Can I request yandere Other Mother platonic headcanons? â€ïž
â đž â lady l: I remember I used to be scared of the Other Mother when I was a kid lmao. Hope you like it and I'm sorry for any mistakes! â€ïž
âtw: technically kidnapping, manipulation, obsessive behavior and possible soul theft (?).
âđžpairing: platonic yandere!other mother/beldam x gender neutral!child reader.
The Beldam quickly became attached to you, though she tried to deny it at first. The Other Mother had shown obsessive behavior early on, albeit in a more subtle way but still present. She had spent so many years alone and starving for Coraline that the Beldam, though an ancient being and devoid of certain emotions, found herself yearning for companionship and food. She wanted a child to love and, ultimately, steal their soul. That was her original plan when you first moved into the Pink Palace, until she met you.
You were like a breath of fresh air to her: a naive child she could manipulate and eventually steal your soul from. The Beldam initially only wanted to lure you in and feed off of you, but the Other Mother found herself liking you and your company, and her plans to steal your soul were shelved. How could she steal your soul if she loved you so much?
Beldam soon found herself luring you into her web, with treats, gifts, and anything you could possibly want and desire, while at the same time manipulating your parents into neglecting and ignoring you so that you would be completely dependent on her.
With her, you will feel welcomed and understood, appreciated and deeply loved. Beldam wants you to be happy with her, to be her child forever, and so I see her wanting you to let her sew the buttons on your eyes, because that way, you would be stuck in your child form forever. Wouldn't that be amazing?
She is extremely manipulative and will do anything to make you want to live with her in the Other World voluntarily. Beldam will try to be as kind as possible, gentle and spoil you beyond measure. Eventually, the Other Mother will suggest putting the buttons in your eyes, but she will respect your choice if you say no at first.
Beldam is a very loving mother, always wanting to hug you and shower you with kisses. The Other Mother will cook whatever you desire and will fulfill any wishes you may have, although it is all just an illusion. There is no doubt that you will feel safe with her, loved and adored.
You will be living with her in the Other World permanently, regardless of whether you let her sew the buttons on you or not, there is no way she will let you return to your old life. Why would you hurt your own mother like that? You have everything you want with her, with a mother who truly loves you, so why go back?
She knows exactly what to say to dispel your doubts, and every time you express a desire to return to your original world, she responds with a mixture of calculated sadness and disappointment. "Why do you want to go back to that cold, uncaring place?" She whispers, her eyes filled with a pain that almost seems genuine. "Here, you have everything you want. I am your real mother, the one who will always take care of you. Your real parents never cared as much as I did."
Despite all her care, there are times when the Other Mother reveals brief glimpses of her true nature. When you frustrate her or try to defy her rules, her body is tense, and her sweetness evaporates for a moment. These glimpses, which require a little more attention, can be enough to make you question the sincerity of her love. However, before you can think too much about it, she returns to being the perfect mother, enveloping you with more promises of comfort and happiness.
Beldam is quite possessive of you. She wants to be the center of your world, for you to love only her and trust her completely, after all, she is your mother. The Other Mother is not jealous because there are only the two of you in the Other World, but she is possessive and wants you only for herself. Mother and child should never be separated, right? To her, the relationship between mother and child is sacred and unbreakable. In the Other World, she makes sure that you depend completely on her. There is no room for other influences, other people or even strong memories from your previous life.
She will punish you at times, like putting you behind a mirror and isolating you until you beg her for forgiveness, but in the end, Beldam will always pamper you and make sure that you are cultivating your love and devotion to her. And you will listen, right? Mother always knows best.
The Other Mother tries to be good to you in her own way, but her web of manipulation will only grow tighter and tighter and soon you won't remember who you used to be before you met her, everything will be forgotten and you will only remember her, your only mother. All the effort will be worth it in the end when you let her sew the buttons on your eyes and in that way, you will be stuck with her forever.
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re-reading your belsire stuff, although I was disappointed about his libido but I know the reader in the story will thank any god who will listen that at least they won't have to deal with a horny belsire lol
BAH honestly if Belsire had a high libido reader would be screwed through and through (haha.) No but seriously it would be eternity in the other world as a cockwarmer. On top of his infatuation, you add the unbridled need to breed into the mix? I think horny belsire would be even more obsessive about the little things, making unnecessary and unrelated excuses just to cover up how badly wound he is, resenting reader even more for how... worked up, they make him.
