world hasn't been that kind to you. But that doesn't' mean he's just going to except it without at least trying to get you to change your mind.
And that's what he does. He explains how leaving could lead to a lot of problems. What if something bad happens when you attempt to leave, like another overblot or Grim goes nuts. Who will be here to keep all these rowdy boys in line? He tries so hard to convince you it's a stupid decision, without making It sounds like he thinks you're stupid. He's a great manipulator, and doesn't exactly feel bad when he has to do so. You need to stay,
Cater
Cater figures it out from simply watching Trey. It was easily figure out something was up when Trey seemed out of it, messing up recipes and not behaving like his usual composed Trey self. Honestly, he should've figured it out sooner, with the supposed "sickness" his housewarden came down with not too long ago. It didn't take a genius to figure out what everyone was so hung up on. You wanted to leave, what's the big deal. Wasn't that your whole goal the entire time? Why is everyone so surprised.
Cater puts up an uncaring front, acting the same around you. He even supports you on your adventures in the future when you eventually leave. However, behind closed doors, he's an absolute reck. Crying as he scrolls through photo after photo of you, some with the both of you, and some that you definitely weren't away he'd taken. He'd can't believe you want to leave, after everything that's happened you'd just abandon them. Abandon him. His anger quickly melts into determination. He's just not good enough yet, that's it. That's fine, he can fix it, he'll make everything perfect for you. He gets Heartslabyul back into shape, mainly their housewarden, and demands perfection. He'll get everything back to the way it was before, and then you won't even think about leaving.
Leona
Leona learns about your plan from Jack. Like a good first year he tells him right away. Leon honestly doesn't care, not because he wants you to leave, the exact opposite really. He just knows there's no way in hell that you're leaving. You've managed to enamor some of the most powerful people imaginable, and you think you'll just be able to leave? That's funny, but no.
He doesn't understand what Jack and Ruggie are so worked up about. So what if there's some stupid mirror, there's no proof it works. Even if it does work, one of them will just find a way to get you back, no big deal.
He huffs and complains when Ruggie demands he talk to you, believing he can talk some sense into you. He shows up at your dorm with an uncaring expression, talking to you blankly. He tells you that there's no chance you can leave, and you should get it out of your little head. He yawns, and lays his large body on your couch, before threatening to break that mirror if you do forget about it. He falls asleep right after, like he didn't just scar you.
Rook
Rook likes to keep an eye on you, party because Vill asks him too, and party because he wants to. Because of this, he finds out fairly quickly, but waits to do anything about it until he's sure it's true. Then, he tells Vil so that an actual plan can be made. Though, he's never that worried. He has faith that his wonderful housewarden will be able to convince you to remain in this world. Even as Vil and Epel are panicking, he's calm and composed the entire time.
There is a part of him though, a small, small part of him, that wonders what life would be like without you. His mind is blank when he tries to do so, however. You've brought so much beauty into his world, without you it would just be cold and grey. He's reminded of this beauty whenever he watches you, you're so brave and compassionate. He's drawn to you in a way he cannot explain, there are never enough words to do so in one sitting. So, instead, he sends you poem after poem, all in different spots each day. He just wants to remind you that people care about you. Though, as time goes on, and the year gets closer to ending, the poems become more and more sinister and creepy. They're filled with dark reminders of what everyone would do to keep you here, with them. The once sweet and loving lines are replaced to be dark and obsessive.
You wonder what Rook truly feels, if the flowery words you came to enjoy were just a front for the deep and obsessed loved he truly felt.
Knowing him you'd never really know.
Vil
Vil learns from Rook, and he can't believe it. You? Leaving? That can be right? Though, Rook came to him with enough evidence for it to be possible. For a second he considers breaking down right there. If you leave, what would everything he'd done be for? He's worked so hard to become someone you'd love, and you're just going to leave him. He doesn't though, he remains calm and poised, and quickly comes up with a plan with Rook. He knows something must be done about this, especially before others find out.
Whenever Vil is done however, he's a mess. He's in shambles, wondering what he could've done better. Maybe if he was prettier, kinder, smarter, just...more, you wouldn't want to leave. He runs through his mind, wondering what he could do to make you stay. In the end, he decides it's best to talk with you, over the phone however, you can't see him like this. He pleads with you to stay, to reconsider. If you're worried about where to stay during the summer, he's sure his father wouldn't mind you staying with them. Do you not feel happy here? What can he do better, please just tell him so he can fix this, so things can go back to normal, please?
Idia
Idia learns from his brother, who's distraught. Honestly, he should've expected this. He knew this great thing would never last, someone who was kind to him and treated him like a person rather than a bother. He knew you'd get bored and leave. It doesn't make it any less disappointing when you do though. He sits in his room and doesn't leave, which isn't that strange for Idia. What is strange is him being so motivated to keep you here. He hacks into any devices that you have, seeing who you're talking to incase someone convinced you to leave. He also watches you through these devices, making sure you don't actually do anything you might regret.
He almost feels bad, snooping through your stuff like this. Emphasis on almost, however, since this isn't the first time he's done so. It's like he's numb to invading your privacy. He justifies it by believing that he's doing good, he's preventing you from leaving them, from ruining everything everyone has worked for. So what if he's snooping through your phone and reporting back anything suspicious to the others, it's your fault for wanting to leave them so badly. Even with all the mental gymnastics he does, he never once tries to contact you, too afraid of what you might say or do. He doesn't want to loose your friendship, and he can't stand you being mad at him. He's content with watching you from a distance, regardless of how creepy it is.
