Yandere Genshin Men With A Pregnant Runaway Darling

hello! i love your work so much!! could you rank your yans from most to least likely to baby trap y/n?

thank u!! glad u like my work 💞💞

they're in an order btw

would do it. there's a small part of them that feels guilty when you try to argue with them, crying while shouting at them for ruining your life. but it's okay. you have to learn your place and be good for them.

YANDERE elf prince, mean ceo, vampire lord.

there's a part of them that hesitates. they still do it regardless. they try to comfort you and tell you that it's okay, but they eventually get tired of your constant cries. it's okay! you just need to be a bit more grateful for what you're given.

YANDERE doctor, puppy boy, idol, inquisitor, childhood bff.

they'd never do something like that. never if it would hurt you! what if they accidentally cause your death from that? they would never think of anything like that while you're with him, so you'd never have to worry your pretty little head.

YANDERE nice ceo, magician, dilf.

want more? send a request.

(Apologies if I accidentally misread & requests are closed - English is my 2nd language 😳)

Please, I'm begging, please - requesting a story with Idris and a fem!y/n. Where y/n finds out they are pregnant with Idris's child & their overprotective instincts go into overdrive & they say "I'm escaping, no way is my child going to be raised with that monster!"

yan!king x fem!preg!reader TW: unbalanced relationship dynamics, mentions violence, mentions death, infantilization, domestic abuse, minors DNI

—

You puked in the toilet, grateful that no one was around to see the upheaval of what you had just had for lunch. It was hard to hold it down as he spoke. Your face was most likely tight, and your smile was more of a grimace as you fought to maintain a neutral expression, but the moment you were released to do what you wanted, you all but ran to your room to release the contents in your stomach.

Attempting to back away, your hands slapped the edge of the toilet bowl as you felt your body lurch once again before you were gagging and food was expelling itself from your body like a plague. 

Worried thoughts crawled over you. 

Did you remember to lock the door? If someone came in to witness this, how would you convince them that nothing was wrong? Convince them not to call the doctor to give further proof of what you didn’t want to believe. Of what you didn’t want to find out. 

You were pregnant. 

All the signs were there, but you ignored them. You closed your eyes and prayed to the Mother that it was a trick of the mind, a figment of your imagination. Your period was late because it just does that sometimes. You would get it. Even if two days, two weeks, a month passed by with no sign. This sickness was just a bug you caught from spoiled food. Even if it came no matter what you ate. 

You told yourself whatever you needed to rationalize the situation. You weren’t hiding your symptoms from the maids or from Idris for any particular reason. You just didn’t want them to worry about it. About you. It would pass, and everything would be alright. 

But it was harder to convince yourself of that as time passed, as you thought of what his expression would look like when you began to wear baggier clothes until your stomach swelled to the point where you couldn’t hide it anymore. When you felt kicks that would give you an undeniable sign of the life growing within you. When it was too late. 

You didn’t want to get pregnant. 

Not by him. Not now. Especially not here. 

Not with maids who treated you as if you should be grateful to your lover. The lover who showered you in gold and gifts. The lover who would go to any lengths to please you. The same lover who murdered your family and reminded you of it anytime you tried to pull away from him. It was your fault, he would whisper despite giving the order. 

His interest was your fault. His obsession, his tyranny, and the consequences if you didn’t answer every whim with unflinching obedience would always be your fault. And this child would be the icing on top of your shackled cake. . 

You couldn’t imagine Idris as a loving father. Not a true one, anyway. Not when he’d killed everyone you held dear and his own father when he couldn’t have his way. He would smile at your child, hold them, laugh, beautiful and radiant as he always was, but the moment you stepped out of line it was their life he would use to threaten you. 

He’d mentioned making the mistake of taking everyone you held dear too quickly because he no longer had anyone to threaten you with. The only remorse he felt was his own short-sightedness that you didn’t remain docile for as long as he’d hoped. 

And you could only imagine the eyes. 

They’d follow you up and down the corridor, their whispers traveling to cut your ears no matter how fast you’d waddle, walk, or run. 

A bastard child, they would call it. 

An abomination. 

They would claim the father came from unknown origins despite knowing no one would be brave or stupid enough to touch you, knowing the punishment in store if the King ever found out. But it wasn’t you, you were worried about. 

You could only imagine their fake smiles, plastered as they cooed at your baby before their expressions melted into disgust, calling you an upstart and your child an unlovable leech. Their words would pander for approval even as they plotted to destroy you the first moment they got. It was the same people who would comfort you if something ever happened to your child, knowing full well that the blood was on their hands. The same people who would laugh as they washed their hands of assassination attempts, tying up loose ends so things would never be traced back to them. A rival faction, a jealous maid, any and every excuse valid except those pointed in their direction. 

You couldn’t do it. 

You couldn’t stay knowing the kind of life you would be raising your child into. You couldn’t stand to see them look at their father with love and admiration despite the things he did and was still doing with unflinching ease. You couldn’t bear to see them grow up to become just like them—like him. 

You didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when he found out. 

You didn’t want to know if shock would turn into joy that would morph into raving glee at his new bargaining chip. Or if he didn’t care for an addition to your disjointed family. Choosing to feed you drugs that would take care of the problem quietly or allow you to have the child raised out of sight to strengthen his political standing. 

How lucky you were to want for nothing. 

But you wanted to give this child a normal life. A happy one, full of unadulterated laughter. You didn’t want this child walking on eggshells, torn between temporary peace or isolated happiness. It wasn’t something you could offer here. 

Your child had the chance to live in a luxury that not many others could even hope to dream about, but you would run as far away from it as possible if it meant they didn’t have to learn that all things that shined weren’t gold. That their father, the king, was a monster hiding behind sweet words and a smile. They wouldn’t learn that love required obedience. That affection, consideration, and care were only reciprocal for those of value. 

You had to run. While you still could, you had to run. 