Have you watched the movie coraline, could you do yandere male beldam with the reader? Please...
A/N: Wow I didnât know there was a demand for a male version of the beldam :0. Honestly I get it but⊠whenever I see her all my brain screams is âMILF MILF MILFâ lmao. But I def get wanting to fuck a creepy other-dimension creature :0.
His voice wasnât loud; he didnât shout when searching for you with long spindly white fingers. No, it was like his voice rang out throughout the house without him even trying. His black dress shoes clicked and cluttered with each sounding step, the noise gaining closer to your hiding spot.
As the room around you morphed and changed, you sat with squinting eyes, mouth covered. The grip of your fingers began to bruise your lips, but you wouldnât dare remove them. Bruises caused by your own will were better than what heâd give you.
It was a normal day; sure things seemed off in the house and you werenât sure why he was being snappy, but otherwise normal. Until you decided to test his patience. It was an accident really-- you never meant to cause him harm or to upset him, but the belsire took personal offense.
âOkay.. Why donât we play a game?â
His temperamental voice was shallow, instructing the rules of hide and seek to you. If he couldnât find you, you would be given freedom from his wrath this time. If he did find you⊠Well, there would be hell to pay. This wouldnât be a mere slap on the wrist; whenever he decided to play a âgame,â your life was unquestionably on the line. His long claws would rake themselves down your back without remorse.
You shook against the wall, praying that the rack above you wouldnât fall. You mentally cursed at yourself for not picking a better hiding spot; such a tiny closet with uneven doors left little room for comfortability or security. The shining black leather of his Oxfordâs became visible through the doorsâ tiny crack.
You shoved your hands harder against your mouth, trying to steady your heartbeat. It wouldnât surprise you if he could smell your fear. A few seconds passed by, his body still blocking the closet. He didnât move. You couldnât even hear him breathe or see him twitch. He stood as still as a statue.
A loud crash came from the kitchen-- the sound of a glass shattering against the floor. Immediately the belsire bolted to the dining area, his shoes clacking against the floor much louder than before. Through the crack within the doorsâ you saw his nimble and thin body inhumanly scrape across the ground, hungrily running towards the commotion.
You released the hold on your mouth and nose lightly, allowing yourself to breathe. It was hard not to hyperventilate, especially because you knew how close he was to finding you. You thanked whatever being was on your side to create that loud disruption.
Your breathing was getting louder, and as much as you tried to hush yourself, the sound of his feet traveling away from the kitchen made your heart beat faster. The shelf above you rumbled, itâs unsteady nails looking like they were about to give out.
âCome out, come out, wherever you are.â
The belsireâs voice was nearly monotone, no sound of glee or even sadism ringing in the words. His absence of enjoyment or anger caused your fear to double; not knowing his motives was terrifying.
Carefully, your shaking legs crouched, allowing you to push and hold the rack of boxes and clothes that were about to fall atop of you. The belsireâs low chuckle from within the other side of the house gave you some semblance of peace, knowing you might have a chance of getting away, or at least out of this terrible hiding spot-- that was, if you could figure out how to handle this unsteady shelf.
One screw tumbled to the floor, its clinking metal hitting the floorboards. The belsireâs loud footsteps stopped, and you held your breath without the use of your hands.
Your arms were growing weak; the shelvesâ weight pressing against you from above. Though your limbs shook from fear, you bit your lip and held back the urge to fall to the ground.
That was until the second screw came loose, falling to hit your shoe. All together the shelf came crashing down sideways, boxes, coats, and other miscellaneous items banging against the wall, floor, and your head. You protected your head from the falling objects, not even having enough time to register the closet doors being ripped open.
Your shaking hands were pulled out with forceful tugs, a pen hitting you harshly on the head before you were thrown against the wall. A dark mass grew in front of you, its height unimaginable.
Long, pointy fingers wrapped around your neck, tightening every millisecond. Your legs kicked and struggled to reach the ground. The belsire stood above you, his sunken in cheeks making his face look like a dagger.
âI caught you.â The belsire said with a sharp voice. You coughed in his grasp, his singular hand causing air to escape you.
âI canât..â You tried your best to choke out words, but the belsire knew what he was doing; he knew your struggle from the bright color your face was changing to.
