Deluxism - Delryn

安吉尔

BAD ROMANCE || acheron x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

I WANT YOUR LOVE AND ALL YOUR LOVER'S REVENGE, YOU AND ME COULD WRITE A BAD ROMANCE !

cw. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, snuff (but not permanently), graphic descriptions of violence, gore, violent sex, masochism on part of reader, reader is honestly just fucking crazy, no lube, creampie

notes. hyv was insane for that animated short frfr also the song for this fic is obviously bad romance but the cover by halestorm specifically. check it out, it slaps !!

VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE READ !! ↳ This work contains dark content, to the point where I must tag this as DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. I cannot stress this enough. ↳ There will be graphic depictions of gore and violence, and violence during sex. Please check and heed the content warnings. ↳ You are responsible for the content you consume.

Acheron first encounters you on a desolate planet bereft of life. You stand alone amidst withered trees and lifeless stumps, your feet bare upon grey, scorched earth. You don't react when the embers land upon your skin. Your gaze is cast to the melancholy sky as you hum to yourself, rocking back and forth on your heels. You don't even turn to her when you speak.

"We finally meet, oh harbinger of death," you hum, your tone light and airy, unbefitting this dead space. "I've been waiting for a while."

Acheron blinks, slowly, taking you in. There's something about you that's distinctly... similar, in a way. You are more than you seem. Something blessed—or perhaps, cursed—by a higher being.

"You know me?" she asks, taking a step towards you, and you finally turn to face her. Your eyes give her pause—fathomlessly deep and dark. Your sclera are pitch black, and your irises the colour of blood. An enigmatic smile stretches across your features as she stares.

"Of course," you say. "How could I not, when the voices of those you have slaughtered cry out so desperately for salvation?"

Acheron's eyes narrow. "What are you?"

Her question pulls a giggle from you. What are you, not who are you. She has a suspicion already, but she wants to hear it from you, first. You reach out towards her, caressing her pale cheek with your hand—were this any other situation, Acheron might even consider it lovely, free from scars or blemishes.

"The same as you," you whisper, your eyes half-lidded in a way that has Acheron's grip curling around the hilt of her sword. "My fellow Emanator."

Her hand shoots out to grip your wrist, pulling your hand away from her face. She squeezes, muscles in her arm flexing, and she swears she hears your bones creak. But you remain unfazed, smiling almost dreamily at her.

"Are you here to stop me?" she growls. Just a little more pressure, and she'd snap your pretty wrist like a twig.

"No," you say simply. "I care not for your mission."

"Then why have you sought me out?"

You hum, and with your free hand, trail a finger down her chest. The arm caught in Acheron's grip is starting to bruise. "Because there is something I want from you."

"And what might that be?"

You beam at her, and lean in, close enough to brush your lips against hers. It makes Acheron jolt, and distantly she can hear your wrist shatter, but the intensity of you so close demands all her attention. You speak your desire against her lips like a kiss.

"Death."

After that incident, you follow her around, much like a lost cat. Your mangled wrist righted itself within seconds, and Acheron pieced together whose Emanator you are.

Yaoshi, the Abundance.

She has heard about the favored of the Abundance, but has never encountered one—until you, of course. As she braces herself over you, your hands pinned to the floor of a dead duke's mansion, she wonders if your other Emanators are as odd as you are. Or as hungry for death.

She doesn't remember how many times she's killed you by now. How many times she's unsheathed that blade of hers and carved it through your soft flesh until all that remains of you are mangled pieces on the ground. But she does remember sitting by your side, or what's left of it, and watching as your flesh knits back together, cells multiplying and dividing and sowing sinew and muscle until you finally come back from whatever end you experienced ever so briefly, your chest jerking up as it floods with air. And despite herself, she's starting to enjoy it. Such a pretty little plaything you make, one she hasn't been able to break no matter how much she's tried.

You always look for her first when you return. And you always ask her for more.

Like now, as she has you flat on the floor, and you look up at her with the hungriest eyes she's ever seen. You had watched, delighted, as she ripped and tore apart that infernal duke, giggling all the while as his 'children' scattered to the winds. And once she was done you had pounced on her, wild and almost feral, throwing your arms around her neck and whispering into her ear, "me next."

She won't remember doing this, but right now it's difficult to think beyond the drumbeat of her pulse in her ears. She can hear yours, too. It's so fucking loud. She wonders what your heart looks like, pulsing away in your chest. She wonders what it'll do when she rips it from your ribcage and holds it in her hand.

She crashes her lips against yours like she wants to devour you. You groan into the kiss, if that's even what it can be called. Acheron's teeth scrape your lower lip then bite, drawing blood, and the taste of your blood on her tongue makes a shiver course down her spine. Your blood has a unique taste—metallic, certainly, but with a hint of sweetness kind of like peaches. She fucking loves it. You wrap your legs around her waist and grind up into her pelvis, against the growing bulge there. Acheron growls, manhandling your wrists above your head to grip them with one hand so the other can hold your hips still.