Idris would be angry. There was no doubt in your mind that he would try to drag you back, treat you like a stupid, troubled thing that didn’t understand what you were doing. A foolish mistake was all he would amount your disappearance to before attempting to placate you with false promises or violent threats, whichever worked, but that didn’t matter. 

He hadn’t noticed that anything had changed; at least, you hoped he didn’t. You’d slowly been gathering things he wouldn’t miss if they suddenly disappeared to barter with when you finally escaped, and now was the perfect time to collect your stash and escape on a random afternoon. 

You almost felt bad for the maids who would have to deal with his anger when he found out that you were missing, but then again, they never seemed to care, no matter how many bandages covered your body after one of his fits of rage. Some of them went so far as to lock the door so they wouldn’t have to hunt you down and drag you back to his mistreatment. 

Dragging yourself from the bathroom floor, you flushed the toilet as you wiped the side of your mouth. Placing a hand on your stomach, you couldn’t help but clench it into a fist. 

Your bleeding heart would dry up. 

ESCAPE -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

did you really believe it would be that easy to slip away?

cw: gender neutral, yandere, manipulation, wars, violence, possessive behavior, delusional behavior, reader tries to jump in the dreamscape, suggestive, anaxa uses a ball gag :,) 3.1 spoilers in mydei's

sunday `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

something wasn’t right. the extreme sense of deja vu was sickening and it felt as if eyes were on you at all times. the dreamscape was supposed to be a place of comfort and warmth, but all you felt now was anxiety.

of course, your dreams weren’t always like this. the planet of festivities was a guilty pleasure, admittedly. the vast opportunities of the dreamscape was hard to past on.

but now, you needed to wake up.

it didn’t help that there was no one else in your dream, no one but the head of the oak family.

“i think you look most beautiful like this, no? for my eyes only.”

you could hear his voice, but you couldn’t see him.

no matter what corner you turned, no matter what stairs you went up, it was all the same.

why couldn’t you wake up?

“see how you’re living in repeat? how everything is dreading on, nothing new in your dull life?”

you stopped your running, a pounding headache coming on. “g-get out of my head!” it was so frustrating, hearing the same thing over and over.

“i’m not in your head my dear.” there was a sharp intake of silence before you felt a breath on your ear.

“i’m here with you.”

turning around, there was no one there. faintly, you could hear the gentle sound of his laughter, on increasing your headache.

tired of the constant annoyance that was sunday, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

finding the nearest building, one that was high enough, you were quick to ascend its stairs. eventually, you found yourself on the edge of a roof.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

there was a hint of worry in his voice concealed by anger, one you would’ve missed if you hadn’t known sunday for the time you have.

“if you’re not going to let me out, i have to do it on my own.”

his former amusement was no longer present. "you think that's the way out?"

you didn't answer. the wind howled around you, tugging at your clothes, tempting you forward.

"you're being dramatic."

"and you're being insufferable," you snapped, gripping your arms. the weight of his unseen presence bore down on you, making it hard to breathe. "let me wake up."

a pause. then, softly, "i can't."

your stomach dropped faster than you were about to. "what do you mean you can't?"

"i mean exactly that." his voice was closer now, nearly right beside you. "this isn't just a dream anymore."

"i mean exactly that." his voice was closer now, nearly right beside you. "this isn't just a dream anymore."

the world tilted. no, that wasn't right—the dreamscape itself twisted, colors bleeding into each other, buildings warping, the sky cracking like shattered glass.

"what did you do?" you whispered, taking a shaky step back.

a hand, unseen yet unmistakably there, pressed against the small of your back, keeping you from retreating further. sunday's voice curled into your ear, almost tender.

"i simply made sure you'd stay."

your breath hitched. the weight of his words settled over you like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating. "stay?" the word barely left your lips, a fragile whisper against the growing distortion of the dreamscape.

"mm," sunday hummed, the warmth of his unseen touch lingering, a stark contrast to the cold panic flooding your veins. "isn’t that what you wanted? a place where you could escape, where no one could reach you?"

you shook your head, gripping your temples as the headache intensified. "not like this. never like this."

without hesitating any further, you took a step off the roof.

the wind howled in your ears, your stomach lurching as the world blurred around you. the descent was faster than you expected, the colors of the dreamscape smearing together, twisting, unraveling. but the impact never came.

instead, you stopped.

suspended. weightless. trapped.

a pair of arms, unseen yet unmistakably present, wrapped around you from behind, halting your fall as effortlessly as if you had never moved at all. a familiar chuckle ghosted against your ear, low and amused.

"you really thought i'd let you go that easily?" sunday’s voice was steady, but there was something else underneath—something strained.

you thrashed against the hold, but it was useless. the dreamscape rippled around you like a living thing, reshaping itself at his will. the city, the rooftops, the endless stairs—gone. in their place, an expanse of nothingness stretched in all directions, endless and suffocating.

"let me go," you gritted out.

"where would you even go?" sunday murmured, tightening his hold. "there's nowhere else to run, my dear."

the weight of his words settled deep into your bones. this wasn’t just control—this was possession.

"wake me up!" you screamed, twisting in his grasp, trying to break free.

sunday sighed, and for the first time, you swore you could hear something like regret in his voice.

"i told you already," he murmured. "this isn’t a dream anymore. this is your reality.”

anaxa `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

“i must say, we get a long much better when you don’t interrupt me.”

anaxa was an asshole.

that was the only thing you could think as you couldn’t get any words out due to the ball gag currently strapped to your face.

“wouldn’t you agree, [name]?”

his voice was smooth, laced with that ever-present condescension, as if he were merely discussing philosophy over tea rather than reveling in your current predicament. his golden eyes gleamed with amusement, watching you struggle with something between fascination and boredom.