Letting you go, he dropped you to the floor, your back sliding against the wall. wheezing, you gripped lightly at your neck, the spot turning red and purple.
You could only manage to look at his Oxfordâs and the ground-- not having enough courage to make eye contact.
âGet up.â He commanded, his hands resting awkwardly on his nimble body. You did as you were told, slowly moving and still recovering from the previous assault.
Your mind raced with thoughts, the adrenaline kicking in; as well as the complete desire to run. Instead, you shrunk in height, keeping your hands tucked near your chest. Swallowing harshly, you awaited anxiously to see what heâd make you do.
Pulling your hand, the belsire, forced you to follow his lead to the next room over. You tripped and tangled over carpets, barely able to keep up with his long strides. His cold hand ran a shiver up your spine. Looking beside him, you saw the place he began to drag you to: the basement.
Struggling and yelling you pushed away from him, not keen on going back to that dark and damp hole where heâd hold you against his freezing body, bones jabbing into your flesh. His knuckles would press firmly against your back as he forced you to sit in his grasp down there. Singing dark lullabies he'd rip you from your sanity. You'd been through that punishment before and didnât want to go through it again.
The belsire didnât make a sound as he dug his nails into your ribs-- throwing you over his shoulder. This man--creature-- didnât care for your displeasure. You kicked and beat his back over and over, but he didnât release you. Instead, unlocking the door with a key as boney as himself, the belsire pushed open the door, leading you both down into the dark hole.
omg, since itâs December could you write a male beldam christmas special :D
A/N: This idea came to me this morning. I was half asleep and thought "YES this is the greatest most bestest idea that has never been done before." my early morning enthusiasm might not live up to reality. But I thought it was interesting. (yet rushed) damn the mental illness! but I'll make sure to post one last winter story before the new year!
Word Count:1800+ (I apologize for all the plot holes and jaggy dialogue :c)
For months you had been crying yourself to sleep. You were grateful to have been given your own room apart from the Belsire, but that didnât mean you were safe. Especially, because new prey was constantly being lured into his trap; exactly as the cat had said.
The black feline told you of the Belsireâs previous escapades with his meals, and they were few and far between. But ever since you were forced to join him under the guise of being a âloving spouse,â he had been consuming far more recently. And that was a terrifying thought.
You had, thankfully, never been present when witnessing him devour a meal. A human soul. But sometimes you could still hear them, hear the wails of the innocent. People who just wanted a loving family, just like yourself.
For some incomprehensible reason, the Belsire allowed you to live out of all the others. And while he had constantly denied you any reason why, you knew there was something, something that made him stop himself from eating your soul. Maybe it was your lack of love towards him that made it impossible; or perhaps he wanted a living plaything.
Whatever the reason, it didnât make your life any easier than those who had been devoured. And this coming holiday proved to be a far worse fate than death.
âOpen your present, dear.â He said, foreign enthusiasm dripping from his lips.
The Belsire was playing his role. Doing his âloving, husbandly duties.â You had gotten used to his angry, malignant side that was full of sharp edges and anger. So to say the strangely placed happiness was unusual is an understatement. You hadn't seen him so "happy" since you first entered the realm.
But whether or not the cheerfulness was an act, it didnât remove the fact that you were living in hell.
âCome on now, donât leave me waiting.â He chuckled, putting a hand on your shoulder and moving to sit beside you.
The room was covered in torn wrapping paper and new gadgets, all for you. You felt like you were trapped inside a snowglobe: a tiny realm, all alone with only the comfort of fake snow and a far too detailed home.
"I think this will remind you of me."
His words showed that he liked to play dollhouse; maybe that was why you were dressed up in matching pajamas. His face had turned back to soft instead of that looming and skeletal image. Once his anger or disapproval settled, he went back to an average man. Well, one with button eyes.
You never felt a sense of comfort with either form, only a sliver of ease if you were lucky. The belsire could taste your nervousness but didnât care. He was far more interested in watching you open your new âtoys.â New little distractions. From under the twinkling tree, you had witnessed piles of wrapped gifts. Dozens of new and exciting trinkets for you to mess with and enjoy. But you wouldnât enjoy them. If you were lucky, theyâd distract you from your time in the Belsire's realm.