She trails her kisses lower, down your jaw and to your neck. She drags the edges of her canines against your jugular and you shiver in anticipation. She can feel your pulse against her lips, against her tongue, thump-thump-thump, and she resists the urge to sink her teeth into the artery and let the crimson liquid spill into her mouth. Instead she keeps going, lower and lower, until she reaches the collar of your clothing.

With one swift movement she tears the fabric apart, and it falls into tattered pieces around you. You jerk as the warmth of the surroundings settles on your bare skin, though Acheron offers you no reprieve. She scratches her free hand down the side of your ribs, drawing red lines as she goes. Her lips descend on your nipples, already stiff as she licks and sucks one before moving to the next. Everywhere her lips touch, dark marks bloom like brutal flowers on your skin.

You whine out her name softly, arching your back, and Acheron looks up the length of your body with electric, half-lidded eyes. Your expression is twisted into one of pure pleasure—the pain had always been something you loved, something you craved. And Acheron is all too eager to give it to you.

She moves back up, and uses her free hand to undo the buckles of her shorts. They’re almost constrictingly tight now, and she fumbles with the zipper until it comes loose and her aching cock springs free. She hears you make a pretty, breathy noise, and sneers down at you. Her hand slips down your body to your core, and her cock twitches when she finds that you’re fucking dripping.

“Getting off being used like this?” she hisses, dragging her finger through your drenched folds. “Dirty girl.”

“Please,” you moan, canting your hips into her touch. Acheron withdraws her fingers at that, then slaps your still-clothed pussy. You jolt and whine in surprise, those unnatural eyes of yours widening. “Wh—“

“I’ll do what I want to you,” she snarls, gripping your calves and manhandling your thighs open. She pulls you forward until her cock brushes along the soaked fabric of your panties. Her tip catches on your clit and you moan despite the dulled sensation. Then, her fingers hook into your underwear and tug them to the side, exposing your pretty pussy to her.

“So shut up and just take it,” she growls, before shoving her entire length into you with one smooth thrust.

You scream in both pain and pleasure as Acheron splits you open on her thick cock. She has both her hands beneath your knees, holding your legs wide open as she ruts into your clenching cunt, hardly giving you time to adjust. She’s vicious with it, each snap of her hips making the sound of flesh against flesh ring throughout the abandoned mansion alongside your shrill cries of ecstasy. Your fingers claw at the floor until they bleed, drawing red lines on the black marble.

Acheron grunts as she feels your pussy squeeze her—even here, balls-deep in your tight pussy she can feel your incessant heartbeat pulsing away. She feels like she can drown in it, in that rhythmic pitter-patter of your heart as it races like some sort of prey animal.

Yes, that’s what this all feels like—a hunt. She as the wolf, you as the rabbit. She the hunter, you the hunted.

It’s a god damn fucking frenzy. Lust and bloodlust fog her mind. Her hair is turning white. She fucks you into the floor, shifting her position so that gravity helps with each thrust she makes. She practically folds your lower half in ways that would snap a regular human, but only serves to deliriously excite you. Aeons, you’re fucking crazy, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel it too.

But the end of the hunt approaches. She feels you tightening around her, and you scream out her name with each downward drive of her hips. Your heartbeat thunders in her ears now, and she matches her thrusts with each beat, sending slick flying from your gushing cunt and her own leaking cock. She leans up, nosing beneath your jaw, right where your pulse thrums.

But here’s a thing about hunts—there’s only one way they end. So her teeth sink into your neck, the taste of iron and peaches spills onto her tongue, and the world goes white as she reaches her peak.

She’s always never felt more alive than during the moment of the kill.

When she comes to again, she’s kneeling on the floor and there’s blood on her lips and chin, spilling down her neck and onto her chest. She clicks her tongue and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. Beyond that, her clothes are in fine condition, as if nothing ever happened. And maybe she might have believed so, were it not for one thing:

It’s quiet.

That pounding drumbeat is gone, replaced by calm silence. And that’s when she remembers—you’re still here. She looks down, and there you lie, motionless in a pool of crimson liquid, the flesh of your neck torn asunder, exposing the white of your bones and the attaching tendons and sinew.

Your face is frozen in an expression of bliss, eyes half-lidded and lips curled into a half-smile. Idly, Acheron thinks it’s a rather pretty look on you.

(You come back a few minutes later, chest heaving and eyes shooting open. The scarlet halo of blood surrounding your head on the floor makes you look like a bleeding saint.

And then you smile at her, sickly sweet, and your heart starts up again, slowly restarting the cycle once more.

Acheron can’t fucking wait.)

Created by : ☆포배☆ Respective credits to the creator ⓟⒶⓇⒶⒹⒾⓈⒺ♡ⓎⓊⓇⒾ

“shes as beautiful as the day you lost her”

what if i cried 💔

FUN FACT i actually shot myself in the foot with the ending of that fic………. i only realised after i posted it that i could’ve written it in a way that instead of you waking up to the destruction jingliu has caused (re: beating the shit out of the guards jing yuan assigned to keep you safe) she instead sneaks directly into your room to take a seat on your bed. you're sleeping and she takes the chance to just run her fingertips over your skin for the first time in 700 years, but then you wake up and you think she's a dream. in your barely conscious state you tell her you miss her, that you still love her, and jingliu almost decides to stay. i haven't thought it out fully and i don't think i'll ever get around to writing it but yeah !! that's ideally how i'd sort of conclude the relationship between jingliu and mc. they'll say their real goodbyes here because in truth, jingliu died that day 700 years ago, and all of this is just borrowed time to kill a god. she doesn't want you to keep holding on to a corpse. so this is where she lets you go, and you let her go too, and maybe in another universe she'll find you again and do everything right.