"ah, but i suppose you can't," he continued, tilting his head ever so slightly. "a shame, really. i do enjoy our little debates. but lately, you've been so very insistent on talking back, especially on matters you know nothing about.”

he leaned in, fingers ghosting over your cheek, his touch featherlight but deliberate. "and we simply can't have that, now can we?"

his smile was sharp, predatory. "good conversation requires patience, listening, knowing when to hold one's tongue." he chuckled, tapping a finger against the gag. "though in your case, i had to take matters into my own hands. don't take it personally."

he used one hand to tightly grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his finger that was still on the gag pushed it deeper down your throat.

he sighed, “astounding that you were trying to leave me. now look at you, pathetic.”

anaxa’s irritation and anger was clear in his voice.

“you’re lucky i’m patient with you, the gag and restraints should make me seem like a saint.”

he gently tapped the hilt of his gun.

this whole situation was taken out of proportion. you simply wanted to go visit okhema, see people outside of the grove. of course, anaxa didn’t like that.

“you really think the world outside our little haven holds something better for you?” he drawled, his tone laced with contempt. “okhema isn’t some paradise you can just wander into. it’s a chaotic place where nothing is as controlled, as perfect, as we have it here.”

he seemed to take mercy on you as he undid the strap of the gag, taking it out of your mouth delicately.

“you may speak now.”

you almost didn’t want to out of pure spite. “you can’t keep me here forever, it’s inhumane.”

he laughed at that, “what scholar do you know that’s even remotely close to being humane?”

“none because you don’t let me speak to any one else!”

“good answer.” he sent you an approving smile.

he went to undo your restraints, knowing that you won’t try to fight him any more than you already have.

his fingers traced over the red indentations left by the restraints, a slow, deliberate motion that felt more like admiration than remorse. "tch," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "see what you've done to yourself? all this struggling, all this nonsense about leaving, and for what?"

his gaze flicked back up to yours, sharp, assessing. "okhema won’t embrace you like i do. it won’t be kind to you. it won’t understand you." his voice dipped lower, softer, as if he were confiding in you rather than reinforcing his dominance. "but you already know that, don’t you?"

he let go of your wrist, allowing your hand to fall limply into your lap. the relief of movement was fleeting; your body ached, stiff from the restraints, throat dry from the gag. but he watched you expectantly, waiting, reveling in the sight of you thinking carefully before you spoke.

good. he'd taught you something, at least.

"i don’t belong to you," you murmured, voice hoarse but steady.

anaxa stilled. then, in a slow, calculated movement, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "no," he murmured, his gloved fingers curling beneath your chin once more, tilting your face upward. "but you don’t belong to them either."

his lips quirked into something almost affectionate, almost. "and that, my dear, is the difference between us. you keep chasing something that doesn’t exist. i, on the other hand"—his grip tightened ever so slightly—"know exactly what’s mine."

mydei `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

it's been too quiet in the fallen kingdom of castrum kremnos.

mydei's decision to fight off the black tide creatures and strife was to come with unrelenting battles and no time for rest. which it has, but the black tide never ceased. it never tired, never strategized. it was relentless in its hunger, mindless in its destruction. so why had it stopped?

his sculpted body lifted from his throne; if it didn't come to him, he'd just have to find it. he focused his attention on his surroundings, listening to anything that could give a clue.

in the distance, there was a faint sound of screaming and footsteps.

someone else was here?

mydei wasted no time to rush to the sounds.

the air was thick with the scent of old blood and decay, yet something new lurked beneath it—an unfamiliar presence, something that did not belong to the black tide.

rounding a shattered archway, mydei caught sight of movement ahead. a figure darted through the crumbling streets, their breath ragged, their cloak tattered from what must have been a long, desperate flight. behind them, the shadows twisted, writhing unnaturally, as if something unseen slithered just beyond his sight.

he was quick to make eye contact with the person, who looked more shocked than him to see another person.

they were too focused on you rather than mydei, which made defeating them rather easy and efficient.

you collapsed as mydei finished off the remaining monsters, tired from the constant running and trying to catch your breath.

"you look like you've never run a day in your life," he remarked, stepping closer.

before you could fire back, he reached out, grasping your wrist and hoisting you up without waiting for permission. your legs wobbled beneath you, exhaustion threatening to pull you down again, but mydei kept you steady.

"who are you? what kind of fool willingly comes here?" he asked, golden eyes studying you with the same sharpness he reserved for threats.

you gritted your teeth, trying to shake off the dizziness that had settled in your head. the last thing you needed was to seem weak in front of this insufferable man, but the endless running had worn you down to the bone. still, you managed to meet his gaze, your voice rough but steady.

"i'm from a distant town in amphoreus. i came to conduct research on my paper... i just didn't think it would be this bad."

mydei scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “research,” he echoed, as if the word itself was a joke. “you risked your life for research?”

his grip loosened, and you stumbled slightly but caught yourself. your body ached, but your pride refused to let you falter.

“i didn’t think i’d be running for my life the second i arrived,” you muttered, brushing dust from your tattered clothes. “the black tide’s aggression was… beyond what the records described.”

“of course it was,” mydei said flatly. “any book written about castrum kremnos is outdated the moment it’s finished. this place is a graveyard that keeps changing its shape.”

"you seem to know a lot about this place. who exactly are you?" now, it was your turn to do the questioning.

mydei tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering behind his golden eyes. "you're bold for someone who was just gasping for breath on the ground."

you crossed your arms, ignoring the lingering ache in your limbs. "and you're avoiding the question."

he let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no warmth in it. "fine," he said, stepping back just enough to put a measured distance between you. "mydeimos. i’ve been fighting the black tide longer than you’ve been writing that little paper of yours."

his eyes flicked toward the ruined horizon, scanning the shifting shadows with the ease of someone who knew this battlefield all too well. “this kingdom—what’s left of it—was mine once.”

your breath hitched. his?

the two of you began to learn more about each other as he brought you back to his throne. it was an unexpected friendship(?) but you were gaining many useful facts for your paper.

the history of this place goes further back than you could imagine.

you even learned more about the famous chrysos heirs you heard about in passing. you eagerly had him tell all his stories about them, making sure not to miss a detail.

it went on like this for a few days; he would fight off the black tide and answer your many questions.

there was a shift, though, when he came back from a battle to you packing your notes.

mydei paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he watched you gather your things. the usual calm demeanor he carried in battle seemed absent now, replaced with something colder, more intense.