You began to open the new gift, its rectangle box making you guess it was some sort of book. As you lifted the top, the Belsire rubbed your shoulders, leaning in to look closer. The book read âInnumerable Insects.â
âWow, what a surprise.â You said sarcastically, taking into account how fond the Belsire was of bugs. âI didnât expect to receive this from you.â
âDonât be mean now,â He said, a voice of warning. âI thought youâd like it. We can bond overâŠthe interest.â
âSure.â You said tiredly. He was so adamant about trying to make you love him, but it was never in a run-of-the-mill way. Instead of chivalry and kindness, it was with force. But you never really knew if he loved you, or was just trying to make you bring down your guard. It was possible that he needed such a thing in order to devour you.
âWell, if you donât quite enjoy that one, I'm sure youâll like this.â He says confidently with a hint of wickedness.
Your stomach sank; all you could do was watch him get up from behind you, walking to one of his locked doors. A door, you werenât allowed in.
âUh, another one you say? I think⊠I'm alright actually.â You felt like you were going to vomit. What had he done now? Time and time again, he proved to be more inhuman than you expected. You could only imagine what he had done now.
âNo, I think youâll actually like this one. See, I knew none of those would satisfy you.â He said, turning with a devilish grin. The creature was just waiting for your horror.
You fumbled with the book in your hands, trying to ease the rising panic in your chest.
âOh⊠well, I really⊠I honestly think youâve done enough.â
You feigned a smile, trying to avoid whatever he had in store. That sarcastic comment on the book may have ticked him off; this new âgiftâ could possibly just be a new punishment. âYou know, considering all these.â You gestured to the gifts surrounding you.
The gloomy and uncomfortable house was reconstructed to look homey, and cheery.
Most of the time, you felt a deep ominous air in the realm. But, the Belsire had arranged it so snow fell softly outside, piling up as music played faintly from nowhere. There was also a faint scent of pine coming from the tree, along with cherry pie in the kitchen. You knew he was a perfectionist when it came to his little pocket hole of a world, but this was far more festive than usual.
He had been in quite an unhappy mood as of late. The house had never been this decorated nor cheerful since the first time you came into the realm.
âNow my little dear, no need to worry itâs nothing youâre thinking of,â You knew he was talking about the punishment, but he played it off. âI think youâll quite enjoy it, really.â
As he finished shuffling through the closet, the Belsire pulled out a small, rectangular gift. It was simpler, more humble compared to the other gifts. You had received everything short of a million dollars, so something so plain was odd.
He walked toward you, crouching down.
âHere, darling.â
He mocked you with that fake smile, a devious grin that showed how much he relished in the worried look on your face. You wouldnât call him a sadist, but he didnât dislike your suffering either. Especially when it made you so malleable to him.
You accepted the gift with shaky hands, looking at it for a moment. You looked back up at him, and he nodded with a gesture of his hand, telling you to open it.
You tore the wrapping, quickly out of both fear and anticipation. From beneath the red paper and neat bow, was a picture frame.
The mahogany lining matched perfectly with the Belsireâs home, making it fit right in. But what didnât fit in, was that a picture of your loved ones was inside. They sat there, still and frozen in time for a moment, all looking like you remembered. You couldnât recall the last time you saw them. Even though some of them never got along, they were all standing side by side, perfectly in sync.
You looked up at the Belsire, eyes wide and almost teary. âHow did⊠how..â
âItâs a secret.â He put a finger up to his lips, still smiling.
The Belsire continuously ripped away any reminder of family and friends from you. He made sure you would never return to them. So why, why was he giving you a picture of them? It looked like they were really there, staring at you. As if you werenât alone anymore.
âI hope itâs to your liking,â He curled his hand into yours. "I know how attached you are to them.."
You were unable to contain the emotions spilling out of you. Before you knew it, you were crying, pushing yourself into the Belsireâs chest. He let out a small grumble of surprise.
âTh.. thanksâŠâ
You let out a small sigh of gratitude, pushing your face deeper into his shoulder. The belsire was caught by surprise, but he quickly recovered, chuckling and stroking your back.
âOf course, how could I not give my doll something so precious.â He grinned, looking down at you. You still sensed that faux behavior, but something about him softened.
The Belsires hand cupped your cheek, stroking his thumb to wipe away your tears. His buttons for eyes seemed to bore into you, intent on capturing your gaze forever.