So...... about the Wisdom Saga

...Both Jorge and Gigi have my deepest respect for creating one of the funniest animated scenes in the history of mankind

♛ the princess

sfw | tags : fem!yandere x gn reader (only prn used for reader is ‘you’), yandere behavior, stalking mentions, power dynamic, manipulation

the last of my ladies for now! althea, the meanie princess <3 sorry if this is kind of a mess but yall know me by now lol. i can finally start working on my nb yans now 🥹

this one goes out to all the girl likers following me. mmmwah

“i’m gonna marry you one day! we’ll always be together!”

little althea made the claim over and over throughout your childhood, so often that it was normal for you to hear. having lived in her castle since your parents began working for hers, you were the only other person her age that she had to play with.

to say she was attached to you was an understatement. she adored you!

but little you was oblivious to all of her proclamations, assuming it to all be pretend. just a game! sure, it got a little weird when she continued to say it even when you grew into adolescents, but there was no harm in it, right?

you hadn’t the slightest clue to just how serious she was.

see, althea always, always got what she wanted. she was the princess, after all! and the sole heir to the throne. new clothes, the finest food, and the most lavish castle to live in — all of it was hers, the moment she asked for her. but none of it could ever satisfy her the way your presence did.

her adoration for you kept your family employed and her parents happy. she clung to you like a vice, always insisting you dressed up together and went to all of her classes and such. you kept her tantrums at bay in a way no one in her family had ever seen before.

and when you weren’t around, or something (or god forbid, someone) dared to take your attention away from her? she was a nightmare. a fussy, loud, violent nightmare that wouldn’t be anything but a purposeful nuisance until you were returned to her. so it was always in everyone’s best interests to ensure you were together. words of appreciation and gifts from everyone within the castle was a norm for you, incentives to convince you to stay by the young princess’s side.

it was how it had always been, even as you developed. you figured althea would grow out of her clingy behavior toward you — and to an extent, she did. as you aged and developed individual personalities, everyone was relieved when the princess grew out of her cranky attitude and into the sweet, delicate young lady that was expected of her. the ideal princess who spoke in a gentle tone and expressed love toward the people she’d rule in the future. you could ignore how she always held your hand a little too tight when you were alone together, or how she insisted on kissing you on the lips every day (“it’s normal for us,” she’d claim! neverminding how she’d always seem to ‘accidentally’ leave your face smeared with her lip gloss). she had become a better person, so you could indulge her, right?

because of the change, though… no one had any clue that althea couldn’t care less for the kingdom. no matter how much she was taught to cherish those she’d rule over, she saw them all as little more than a responsibility that she was created to care for later in her life. it irritated her to no end and her only reprieve was you. you kept her going, kept her motivated to be the good little lady she was supposed to be, kept her from shirking her duties and whisking you away like she had fantasized about doing countless times.

despite the seemingly positive impact that growing up seemed to had made, everyone was still quite surprised when althea allowed you to leave the castle to live your own life years later. you were hers, didn’t you know? but you weren’t royalty, so you saw no point in staying — besides, you wanted to see the world beyond the castle walls. so she bid you goodbye, kissed you on the lips once more, and waved you off as you left the home you had shared up until then.

however… when you tried to make a name for yourself on your own, it felt like nothing ever went your way. you never noticed how there were always a few of the palace knights lingering around every public building you went to afterwards. nor did you really pick up on why most places you applied to work at turned you away. and why did you always get kicked out of your hostels after just a few nights’ stay? it was like life was rejecting you as soon as you tried to enter it. but kind, gracious althea was always there to pick up the pieces for you, loaning you money when you needed it and lending you a space to stay when you had nowhere else to go.

she’d never directly ask you to come back full time, oh no. she was willing to play the long game. to let you learn on your own that you needed her to survive.

it got to a point where you didn’t know how long you had been away from her. months? weeks? a year? the world was just so cold and harsh when you didn’t share it with althea! you were in and out of jobs, homes, and was only known as the princess’s former friend rather than your name. you couldn’t take it. you couldn’t live like this, who could? so the day you finally stumbled back onto the palace doorstep, shaking and soaked from a storm you had gotten caught in, althea welcomed your return with open arms. she cleaned you, clothed you, and fed you the food you were used to eating.

silly you, trying to leave your future fiancee. she wished she didn’t have to let you go through all that you did, but you had to learn one way or another! and now that you had, you’d never have to do it again.

you’ll stay right by her, in the castle, till the very end.

after all, she did say you’d always be together, didn’t she?