"you're leaving," he said flatly, his voice carrying a trace of something you couldn’t quite place—was it annoyance?

you froze, your hands stilling mid-motion as you turned to face him. "i—" you started, but the words felt tangled in your throat.

"i’m almost finished with my research," you admitted, avoiding his gaze as you zipped up your bag. "i can’t stay here forever, especially with the black tide still lingering."

truthfully, mydei had grown quite attached to you. he hasn't had contact with another person for weeks before you came along; and for you to just leave so quickly?

no, he couldn't have that.

he muttered, almost to himself, his voice lowering as he looked away, briefly losing his composure. “no one... no one’s cared to come this far. you...” he paused, and when his eyes met yours again, they were heavy with something you hadn’t expected. “you’re not leaving.”

you took a step back, your breath shaky as mydei’s intense stare bore into you.

“mydei—” you started, but the words faltered on your lips. you wanted to argue, to tell him that you had your own life to get back to, your own reasons for leaving. but the weight of his presence—his intensity—made you hesitate.

he stepped forward, his hand snaking out to grab your wrist with an iron grip, pulling you closer to him in a way that left no room for resistance. "you're not walking out on me," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

“you came into my life at the worst possible time,” he said, his voice softer, yet thick with something you couldn’t quite name. "you walked into this kingdom, into my mess, and for a second, it felt like... like maybe i wasn’t as alone as i thought."

you realized the black tide was already getting to him, just not in the way it would most.

phainon `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

"you look absolutely gorgeous in the sun. though, i wonder, must you enjoy it without me?"

this was your third day walking out from phainon's grasp.

"why do you insist on following me?" you asked, keeping your voice steady as you continued walking, pretending as though his words hadn’t made your heart skip a beat.

you felt the weight of his gaze, the way it traced every curve of your form, making your skin tingle, making you feel seen in a way you hadn’t wanted.

phainon chuckled, the sound low and dark, a perfect match for the man he was. "follow you? darling, you belong to me. whether you like it or not."

he caught up with you quickly, his long strides making up for the distance you’d put between you. before you knew it, he was beside you, his presence as commanding as the sun itself.

"you think you can leave me so easily?" his voice was a whisper, just enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. you could feel his eyes on you, even though you refused to meet his gaze.

when you didn't answer, he took it as his sign to continue. "i do enjoy your confidence. you're just so perfect. you must like the chase as much as i. is that what it is, [name]?"

phainon placed a hand over his heart as he felt his face flush.

you felt a flicker of anger surge through you, though it quickly turned to frustration. "this isn't a game," you said, trying to bite back the heat in your voice. "you don’t get to decide what i do, phainon."

phainon’s hand placed itself over his chest again, but this time, it wasn’t just for show. his fingers curled against the fabric, almost as though he was holding back something deeper. "i feel it every time you try to leave me. every step you take away from me."

his voice dropped, smooth and low, like a promise or a threat. "and the more you try to run, the more I want to keep you close."

"you're insane." you couldn't hold back the venom in your voice.

"i'd like to think of it more as being in love." phainon's hand gently took yours, holding you in place.

he kneeled in front of you, bringing your hand to his lips.

his lips lingered on your skin, tracing along the tips of your fingers, sending a shiver through you that you couldn’t ignore. "so go ahead," he whispered, leaning in close, his breath brushing against your hand. "run again. i’ll let you. but just know... i’ll find you."

phainon rose to his feet, still holding your hand gently but firmly, his grip a reminder of the inescapable pull that seemed to draw you to him. "you don't have to make this harder than it needs to be," he murmured, the teasing edge gone from his tone, replaced by something more serious. "i just want you to understand... i will never let you go."

phainon was quick to shift his personality back to easygoing. "you've been out here long enough; care to join me for a bath?"

you knew there was no changing his mind. "...could we get something to eat after?"

phainon’s smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as if he had already won some unspoken victory. "of course," he said smoothly. "i can even bathe and feed you. you must be tired after such a long day."

the familiar blush crept up his face, one he didn't care to hide. just the thought of being able to touch your body and be that close to your lips was exhilarating.

i loved writing mydei's, i might have to make another scenario with it 🤔🤔

Mozart should dress like this all the time what the fuck.

So Arizona launched an “education hotline” that allows “concerned parents” to report “””critical race theory””” and other things like ~gender identity~ being taught in the classroom

It would be a shame if the number and email were spread to bad actors looking to prank call the AZ Department of Education

602-771-3500 or empower @ azed .gov 🤡

A Kingdom of Ash and Cold

Yandere north prince x princess reader

Art from pinterest

The inspiration for this story was a character from character.ai but before I finished writing this story I managed to lose the chat and now I can't find who created the character.

You had once been a princess of the South, heir to a kingdom known for its wealth, beauty, and diplomacy. Unlike the North, which thrived on war and conquest, your people valued peace. Your father, the king, had always believed that treaties and alliances were stronger than swords. But he had been wrong.

Felix, the war prince of the North, had proven that with fire and blood.

He attacked without warning. Rumors had spread that your kingdom held untold riches, that its lands were fertile and untouched by war. But more than anything, it was said that the South was weak. And Felix despised weakness.

He marched his armies through your lands like a storm, tearing through defenses with terrifying precision. Your knights fought bravely, but against Felix—who had spent his entire life mastering the art of war—they stood no chance.

Within weeks, your kingdom fell. Your father was slain in battle, your people either killed or enslaved. The grand palace that had once been filled with music and laughter now stood in ruins, a silent graveyard of the past.

And you—once a beloved princess—were now nothing more than a prisoner in the heart of the enemy’s castle.

Three days had passed since your capture.

The cold stone walls of your cell were suffocating. You had been stripped of your royal gowns, left in a simple dress meant for prisoners. The only light came from a small barred window, just enough to remind you that the world outside still existed.