Lilia
Lilia's known. From the moment the thought was put into your small human head he's known you were planning on leaving. Honestly, he doesn't blame you, the children around this school are anything but subtle. If it wasn't for the lack of resources, you'd would've left this place sooner. But no, you're still here, and you've wormed your way into the hearts of these precious students, and now you have to face the consequences. He doesn't see a point in contacting you or trying to get you to change your mind. He knows that you're serious about it from the befuddled reactions from the students. In fact, he spends most of his time trying to comfort Malleus, since Sebek just had to go and tell him.
"Oh don't worry Malleus, they're not gonna leave." He coons to the poor dragon and he wallows. In truth, he fears for you, for Malleus's reaction. He knows it's only a matter of time before his sadness becomes rage, and at that point Lilia isn't sure he can help.
Lilia doesn't want you to leave. In fact, if you were just a bit smaller he's sure he would've picked you up and never let you go. You're just adorable, thinking you can leave them. And even if you do, there's always a possibility that they'll just find a way to you.
Malleus
In rained the day the news was brought to Malleus from Sebek. Well, rain was really and understatement, it was more like a thunderstorm, rattling all the windows in the school, threatening them to break. It was no secret that the Diasomnia housewarden was enamored with you, he never cared to hide it. So when rain and wind came crashing down, no one spoke a word about it, too afraid of what might happen to them.
Malleus can't possibly wonder why'd you want to leave, they've spoiled you to no end, provided you a home and care, practically worshipped you. He's personally made sure that you were treated the best, because you were the best, at least in his eyes. So what if you were just some magic-less human, you were his magic-less human, and that's all that mattered.
Malleus spends the beginning wallowing in his own pity, too depressed to leave his bed. He's afraid to face you, party because he doesn't know what he'd do when he'd finally see you again. He spends his time being comforted by Lilia, who tries to convince him that you leaving is impossible, which Malleus never believes.
Finally, when the skies clear and people can finally go outside again, do they see Mallues walking the Halls of Night Raven. He's composed, standing tall and regal. When he arrives at your dorm, seeing you for the first time in days, he doesn't belittle you or loose control. Instead, he offers you a smile, before taking your hand as you fall into a deep slumber.
There, he erases any silly little thought about leaving. You'd awake like nothing happened, smiling and happy, ready to see the friends that cared so much about you. You'll never know about the mirror missing from your room, or the chaos you caused because of an offhanded comment made at lunch. All you'll know is you had a silly little dream that felt way, way too real.
---
A/n: I hoped you enjoyed, sorry for taking so long.
1K notes · View notes
merakiui · 2 months
Text
never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.
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yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.
An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.
It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.
But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.
Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.
Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.
Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.
The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.
Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.
You can be loved.
Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.
Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.
Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?
Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.
He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.
But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.
Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.
Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.
Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.
Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.
Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.
A mother.
You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.
Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.
There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.
He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.
The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.
“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”
He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.
These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.
Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.
Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.
Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.
Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.
In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.
He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.
Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.
At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.
He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.
You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.
Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.
“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”
Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.
Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.
He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.
He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.
This is love.
Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.
You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.
He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.
You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.
A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then— 
Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.
Oh, he came inside.
Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.
An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.
This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.
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travellingarmy · 10 months
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✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙
Malleus Draconia
Warning(s): NSFW. Minors do not interact.
Just a short drabble.
⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰
Malleus thinks you’re cute.
He thinks your especially cute when you give him shy smiles, an angelic giggle, the flirtatious bat of the eyes directed his way.. The list continues and even he himself is not so sure if he can list them all in this lifetime despite his long lifespan.
And in these moments, a low chuckle that comes from deep within his chest will usually be the response to all the little actions. Just like now, as a chuckle reverberates in your ears crystal clear from how close his breath was to your ears. There were no distance between you two. Having said that, your bear back is pressed against his muscular chest and you writhing in his hold. “Hah.. Aren’t you adorable, child of man?” His arms were on both sides of you and planting both of your hands onto the mattress beneath.
You grit your teeth to stop anymore drool from pooling onto the sheets with your eyes rolled as far as it could to the back of your head, but there honestly was no point now that the sheets have been already stained with your cum from the couple of rounds beforehand. It was only ever your cum that stains the sheets. Not once had he cum yet. It was unbelievable, honestly, at the stamina of draconic faes and how his cock is still hard and mercilessly pounding into you all this time.. Or could this just be him? You don’t dwell on it, too focused on getting to your next release, and that wasn’t too far since at every thrust, he penetrates the back of your walls, making your legs tingle with numbness.
“No need to stifle those moans, my love.” Ah, yes, your moans. He finds the cute sounds you make pleasant music to his ears.. Sounds only he could produce from you. No one else. This would be something he should put down at the top of the list of the things he finds so cute about about you.
He turns your head towards him and he inserts his snake-like tongue inside your mouth, tasting the strawberry cake you had with him just early in the afternoon when you joined him for lunch. Without breaking eye contact, he notices the little tears that lie dormant at the corner of your eyes and the wet cheeks. Cute. His little bird is shedding silent tears at the overstimulation he's giving but still so greedily wants more. His hands moves from your hips to your waist in a repeated motion, silent words saying to be patient and that you will soon have your release. He also thinks you're cute even when you cry so no matter what you do, it will be adorable in his eyes.
Malleus Draconia thinks you're cute. But most important of all is that he thinks you’re cuter when you’re in a disheveled state and crying beneath him, begging for more of him.
“I think I like you most like this.”
✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙
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Mc: *goes on date with some random guy*
Yandere Malleus:
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After dates that guy goes missing....
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