You knew it was wrong to be so close; after all, you had been forced against your will here. You had been ripped away from reality and put into a false world of hell that was keen on making you miserable. And yet, you were able to forget all that for a moment. Even if it was just for a moment, you could feel yourself genuinely let down your guard. And it felt even more special when the Belsire whispered to you, a gentle voice of which you had hardly ever witnessed.
He spoke so dangerously close, lips ghosting over yours.
âBut that isnât the best partâŠ" He whispered, trying to hide a small grin. âThereâs more.â
The Belaire gripped your chin and turned it towards the photograph. It was still for a moment, but as he brushed his hand over the frame, the image changed. It was no longer still.
Instead, your loved ones moved. But they didnât come to life joyfully. It wasnât happy with smiling faces like in the image. No, it was horror. They made inaudible noises, as you watched some cry, and others scream at you from behind the glass-- banging on the picture frame. But nothing. Nothing happened. The only thing that notified you of their existence was how they moved. The Belsire planted a kiss to your neck, sitting behind you, with his arms wrapped around. He watched them beg and cry for help from next to you.
You couldnât speak, you couldnât even move. He held tightly onto you, rubbing small circles onto your shoulders. You felt yourself shivering.
You just watched. Watched as the little people from inside the frame grew tired, they became restless and started to despair. You could only watch them, feel as both betrayal and disgust and anger and sadness build up inside you.
âNow dear⊠aren't you happy? This must be the best Christmas present you've ever received."
You swallowed harshly, dropping the frame.
"Now, your family can be here with usâŠno need for your incessant whining anymore."
And just like that, the kind and doting act was replaced with his true nature. Cold and apathetic. He grinned against your cheek, and you could feel the wretchedness radiate off of him. It was all a ploy...you should've known that you'd never be able to escape.
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I think you mat have mentioned that the Belsire makes his darling clothes! What kind of outfits does he make for them?
Technically yes! Considering The Belsire creates everything in his realm. He makes it all with ease, using the energy and rejuvenation the last soul gave him to make the world into a replica. Itâll look exactly like his darlingâs home, from the creak in the door to the stains and scratches on the walls. Though, heâll put special care into making the things that are special to his darling; it makes the creature feel comforted by doing so. His primary love languages are acts of service and quality time, so making something for his darling is how he shows he cares.
This man most definitely sews and knits; heâs had decades of time to pass-- whenever heâs not entertaining his next meal-- so he has learned at least a few trade skills. Heâll never admit to it, but The Belsire likes to put special outfits and carvings in his darlingâs room. The items donât stand out a whole lot from the other decorations and clothes, but thereâs just a certain amount of uniqueness to his hand-crafted ornaments. Everything appears as a carbon copy, but if you look close enough, youâll be able to tell the little quirks of differences. Whether it be the amateur-like stitching on a well-worn coat or the special binding on darling's favorite book, The Belsire will spend time making these things just so theyâre there to witness.
The Belsire tends to keep the wardrobe the same for his darling; he doesn't want them to notice that he puts special care in a few of their items. Though, I imagine he has a secret stash of cute outfits he wants his darling to wear; whether it be specific fantasies or just cute clothes, heâll make them all only to hide them away. He has a specific fantasy of darling being willing, and generally being eager to do as he says; in this sense, heâd love to see them in some sort of cute yet almost infantilizing outfit. It helps his ego to see his darling so embarrassed and shy, yet willing to proceed; itâs like a dream come true. But there are more pure scenarios, for example he likes the idea of time period pieces; maybe a frilly Victorian era blouse, or something flashy from the 70s.
Itâs seen as a guilty pleasure for him to make these secret intricate outfits, because itâs not something heâd generally have a high regard for. If his darling were to ever find that stash, well⊠It would not be good. The spider-like being will get beyond furious (mostly out of embarrassment and shame), even if his darling doesn't say anything. Merely out of the fact that darling has some kind of power over him, is threatening. Even if his darling swore to never say anything, to never mention it again, The Belsire would still find some reason to lock them back down in the basement, just to give him peace of mind.
And, let's not forget, this creature will most definitely use his skills and fantasies as an advantage for humiliation. Did his darling do something bad again? Well be prepared to be dressed head to toe in pink and feathers. Even if his darling tries to use his little âhobbyâ against him at the moment, he canât take them seriously. Itâs the perfect chance for him to fulfill his egocentric fantasies, even if darling isnât entirely willing. Nothing inflates The Belsireâs ego more than seeing his darling humiliated and begging to be let go.