Then, the heavy doors creaked open.

A man stepped inside, his very presence commanding the space. Even without his armor, he looked every bit the war prince the world feared. His golden hair gleamed in the dim torchlight, his sharp blue eyes holding an unsettling intensity.

Felix.

Your body tensed as he walked closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he enjoyed watching you squirm.

Then, he smirked. "You look cute in this cell, princess."

You didn’t respond.

Felix tilted his head, amused by your silence. "I expected you to beg for mercy by now. Most do."

You clenched your fists. You would never give him that satisfaction.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "I like that fire in your eyes. It makes this more fun."

Then, his smirk faded, replaced by something darker. "I’ve decided." He stepped even closer, so close you could feel his warmth. "You will be my wife. The Queen of the North."

The words struck you like a blade.

Marriage?

You had expected execution, imprisonment—anything but this.

Felix watched your reaction closely, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I won’t force you to love me," he said, almost mockingly. "But you will be mine. One way or another."

And just like that, he turned and left, locking the door behind him.

That was when the whisper came.

"Pst... Princess."

Your head snapped up.

A guard stood near your cell. Not a Northern soldier—but a knight of the South. One of the few survivors.

"Tonight, you will run."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Run, before it’s too late."

It's midnight the time of escape. The plan was simple: slip through the castle's hidden passageways and escape into the night. You knew Felix wouldn’t let you go easily, but if there was even a chance of freedom, you had to take it.

Night fell, and the soldier returned. With a silent nod, he unlocked your cell, gesturing for you to follow.

Every step was agonizingly slow. The castle was a maze of stone and shadows, but the soldier knew the way.

You were close. The exit was just ahead. Freedom—

"Where do you think you’re going?"

Your body froze.

Felix stood at the top of the staircase, his piercing blue eyes filled with cold fury.

The soldier drew his sword, stepping protectively in front of you. "Run, Princess!"

But you couldn’t move.

Felix moved first.

With terrifying speed, he descended the stairs, his blade flashing in the moonlight. The soldier swung, but Felix was faster.

The sound of steel meeting flesh filled the air. The soldier staggered back, blood spilling from his wound.

"No—" you gasped.

The knight collapsed. His body hit the floor, lifeless.

Felix stood over him, his sword dripping red. He turned to you, breathing heavily, his expression unreadable.

"You tried to leave me." His voice was eerily calm.

You took a step back, but it was useless. He was on you in an instant, his fingers gripping your wrist like a vice.

"I was being patient," he murmured. "I wanted you to want me. But now..." His grip tightened. "Now, you’ve forced my hand."

His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. His touch was almost gentle—almost.

"You are mine, Princess. And I do not let go of what is mine."

Two days after death of solider the North Kingdom gathered in celebration.

Felix had won the war. And now, he had claimed his prize.

You stood at the grand altar, dressed in the most exquisite Northern wedding gown. Gold and silver embroidery adorned the fabric, delicate jewels woven into every thread. But none of it felt real.

Felix stood beside you, his regal presence impossible to ignore. His golden hair framed his sharp, aristocratic features, and his blue eyes never left you—not even for a second.

You were his obsession.

Among the crowd were the last survivors of the South. They watched in silence, their faces etched with sorrow. They had lost everything, and now, they were forced to witness their princess being bound to the man who had destroyed them.

The priest spoke, but you barely heard his words.

Your mind drifted back to the soldier. The man who had died for you. The man who had given you a chance at freedom.

And then, the final words cut through your thoughts.

"The groom may kiss the bride."

Your breath caught in your throat.

Felix turned to you, his expression filled with an unsettling mix of triumph and desire.

He cupped your face, his fingers possessive against your skin. And then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was desperate. Hungry. Filled with a madness that made your blood run cold.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart pounding.

Felix pulled away, his smirk returning. His eyes locked onto yours, victorious.

"Now, my love," he whispered, "you will never escape me again."

And in that moment, as the weight of your new reality settled over you, you knew—

He was right.

You were his.

Forever.

Hii! Can I please request some yan Dottore with a newly kidnapped reader?🩷

“PRIMUM NON NOCERE” / DOTTORE.

Summary: You’ve been rejecting Dottore’s offer to work for him, not at all flattered by his proposal. That’s why he decides to bring you to him instead.

contents: gender neutral reader / yandere / kidnapping / gore / drugging / reader is forced to participate in human experimenting / panicked suicide attempt / generally anything bad that could come with Dottore’s character. word count: 3.1k

note: I hope you don’t mind I revamped the idea a little :) I thought this would make an interesting plot, and it’s still about how you are being treated after being kidnapped.

In your career as a quirky doctor with more unconventional methods that have landed you an infamous reputation, you had quickly learned how to abandon any visceral attachment to your patients and focus on the gruesome reality of what sometimes needed to be done is specific circumstances — “hurting” your patients in name of their survival was more important than weeping for their woes of pain, and when they have to go, you let them.

This could never imply you had derived yourself of any care, nor that your patients were just a bags of flesh for you to work on, something The Doctor sending his agents after you could be conjecturing, if their deliveries were in the form of invitations from him to join him in his projects — going against any ethics you had as a healer, and the oath you’d sworn to uphold to when beginning your practice.

When you first published your own article about the usage of Sumeru’s creature fungus’s skin as skin grafts for the burn victims, you soon became a laughingstock among colleagues from your field claiming a human body would naturally reject the human skin substitute — no matter that you’ve had provided them with enough evidence proving the match being possible. No one has believed in you or in your theory, no one expect him; out of all the people that could have been your ally was the most unsolicited by you man. Ever since he’d reached out to you for the first time, he’s been sending you different letters encouraging you to join him under the excuse of promising you to be accompanied in your journey of expanding on your thesis — or various others you had.

You could admit and admire his skills and accomplishments, especially in terms of Eleazar, which still didn’t make him someone you’d want an as an ally.

The idea of having a familiar soulmate for your oddities would have been enticing if it wasn’t the worst “doctor” you could ever shake hands with. You had heard numerous rumors about Fatui’s endeavors and plays with human life, supposedly all in name of science, and coming to the conclusion of what you’d have to do by his side to expand on your research has given you more than enough reason to keep sending persistent rejections and refusals to Dottore. To which, Dottore has never acknowledged or accepted his defeat.

Letters becoming visits from his agents, leaving pouches of mora to freeze outside of your door, finally have reached a climax in a form you being taken away from the doorstep ot your house to his lab — bag over your head to conceal any depths of the lab you were taken into, too confidential for a person opposing the harbinger, as they dragged you through the corridors.

Your hearing was sensitized with a jute sack over your ears; only hearing splashes of the muddy snow with every step, your own breathing echoing the closed space, and finally, the male, low voice as you were shoved into the room. “What did I tell you about contaminating the floor?” the voice harshly scolded, and you sensed a flinch in one of the agent’s hand on your arm. “Remove their shoes at once. Get rid off that unprofessionally tied rope too.”

You couldn’t protest as they took off your boots, leaving your cold feet get even colder from the tiles you stood on in socks; followed by a quick snap of the binds.

A click of heeled steps moved towards you and finally freed you of the burden of the bag, your eyes confronting the figure you didn’t want so ever see again.

Dottore grabbed your bruised cheeks, swollen by punches you’ve received from the hands of agents frustrated with your lack of cooperation, and he turned your face twice to the left, once to the right with a click of his tongue. “Tsk, what did I tell you two about bringing them here in one piece? I need them healthy, not with a concussion.” You doubted his disappointment was out of care for you; rather, his goods becoming damaged and less useful — whatever intentions he might have with you.

“Leave us two alone, I’ll deal with you two later,” his voice lowered, manifesting a threat for two agents who quickly scurried away.

Only when your eyes have finally adjusted to the light was when you could look at Dottore and fully rain your bearings. Red eyes boring into your soul, the mask covering most of his deadly pale skin, a small smirk of triumph over catching the elusive doctor. A room you were in, you assumed to be a sort of lab — clean and sterile, with grey tiles on walls and the floor, accompanied with glass shelves filled with different bottles, metal desk and chairs. The room wasn’t dark, giving enough light to work; however, everything was cold toned as sterile would suggest, that even if environment familiar to you, now it exuded scary atmosphere. Regardless, no blood patterns or anything else rotting was rolling around, as one would have expected from a stereotypical mad scientist — Dottore had more than enough brain juice to follow work safety guidelines and not contaminate his own works, a truth ought to have been obvious for anyone not living in fantasy.

Your mouth opened to spill profanities at the scientist, but his finger ended up on your lips, shushing the emotionality you wanted to start.

“You and I are going to have a talk. It’s rather unbecoming of a grown adult to want to yell,” his voice was a tease, clearly capable of being provocative into the mentioned by him state.

“Don’t you dare to joke when-“ your sequence of anger was cut off when he shoved you down into a chair — leather seat with a metal construction, where a patient would be situated when having their blood drawn. Another leather part was in straps built to bind a naughty patient… he didn’t trap you in these, but the risk was still carried, should you become too defiant.

You were right to be worried when he picked up a syringe, filled with unfamiliar to you contents, and approached you. The hands were about to shake the vial off of his hands, but the neck of yours was jabbed with a needle — you quickly realizing it was a muscle relaxant as you turned limp. He could have just tied you down, yet the chemical would make the process of interrogation even smoother — or maybe he just wanted an excuse to treat you like a lab rat.

“Now,” he announced, his voice booming against the tiles of an empty room — so quiet it was unsettling. “I’m sure you are intelligent enough to already be on track of thoughts to why you’re here,” he mused, a tone entertained by your grumpy expression; still, not lacking some anger he wanted to keep quiet. Oh, how outrageous it was for you to reject such a promising position by his side — someone thinking outside of box was a person he desires in his team, a hotshot for him to have. You’d be perfect if it wasn’t for that stupid human empathy holding you back — not even morals.

“You’re going to torture me to get back at me for rejecting your offer, I assume,” you said, your tongue too loose to make a proper and loud speech.

“Torture?” he asked in surprise, before breaking into a laugh. “My, I’d have no use in torturing you. I am not… so petty to torture you over a small failure — one easily fixable too,” you couldn’t tell if it was your drugged mind, but his words carried a worrying innuendo. Your heart raced in distress despite your relaxed body.

“No, after all that chase, it’d be a waste to reduce you to a mushy mess…” he murmured and grabbed a disinfectant, soaking a gauze pad in it.

You winced when the alcoholic solution infected your scratches and cuts on face. Your eyes blinked shut rapidly when he shun a light onto them. Your jaw was open too fast when he did so to gauge the damage on your tooth — thankfully none was much damaged as chipped, when the glove palpated on it and dried your mouth.

Only after a quick checkup you could speak, “Then what else do you want from me, Doctor?”

He sighed, as if in disappointment. “Shouldn’t it be obvious for someone as smart as you. The seat waiting for you has never been filled. You will work for me as intended.”

You tried to trash in your chair, to no avail when you were a victim of the sedative. “I will not be working for you! I refuse to hurt these people and ruin their lives like you do!” you almost yelled, not sparing him of your anger and fear. Becoming one to experiment on people was against everything you’ve made yourself to be. While your methods were less conventional, as long as you were making them efficient and people consented them, you were a long way away from becoming second Dottore.

His face became cold, and in a blink of an eye, he had you pinned to the back of your chair; his form looming over yours. “I’ve put a lot of my hopes in you, only for you to be another person to mischaracterize and misjudge me. I am not hurting anyone, nor am I a sadist. Every project of mine is in name of science, in name of greater things a cerebellum of yours wouldn’t understand, and if I have to dissect people to achieve that, it’s only a duty,” he scolded with indignation, as if the only person wrong here was you.

“Who I experiment on are the dregs of society anyway.”

The repugnance overshadowed your fear, the thought of someone this little respect towards life too inhumane to comprehend. “These are innocent people, children, not scum of the earth like you call it! Each one of them deserves to live!”

“Oh, but they live,” his face leaned closer to yours, the bloody eyes scaring you. “As long as they had expressed enough tenacity, they live in bodies stronger than ever. Those who don’t make it out alive had their lives full of misery prior regardless.”

You liked to think of yourself as logical, knowing some things cannot be helped no matter how tragic some of the fates were; yet not even once have you thought of segregating human lives this way.

“I will not work for a man like you! Even if it kills me, even if you hurt me to make me work! I’ll rather die!” you promised, already thinking the situation through. If Dottore makes you a slave of a lab assistant, death is more merciful. There’s not really much of living left for you if you’d be only made to cause cruelties in his image. The predicament he’s put you in called for such measures.

Sadly, the words didn’t have much impact on the man — imperturbable when his genius mind already had come up with retaliations towards your possible mishaps. “You could even attempt suicide, my dear doctor. I’ll keep you with us anyway.”

The words shattered you in a way, terrified there’s no escape from becoming another sacrifice in name of science he likes to speak so much about.

“You’re too shaken up by the sudden abduction too. We’ll talk once you are rested and warm.”

When an odd creature in a form of a clone, “a segment” Dottore called him, entered the room to remove you, the cruel man didn’t acknowledge your screams as he returned to work with his back turned against you.

⚕️

You were violently woken up in the morning, dressed up in white clothes and fed by a woman. You couldn’t even make up to be if she was a nurse or a test subject Dottore forced to work too, as her demeanor seemed rather… lifeless.

“Ah, there you are,” Dottore smiled when he saw you enter his room, too happy sounding to herald anything good. “All dressed up and ready for work, it seems.”

Your eyes bulged out from his words, remembering being promised a conversation, not forced labor you’ve been dreading all night in a cramped room. “You said we are going to continue our conversation,” you pointed out with trepidation, and looked with worry at the unconscious patient strapped to the table. Were you allowed to find a comfort in the fact the man was not awake?

“Yes, but we can do that as we work. I’m sure a renowned doctor like you can multitask,” he joked dryly. Not only was he a person taking lives in name of science; he also was a liar, you find out now.

And you couldn’t do this. You can’t just break any rules of the oath, hurt innocent and cause unnecessary harm, and you weren’t even that empathetic predominantly— just sane enough to know it’s bad. Your methods were unconventional, and yet still humane.

You barely registered someone putting gloves on your hands.

You had two choices, and both were about choosing lesser evil. Live and cause involuntarily to you harm, or die and lose your life but spare yourself from this torment. You doubted Dottore would find a replacement for you easily anyway. So you were grabbing the nearest scalpel from the tray, ready to stab it and drag it in the most optimal spot, in chase of the swiftest of deaths— only for the deadly grip to hold your hand and twist your arm behind painfully.

“I’ve anticipated that, by the way,” he scoffed and maneuvered your shaking body to be standing in front of the test subject, Dottore holding you behind.

You trashed and teetered on your feet, but his power was exercised over you, locked in his arms around you. His hand held onto yours still holding a scalpel; now pointed at the patient’s chest.

“Let’s begin. We have to work on that theory of yours, after all.”

“Stop!” you pleaded, not wanting to be forced to cut an innocent person. “I can’t do this. It’s not fair. It’s inhumane. Do this yourself-” At this point, you weren’t even begging to let this man go — only for Dottore to free you of this burden by doing it himself, no matter how selfish it might have sounded. It’d happen anyway, so you chose to be a coward.

“Now, now. You’re too hellbent on painting this as terrible in those black and white terms of yours; too simpleminded.” He moved your hand to pin the skin of the stomach with the sharp tip of the scalpel, and you wanted to vomit — not from the gore you’d witness as you create gore everyday, but the forced onto you crime. “One life might be lost, yet many more will be saved. That should be a logic understandable enough.”

You gasped and cried out when he caused you to cause an incision, blood floating across the cut parting the skin. “Stop!” you screamed, pushing back at him — fruitless. “I don’t want to do this!”

“Hush,” he scolded into your ear, unperturbed by your whines, the cold breath chilling you. “You’ll wake him up,” he joked with sarcasm, as if the proposed was possible.

As Dottore guided your movement to cut through more lines of flesh and blood to make a shape of a square, revealing the man’s stomach now unpeeled off of the skin, you were sobbing. With other hand, he tilted your head back. “Careful. We can’t let your tears drop down into his body…”

“Okay, put the scalpel away, and turn your head around to look at me.” You obeyed immediately, immensely more in favor of looking at the monster than continue the massacre. Your hands remained bloodstained, however.

“You and I are not so far away from being alike.” Your heart stopped at his words, the worst comparison of the century hitting you like a brick.

“W-what?” you could barely choke out in your state of terror.

“We don’t like to stick to the conventional wisdom and approach; no matter if it’d lead others to believe we’re pariahs or even heretics. It’s not about becoming yet another knowledgeable scholar… only the innovators who know how to push forwards the future with what’s effective, not necessarily ethical or perfect.”

Your scrambled eggs of brain could barely follow his words, but the massage of him finding himself in you was clear. You shook your head in dizzying pain, not wanting to hear that.

“Don’t you want to be free, to find a solace in your own weirdness, and to strive towards the wellbeing of humanity?”

“I do, but not like this. I don’t want to hurt people,” you said, your voice taut as a bowstring from the dread.

Dottore heaved a sigh. “I’ve expected as much. But don’t worry, I’ll treat you out of this ailment you call morality that’s a disservice for both of us,” when his voice was so intense, you could only theorize how badly he’ll hurt you to make you tick the way he pleases. “You’ll work with me, you’ll understand me, and…”

“… meanwhile, I’ll get to know you better; more than those reports could ever have caused me to.” He, or rather his people, have been stalking you too. “I’m not fond of becoming close with people for personal reasons; however, I might make an exception for someone familiar to me. I’m sure you as well have heard enough of vitriolic prejudice…”

An unsure hand stroked your cheek, yet disappeared from it as quickly, before you were forced to look at the wounded man again, next instructed with a stern voice.

“For now, get back to work. Before that man actually kicks the bucket.”

You felt your sanity fray at the edges.

NSFW

warning: slight corruption kink, yandere behavior, panty stealing, breeding kink, dubcon if you squint

EHEHEH thinking about yandere!angel who has never been hard before.

He sees you, such a pretty little human he’s meant to watch over. You’re so soft and plump, your body stirs something in his belly that he doesn’t completely understand.

And he sees you undressing one night, your form completely bare before his very eyes.

Angels always walk around in the nude, they aren’t ashamed of their bodies… so why does his cock start to twitch and harden?

He doesn’t understand, this has never happened before and the feeling is unbearable. Something in his body wants to be closer to you, to… connect with you.

The angel approaches your room, quiet as he opens your window and slides in with ease. He’s not sure what he should do, but he spots your discarded clothing.

It’s shameful, how he even thinks about stealing an item of your clothing. Your panties are your favorite color, lacy with a little bow on the front. He can spot a slight wetness there, and he starts to drool.

Why is his body reacting like this? His cheeks flush a crimson red as he flees your home, your underwear in his hand. He flies far away, as if trying to escape his new, lustful feelings.

He isolates himself in a small cave, slowly draping your panties over his throbbing cock. The feeling of your slick coated panties touching his tip made him hiss out in pleasure.

Of course, the angel had never masturbated before. He came within just a few strokes, but his cock was still so swollen. Every time he thought about your plush frame, his tip dribbled precum, and he couldn’t help but jerk off again.

It just wasn’t enough… soon he felt so sore, and his hands weren’t soft like yours, and he bet your lips or pussy would feel so much better…

He was your protector, wasn’t he? It made sense that he’d get to fuck his precious little cherub, his sweet girl, right?

Wouldn’t it be a blessing to put a baby in your belly?

Usually the angel had no trouble flying, but now he was trying his best to concentrate on getting to your home.

You spot him in the window, your eyes still bleary from sleep. He’s the picture of elegance, with long, flowing blonde hair and gorgeous dark eyes…

“Be not afraid, I am a messenger of god…” he panted, cheeks flushed pink. “You… have been chosen for something… great…”

He walked in, your curtain billowing around him as he stretched out and lightly clapped his snow-white wings.

His eyes were on your skimpy nightgown, and the way it barely covered your plush thighs.

“You’ve been chosen… to carry my child…”

Your plump thighs squished together, causing him to let out an involuntary moan. “Ch-child? How would you… do that? Touch my belly or something, like the Virgin Mary?”

His eyes were clouded with lust as he approached your bed, his hand trembling with need. “No, my sweet girl… I am no God, I’ll have to take a much more… direct approach.”

In an instant he was on top of you, his lips crashing into yours with an urgency only to be expected of a virgin. He was inexperienced, but tasted like honey and was as gentle as he possibly could be.

Already his erection was pressing against your thigh, and he unceremoniously thrusted his hips, trying to get more friction.

You were so damn soft, warm to the touch. It was taking everything in him not to ravish you instantly.

His fingers danced across your clothed cunt, testing the waters. When he pulled his hand back, it was wet and with a soft lick, his eyes went wide.

You tasted amazing.

Though he wanted to devour your fat cunt, he needed yo be inside of you even more. He was in pain, his cock aching and begging your your warmth to envelope him.

You watched his wings twitch as he positioned himself between your legs. The white feathers were soft to the touch, and you held onto them while he pushed in.

The angel couldn’t help himself, the second he felt your warm pussy he went crazy. His head was buried in your neck, his hips slapping against yours as he struggled to control his body.

He had never felt so good before, the angel was committing a terrible sin but he didn’t care, not one bit.

“S-so good, you’ll have your reward in heaven…” he blubbered out, cheeks red and covered in pleasured tears. “God…”

He came so quick, painting your walls white as hips nails dug into your hips.

All he wanted to do now was wrap his wings around you, holding you close. The angel didn’t pull out, you felt way too warm and comfy for that.

As he kissed your head and snuggled with you in bed, he was sure that that this was fate. Perhaps he was meant to lust after you…

You were something special, and no one would take you away from him.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

Just found your blog & I'm in love with your writing 😍 If requests are open, may you please write about a yan!ceo & a worker y/n?

YAN!CEO x G/N WORKER

this is so sweet 😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼 i saw this and was kicking my feet in the air twirling my hair

this is also my like softest yandere oc so far HELP

tw: yandere, stalking, obsessive behavior

"This one is probably the top employee of the month," his secretary told him, pointing to a picture of you on the papers he had spread across his desk. "They just came back from a break, so maybe they motivated themself to do better."

"(Y/N) (L/N)," he read your name, looking at your information. "I've never seen them before,"

"They're in the marketing team, you never paid much attention to the people in the team other than the leader, sir."

"Well, it's about time I get to know the top performers in my company, don't you think?"

His secretary nodded, "Absolutely, sir. (Y/N) has been consistently delivering exceptional results in marketing campaigns. The team has praised their creativity and dedication."

he's so sweet to you!! but it scared you since you weren't used to the ceo exactly paying any attention to you :(

he sometimes sees you working for long hours, coming to you to tell you, you can leave now, but feels his heart almost jump out when you say it's okay, you can work for a bit longer.

at times you thought he hated you, maybe he was trying to tease you? or what if he was out to get you? you tried to steer away from him, but it made him almost cry.

he probably tried following you home, but was so shocked to see your living conditions! (you lived in a normal home, he was just too rich) all of a sudden your bills are paid! by who? your landlady says it was by a young gentleman, he was very handsome, according to her.

gets you your favorite drink (he overheard about him from some other employees) almost every day! but he can't deliver it directly to you, since he can't let his own employees know he has favorites.